University of Virginia Library

11. CHAPTER XI.

Alexander's Feast.

It was about a fortnight after the receipt of
these letters--a fortnight during which, although
nothing of import had occurred, I had completely
regained my strength, and had so far, at least, matured
my plans of future action as to be thoroughly
master of my mind and conduct—that I was summoned
late in the evening to a council of war at
the quarters of the commander-in-chief. I had on
the preceding day resumed the command of my
troops, who were quartered somewhat in advance
of our lines, in such places of shelter as could be
found between St. Germains and the bridge of
Charenton. They had been almost incessantly

engaged since the formation of the blockade, being
the only corps of cavalry attached to the royal
army, in covering the advances of the infantry, in
patrolling the ground, and, above all, in cutting off
convoys of cattle and provision, to introduce
which to the beleaguered city was the continual
aim of the Frondeurs. The men were nevertheless
in high spirits, and were gradually acquiring a
very respectable degree of discipline; while the
horses, considering the harassing nature of the
service, were in good condition, and fit for action.
I had just returned from visiting the outposts, and
had in the afternoon repelled, in a brilliant charge,
a sally intended to cover the entrance of a considerable
number of wagons laden with stores of
all kinds, when the summons was delivered to me,
with a further injunction to make no long tarrying,
as the council was already assembled. I did not,
therefore, even dismount from my horse, much less
pause to make any alteration in my dress, but rode
directly to the quarters of the prince. It was
already quite dark, but there were collected about
the door a score or two of grooms and lackeys,
besides the sentinels on duty, with lanterns and
flambeaux, by the light of which they were leading
to and fro about a dozen chargers fully caparisoned
for war. Throwing my rein to one of
these fellows, I entered at once the chamber
wherein the council was debating. It must be
observed that the court had quitted Paris at a
most inclement season, and at so short a notice
that not only the army, but the leaders, and even
the royal family itself, were in want of all the
common conveniences of life. The palace of St.
Germains was not half large enough to accommodate
those who had a claim to quarters in the royal
residence, in right of birth or station. Notwithstanding
this, however, the Prince of Condé was
undoubtedly one to whom, under any circumstances,
the best apartments must have been tendered;
but he was too old a soldier, and too good
a general, not to be aware that a leader, in order
to share the affections, must also share the hardships
of his soldiery. He had, in the present instance,
taken up his residence in an old rambling
métairie, which might have originally belonged to
some small proprietor, but which had long been
used only as the abode of the bailiff, who continued
to manage the demesnes. This rude dwelling had
been hastily and imperfectly put in order for the
reception of the prince and his suite. The large
kitchen had been converted into a hall of entrance;
the walls were hung with splendid arms, and rich
mantles of fur and velvet; in the corners stood
several stands of regimental colours; and on a
slab against the wall lay, in splendid confusion,
plumed caps and glittering helmets, riding-cloaks,
spurs, and swords, as they had been laid aside by
the officers who composed the council. Several
esquires of the body, and gentlemen—some in civil
attire, but more in undress uniforms or armour—
lounged round the ample chimney, in which was
blazing a tremendous fire, rendered not a little
acceptable by the unwonted severity of the season.
Opposite to this glowing pile, and in the full
glare of its red light, two halberdiers of the Swiss
guard stalked to and fro, their bright head-pieces,
massive partisans, and long beards offering a
strange contrast to the superb freshness of the silk
and embroidery which adorned their habits. I
passed without hesitation or delay through this
apartment, receiving the whispered greetings of
several among the officers, and the silent salute of
the guards, into the inner chamber, which had been
originally the saloon of the building. A dozen
lights of common tallow were flaring and streaming
from candlesticks of massive silver; and a
covering of Genoa velvet had been spread over a
table of unpolished deal, supported by rough trivets.
Throughout the whole room a similar mixture
of regal display and abject poverty was visible.
The floor, of plain red bricks, was partially
covered by a three-piled Persian carpet; the chairs,
of country manufacture, were decked with damask
cushions; and, to crown the whole, the mantling
wines of Auvergnât and Sillery, which stood upon
the board among maps of the adjacent country,
plans of fortifications, muster-rolls, commissariat
accounts, and unsigned commissions, were poured
from flasks of gold and silver into old-fashioned
Flemish glasses, or mugs of the vilest earthenware.

The debate, as it would seem—if there had
indeed been one—was at an end when I entered.
The prince was seated at the upper end of the
table, in close but apparently trivial conversation
with the dukes of Châtillon and Orleans, who were
placed on his right-hand and on his left. Below
these sat a dozen gentlemen holding commissions
in the royal army, among whom I at once discovered
the maréchals de Meilleraye, de Grammont,
and de Duplessis-Praslin, who had come together
from their various posts of Lagny, Corbeil, and
St. Cloud, for the purpose of deciding on the mode
of attack for the morrow.

“You come somewhat late, Monsieur de Mornington,”
cried the prince, gayly, as I entered;
“late, too, for our council as well as for our

supper! Seat yourself, sir,” he continued—“room
there for our gallant comrade! We are told, sir,
that we are again indebted to your activity. Gentlemen
cavaliers, a health to Monsieur Mornington—we
are his debtors; if not for our suppers to-night,
at least for to-morrow's breakfast! Ma foi,
it would be cold comfort to break one's fast on
naught save gunpowder and pike-heads. Fill up
—fill up.”

