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Waterloo: A sequel to The Conscript of 1813
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Waterloo: A sequel to The Conscript of 1813

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Waterloo: A sequel to The Conscript of 1813

All the windows were illuminated, and before those of the commandant there was a great shield of sky blue, and the crown and the three fleur-de-lis in gold, sparkled in the centre. The great hall of the college echoed with the music of the regimental band.

Mademoiselle Bremer, who had a very fine voice, was to sing the air of "Vive Henri IV." before the prince. But all the village knew the next day, that she had been so confused by the sight of the prince, that she could not utter a word, and everybody said, "Poor Mademoiselle Félicité, poor Mademoiselle Félicité."

The ball lasted all night. We – Mr. Goulden, Catherine, and I – were asleep, when about three in the morning we were wakened by the hussars going by and the shouts of "Vive le Duc de Berry." These princes must have excellent health to be able to go to all the balls and dinners which are offered to them on their journeys. And it must become very tiresome at last to be called "Your Majesty," "Your Excellence," "Your Goodness," and "Your Justice," and everything else that can be thought of, that is new and extraordinary, in order to make them believe that the people adore them and look upon them as gods. If they do despise the men at last it is not astonishing. If the same thing were done to us we might think ourselves eagles too.

What I have told you is exactly the truth. I have exaggerated nothing.

The next day they began again with new enthusiasm. The weather was very fine, but as the prince had slept badly, and the children who wished to imitate the court without succeeding, annoyed him, and he thought perhaps, that they had not done him sufficient honor and had not shouted "Vive le Roi, Vive le Duc de Berry" loud and long enough – for all the soldiers kept silent – he was in a very bad humor.

I saw him very well that day, while the review was taking place – the soldiers occupied the sides of the square, we were at Wittman's, the leather merchant, on the first floor – and also during the consecration of the flag and the Te Deum at the church, for we had the fourth pew in front of the choir. They said he looked like Napoleon, but it was not true; he was a good-looking fat fellow, short and thick, and pale with fatigue, and not at all lively, quite the contrary. During the service he did nothing but yawn and rock back and forth like a pendulum. I am telling you what I saw myself, and that shows how blind people are, they want to find resemblances everywhere.

During the review, too, I remembered that the Emperor always came on horseback, and so would discover at a glance if everything was in order; instead of this, the duke came along the ranks on foot, and two or three times he found fault with old soldiers, examining them from head to foot. That was the worst. Zébédé was one of these men, and he never could forgive him.

That was well enough for the review, but a more serious thing was the distribution of the crosses and the fleur-de-lis. When I tell you that all the mayors and their assistants, the councillors from the Baraques-d'en-Haut and the Baraques-du-bois-de-Chênes, from Holderloch and Hirschland, received the fleur-de-lis because they headed their village deputations with a white flag, and that Pinacle received the cross of honor, for having arrived first with the band of the Bohemian, Waldteufel, who played "Vive Henri IV.," and had five or six white flags larger than the others; when I tell you that, you will understand what reasonable people thought. It was a real scandal!

In the afternoon about four o'clock, the prince left for Strasbourg, accompanied by all the royalists in the country on horseback, some on good mounts, and others, like Pinacle, on old hacks.

One event the Pfalzbourgers of that day remember until this, and that is, that after the prince was seated in his carriage and was driving slowly away, one of the émigré officers with his head uncovered and in uniform, ran after him, crying in a pitiful voice, "Bread, my prince, bread for my children!" That made the people blush, and they ran away for shame.

We went home in silence, Father Goulden was lost in thought, when Aunt Grédel arrived.

"Well! Mother Grédel, you ought to be satisfied," said he.

"And why?"

"Because Pinacle has been decorated."

She turned quite livid, and said after a minute:

"That is the greatest trumpery that ever was seen. If the prince had known what he is, he would have hung him rather than decorate him with the cross of honor."

"That is just the trouble," said Mr. Goulden, "those people do many such things without knowing it, and when they do know, it is too late."

