THE HAPPIEST MAN ALIVE
Will it be believed that after the king had in February sent for Count
Saxe and other officers to Versailles to announce to them the war, we
were not actually on the march until August? There was a song the
soldiers sang on the sly during these months, when the king, having
said he would make war, seemed loath to begin:
Timide, imbecile, farouche,
Jamais Louis n'avait dit mot.
At last though, under those two tough old warriors, Marshal Villars
and Marshal, the Duke of Berwick, the French were on the march.
Marshal Villars went to Italy and the Duke of Berwick to the Rhine.
With the Duke of Berwick went Count Saxe's old friend, the Duc de
Noailles and Count Saxe himself, then camp marshal. The Duke of
Berwick was very great as a man and a soldier, and everybody knows the
high esteem in which he held Count Saxe--of which I will speak in its
true place.
I am ashamed to say what a figure the army made on its march to
Strasburg. One result of the camp at Radewitz, like that at Compiegne
some years before, was to make young officers believe that the great
game of war was a summer fete. Every captain must travel in his
chaise, and there were almost as many cooks and valets and gill-flirts
as soldiers on the road to Strasburg. To those who knew that stern old
soldier, the Duke of Berwick, it was a certainty, fixed in advance, as
to what would become of the chaises, the valets, the cooks and the
gill-flirts. Count Saxe knew "_ce diable anglais_" as Berwick was
called. About ten miles before reaching Strasburg he dismounted from
his chaise--for he, seduced by the bad example of others, rode in a
chaise--and marched the ten last miles with his regiment, that he
might get well soiled and dusty when presenting himself before the
general commanding.
Gaston Cheverny, who was Count Saxe's aide-de-camp, had ridden all the
way from Paris, with the dog Bold at his heels. We reached Strasburg
at an opportune time. It was in the afternoon, and all day long the
chaises had been rolling through the gates; some said there were as
many as eighteen hundred in the town at the time. Within them were the
officers, as dainty and debonair as if just out of my lady's bandbox.
The Duke of Berwick, exasperated beyond words, had stationed himself
at the principal gate and caught these gentlemen when they least
expected it. We were told that the countenances of these chaise
soldiers were a sight to behold when they caught sight of the grim old
marshal and noted the terrible look of him. He was a man of few words,
but very fierce when roused. He got those young popinjays out of their
chaises by a single glance, which acted like a grenade when the fuse
is touched off.
The regiment of Saxe came marching in, however, every officer in his
place, and Count Saxe riding at the head of it. When the Duke of
Berwick's eagle eye saw this his countenance cleared as if by magic;
he had looked like a thunder cloud before. Count Saxe had sent all the
chaises of the regiment around to another gate. It was a pleasant
summer afternoon, and the old city by the Rhine shone in the August
sun, which likewise showed the dust, so carefully acquired on his
accoutrements by Count Saxe. The Duke of Berwick's greeting to Count
Saxe was afterward known throughout the world.
"Welcome," said he; "I had asked for a reinforcement of three thousand
men, but now that you are come, I do not need them."
My master responded fittingly, and then, very artfully, made an
apology for his appearance, alleging the heat, the dust and the
condition of the streams--everything was overflowed that year of
1733.
"No apologies are needed, Monsieur," replied the marshal. "I am
pleased to see that you have brought me soldiers instead of the
popinjays and dandies which I have heretofore seen."
Now this was true of Count Saxe's regiment in spite of the inroads of
luxury upon the youngsters, for my old Uhlans were among them, and the
whole regiment enjoyed the names of "Clear-the-way-boys," and
"Storm-alongs," which our Uhlans had earned long since. By way of a
reward the regiment was quartered in the town of Strasburg, but near
the river bank. Count Saxe established himself in a small, but
comfortable old mansion, surrounded with gardens sloping to the river.
I, of course, was quartered with him, and Gaston Cheverny, being
aide-de-camp, was also lodged there.
Prince Eugene, of Savoy, was on the other side of the river, and there
was courteous communication by flag of truce between the French and
the Austrians.
A day or two after we arrived a letter came for Gaston Cheverny from
Regnard Cheverny saying that his grenadiers were with Prince Eugene,
and Regnard very much desired to see Gaston. It was easily arranged
that Gaston Cheverny should meet his brother at Kehl after nightfall,
and should bring him to Strasburg to spend the night. It was only
stipulated that Regnard should come and go in darkness.
It was a soft September night when Gaston came into my chamber,
joyfully bringing Regnard with him. My room was small, but had a large
and pleasant balcony overlooking the straggling gardens and the river.
Regnard greeted me pleasantly--he looked gallant in his white Austrian
uniform. We went out upon the balcony, had wine brought and spent an
hour or two together. Regnard had lately paid a flying visit to Castle
Haret, and, of course, had been to the chateau of Capello.
