XVI

We passed the Meuse on the 12th, and during the 13th and 14th we

marched along the wretched roads, bordered with grain fields, barley,

oats, and hemp, without end. The heat was extraordinary, the sweat ran

down to our hips from under our knapsacks and cartridge-boxes. What a

misfortune to be poor, and unable to buy a man to march and take the

musket-shots in our place! After having gone through the rain, wind,

and snow, and mud, in Germany, the turn of the sun and dust had come.

And I saw too, that the destruction was approaching, you could hear the

sound of the drum and the bugle in every direction, and whenever the

battalion passed over an elevation long lines of helmets and lances and

bayonets were seen as far as the eye could reach.

Zebede, with his musket on his shoulder, would exclaim cheerfully,

"Well, Joseph! we are going to see the whites of the Prussians' eyes

again;" and I would force myself to reply, "Oh! yes, the weddings will

soon begin again." As if I wanted to risk my life and leave Catherine

a young widow for the sake of something which did not in the least

concern me.

That same day at seven o'clock we reached Roly. The hussars occupied

the town already, and we were obliged to bivouac in a deep road along

the side of the hill. We had hardly stacked our arms when several

general officers arrived. The Commandant Gemeau, who had just

dismounted, sprang upon his horse and hurried to meet them. They

conversed a moment together and came down into our road. Everybody

looked on and said, "Something has happened." One of the officers,

General Pechaux, whom we knew afterward, ordered the drums to beat, and

shouted, "Form a circle." The road was too narrow, and some of the

soldiers went up on the slope each side of the road, while the others

remained on the road. All the battalion looked on while the general

unrolled a paper, and said, "Proclamation from the Emperor."

When he had said that, the silence was so profound that you would have

thought yourself alone in the midst of these great fields. Every one,

from the last conscript to the Commandant Gemeau, listened, and, even

to-day, when I think of it, after fifty years, it moves my heart; it

was grand and terrible. This is what the general read:

"Soldiers! To-day is the anniversary of Marengo and of Friedland,

which twice decided the fate of Europe! Then, as after Austerlitz and

after Wagram, we were too generous, we believed the protestations and

the oaths of princes, whom we left on their thrones. They have

combined to attack the independence and even the most sacred rights of

France. They have commenced the most unjust aggressions, let us meet

them! They and we,--are we no longer of the same race?"

The whole battalion shouted, "_Vive l'Empereur_." The general raised

his hand, and all were silent.

"Soldiers! at Jena, we were as one to three against these Prussians who

are so arrogant to-day; at Montmirail we were as one against six! Let

those among you who have been prisoners of the English tell the tale of

their frightful sufferings in their prison ships. The Saxons, the

Belgians, the Hanoverians, the soldiers of the Confederation of the

Rhine, complain that they are compelled to lend their arms to princes

who are enemies of justice and of the rights of all nations. They know

that this coalition is insatiable. After having devoured twelve

millions of Poles, twelve millions of Italians, one million of Saxons,

six millions of Belgians, it will devour all the states of the second

order in Germany. Madmen! a moment of prosperity has blinded them; the

oppression and humiliation of the French people is beyond their power.

If they enter France they will find their graves there. Soldiers, we

have forced marches to make, battles to wage, and perils to encounter,

but, if we are constant, victory will be ours. The rights of man and

the happiness of our country will be reconquered. For all Frenchmen,

who have hearts, the time has come to conquer or to perish.--NAPOLEON."

