most of the officers attached to pichegru's staff were away on some special service or reconnoissance when charles reached headquarters.
on the following day, all the orders having been given for a speedy departure, and each one having returned, the breakfast-table was full. at the table, besides colonel macdonald, whom we have already seen, were seated four brigadier-generals, the citizens lieber, boursier, michaud and hermann; two staff-officers, the citizens graume and chaumette; and two aides-de-camp, the citizens doumerc and abatucci.
doumerc was a captain of cavalry and about twenty-two years old; he was born in the neighborhood of toulon, and, as far as physical excellence went, he was one of the finest men in the army. as for his courage, in those days bravery was not even considered a merit. he had one of those charming characters which enlivened the calm though somewhat cold serenity of pichegru, who rarely took part in the conversation and who smiled as it were with his mind only.
abatucci was a corsican. at the age of fifteen he had been sent to the military school of metz, and had become a lieutenant of artillery in 1789 and captain in 1792. it was while he held the latter rank that he was appointed aide-de-camp to pichegru. he was a fine young man of twenty-two or three, and of acknowledged bravery. he was lithe and vigorous, with a bronzed complexion, which lent to his beauty, of the greek type, an effect similar to that observed in the ancient medals; and this contrasted strangely with his spontaneous, almost childlike gayety.
nothing could have been more enjoyable than were the meals of these young men, although the table resembled[pg 133] that of laced?mona. woe to him who came late, whether detained by love or war; he found the dishes washed and the bottles empty, and had to eat his dry bread amid the laughter and jokes of his companions.
but not a week passed without leaving an empty place at the board. the general, as he entered, would notice it, and, by a gesture, order the cover of the absent one removed; he had died for his country. they drank to his memory, and all was over.
there was something of sovereign grandeur in this carelessness of life and forgetfulness of death.
the siege of toulon had engaged the attention of the young men for the last few days almost as much as if they had been actors on the scene.
toulon, it will be remembered, had been delivered to the english by admiral trogoff, whose name, we regret to say, we are not able to find in any encyclopedia; the names of traitors should be preserved.
m. thiers, doubtless through patriotism, said that he was a russian. alas! he was a breton.
the first news was not reassuring, and the young men, particularly those who were cavalry officers, had laughed heartily over general cartaux's plan, which was embodied in the following lines:
the general body of artillery will bombard toulon for three days; at the end of which time i shall attack it in three columns and take it.
then the news came that general dugommier had succeeded cartaux. this inspired a little more confidence; but as he had returned from martinique only two years before, and had been a general but eighteen months, he was an unknown quantity.
the last news received was that the siege had been begun according to all the rules of scientific warfare; that the artillery in particular was commanded by an officer of merit, and was doing efficient service. the natural result of all[pg 134] this was that the "moniteur" was impatiently waited for each day.
it arrived just as they had finished breakfast. the general took it from the hands of the soldier who brought it in, and threw it across the table to charles, saying: "here, citizen secretary, this is a part of your duties; look and see if there is anything about toulon."
charles, blushing up to his eyes, opened the paper, and stopped at these words:
letter from general dugommier, dated at headquarters at ollioules, 10th frimaire, year ii.
citizen minister—the day has been hot but fortunate. two days ago an important battery opened fire on malbosquet, and has done great damage to that post and its surroundings. this morning at five o'clock the enemy made a vigorous sortie, by which at first they carried all our advance posts to the left of this battery. at the first firing we were all swiftly transferred to the left wing.
i found almost all our forces in flight. general garnier complained that his troops had abandoned him, and i ordered him to rally them and to report ready to retake our battery. i took command of the third battalion of the iser, hoping to reach the same battery by another way. we were fortunate enough to succeed, and the position was soon recovered. the enemy, repulsed, retreated on every side, leaving a large number of wounded and dead. this sortie cost their army more than twelve hundred in killed, wounded, and prisoners; among the latter were several officers of superior rank, including their general-in-chief, o'hara, who was wounded in the right arm.
both generals were wounded in this action. i received two severe contusions—one in the right arm and another in the shoulder—neither of which is dangerous. after having repulsed the enemy, our republicans, by a courageous but disorderly movement, marched toward malbosquet, covered by the formidable fire of this fort. they captured the tents of a camp which had been abandoned in consequence of their intrepid movement. this action, which is a great triumph for the arms of the republic, is an excellent augury for future operations; for what can we not attain by a concerted and organized attack, when we have done so well with an improvised one?
[pg 135]
i cannot sufficiently extol the conduct of all those who fought. among those who particularly distinguished themselves, and who were of the most assistance to me in rallying the forces for the advance, were citizens buona parte, commanding the artillery, and aréna and cervoni, adjutant-generals.
dugommier, general-in-chief.
"buona parte," said pichegru; "that must be the young corsican to whom i was tutor, who showed such a marked talent for mathematics."
"there is a family named buonaparte in ajaccio," said abatucci, "whose head, charles de buonaparte, was aide in paoli's camp; they are cousins, these buonapartes."
"the deuce," said doumerc, "you are all cousins in corsica."
