CHAPTER XXIX. MY NAMESAKE
About a month after I came to live in the "pension," I was sitting oneevening at the window, watching, with the interest an idle man will everattach to slight things,--the budding leaves of an early spring,--when Iheard a step approach my chair, and on turning my head perceived Madamede Langeac. She carried her taboret in her hand, and came slowly towardsme.
"I am come to steal some of your sunshine, Monsieur Burke," said the oldlady, smiling good-naturedly, as I rose to present a chair, "but not todrive you away, if you will be generous enough to keep me company."
I stammered out some commonplace civility in reply, and was silent,for my thoughts were bent upon my future, and I was ill disposed tointerruption.
"You are fond of flowers, I have remarked," continued she, as ifperceiving my preoccupation, and willing to relieve it by taking theburden of the conversation. "And it is a taste I love to witness; itseems to me like the evidence of a homely habit. It is only in childhoodwe learn this love; we may cultivate it in after life as we will."
"My mother was passionately fond of them," said I, calling up along-buried memory of home and kindred.
"I thought so. These simple tastes are the inheritance a mother givesher child; and happily they survive every change of fortune."
I sighed heavily as she spoke, for thus accidentally was touched theweakest chord of my heart.
"And, better still," resumed she, "they are the links that unite us tothe past, that bind the heart of manhood to infancy, that can bring downpride and haughtiness, and call forth guileless affection and childlikefaith."
"They are happy,"' said I, musing, "who can mingle such early memorieswith the present."
"And who cannot?" interrupted she, rapidly. "Who has not felt the loveof parents,--the halo of a home? Old as I am, even I can recall thelittle walks I trod in infancy, and the hand that used to guide me. Ican bring up the very tones of that voice which vibrated on my heart asthey spoke my name. But how much happier they to whom these memoriesare linked with tokens of present affection, and who, in their manhood'sjoys, can feel a father's or a mother's love!"
"I was left an orphan when a mere child," said I, as though theobservation had been specially addressed to me.
"But you have brothers,--sisters, perhaps."
I shook my head. "A brother, indeed; but we have never met since we werechildren."
"And yet your country has not suffered the dreadful convulsion of ours;no social wreck has scattered those who once lived in close affectiontogether. It is sad when such ties are broken. You came early toFrance, I think you told me?"
"Yes, Madame. When a mere child my heart conceived a kind of devotionto the Emperor: his fame, his great exploits, seemed something morethan human,--filled every thought of my brain; and to be a soldier,_his_soldier, was the limit of my ambition. I fancied, too, that the cause heasserted was that of freedom; that liberty, universal liberty, was thewatchword that led to victory."
"And you have discovered your error," interrupted she. "Alas! it werebetter to have followed the illusion. A faith once shaken leaves anunsettled spirit, and with such there is little energy."
"And less of hope," said I, despondingly.
"Not so, if there be youth. Come, you must tell me your story. It isfrom no mere curiosity I ask you; but that I have seen much of theworld, and am better able than you to offer counsel and advice. I haveremarked, for some time past, that you appear to have no acquaintancein Paris,--no friend. Let me be such. If the confidence have no otherresult, it will relieve your heart of some portion of its burden;besides, the others here will learn to regard you with less distrust."
"And is such their feeling towards me?"
"Forgive me; I did not exactly use the word I sought for. But now thatI have ventured so far, I may as well confess that you are an object ofthe greatest interest in their eyes; nor can they divest themselves ofthe impression that some deep-laid plot had led you hither."
"Had I known this before--"
"You had left us. I guessed as much: I have remarked it in yourcharacter already, that a morbid dread of being suspected is everuppermost in your thoughts; and accounted for it by supposing that youmight have been thrown at too early an age into life. But you mustnot feel angry with us here. As for me, I have no merit in my rightappreciation of you: Monsieur Rubichon told me how you met,--a mereaccident, at the bureau of the prefet."
"It was so; nor have I been able to divine why he addressed himself tome, nor what circumstance could have led him to believe my sentiments inaccordance with those of his guests."