VIII

So it was that Monseigneur the Duke de Berry, visited the departments of the East. Every word he uttered was taken up and repeated again and again. Some praised his exceeding graciousness, and others kept silence. From that time I suspected that all these émigrés and officers on half-pay, these preachers with their processions and their expiations, would overturn everything again, and about the beginning of winter we heard that not only with us, but all over Alsace affairs were growing worse and worse in just the same way.

One morning between eleven and twelve Father Goulden and I were both at work, each one thinking after his own fashion, and Catherine was laying the cloth. I started to go out to wash my hands at the pump, as I always did before dinner, when I saw an old woman wiping her feet on the straw mat at the foot of the stairs and shaking her skirts which were covered with mud. She had a stout staff, and a large rosary hung from her neck. As I looked at her from the top of the stairs, she began to come up and I recognized her immediately by the folds about her eyes and the innumerable wrinkles round her little mouth, as Anna-Marie, the pilgrim of St. Witt. The poor old woman often brought us watches to mend, from pious people who had confidence in her, and Mr. Goulden was always delighted to see her.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, "it is Anne-Marie! now we shall have the news. And how is Mr. Such-an-one, the priest? How is the Vicar So-and-So? Does he still look as well as ever? and Mr. Jacob, of such a place. And the old sexton, Niclausse, does he still ring the bells at Dann, and at Hirschland, and Saint Jean? He must begin to look old?"

"Ah! Mr. Goulden, thanks for Mr. Jacob, you know that he lost Mademoiselle Christine last week."

"What! Mademoiselle Christine?"

"Yes, indeed?"

"What a misfortune! but we must remember that we are all mortal!"

"Yes, Mr. Goulden, and when one is so fortunate as to receive the holy consolations of the Church."

"Certainly – certainly, that is the principal thing."

So they talked on, Father Goulden laughing in his sleeve. She knew everything that happened within six leagues round the city. He looked mischievously at me from time to time. This same thing had happened a hundred times during my apprenticeship, but you will understand how much more curious he was now to learn all that was going on in the country.

"Ah! it is really Anna-Marie!" said he rising, "it is a long time since we have seen you."

"Three months, Mr. Goulden, three long months. I have made pilgrimages to Saint Witt, to Saint Odille, to Marienthal, to Hazlach, and I have vows for all the saints in Alsace, in Lorraine, and in the Vosges. But now I have nearly finished, only Saint Quirin remains."

"Ah! so much the better, your affairs go on well, and that gives me pleasure. Sit down, Anna-Marie, sit down and rest yourself."

I saw in his eyes how happy he was to have her unroll her budget of news. But it appeared she had other matters to attend to.

"Oh! Mr. Goulden," said she. "I cannot today. Others are before me, Mother Evig, Gaspard Rosenkranz, and Jacob Heilig. I must go to Saint Quirin, to-night. I only just came in to tell you that the clock at Dosenheim is out of order, and that they are expecting you to repair it."

"Pshaw! pshaw! stay a moment."

"No, I cannot, I am very sorry, Mr. Goulden, but I must finish my round."

She had already taken up her bundle, and Mr. Goulden seemed greatly disappointed; when Catherine put a great dish of cabbage on the table, and said, "What! are you going, Anna-Marie? you cannot think of it! here is your plate!"

She turned her head and saw the smoking soup and the cabbage, which exhaled a most delicious odor.

"I am in a great hurry," said she.

"Oh! pshaw! you have very good legs," said Catherine, glancing at Mr. Goulden.

"Yes, thank God, they are very good still."

"Well, sit down then and refresh yourself. It is hard work to be always walking."

"Yes, indeed, Madame Bertha, one earns the thirty sous that one gets."

I placed the chairs.

"Sit down, Anna-Marie, and give me your stick."

"Well, I must listen to you, I suppose, but I cannot stay long, I will only take a mouthful and then go."

"Yes, yes, that is settled, Anna-Marie," said Mr. Goulden; "we will not hinder you long."

