I am almost afraid to dwell on those happiest days of my life that I
spent in garrison. My eyes, old as they are, fill with tears when I am
about to write of them, and yet they passed without my knowing how happy
they were; for much of my time was spent in solitude, much in waiting,
much in anxiety; but ah! there then always was a possibility that never,
never can return!
Nancy seems to me a paradise when I look back to it, with its broad
clean streets and open squares, and the low houses with balconies, and
yet there I often thought myself miserable, for I began to learn what it
was to be a soldier’s wife. Madame de Rambouillet had kindly written
to some of her friends in the duchy of Lorraine respecting me, and they
assisted us in obtaining a lodging and servants. This might otherwise
have been difficult, for the Duke was I the Spanish army, while we held
his territories, and naturally we were not in very good odour with the
people.
My husband had to leave me, immediately after he had placed me in
my little house at Nancy, to join the army in Germany under Marshal
Guebrian. I lived through that time by the help of the morning mass, of
needlework, and of the Grand Cyrus, which I read through and then began
again. My dear husband never failed to send me a courier once a week
with letters that were life to me, and sometimes I heard from England;
but my mother’s letters were becoming full of anxiety, affairs were
looking so ill for the king.
After a gallant victory over the Swedes my Viscount returned to me
without a wound, and with distinguished praise from the Marshal. That
was an important winter, for it saw the deaths of the great Cardinal
and of King Louis XIII., moreover of the old Marchioness. My husband’s
loving heart sorrowed for her and for his uncle; but that same week
brought thee to my arms, my dear son, my beloved Gaspard! Oh! what
a fight Tryphena and I had to prevent his being stifled in swaddling
clothes! And how all the women predicted that his little limbs would be
broken and never be straight.
That winter was only clouded by the knowledge that spring would take
my husband away again. How good he was to me! How much pleasure and
amusement he gave up for my sake! He had outgrown his bashfulness and
embarrassment in this campaign, and could take his place in company, but
re remained at home with me. Had neither the grace nor the vivacity that
would have enabled me to collect a society around me, and I seldom saw
his brother officers except my brother M. de Solivet, and his great
friend M. de Chamillard, who was quite fatherly to me.
The Duke of Enghien took the command of the army of Picardy, and
asked for our regiment. I entreated not to be sent back to Paris, and
prevailed to be allowed to take up my abode at Mezieres, where I was
not so far from the camp but that my dear M. de Bellaise could sometimes
ride over and see me. He told me of the murmur of the elder men of the
army that the fiery young inexperienced prince was disregarding all the
checks that the old Marshal de l’Hopital put in his way; but he himself
was delighted, and made sure of success. The last time he came he told
me he heard that Rocroy was invested by the enemy. I was made to promise
that in case of any advance on the enemy’s part I would instantly set
off for Paris. He said it was the only way to make him fight with a free
heart, if a battle there were, and not repent of having permitted me to
follow him, and that I must think of my child as well as myself; but he
did not expect any such good fortune as a battle, the old marshal was so
set against it!
But I knew that he did expect a battle, by the way he came back and back
again to embrace me and his child.
I have waited and watched many times since that day, but never as I then
waited. With what agony I watched and prayed! how I lived either before
the altar, or at the window! how I seemed to be all eyes and ears! How
reports came that there was fighting, then that we had the day, then
that all was lost! Then came a calm, and it was said that Marshal de
l’Hospital had refused to fight, and was in full retreat, with the Duke
of Enghien cursing and swearing and tearing his hair. My landlord had
a visit from the mayor to say that he must prepare to have some men
billeted on him, and I sent out to inquire for horses, but decided that,
as it was only our own troops retreating, there would be plenty of time.
Then one of the maids of the house rushed in declaring that firing was
plainly to be heard. Half the people were out in the streets, many more
had gone outside the city to listen. Tryphena sat crying with fright,
and rocking the baby in her lap, and wishing she had never come to this
dreadful country. Alas! poor Tryphena she would have been no better off
in her own at that moment! I ran from window to door, unable to rest a
moment, listening to the cries in the streets, asking the landlady what
she heard, and then running back to my own room to kneel in prayer, but
starting up at the next sound in the streets.
At last, just before sunset, on that long, long 19th of May, all the
bells began to ring, clashing as if mad with joy, and a great roaring
shout burst out all over the city: ‘Victory! Victory! Vive le Roi! Vive
le Duc d’Enghien!’