"Simple enough the reason. He heard from your own lips you were astranger, without any acquaintance in Paris. The police for a timehave been somewhat frequent in their visits here, when the exclusivelyRoyalist feature of the 'pension' excited some dissatisfaction. Toovercome the impression, M. Rubichon determined to wait each day at thebureau of the prefet, and solicit at hazard among the persons thereto patronize his house. We all here consented to the plan, feelingits necessity. Our good fortune sent us you. Still, you must not besurprised if long sorrows and much suffering have engendered suspicion,nor that the old followers of a king look distrustfully on the soldierof"--she hesitated and blushed slightly, then added, in a low voice--"ofthe Emperor."
The word seemed to have cost a pang in its utterance; for she did notspeak for several minutes after.
"And these gentlemen,--am I to conclude that they cherish disaffectionto the present Government, or harbor a hope of its downfall?"
Whether some accidental expression of disdain escaped me as I said this,I cannot say; but Madame de Langeao quickly replied,--
"They are good Frenchmen, sir, and loyal gentlemen; what they _hope_must be a matter for their own hearts."
"I entreat your pardon, Madame, if I have said one syllable which couldreflect upon their motives."
"I forgive you readily," said she, smiling courteously; "he who has worna sabre so long, may well deem its influence all-powerful. But believeme, young man, there is that within the heart of a nation against whichmere force is nothing; opposed to it, armed squadrons and dense ranksare powerless. Devotion to a sovereign, whose claim comes hallowed by along line of kings, is a faith to which religion lends its sanction andtradition its hope. Look on these very persons here; see, has adversitychilled their affection, or poverty damped their ardor? You know themnot; but I will tell you who they are.
"There, at the fire, that venerable old man with the high, boldforehead, he is Monsieur de Plessis (Comte Plessis de Riancourt). Hisgrandfather entertained Louis the Fourteenth and his suite within hischateau; he himself was grand falconer to the king. And what is henow? I shame to speak it,--a fencing-master at an humble school of theFaubourg.
"And the other opposite to him (he is stooping to pick something fromthe floor), I myself saw him kneel at the levee of his Majesty, andbeheld the king assist him to rise, as he said, 'Monsieur de Maurepas, Iwould make you a duke, but that no title could be so dear to a Maurepasas that his ancestors have borne for six hundred years.' And he, whosesignature was but inferior to the royal command, copies pleadings of alawyer to earn his support.
"And that tall man yonder, who has just risen from the table,--neitheryears nor poverty have erased the stamp of nobility from his gracefulfigure,--Comte Felix d'Ancelot, captain of the Gardes du Corps; thesame who was left for dead on the stairs at Versailles pierced by elevenwounds. He gives lessons in drawing! two leagues from this, at the otherextremity of Paris.
"You ask me if they hope; what else than hope, what other comforter,could make such men as these live on in want and indigence, decliningevery proffer of advancement, refusing every temptation that should warptheir allegiance? I have read of great deeds of your Emperor,--I haveheard traits of heroism of his generals, compared to which the famedactions of the Crusaders paled away; but tell me if you think that allthe glory ever won by gallant soldier, tried the courage or tested thestout heart like the long struggle
of such men as these? And here, if Imistake not, comes another, not inferior to any."
As she spoke, the steps of a _caleche_ at the door were suddenlylowered, and a tall and powerfully built man stepped lightly out. Inan instant we heard his footstep in the hall, and in another moment thedoor of the _salon_ opened, and M. Rubichon announced "Le General CountBurke."
The general had just time to divest himself of his travelling pelisse ashe entered, and was immediately surrounded by the others, who welcomedhim with the greatest enthusiasm.
"Madame la Marquise de Langeac," said he, approaching the old lady, asshe sat in the recess of the window, and lifted her hand to his lips,"I am overjoyed to see you in such health. I passed three days withyour amiable cousin, Arnold de Rambuteau; who, like yourself, enjoys thehappiest temperament and the most gifted mind."
"If you flatter thus, General," said Madame de Langeac, "my young friendhere will scarcely recognize in you a countryman,--a kinsman, perhaps.Let me present Mr. Burke."
The general's face flushed, and his eyes sparkled, as taking my hand inboth of his own, he said,--
"Are you indeed from Ireland? Is your name Burke? Alas! that I cannotspeak one word of English to you. I left my country thirty-eight yearssince, and have never revisited it."
