Tom Burke Of "Ours", Volume II. Lever Charles James
forty-five standards taken on the field of Austerlitz, and now destined to grace the Palace of the Luxembourg.
I had scarcely seated myself to the humble supper of my bivouac, when an orderly came to command me to General d’Auvergne’s quarters. The little sitting-room he occupied, in a peasant hut, was so filled with officers that it was some time before I could approach him; and my impatience was not lessened by more than once hearing my name mentioned aloud, – a circumstance not a little trying to a young man in the presence of his superiors in station.
“But here he is,” said the general, beckoning to me to come forward. “Burke, his Majesty has most graciously permitted me to include your name in the compagnie d’élite, – a testimony of his satisfaction you’ve every reason to be proud of. And just at the moment I was about to communicate the fact to you, I have received a message from Marshal Murat, requesting that I may permit you to serve on his own staff.”
“Yes, Captain,” said an officer in the uniform of a colonel, – it was the first time I had been addressed by my new title, and I cannot express what a thrill of pleasure the word gave me, – “Marshal Murat witnessed with pleasure the alacrity and steadiness of your conduct on the 2d, and has sent me with an offer which I fancy few officers would not deem a flattering one.”
“Unquestionably it is, Colonel,” said General d’Auvergne; “nay, more, I will say I regard it as the making of a young man’s fortune, thus early in his career to have attracted such high notice. But I must be passive here; Captain Burke shall decide for himself.”
“In that case, sir, I shall cause you but little delay, if you will still permit me to serve on your own staff.”
“But stay, my boy, do not be rash in this affair. I will not insult your better feeling by dwelling on the little power I possess, and the very great enjoyed by Marshal Murat, of serving your interests; but I must say, that with him, and on his personal staff, opportunities of distinction – ”
“And here I must interpose,” said the colonel, smiling courteously: “with no officer in this army can a man expect to see service, in its boldest and most heroic colors, rather than with General d’Auvergne.”
“I know it, – I feel it, too; and with him, if he will allow me – ”
“Enough, my dear boy,” said the old man, grasping my hand in his. “Colonel, you must explain to the marshal how stands this matter; and he is too kind of heart and too noble of soul to think the worse of any of us for our obstinacy. And now, my young friend, make your arrangements to join the compagnie d’élite; they march to-morrow afternoon, – and this is a service you cannot decline. Leave me to make your acknowledgments to the marshal, and lose no more time here.”
Short as had been my absence from my quarters, when I re-entered, I descried Tascher seated at the table, and busily employed in discussing the last fragments of my supper.
“You see, my dear friend,” said he, speaking with his mouth full, – “you see what it is to have a salmi for supper. I sat eating a confounded mess of black bread, and blacker veal, for fifteen minutes, when the breeze brought me the odor of your delicious plat. It was in vain I summoned all my virtue to resist it; if there ever was a dish made to seduce a subaltern on service, it is this. But, I say, won’t you eat something?”
“I fear not,” said I, half angrily.
“And why?” replied he. “See what a capital wing that is, – a little bare, to be sure; and there’s the back of a pigeon. Ma foi! you have no reason to complain. I say, is it true you are named among the compagnie d’élite?”
I nodded, and ate on.
“Diable! there never was such fortune. What a glorious exchange for this confounded swamp, with its everlasting drill from morning to night, – shivering under arms for four hours, and shaking with the ague the rest of the day after, – marching, mid-leg in water, half frozen, and trying quick movements, when the very blood is in icicles! And then you ‘ll be enjoying Paris, – delightful Paris! – dining at the ‘Rocher,’ supping at the ‘Cadran,’ lounging into the salons, at the very time we shall be hiding ourselves amidst the straw of our bivouacs. I go mad to think of it. And, what’s worse than all, there you sit, as little elated as if the whole thing were only the most natural in the world. I believe, on my word, you ‘d not condescend to be surprised if you were gazetted Maréchal de France in to-morrow’s gazette.”
“When I can bear, without testifying too much astonishment, to see my supper eaten by the man who does nothing but rate me into the bargain, perhaps I may plume myself on some equanimity of temper.”
“Confound your equanimity! It’s very easy to be satisfied when one has everything his own way.”
“And so, Tascher, you deem me such a fortunate fellow?”
“That I do,” replied he, quickly. “You have had more good luck, and made less of it, than any one I ever knew. What a career you had before you when we met first! There was that pretty girl at the Tuileries quite ready to fall in love with you; I know it, because she rather took an air of coldness with me. Well, you let her be carried off by an old general, with a white head and a queue, – unquestionably a bit of pique on her part. Then, somehow or other, you contrived to pink the best swordsman of the army, little François there; and I never heard that the circumstance gained you a single conquest.”
“Quite true, my friend,” said I, laughing; “I confess it all. And, what is far worse, I acknowledge that until this moment I did not even know the advantages I was wilfully wasting.”
“And even now,” continued he, not minding my interruption, – “even now, you are about to return to Paris as one of the élite. Well, I ‘ll wager twenty Naps that the only civil speeches you ‘ll hear will be from some musty old senators at the Luxembourg. Oh dear! if my amiable aunt, the Empress, would only induce my most benevolent uncle, the Emperor, to put me on that same list, depend upon it you ‘d hear of Lieutenant Tascher in the ‘Faubourg St. Honoré.’”
“But you seem to forget,” said I, half piqued at last by the impertinence of his tone, “that I have neither friends nor acquaintances; that, although a Frenchman by service, I am not so by birth.”
“And I, – what am I?” interrupted he. “A Creole, come from Heaven knows what far-away place beyond seas; that there never was a man with more expensive tastes, and smaller means to supply them, – with worse prospects, and better connections; in short, a kind of live antithesis. And yet, with all that, exchange places with me now, and see if, before a fortnight elapse, I have not more dinner invitations than any officer of the same grade within the Boulevards; watch if the prettiest girl at Paris is not at my side in the Opera. But here comes your official appointment, I take it.”
As he said this, an orderly of the “Garde” delivered a sealed packet into my hands, which, on opening, I discovered was a letter from General Duroc, wherein I read, that “it was the wish of his Majesty, Emperor and King, that I, his well-beloved Thomas Burke, in conformity with certain instructions to be afterwards made known to me, should proceed with the compagnie d’élite to Paris, then and there – ”
As I read thus far aloud, Tascher interrupted me, snatching the paper from my hands, and continued thus: —
“Then and there to mope, muse, and be ennuyé until such time as active service may again recall him to the army. My dear Burke, I am really sorry for you. Wars and campaigning may be – indeed they are – very fine things; but as the means, not the end. His Majesty, my uncle, – whom may Heaven preserve and soften his heart to his relations! – loves them for their own sake; but we, – you and I, for instance, – what possible reason can we have for risking our bones, and getting our flesh mangled, save the hope of promotion? And to what end that same promotion, if not for a wider sphere of pleasure and enjoyment? Think what a career a colonel, at our age, would have in Paris!”
“Come, Tascher, I will not believe you in all this. If there were not something higher to reward one for the fatigues and dangers of a campaign