"Mademoiselle Capello was most kind and charming," he said, "and, by
the way, Captain Babache, she desired her remembrance to you."
"And nothing to me?" cried Gaston.
Regnard smiled--I never liked his smile, in which his eyes took no
part.
"Do you think, boy," he replied, "that I employed the gracious minutes
that Francezka--I mean Mademoiselle Capello--allowed me, in talking to
her of another man?"
"Then," cried Gaston, rising half in mirth and half in anger, "I will
myself see Mademoiselle Capello and hear from her own lips whether she
has forgotten me."
"We do not propose to give you time to make excursions," replied
Regnard, laughing good-naturedly. "Your Berwick has to dance a branle
first with Prince Eugene, and he who would dance with such a partner
must be very active and keep his wits and his legs ready."
Gaston sat down again, and did not lose his good temper. But Regnard
told us further that Madame Riano was really going to Scotland. She
had got it in her blood, and was likely to leave any day. Mademoiselle
Capello had been forced to engage a _dame de compagnie_ in the person
of Madame Chambellan, some relation of Count Bellegarde's, and as near
milk and water as he. I surmised that Francezka was not likely to
choose for her _dame de compagnie_ one able or desirous to cross her.
After an hour or two I was called to attend Count Saxe, and the
brothers were left alone. They seemed as affectionate as ever I saw
brothers. I heard their voices as they spent the hours in converse in
Gaston's room. Toward morning, in the ghostly half light which
precedes the dawn, they left the house together, taking a boat at the
foot of the garden. I watched them as they passed down the old garden
path to the river. Their arms were around each other's shoulders,
schoolboy fashion, and both of them wore long dark cloaks, for the
hour before the dawn was chill. Never were two figures more alike than
Gaston and Regnard Cheverny, and there was not the smallest difference
in their gait and bearing. I think the mother who bore them would
scarcely have known them apart, as I saw them walking away in the pale
hours of the morning. A boat awaited them at the foot of the garden.
The river rolled dark in the gray half light, half darkness, and a
ghostly mist lay upon its bosom. As the boat containing the two
brothers was pulled into midstream the creeping mist enveloped it for
a moment, then a wandering breeze driving the mist away, the boat
became again visible. Some singular interest fixed my eyes upon those
two figures in the boat, trying to distinguish one from the other.
But, to my chagrin, I could not do this. Presently the mist enveloped
them wholly.
Gaston returned within an hour. I told him of the effort I had made to
tell him and his brother apart at a distance. He said that Regnard and
himself had much sport with the boatman, and also with the sentry, by
merely changing cloaks, so that their uniforms could not be seen.
The next evening, as I was reposing myself on the balcony after a hard
day's work, Gaston Cheverny burst upon me. He looked like a
bridegroom, he was so radiant.
"I start for the Low Countries to-morrow," he cried, giving me a whack
on the back that nearly knocked me off my chair. "I have just met
Count Saxe coming from the Duke of Berwick. The marshal wishes to know
if the Austrians are observing the neutrality they engaged for in the
Low Countries. There have been some disturbances, especially the
burning of houses, like mine, for example, which excite the duke's
suspicions. He wants a trusty person, well acquainted with the
country, to find out the truth, and Count Saxe offered me. I ride
to-morrow. I may remain as long as I think necessary, but my duty
compelled me to say that I could find out all there was to know and
return within a fortnight. I shall see Francezka, and, Babache, only
fancy Regnard's chagrin when he finds out, after my return, that I
have lain _perdu_ in Brabant for two weeks!"
I had no time to fancy anything then, for Count Saxe was calling me.
We worked until late that night on the instructions for Gaston
Cheverny. Early in the morning he set out alone, not even having a
servant with him. He promised me to give my everlasting remembrance
to Mademoiselle Capello. It was, of course, impossible for him to
take with him his dog, heretofore his inseparable companion. I was
to have charge of Bold in his master's absence. I locked the
creature up in my chamber, and attended Count Saxe during his morning
duties. When I went to my chamber at noon I was vexed to find the dog
had disappeared. The fastening to the door leading to the balcony was
indifferent, and marks showed that the dog, by scratching and
pawing, had got the door open. A reward was offered for him at once,
but as he did not appear, I felt sure he had managed to join his
master.
The fortnight was a busy one; the Duke of Berwick and Prince Eugene
were not men to let the grass grow under their feet. It was too late
to attempt operations on a large scale that season, but with an
active general no day is lost. Two weeks to the day on which Gaston
Cheverny had left Strasburg he rode up to Count Saxe's quarters and
dismounted.