The general overwhelmed me with questions: first about my family, ofwhich I could tell him little; and then of my own adventures, at which,to my astonishment, he never evinced those symptoms of displeasure Iso confidently expected from an old follower of the Bourbons. This hecontinued to do, as he ate a hurried meal which was laid out for him inthe _salon_; all the rest standing in a circle around, and pressing himwith questions for this friend or that at every pause he made.
"You see, gentlemen," cried he, as I replied to some inquiry about mycampaign, "this is an instance of what I have so often spoken to you.Here is a youth who leaves his country solely for fighting sake; hedoes not care much for the epaulette, he cares less for the cause. Come,come, don't interrupt me; I know you better than you know yourself.You longed for the conflict and the struggle and the victory; and,_parbleu!_ we may say as we will, but you could have scarcely made abetter selection than with his Majesty, Emperor and King, as they stylehim."
This speech met with a sorry reception from the bystanders, and in thedissatisfied expression of their faces, a less confident speaker mighthave read his condemnation; but the general felt not this, or, if hedid, he effectually concealed it.
"You have not inquired for Gustave de Me is in," said he, looking roundat the circle.
"You have not seen him, surely?" cried several together; "we heard hewas at Vienna."
"No, _parbleu!_ he lives about a league from his old home,--the veryhouse we spent our Christmas at eighteen years ago. They have made abarrack of his chateau, and thrown his park into a royal _chasse_; buthe has built a hut on the river-side, and walks every day through hisown ground, which he says he never saw so well stocked for many a year.He is as happy as ever, and loves to look out on the Seine before hisdoor when the bright stream is rippling through many a broad leaf; ay,Messieurs, of good augury, too,--the lilies of France." He lifted abumper to his lips as he spoke, and drank the toast with enthusiasm.
This sudden return to loyalty, so boldly announced, served to reinstatehim in their estimation; and once again all their former pleasure athis appearance came back, and again the questions poured in from everyquarter.
"And the abbe," said one; "what of him? Has he made up his mind yet?"
"To be sure he has, and changed it too, at least twice every twenty-fourhours. He is ever full of confidence and brimming with hope when thewind is from the eastward; but let it only come a point west, hisspirits fall at once, and he dreams of frigates and gunboats, and thehulks in the Thames; and though they offered him a cardinal's hat, he 'dnot venture out to sea."
The warning looks of the bystanders, and even some signals to becautious, here interrupted the speaker, who paused for a few seconds,and then fixed his eyes on me.
"I have no fears, gentlemen, on that score. I know my countrymen well,though I have lived little among them. My namesake here may like theservice of the Emperor better than that of a king,--he may prefer theglitter of the eagle to the war-cry of Saint Louis,--but he 'll neverbetray the private conversations nor expose the opinions expressedbefore him in all the confidence of social intercourse.
"We are speaking, Mr. Burke, of an abbe who is about to visit Ireland,and whose fears of the English cruisers seem little reasonable to someof my friends here, though you can explain, perhaps, that they are notgroundless. I forgot,--you were but a boy when you crossed that sea."
"But he will go at last," said Madame de Langeac; "I suppose we may relyon that?"
"We hope," said the general, shrugging his shoulders with an air ofdoubt, "because, when we can do nothing else, we can always hope." Andso saying he arose from the table, and taking a courteous leave of eachperson in turn, pleading the fatigue of his journey, he retired for thenight.
I left the saloon soon after, and went to my room full of all I hadheard, and pondering many thoughts about the abbe and his intendedvoyage. I spent a sleepless night. Thoughts of home, long lost in theexcitement of my career, came flocking to my brain, and a desireto revisit my country--stronger, perhaps, because undefined in itsobject--made me restless and feverish. It was with delight I perceivedthe day dawning, and dressing myself hastily, I descended into thegarden. To my surprise, I found General Burke already there. He wassauntering along slowly by himself, and seemed wrapped in meditation.The noise of my approach startled him, and he looked up.
"Ah! my countryman,--so early astir?" said he, saluting me courteously."Is this a habit of yours?"
"No, sir; I cannot claim the merit of such wakefulness. But last nightI never closed my eyes. A few words you dropped in conversation in thedrawing-room kept possession of my heart, and even yet I cannot expelthem."