We sat down, and Mr. Goulden served us at once. Catherine looked at me and smiled, and I said to myself, "Women are more ingenious than we," and I was very happy. What more could a man wish for than to have a wife with sense and spirit? It is a real treasure, and I have often seen that men are happy when they allow themselves to be guided by such a woman. You can easily believe that when once seated at the table near the fire, instead of being out in the mud, with the sharp November wind whistling in her thin skirts, she no longer thought of her journey. She was a good creature sixty years old, who still supported two children of her son who died some years before. To travel round the country at that age, with the sun and rain and snow on your back, to sleep in barns and stables on straw, and three-quarters of the time have only potatoes to eat and not enough of them, does not make one despise a plate of good hot soup, a piece of smoked bacon and cabbage, with two or three glasses of wine to warm the heart. No, you must look at things as they are, the life of these poor people is very hard, every one would do well to try a pilgrimage on his own account.

Anna-Marie understood the difference between being at table and on the road, she ate with a good appetite, and she took real pleasure in telling us what she had seen during her last round.

"Yes," said she, "everything is going on well now. All the processions and expiations which you have seen are nothing, they will grow larger and more imposing from day to day. And you know there are missionaries coming among us, as they used to do among the savages, to convert us. They are coming from Mr. de Forbin-Janson and Mr. de Ranzan, because the corruption of the times is so great. And the convents are to be rebuilt, and the gates along the roads restored, as they were before the twenty-five years' rebellion. And when the pilgrims arrive at the convents, they will only have to ring and they will be admitted at once, when the brothers who serve, will bring them porringers of rich soup with meat on ordinary days, and vegetable soup with fish on Fridays and Saturdays and during Lent. In that way piety will increase, and everybody will make pilgrimages. But the pious women of Bischoffsheim say, that only those who have been pilgrims from father to son, like us, ought to go; that each one ought to attend to his work, that the peasants should belong to the soil, and that the lords should have their chateaux again, and govern them. I heard this with my own ears from these pious women, who are to have their properties again because they have returned from exile, and that they must have their estates in order to build their chapels is very certain. Oh! if that were only done now, so I could profit by it in my old age! I have fasted long enough, and my little grandchildren also. I would take them with me, and the priests would teach them, and when I die I should have the consolation of seeing them in a good way."

On hearing her recount all these things so contrary to reason we were much moved, for she wept as she imagined her little girls begging at the door of the convent and the brother bringing them soup.

"And you know, too, that Mr. de Ranzan and the Reverend Father Tarin want the chateaux rebuilt, and the woods and meadows and fields given up to the nobles, and in the meantime that the ponds are to be put in good condition, because they belong to the reverend fathers, who have no time to plough or sow or reap. Everything must come to them of itself."

"But tell us, Anna-Marie, is all this quite certain? I can hardly believe that such great happiness is in store for us."

"It is quite certain, Mr. Goulden. The Count d'Artois wishes to secure his salvation, and in order to do that everything must be set in order. Mons. le Vicar Antoine of Marienthal said the same things last week. They come from above, – these things, – and the hearts of the people must be accustomed to them by the sermons and expiations. Those who will not submit, like the Jews and Lutherans, will be forced to do so, and the Jacobins" – in speaking of the Jacobins Anna-Marie looked suddenly at Mr. Goulden and blushed up to her ears, for he was smiling.

But she recovered herself, and went on:

"Among the Jacobins there are some very good people, but the poor must live. The Jacobins have taken the property of the poor and that is not right."

"When and where have they taken the property of the poor?"

"Listen, Mr. Goulden, the monks and the Capuchins had the estates of the poor, and the Jacobins have divided them amongst themselves."

"Ah! I understand, I understand, the monks and Capuchins had your property, Anna-Marie; I never should have guessed that."

Mr. Goulden was all the time in good-humor, and Anna-Marie said:

"We shall be in accord at last."

"Oh! yes, we are, we are," said he pleasantly.

I listened without saying anything, as I was naturally curious to hear what was coming. It was easy to see that this was what she had heard on her last journey.

She said also that miracles were coming again and that Saint Quirin, Saint Odille, and the others would not work miracles under the usurper, but that they had commenced already; that the little black St. John at Kortzeroth, on seeing the ancient prior return had shed tears.

"Yes, yes, I understand," said Mr. Goulden, "that does not astonish me in the least, after all these processions and atonements the saints must work miracles; and it is natural, Anna-Marie, quite natural."

"Without doubt, Mr. Goulden, and when we see miracles, faith will return. That is clear, that is certain."

