_To Mrs. Louis Stoddard, N. Y._
June 25th, 1915.
MY DEAR MOLLY, [3] Mme. de S. told me last night that once during the
last year she had a little spray of blossoms that had been blessed by
the Pope, and in writing to Henry on the field, she sent him a little
bit of green--a tiny leaf pinned on a loving letter. When she looked
through the uniform sent back to her, a few days ago, in his pocket was
this little card, all stained with his blood. This card, with her few
loving words, was all he carried on him into that sacred field. I must
not forget the belt he wore around him, which she had made with her
own hands, and it contained some money and in one of the folds of the
chamois was a prayer that she had written out for him. The paper was so
worn with reading and unfolding and folding that it was like something
used by the years.
All the night before he went to that great battle, he spent in prayer.
His aide told Mme. de S. that he had not closed his eyes. They say that
if he could have been taken immediately from the field, he would have
been saved, for he bled to death.
I only suppose that you will be interested in these details because
they mark the going out of such a brilliant life, and it is the
intimate story of one soldier who has laid down his life, after months
and months of fighting and self-abnegation and loneliness, on that
distant field.
From the time he left her in August until his death, he had never seen
any of his family--not a soul. I want to tell you the way she said
good-bye to him, for I never knew it until last night. She had expected
him to lunch--imagine!--and received the news by telephone that he
was leaving his "quartier" in an hour. She rushed there to see the
Cuirassiers, mounted, in their service uniform, the helmets all covered
with khaki, clattering out of the yard. She sat in the motor and he
came out to her, all ready to go; and they said good-bye, there in the
motor, he sitting by her side, holding her hands. She said he looked
then like the dead--so grave. You know he was a soldier, passionately
devoted to his career. He had made all the African campaign and had
an illustrious record. She says he asked her for her blessing and she
lightly touched the helmet covered with khaki and gave it him. And
neither shed a tear. And he kissed her good-bye. She never saw him
again....
She said that his General told her as follows: "The night before the
engagement, Henry Dadvisard came into my miserable little shack on
the field. He said to me: 'Mon général, just show me on the map where
the Germans are.' A map was hanging on the wall and I indicated with
my finger: '_Les Allemands sont là, mon enfant_.' And Dadvisard said:
'Why, is that all there is to do--just to go out and attack them there?
Why, we'll be coming back as gaily as if it were from the races!' He
turned to go, saying: '_Au revoir_, mon général.' But at the door
he paused, and I looked up and saw him and he said: '_Adieu_, mon
général.' And then I saw in his eyes a singular look, something like
an appeal from one human soul to another, for a word, a touch, before
going out to that sacrifice. I did not dare to say anything but what I
did say: '_Bon courage, mon enfant; bonne chance!_' And he went...."
After telling me this, Mme. de S. took out his watch, which she carries
with her now--a gold watch, with his crest upon it--the one he had
carried through all his campaigns, with the soldier's rough chain
hanging from it. It had stopped at half-past ten; as he had wound it
the night before, the watch had gone on after his heart had ceased to
beat....
The day before Henry left his own company of Cuirassiers to go into
the dangerous and terrible experiences of the trenches, to take up
that duty which ended in his laying down his life, he gathered his men
together and bade them good-bye. Last night dear Mme. de S. showed me
his soldier's notebook, in which he had written the few words that he
meant to say to his men. I begged her to let me have them: I give them
to you. This address stands to me as one of the most beautiful things
I have ever read.
General Foch paid him a fine tribute when he mentioned him in
despatches, and this mention of him was accompanied by the bestowal of
the Croix de Guerre.
"Henry Dadvisard, warm-hearted and vibrant; a remarkable leader of men.
He asked to be transferred to the infantry, in order to offer more
fully to his country his admirable military talents. He fell gloriously
on the 27th of April, leading an attack at the head of his company."