"if it is the buonaparte i mean," said pichegru, "he is a young man five feet one or two inches tall, with straight hair plastered down at the temples, who did not know a word of french when he came to brienne; he was of a misanthropic solitary turn of mind, strongly opposed to the union of corsica with france, and a great admirer of paoli. in two or three years he learned all that father patrault—by the way, charles, he was the protector of your friend euloge schneider—could teach."
"only," continued abatucci, "they do not write the name as the 'moniteur' has it, cut in two in the middle—it is simply buonaparte."
a loud noise was heard at this point of the conversation, and every one hastened to the window overlooking the rue de strasbourg.
they were so near the enemy that they expected a surprise at every moment. they all seized their swords. doumerc, who was nearer the window than the others, not only picked up his sword, but sprang out of the window, and rushed up the street to a turning where he could see the whole length of the road. but when he reached it, he shrugged his shoulders in token of disappointment, and returned to his companions with slow steps, and bent head.
[pg 136]
"what is it?" asked pichegru.
"nothing, general, except the unfortunate eisemberg and his staff on their way to the guillotine."
"but," said pichegru, "are they not going straight to the citadel? we have always been spared this sight hitherto."
"that is true, general, but they have resolved to strike a blow this time that will send terror to the hearts of the soldiers. the execution of a general and his staff is such a good example for all the other generals and their staffs, that it has been judged advisable to have us all present at the spectacle."
"but," hazarded charles timidly, "those were not sounds of sorrow but bursts of laughter that i heard."
a soldier coming from the same direction as the procession chanced to pass at this moment; the general recognized in him a man from the village of arbois. he was a chasseur in the eighth regiment named falou. the general called him by name.
the chasseur stopped short, looked to see who had called him, turned on his heel, and saluted.
"come here," said the general.
the chasseur approached him.
"what is the cause of this laughter?" asked pichegru. "the people are not insulting the condemned men, are they?"
"quite on the contrary, general, they are pitying them."
"but what is the meaning of those bursts of laughter then?"
"it is not their fault, general; he would make a mile-stone laugh!"
"who?"
"the surgeon figeac, who is to be guillotined; he is cracking so many jokes from the top of the cart that even the condemned men are convulsed with laughter."
the general and his companions looked at each other.
"the time seems to me rather ill-chosen for mirth," said pichegru.
[pg 137]
"well, he seems to have found a laughable side to death."
just then the advance-guard of the procession came in sight, the men laughing heartily—not with a savage and insulting laugh, but with one that was natural and hearty. the immense cart, which was carrying twenty-two prisoners, bound two and two, to the execution, came in sight almost immediately. pichegru stepped back, but eisemberg called to him in a loud voice.
pichegru paused.
figeac, seeing that eisemberg wished to speak, was silent, and the laughter ceased almost immediately. eisemberg moved forward, dragging the man to whom he was bound with him, and standing up, said: "pichegru, listen to me."
those of the young men who had their caps or their hats on their heads removed them; falou stood close to the window saluting.
"pichegru," said the unhappy general, "i am going to die, and i shall gladly leave you the honors which your courage will bring you. i know that you do justice to my loyalty, that has been betrayed by the fate of war, and that you have secretly pitied me in my misfortune. i should like to predict a better end for you than mine, but you may not hope for it. houchard and custine are dead, i am to die, beauharnais will die, and you will die like us. the people to whom you have devoted your sword are not sparing of the blood of their defenders, and if the hostile bullets spare you, you will not escape the executioner. farewell, pichegru! may heaven preserve you from the jealousy of tyrants and the false justice of assassins. farewell, my friend! go on, now, you."
pichegru greeted him with his hand, shut the window, and entered his room with his head bent and his arms folded, as if eisemberg's words weighed heavy on his mind.
then, suddenly raising his head, and addressing the young men who were looking at him in silence, he said:[pg 138] "who among you knows greek! i will give my best cummer pipe to the one who can tell me the name of the greek author who speaks of the prophecies of dying men."
"i know a little greek, general," said charles, "but i do not smoke at all."
"well, then i will give you something that will please you more than a pipe."
"well, general," said charles, "it is aristophanes, in a passage which may be translated somewhat as follows: 'dying hoary-heads have the souls of sybils.'"
"bravo," said pichegru, patting his cheek, "to-morrow, or the day after, you shall have what i promised you." then, turning to his aides-de-camp, he said, "come, children, i am tired of these butcheries; we will leave auenheim in two hours, and try to reach drusenheim with our advance-posts. death is but a trifle anywhere, and it becomes a pleasure on the battlefield. therefore let us fight."
just then a government despatch was handed to pichegru. it contained an order to join the army of the moselle, and to consider hoche, who was commanding it, as his superior officer. the two armies, once this union had been effected, were to attack ceaselessly until the lines of wissembourg had been retaken.
it was not necessary to change the orders already given. pichegru put the despatch in his pocket, and knowing that the spy, stephan, was waiting for him in his cabinet, he went in there, saying as he did so: "citizens, hold yourselves in readiness to start at the first sound of the trumpet and the first roll of the drum."