The shouts which arose were like thunder, it was as if the Emperor had

breathed his war spirit into our hearts, and moved us as one man to

destroy our enemies. The shouts continued long after the general had

gone, and even I was satisfied. I saw that it was the truth, that the

Prussians, Austrians, and Russians, who had talked so much of the

deliverance of the people, had profited by the first opportunity to

grasp everything, that those grand words about liberty, which had

served to excite their young men against us in 1813, and all the

promises of constitutions which they had made, had been set aside and

broken. I looked upon them as beggars, as men who had not kept their

word, who despised the people, and whose ideas were very narrow and

limited, and consisted in always keeping the best place for themselves

and their children and descendants whether they were good or bad, just

or unjust, without any reference to God's law. That was the way I

looked at it; the proclamation seemed to me very beautiful. I thought

too, that Father Goulden would be pleased with it, because the Emperor

had not forgotten the rights of man, which are liberty, equality, and

justice, and all those grand ideas which distinguish men from brutes,

causing them to respect themselves and the rights of their neighbors

also. Our courage was greatly strengthened by these strong and just

words. The old soldiers laughed and said, "We shall not be kept

waiting this time. On the first march we shall fall upon the

Prussians."

But the conscripts, who had never yet heard the bullets whistle, were

the most excited of all. Buche's eyes sparkled like those of a cat, as

he sat on the road-side, with his knapsack opened on the slope, slowly

sharpening his sabre, and trying the edge on the toe of his shoe.

Others were setting their bayonets and adjusting their flints, as they

always do when on the eve of a battle. At those times their heads are

full of thought, which makes them knit their brows, and compress their

lips; giving them anything but pleasant faces.

The sun sank lower and lower behind the grain fields, several

detachments of men went to the village for wood, and they brought back

onions and leeks and salt, and even several quarters of beef were hung

on long sticks over their shoulders. But it was when the men were

around the fires, watching their kettles as they commenced to boil, and

the smoke went curling up into the air, that their faces were happiest,

one would talk of Lutzen, another of Wagram, of Austerlitz, of Jena, of

Friedland, of Spain, of Portugal, and of all the countries in the

world. They all talked at once, but only the old soldiers whose arms

were covered with chevrons, were listened to. They were most

interesting, as they marked the positions on the ground with their

fingers, and explained them by a line on the right, and a line on the

left. You seemed to see it all while listening to them. Each one had

his pewter spoon at his button-hole, and kept thinking, "The soup will

be capital, the meat is good and fat."

When we were stationed for the night, the order was given to extinguish

the fires and not to beat the retreat, which indicated that the enemy

was near, and that they feared to alarm them.

The moon was shining, and Buche and I were eating at the same mess;

when we had finished, he talked to me more than two hours about his

life at Harberg, how they were obliged to drag two or three cords of

wood on great sleds at the risk of being run over and crushed,

especially when the snow was melting. Compared with that, the life of

a soldier, with his pleasant mess and good bread, regular rations, the

neat warm uniform, the stout linen shirts, seemed to him delightful.

He had never dreamed that he could be so comfortable, and his strongest

desire was to let his two younger brothers, Gaspard and Jacob, know how

delighted he was, in order that they might enlist as soon as they were

old enough.

"Yes," said I, "that is all very well,--but the English and

Prussians,--you do not think of that."

"I despise them," said he, "my sabre cuts like a butcher's knife, and

my bayonet is sharp as a needle. It is they who should be afraid to

encounter me."

We were the best friends in the world, and I liked him almost as well

as my old comrades Klipfel, Furst, and Zebede. And he liked me too. I

believe he would have let himself be cut to pieces to save me from

danger. Old comrades and bed-fellows never forget each other. In my

time, old Harwig whom I knew in Pfalzbourg, always received a pension

from his old comrade Bernadotte, King of Sweden. If I had been a king,

Jean Buche should have had a pension, for if he had not a great mind he

had a good heart, which is better still.

While we were talking, Zebede came and tapped me on the shoulder.

"You do not smoke, Joseph?"

"I have no tobacco."

Then he gave me half of a package which he had and I saw that he loved

me still, in spite of the difference in our rank, and that touched me.

He was beside himself with delight at the thought of attacking the

Prussians.

"We'll be revenged!" he cried. "No quarter! they shall pay for all,

from Katzbach even to Soissons."