The dinner was finished, and Anna-Marie seeing that nothing more was coming, remembered that she was late, and exclaimed:

"Oh! Lord, that is one o'clock striking. The others must be near Ercheviller; now I must leave you."

She rose and took her stick with a very important air.

"Well! bon voyage, Anna-Marie, don't make us wait so long next time."

"Ah! Mr. Goulden, if I do not sit every day at your table it is not my fault."

She laughed, and as she took up her bundle she said:

"Well, good-by, and for the kindness you have shown me I will pray the blessed Saint Quirin to send you a fine fat boy as fresh and rosy as a lady-apple. That is the best thing, Madame Bertha, that an old woman like me can do for you."

On hearing these good wishes, I said, "That old woman is a good soul. There is nothing I so much wish for in the world. May God hear her prayer!" I was touched by that good wish.

She went downstairs, and as she shut the door, Catherine began to laugh, and said:

"She emptied her budget this time."

"Yes, my children," replied Mr. Goulden, who was quite grave, "that is what we may call human ignorance. You would believe that poor creature had invented all that, but she has picked it up right and left, it is word for word what those émigrés think, and what they repeat every day in their journals, and what the preachers say every day openly in all the churches. Louis XVIII. troubles them, he has too much good sense for them, but the real king is Monseigneur the Duke d'Artois, who wants to secure his salvation, and in order that this may be done everything must be put back where it was before the 'rebellion of twenty-five years,' and all the national property must be given up to its ancient owners, and the nobles must have their rights and privileges as in 1788; they must occupy all the grades of the army, and the Catholic religion must be the only religion in the state. The Sabbath and fête days must be observed, and heretics driven from all the offices, and the priests alone have the right to instruct the children of the people, and this great and terrible country, which carried its ideas of Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity everywhere by means of its good sense and its victories, and which never would have been vanquished if the Emperor had not made an alliance with the kings at Tilsit, this nation, which in a few years produced so many more great captains and orators, learned men and geniuses of all kinds, than the noble races produced in a thousand years, must surrender everything and go back to tilling the earth, while the others, who are not one in a thousand, will go on from father to son, taking everything and gladdening their hearts at the expense of the people! Oh! no doubt the fields and meadows and ponds will be given up as Anna-Marie said, and that the convents will be rebuilt in order to please Mons. le Comte d'Artois and help him to gain his salvation – that is the least the country could do for so great a prince!"

Then Father Goulden, joining his hands, looked upward saying:

"Lord God, Lord God, who hast wrought so many miracles by the little black St. John of Kortzeroth, if thou wouldst permit even a single ray of reason to enter the heads of Monseigneur and his friends, I believe it would be more beautiful than the tears of the little saint! And that other one on his island, with his clear eyes like the sparrow-hawk who pretends to sleep as he watches the unconscious geese in a pool, – O Lord, a few strokes of his wing and he is upon them, the birds may escape, while we shall have all Europe at our heels again!"

He said all this very gravely, and I looked at Catherine to know whether I should laugh or cry.

Suddenly he sat down, saying:

"Come! Joseph, this is not at all cheerful, but what can we do? It is time to be at work. Look, and see what is the matter with Mr. Jacob's watch."

Catherine took off the cloth, and each one went to his work.

IX

It was winter. Rain fell constantly, mingled with snow. There were no gutters, and the wind blew the rain as it fell from the tiles quite into the middle of the street. We could hear it pattering all day while Catherine was running about, watching the fire, and lifting the covers of the saucepans, and sometimes singing quietly to herself as she sat down to her spinning. Father Goulden and I were so accustomed to this kind of life that we worked on without thinking. We troubled ourselves about nothing, the table was laid and the dinner served exactly on the stroke of noon. At night Mr. Goulden went out after supper to read the gazette at Hoffman's, with his old cloak wrapped closely round his shoulders and his big fox-skin cap pulled down over his neck.

But in spite of that, often when he came in at ten o'clock, after we had gone to bed, we heard him cough; he had dampened his feet. Then Catherine would say, "He is coughing again, he thinks he is as young as he was at twenty," and in the morning she did not hesitate to reproach him.