I was at the window just in time to see a party of splendid horsemen,
carrying the striped and castellated colours of Spain, galloping through
the town, followed by universal shouts and acclamations. My man-servant,
Nicole, frantic with joy, came in to tell me that they had only halted
at the inn long enough to obtain fresh horses, on their way to the
Queen-Regent with the news of the great victory of Rocroy. More
standards taken, more cannon gained, more of the enemy killed and
captive than could be counted, and all owing to the surpassing valour of
the Duke of Enghien!
‘And my husband!’ I cried, and asked everybody, as if, poor little fool
that I was, any one was likely to know how it fared with one single
captain of the dragoons of Conde on such a day as that.
The good landlady and Tryphena both tried to reassure me that if there
were ill news it would have been sent to me at once; but though they
persuaded me at last to go to bed, I could not sleep, tossing about and
listening till morning light, when I dropped into a sound sleep, which
lasted for hours. I had longed for the first morning mass to go and pray
there, but after all I only heard the bells through my slumber, feeling
as if I could not rouse myself, and then--as it seemed to me, in
another moment--I heard something that made me turn round on my pillow
and open my eyes, and there he stood--my husband himself. His regiment
had surpassed itself; he had received the thanks of his colonel; he
had but snatched a few hours’ sleep, and had ridden off to assure his
Gildippe of his safety by her own eyes, and to rejoice over our splendid
victory.
And yet he could not but shudder as he spoke. When they had asked a
Spanish prisoner how many there had been in the army, ‘Count the dead,’
he proudly answered. Nor could my husband abstain from tears as he told
me how the old Spanish guards were all lying as they stood, slain all
together, with their colonel, the Count of Fontanes, at their head,
sitting in the armchair in which he had been carried to the field,
for he was more than eighty years old, and could not stand or ride on
account of the gout.
The Duke of Enghien had said that if he had not been victorious, the
next best thing would be to have died like that.
But his charges, his fire, his coolness, his skill, the vehemence which
had triumphed over the caution of the old marshal, and the resolution
which had retrieved the day when his colleague was wounded; of all this
M. de Bellaise spoke with passionate ardour and enthusiasm, and I--oh! I
think that was the happiest and most glorious day of all my life!
When we went together to mass, how everybody looked at him! and when
we returned there was quite a little crowd--M. le Gouverneur and his
officials eager to make their compliments to M. de Bellaise, and to ask
questions about the Duke and about the battle, and whether he thought
the Duke would march this way, in which case a triumphal entry should be
prepared. They wanted to have regaled M. de Bellaise with a banquet, and
were sadly disappointed when he said he had only stolen a few hours to
set his wife’s heart at rest, and must return immediately to the camp.
There was little after that to make me anxious, for our army merely went
through a course of triumphs, taking one city after another in rapid
succession. I remained at Mezieres, and M. de Bellaise sometimes was
able to spend a few days with me, much, I fear, to the derision of his
fellow-soldiers, who could not understand a man’s choosing such a form
of recreation. We had been walking under the fine trees in the PLACE on
a beautiful summer evening, and were mounting the stairs on our return
home, when we heard a voice demanding of the hostess whether this were
the lodging of Captain de Bellaise.
I feared that it was a summons from the camp, but as the stranger came
forward I saw that he was a very young man in the dress of a groom,
booted, spurred, and covered with dust and dried splashes of mud, though
his voice and pronunciation were those of a gentleman.
‘Do you bring tidings from M. le Marquis?’ inquired my husband, who had
recognized our livery.
‘Ah! I have deceived you likewise, and no wonder, for I should not have
known you, Philippe,’ cried the new comer.
‘Armand d’Aubepine! Impossible! I thought your child was a girl,’
exclaimed my husband.
‘And am I to waste my life and grow old ingloriously on that account?’
demanded the youth, who had by this time come up to our rooms.
‘Welcome, then, my brother,’ said my husband a little gravely, as I
thought. ‘My love,’ he added, turning to me, ‘let me present to you my
brother-in-law, the Chevalier d’Aubepine.’
With infinite grace the Chevalier put a knee to the ground, and kissed
my hand.
‘Madame will be good enough to excuse my present appearance,’ he said,
‘in consideration of its being the only means by which I could put
myself on the path of honour.’
‘It is then an evasion?’ said my husband gravely.
‘My dear Viscount, do not give yourself the airs of a patriarch. They do
not suit with your one-and-twenty years, even though you are the model
of husbands. Tell me, where is your hero?’
‘The Duke? He is before Thionville.’
‘I shall be at his feet in another day. Tell me how goes the war. What
cities are falling before our arms?’