You would have thought that those English and Prussians were not going

to defend themselves, and that we ran no risk of catching bullets and

canister as at Lutzen and at Gross-Beren, at Leipzig and everywhere

else. But what could you say to a man who remembered nothing and who

always looked on the bright side?

I smoked my pipe quietly and replied, "Yes! yes! we'll settle the

rascals, we'll push them! They'll see enough of us!"

I left Jean Buche with his pipe, and as we were on guard, Zebede went

about nine o'clock to relieve the sentinels at the head of the picket.

I stepped a little out of the circle and stretched myself in a furrow a

few steps in the rear with my knapsack under my head. The weather was

warm, and we heard the crickets long after the sun went down. A few

stars shone in the heavens. There was not a breath of air stirring

over the plain, the ears of grain stood erect and motionless, and in

the distance the village clocks struck nine, ten, and eleven, but at

last I dropped asleep. This was the night of the 14th and 15th of

June, 1815. Between two and three in the morning Zebede came and shook

me. "Up!" said he, "come!" Buche had stretched himself beside me

also, and we rose at once. It was our turn to relieve the guard. It

was still dark, but there was a line of light along the horizon at the

edge of the grain fields. Thirty paces farther on, Lieutenant

Bretonville was waiting for us, surrounded by the picket. It is hard

to get up out of a sound sleep after a march of ten hours. But we

buckled on our knapsacks as we went, and I relieved the sentinel behind

the hedge opposite Roly. The countersign was "Jemmapes and Fleurus,"

this struck me at once, I had not heard this countersign since 1813.

How memory sleeps sometimes for years! I seem to see the picket now as

they turn into the road, while I renew the priming of my gun by the

light of the stars, and I hear the other sentinels marching slowly back

and forth, while the footsteps of the picket grew faint and fainter in

the distance. I marched up and down the hedge with my gun on my arm.

There was nothing to be seen but the village with its thatched roofs

and the slated church spire a little farther on; and a mounted sentinel

stationed in the road with his blunderbuss resting on his thigh looking

out into the night. I walked up and down thinking and listening.

Everything slept. The white line along the horizon grew broader.

Another half hour and the distant country began to appear in the gray

light of morning. Two or three quails called and answered each other

across the plain. As I heard these sounds I stopped and thought sadly

of Quatre Vents, Danne, the Baraques-du-bois-de-chenes, and of our

grain fields, where the quails were calling from the edge of the forest

of Bonne Fontaine. "Is Catherine asleep? and Aunt Gredel and Father

Goulden and all the town? The national guard from Nancy has taken our

place." I saw the sentinels of the two magazines and the guard at the

two gates; in short, thoughts without number came and went, when I

heard a horse galloping in the distance, but I could see nothing.

[Illustration: A mounted hussar was looking out into the night.]

In a few minutes he entered the village, and all was still except a

sort of confused tumult. In an instant after, the horseman came from

Roly into our road at full gallop. I advanced to the edge of the hedge

and presented my musket, and cried, "Who goes there?" "France!" "What

regiment?" "Twelfth chasseurs! Staff." "Pass on!" He went on his

way faster than before. I heard him stop in the midst of our

encampment, and call "Commandant." I advanced to the top of the hill

to see what was going on. There was a great excitement; the officers

came running up, and the soldiers gathered round. The chasseur was

speaking to Gemeau, I listened, but was too far away to hear. The

courier went on again up the hill, and everything was in an uproar.

They shouted and gesticulated. Suddenly the drums beat to mount guard,

and the relief turned a corner in the road. I saw Zebede in the

distance looking pale as death; as he passed me he said, "Come!" the

two other sentinels were in their places a little to the left. Talking

is not allowed when under arms, but, notwithstanding, Zebede said,

"Joseph, we are betrayed. Bourmont, general of the division in

advance, and five other brigands of the same sort, have just gone over

to the enemy." His voice trembled.