"Monsieur Goulden," she would say, "you are not reasonable; you have an ugly cold, and yet you go out every evening."

"Ah! my child, what would you have? I have got the habit of reading the gazette, and it is stronger than I. I want to know what Benjamin Constant and the rest of them say, it is like a second life to me and I often think 'they ought to have spoken further of such or such a thing. If Melchior Goulden had been there he would have opposed this or that, and it would not have failed to produce a great effect.'"

Then he would laugh and shake his head and say:

"Every one thinks he has more wit and good sense than the others, but Benjamin Constant always pleases me."

We could say nothing more, his desire to read the gazette was so great. One day Catherine said to him:

"If you wish to hear the news, that is no reason why you should make yourself sick, you have only to do as the old carpenter Carabin does, he arranged last week with Father Hoffman, and he sends him the journal every night at seven o'clock, after the others have read it, for which he pays him three francs a month. In this way, without any trouble to himself, Carabin knows everything that goes on, and his wife, old Bevel, also; they sit by the fire and talk about all these things and discuss them together, and that is what you should do."

"Ah! Catherine, that is an excellent idea, but – the three francs?"

"The three francs are nothing," said I, "the principal thing is not to be sick, you cough very badly and that cannot go on."

These words, far from offending, pleased him, as they proved our affection for him and that he ought to listen to us.

"Very well! we will try to arrange it as you wish, and the rather as the café is filled with half-pay officers from morning till night, and they pass the journals from one to the other so that sometimes we must wait two hours before we can catch one. Yes, Catherine is right."

He went that very day to see Father Hoffman, so that after that, Michel, one of the waiters at the café brought us the gazette every night at seven o'clock, just as we rose from the table. We were happy always when we heard him coming up the stairs, and we would say, "There comes the gazette."

Catherine would hurry off the cloth and I would put a big bullet of wood in the stove, and Mr. Goulden would draw his spectacles from their case, and while Catherine spun and I smoked my pipe like an old soldier, and watched the blaze as it danced in the stove, he would read us the news from Paris.

You cannot imagine the happiness and satisfaction we had in hearing Benjamin Constant and two or three others maintain the same opinions which we held ourselves. Sometimes Mr. Goulden was forced to stop to wipe his spectacles, and then Catherine would exclaim:

"How well these people talk. They are men of good sense. Yes, what they say is right – it is the simple truth."

And we all approved it. Sometimes Father Goulden thought that they ought to have spoken of this or that a little more, but that the rest was all very well. Then he would go on with his reading, which lasted till ten o'clock, and then we all went to bed, reflecting on what we had just heard. Outside the wind blew, as it only can blow at Pfalzbourg, and vanes creaked as they turned, and the rain beat against the walls, while we enjoyed the warmth and comfort, and thanked God till sleep came, and we forgot everything. Ah! how happily we sleep with peace in our souls, and when we have strength and health, and the love and respect of those whom we love.

Days, weeks, and months went by, and we became, after a manner, politicians, and when the ministers were going to speak, we thought:

"Now the beggars want to deceive us! the miserable race! they ought to be driven out, every one of them!"

Catherine above all could not endure them, and when Mother Grédel came and talked as before about our good King, Louis XVIII., we allowed her to talk out of respect, but we pitied her for being so blind to the real interests of the country.

It must be remembered, too, that these émigrés, ministers, and princes, conducted themselves in the most insolent manner possible toward us. If the Count d'Artois and his sons had put themselves at the head of the Vendéeans and Bretons, and marched on Paris and had been victorious, they would have had reason to say, "We are masters, and will make laws for you." But to be driven out at first, and to be brought back by the Prussians and the Russians, and then to come and humiliate us, that was contemptible, and the older I grow the more I am confirmed in that idea – it was shameful!

Zébédé came to see us from time to time, and he knew all that was in the gazette. It was from us that he first learned that the young émigrés had driven General Vandamme from the presence of the King. This old soldier, who had just returned from a Russian prison, and whom all the army respected in spite of his misfortune at Kulm, they conducted from the royal presence, and told him that was not his place. Vandamme had been colonel of a regiment at Pfalzbourg, and you cannot imagine the indignation of the people at this news.

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