"I saw it at the time I spoke," replied the general, with a keen, quickglance; "you changed color twice as I mentioned the Abbe Gernon. Do youknow him?"
"No, sir; it was his intended journey, not himself, for which I feltinterested."
"You would wish to accompany him, perhaps. Well, the matter is notimpossible; but as time presses, and we have little leisure formysteries, tell me frankly why are you here?"
In few words, and without a comment on any portion of my conduct, I toldhim the principal circumstances of my life, down to the decisive momentof my leaving the army.
"After that step," said I, "feeling that no career can open to me here,I wish to regain my own country."
"You are right," said the general, slowly; "it is your only course now.The venture is not without risk,--less from the English cruisers thanthe French, for the abbe is well known in England, and Ireland too;but his Royalist character would find slight favor with Fouche. You arewilling to run the risk, I suppose?"
"I am."
"And to travel as the abbe's servant, at least to Falaise? there thedisguise will end."
"Perfectly so."
"And for this service, are you also ready to render us one in return?"said he, peering at me beneath his eyelashes.
"If it involve the good faith I once swore to preserve towards theEmperor Napoleon, I refuse it at once. On such a condition, I cannotaccept your aid."
"And does your heart still linger where your pride has been soinsulted?"
"It does, it does; to be his soldier once more, I would submit toeverything but dishonor."
"In that case," said he, smiling good-naturedly, "my conscience is aclear one; and I may forward your escape with the satisfying reflectionthat I have diminished the enemies of his Majesty Louis the Eighteenthby one most inveterate follower of Napoleon. I shall ask no conditionsof you. When are you ready?"
"To-day,--now."
"Let me see; to-morrow will be the 8th,--to-morrow will do. I will writeabout it at once. Meanwhile, it is as well you should not drop any hintof your intended depar
ture, except to Madame de Langeac, whose secrecymay be relied on."
"May I ask," said I, "if you run any risk in thus befriending me? It isan office, believe me, of little promise."
"None whatever. Rarely a month passes over without some one or otherleaving this for England. The intercourse between Rome and Ireland isuninterrupted, and has been so during the hottest period of the war."
"This seems most unaccountable to me; I cannot understand it."
"There is a key to the mystery, however," said he, smiling. "The EnglishGovernment have confidence in the peaceful efforts of the priesthood asregards Ireland, and permit them to hold unlimited intercourse with theHoly See, which fears France and the spirit of her Emperor. The Bourbonslook to the Church as the last hope of the Restoration. It is in theCatholic religion of this country, and its traditions, that monarchyhas its root. Sap one, and you undermine the other. Legitimacy is a holyrelic,--like any other, the priests are the guardians of it; and as forthe present ruler of France, he trusts in the spirit of the Church toincrease its converts, and believes that Ireland is ripening to revoltthrough the agency of the priests. Fouche alone is not deceived. Betweenhim and the Church the war is to the knife; and but for him the highseas would be more open than the road to Strasburg,--at least, toall with a shaven crown and a silk frock. Here, then, is the simpleexplanation of what seemed so difficult; and I believe you will find itthe true one."
"But two out of the three parties must be deceived," said I.
"Perhaps all three are," replied he, smiling sarcastically. "There aresome, at least, who deem the return of the rightful sovereign is more tobe hoped from the sabre than the crosier, and think that Rome never wastrue except to Rome. As to your journey, however, its only difficultyor danger is the transit through France; once at the coast, and allis safe. Your passport shall be made out as a retired sous-officierreturning to his home. You will take Marboeuf in the route, and I willgive you the necessary directions for discovering the abbe."
"Is it not possible," said I, "that _he_ may feel no inclinationto encumber himself with a fellow-traveller, and particularly one astranger to him?"
"Have no fear on that head. Your presence, on the contrary, will givehim courage, and we must let him suppose you accompany him at oursuggestion."
"Not with any implied knowledge or any connection with your views,however," said I. "This is well understood between us?"
"Perfectly so. And now meet me here this evening, after coffee, and Iwill give you your final instructions, Adieu, for the present."
He waved his hand and left me. Then, after walking a few paces, turnedquickly round, and said,--
"You will remember, a blouse and knapsack are indispensable for yourequipment. Adieu!"