My blood boiled, and looking at the other men on the picket, two old

soldiers with chevrons, I saw their lips quiver under their gray

mustaches, their eyes rolled fiercely as if they were meditating

vengeance, but they said nothing. We hurried on to relieve the other

two sentinels. Some minutes afterward, on returning to our bivouac, we

found the battalion already under arms and ready to move. Fury and

indignation were stamped on every face, the drums beat and we formed

ranks, the commandant and the adjutant waited on horseback at the head

of the battalion, pale as ashes.

I remember that the commandant suddenly drew his sword as a signal to

stop the drums, and tried to speak, but the words would not come, and

he began to shout like a madman: "Ah! the wretches! miserable villains!

_Vive l'Empereur_! No quarter!" He stammered and did not know what he

said, but the battalion thought he was eloquent, and began to shout as

one man, "Forward! forward! to the enemy! no quarter!" We went through

the village at quick step, and the meanest soldier was furious at not

finding the Prussians.

It was an hour after, when having reflected a little, the men commenced

swearing and threatening, secretly at first, but soon openly, and at

last the battalion was almost in revolt. Some said that all the

officers under Louis XVIII. must be exterminated, and others, that we

were given up _en masse_, and several declared that the marshals were

traitors, and ought to be court-martialed and shot.

At last the commandant ordered a halt, and riding down the line he told

the men, that the traitors had left too late to do mischief, that we

would make the attack that very day, and that the enemy would not have

time to profit by the treason, and that he would be surprised and

overwhelmed. This calmed the fury of a great proportion of the men,

and we resumed our march, and all along the route, we heard repeatedly

that the exposure of our plans had been made too late.

But our anger gave place to joy, when about ten o'clock we heard the

thunder of cannon five or six leagues to the left, on the other side of

the Sambre. The men raised their shakos on their bayonets and shouted:

"Forward! Vive l'Empereur!"

Many of the old soldiers wept, and over all that great plain there was

one immense shout; when one regiment had ceased another took it up.

The cannon thundered incessantly. We quickened our steps. We had been

marching on Charleroi since seven o'clock, when an order reached us by

an orderly to support the right. I remember that in all the villages

through which we passed, the doors and windows were full of eager

friendly faces, waving their hands and shouting, "The French, the

French!" We could see that they were friendly to us, and that they

were of the same blood as ourselves; and in the two halts that we made,

they came out with their loaves of excellent home-made bread, with a

knife stuck in the crust, and great jugs of black beer, and offered

them to us without asking any return. We had come to deliver them

without knowing it, and nobody in their country knew it either, which

shows the sagacity of the Emperor, for there were already in that

corner of the Sambre et Meuse, more than one hundred thousand men, and

not the slightest hint of it had reached the enemy.

The treason of Bourmont had prevented our surprising them as they were

scattered about in their separate camps. We could then have

annihilated them at a blow, but now it would be much more difficult.

We continued our march till after noon, in the intense heat and choking

dust. The farther we advanced the greater the number of troops we saw,

infantry and cavalry. They massed themselves more and more, so to

speak, and behind us there were still other regiments.

Toward five o'clock we reached a village where the battalions and

squadrons filed over a bridge built of brick. This village had been

taken by our vanguard, and in going through it, we saw some of the

Prussians stretched out in the little streets on the right and left,

and I said to Jean Buche: "Those are Prussians, I saw them at Lutzen

and Leipzig, and you are going to see them too, Jean."

"So much the better," he replied, "that is what I want."

This village was called Chatelet. It is on the river Sambre, the water

is very deep, yellow, and clayey, and those who are so unfortunate as

to fall into it, find it very difficult to get out of, for the banks

are perpendicular, as we found out afterward. On the other side of the

bridge we bivouacked along the river; we were not in the advance, as

the hussars had passed over before us, but we were the first infantry

of the corps of Gerard. All the rest of that day the Fourth corps were

filing over the bridge, and we learned at night, that the whole army

had passed the Sambre, and that there had been fighting near Charleroi,

at Marchiennes, and Jumet.