He asked of victories; M. de Bellaise asked of his sister. ‘Oh! well,
well, what do I know?’ he answered lightly, as if the matter were
beneath his consideration; and when I inquired about his child, he
actually made a grimace, and indeed he had barely seen her, for she had
been sent out to be nursed at a farmhouse, and he did not even recollect
her name. I shall never forget how he stared, when at the sound of
a little cry my husband opened the door and appeared with our little
Gaspard, now five months old, laughing and springing in his arms,
and feeling for the gold on his uniform. The count had much the same
expression with which I have seen a lady regard me when I took a
caterpillar in my hand.
‘Ah! ah!’ cried our Chevalier; ‘with all his legs and arms too! That is
what comes of marrying an Englishwoman.’ [he did not know I was within
hearing, for I had gone in to give Tryphena orders about the room he
would occupy.] ‘Beside, it is a son.’
‘I hope one day to have a daughter whom I shall love the more, the more
she resembles her mother,’ said my husband, to tease him.
‘Bah! You will not have to detest her keeping you back from glory! Tell
me, Philippe, could a lettre de cachet reach me here?’
‘We are on French soil. What have you been doing, Armand?’
‘Only flying from inglorious dullness, my friend. Do not be scandalized,
but let me know how soon I can reach the hero of France, and enroll
myself as a volunteer.’
‘The Duke is at Binche. I must return thither tomorrow. You had better
eat and sleep here tonight, and then we can decide what is to be done.’
‘I may do that,’ the youth said, considering. ‘My grandfather could
hardly obtain an order instantaneously, and I have a fair start.’
So M. de Bellaise lent him some clothes, and he appeared at supper as
a handsome lively-looking youth, hardly come to his full height, for
he was only seventeen, with a haughty bearing, and large, almost fierce
dark eyes, under eyebrows that nearly met.
At supper he told us his story. He was, as you know the only scion of
the old house of Aubepine, his father having been killed in a duel, and
his mother dying at his birth. His grandparents bred him up with the
most assiduous care, but (as my husband told me) it was the care of
pride rather than of love. When still a mere boy, they married him
to poor little Cecile de Bellaise, younger still, and fresh from her
convent, promising, on his vehement entreaty, that so soon as the
succession should be secured by the birth of a son, he should join the
army.
Imagine then his indignation and despair when a little daughter--a
miserable little girl, as he said--made her appearance, to prolong his
captivity. For some centuries, he said--weeks he meant--he endured, but
then came the tidings of Rocroy to drive him wild with impatience, and
the report that there were negotiations for peace completed the work. He
made his wife give him her jewels and assist his escape from the
window of her chamber; bribed a courier--who was being sent from M.
de Nidemerle to my husband--to give him his livery and passport and
dispatches, and to keep out of sight; and thus passed successfully
through Paris, and had, through a course of adventures which he narrated
with great spirit, safely reached us. Even if the rogue of a courier, as
he justly called his accomplice, had betrayed him, there was no fear but
that he would have time to put himself on the roll of the army, whence a
promising young noble volunteer was not likely to be rejected.
My husband insisted that he should write to ask the pardon of his
grandfather, and on that condition engaged to introduce him to the
Duke and to the lieutenant-colonel of his regiment. M. de Bellaise then
inquired anxiously after the health of our uncle, who, on the death of
his wife, had retired to his own estate at Nid de Merle, close to the
Chateau d’Aubepine. Of this the young gentleman could tell little or
nothing.
‘Bah!’ he said, adding what he thought was a brilliant new military
affirmation, unaware that it was as old as the days of the League. ‘What
know I? He is, as all old men are, full of complaints.’
Handsome, graceful, courteous, spirited as was this young Chevalier, I
could not like him, and I afterwards told my husband that I wondered at
his assisting him.
‘My love,’ he said, ‘the Chateau d’Aubepine is dull enough to die
of. The poor fellow was eating out his own heart. He has followed
his instinct, and it is the only thing that can save him from worse
corruption.’
‘His instinct of selfishness,’ I said. ‘His talk was all of glory, but
it was of his own glory, not his duty nor the good of his country. He
seems to me to have absolutely no heart!’
‘Do not be hard on him; remember how he has been brought up.’
‘You were brought up in like manner by two old people.’
‘Ah! but they loved me. Besides, my tutor and his were as different as
light and darkness.’
‘And your poor little sister,’ I said.
‘She must have won his gratitude by her assistance. He will have learnt
to love her when he returns. Come, ma mie, you must forgive him. If
you knew what his captivity was, you could not help it. He was the
play-fellow of my boyhood, and if I can help him to the more noble path,
my aid must not be wanting, either for his sake or that of my sister.’
How wise and how noble these two years had made my dear husband; how
unlike the raw lad I had met at Whitehall! It was the training in
self-discipline that he had given himself for my sake--yes, and for that
of his country and his God.