I happened to be waiting at the door for Count Saxe, and so saw Gaston
Cheverny when he flung himself off his horse. Although it was in the
dusk of an autumn evening, I saw, as well as felt, that Gaston
Cheverny radiated happiness. There was something in the grasp of his
hand, the ring of his voice, which proclaimed the man with joy in his
heart. At the same moment he arrived Count Saxe also rode up. At once
he took Gaston Cheverny within, when, with my pen to record, Gaston
gave an account of what he had discovered. Although there was no
actual proof of treachery on the part of the Austrians, the mysterious
burnings continued. Some attributed these dreadful events to private
malice, but it was remarkable that every chateau, house or barn burned
belonged to a French sympathizer. It was thought likely to be the work
of a band of fanatics, which made it still more alarming. Gaston
Cheverny gave his opinion that in the case of the burning of his own
house and outbuildings, it was a case of revenge on the part of
Jacques Haret.
Gaston Cheverny having told all he had found out, and some impudent
duchess or countess coming to claim Count Saxe--no doubt, against his
will--Gaston and I were left alone. He sprang up, caught me by the
arm, and cried in a ringing voice:
"Babache, I am the happiest man alive. But come out of doors. This
room stifles me. I want to look at the stars--like Francezka's eyes. I
wish to breathe the perfumed air of the garden, because all
beauty--all perfume is like her." He dragged me out into the beautiful
old garden, with its tangled shrubbery, its grass-grown walks, its
myrtle trees, showing black against a pale night sky, and the great
river rolling past. I thought he would at once make me some great
confidence, for I had no doubt that he had won Francezka's love. But
instead of that he began to recite to me that poem, adored of lovers,
by Houdart de La Motte to Celimene, in which the poet yearns to be the
flower that reposes on the bosom of his beloved, the passing breeze
that kisses her cheek, the nightingale whose sad notes detain her in
the myrtle groves, the fair moon by which the shepherds bring home
their flocks. There is in every language I have known a great poem
with this thought, common to all hearts that love, running through it,
but I like this one of Houdart de La Motte's the best. When he had
finished repeating the lines, with great beauty of voice and meaning,
I asked him:
"Did not Mademoiselle Capello send me a message?"
"A thousand. Babache, Francezka loves you with all her heart. She told
me, at our last conversation, that she could never think of you
without remembering that night in her girlhood when she was taken to
the Temple, and from that moment she has reckoned you the most
faithful of friends."
"And how do you stand with her?" I ventured to ask.
"I can not utter a word concerning that. Only to you, Babache, will I
say that I am happier than I ever dared to hope."
"At least you can tell me how Francezka is situated."
"Oh, yes. Madame Riano has really started for Scotland. She left two
days after I got to Brabant. I saw her five times before she went. She
promises to return within a year. Francezka now has with her Madame
Chambellan, but she is old and feeble, and I know not how long the
arrangement will last."
Here was news indeed.
"Francezka has another friend at hand--good Bold. The rogue got away
evidently, and when I was full five miles from the city gates I heard
him panting behind me. His tongue was out, and he would hardly have
lasted much longer at the pace he was going, had I not found him and
picked him up."
I then explained how the dog had escaped.
"As I was secretly in Brabant," continued Gaston, "of course, it was
impossible to keep the dog with me. It was out of the question that I
should give him away to any chance person willing to take him, so I
made straight for the chateau of Capello, where I knew he had a friend
in Francezka. I left him with her, as a guardian and protector, and a
reminder, too, of his master. He remained willingly in Francezka's
sweet company, being ever a dog of the soundest discernment. I feel no
jealousy; Francezka is welcome to my dog, as she is to me."
I could not make out what Gaston's footing was with Francezka, but
that he was assured of her love I no longer doubted. Well, this was as
it should be. The difference in their fortunes was but accidental; in
all else they were equals. It must be an agreeable feeling to know
one's self equal to any and all the world, except in this matter of
fortune. I never had that feeling. I know myself to be a man, with all
a man's faculties, but this world of ours seldom lets a man forget
from whence he sprang.
Gaston Cheverny further confided to me that he expected to be
permitted to return to Brabant for a while as soon as we went into
winter quarters, but before the leaves fell from the trees this
beautiful dream of hope vanished. This time it was the Duke of Berwick
who used Gaston's services. During our fourteen months in Courland
Gaston had picked up some knowledge of the various Polish dialects,
for he was a man of quick perception and given to learning. The Duke
of Berwick needed such a man in Poland and East Prussia, and within a
month from the time of Gaston Cheverny's return from Brabant he was
sent to Poland and East Prussia on an errand that might last a month
and might last a year.
He went gallantly enough. It was not pleasant duty, and he showed to
me alone the deep chagrin it caused him not to revisit Brabant, but he
was not a man to refuse any duty assigned to him. He only asked to be
allowed to remain long enough at Strasburg to take part with his
regiment in the capture of Kehl. This was accorded him. Marshal, the
Duke of Berwick, took Kehl in October, thus administering a beautiful
slap to the Austrians, and as soon as that was done Gaston Cheverny
set out upon his errand.