The health was drunk by acclamation; and in
five minutes all was mirth and revelry. Amid the
clang of beakers and the fun, that soon waxed
furious, I made out, however, to learn that the
movement of the Parisian army, on the preceding
day—the Marquis de Chanleu having occupied the
hamlet and bridge of Charenton with a strong force
of infantry and a tolerably well-ordered park of
artillery—had determined the commander-in-chief
on carrying the post by storm on the next morning;
as it was, in itself, a station of great importance,
commanding the junction of the Seine and Marne.
The troops destined for the assault were Chatillon's
division of veterans, the best men in the
army; Condé himself intending to occupy the
heights of St. Mandé with a strong reserve, for
the purpose of intercepting any reinforcements
which might be sent out from Paris, or preventing

any diversion which might be attempted on the
attacking party.

“You have heard, doubtless, sir,” cried Grammont,
turning suddenly to me, “that Rochefoucauld
has joined the Frondeurs?”

“Doubtless he has; but not, perhaps, the cause.
The couplet, I confess, might almost palliate the
treason,” cried Condé: “have you heard his last,
sir?—

The game is worth the candle, I confess.”

“C'est selon,” laughed out De Grammont—“I
am rather for D'Hocquincourt. `Peronne to the
fairest of the fair!' Oh, Montbazon for me!”

“Nay, but they say there is a nameless beauty,
—brighter than all or any,” chimed in De Meilleraye—“a
captive beauty of young De Chateaufort.
He entered Paris some three days since
with five hundred musketeers, two hundred head
of cattle, and a devilish pretty girl in a close-curtained
litter!”

“How!—What, saw you her, De Meilleraye?
What like was she?—Tête Dieu! why seized you
not the convoy?”

“De Chateaufort,” said I; “is it that I am myself
unknown, or is it permitted to be ignorant of
this De Chateaufort.”

“It is not permitted, sir,” replied De Grammont,
with infinite gravity, “to be ignorant of any man
who hath a pretty damsel in a close-curtained
litter—hey, De Meilleraye?”

“Nevertheless,” cried Condé, “I fear that, in
this instance, we must pardon the young man his
crime. Yes, sir, crime,” he continued, in a tone
of affected indignation, as he saw me stare—
“what, know you not that it has been decided, long
since, in our high Parliament of wits, `That a mistake
is worse than a crime?' But, crime or blunder,
I fear, gentlemen, that we must overlook it, as I
well believe we all are guilty in the same degree!
How say you, Grammont, Duplessis—who is De
Chateaufort?”

“He is, so please your highness,” answered
Grammont, so gravely that Condé looked for a
reply—“he is a young man, with five hundred
soldiers, two hundred swine. Is it not so, De
Meilleraye?—two hundred swine and one fair
lady?”

“A truce to jesting,” began De Meilleraye—

“Treason, monseigneur, treason,” shouted the
other; “I do beseech you call a guard for the
maréchal: we shall next have him crying, `Peace
with the Frondeurs!' ”

“In the mean time let us drink—a health to
Chateaufort's fair lady!”

After a mighty pledge had been quaffed to this
most sapient toast, the maréchal, not a little vain
of his supposed discovery, recommenced, before
any of those present had recovered their breath,—

“Monsieur de Chateaufort is third son of the
Marquis de Penthiêvre. Though why he should
have sent his youngest with his regiment I cannot
conceive, when he has two sons who have seen
service.”

“Let them go hang,” cried Condé, growing
weary of the subject—“let them go hang, the marquis
and his sons, be they three or thirty! One
cup more, and to bed: we have work for to-morrow,
gentlemen, sharp work; pray God it be successful.
Monsieur de Mornington, you will have
your men under arms one hour before the daybreak;
occupy the heights of St. Mandé with your
three regiments, and hold them till we can bring
up our infantry. Hold them, despite the devil!
De Châtillon, no bed for you to-night; you must

march at midnight—en avant—sweep all before
you, but do not charge till daybreak; and then we
shall be there, God willing, to cover or support
you! Fill up! fill up! and then good-night!”

Excusing myself from further potations on the
score of health, and of the necessity of seeing immediately
to the movements of the cavalry, I bowed
and withdrew. In the outer hall, most of the officers,
worn out by the continual and harassing service
on which they were employed, were sleeping,
some in their chairs, some wrapped in their mantles
on the floor; and the Swiss guards themselves
were nodding as they leaned upon their rested
halberds. Without the doors a watch-fire was
blazing, and in its ruddy light the horses of the
officers were picketed, while the grooms were
slumbering or carousing by their sides, mingled
with pedlers, courtesans, and countrymen, and all
the rabble whose presence was connived at, if not
permitted, in the quarters of the royal army. As
I drew near, which I did silently and unannounced,
I thought I caught the sound of my own name; it
was repeated, and, despite of the old adage, I
stood still.

“That is a gallant horse of his, that bay,” cried
the first speaker; “will he ride him to-morrow in
the field?”

“I judge not,” replied a second voice—it was
that of the groom to whose charge I had committed
Bayard—“this charger has had hard work
to-day.”

“And hath he others, then? Methought he
owned but one, this English officer.”

“He had but one till his return from Pont à
Mousson, when his majesty's equery sent him
another, as a reward of honour. Ventre St. Gris!
A charger of ten thousand; white as the winter's
snow, with jet-black mane and tail.”

“And he will back the white to-morrow?”

“Saint Dieu! how should I know—or if I did,
what matters it?” returned the groom. “Drink
up your eau-de-vie; and let the horses look to
themselves.”

Finding that I should hear no further, and marvelling
somewhat with myself what these inquiries
could mean, I hurried up to the fire,—

“My horse, sirrah!” I exclaimed rather shortly,
as if ignorant of all that had passed, “my horse!
why dally you?”

It was not a moment before the animal was
brought to me; but in that moment's space I cast
my eye over the circle, which had for the most
part risen to their feet at my approach, to see if I
could not detect the inquirer. It was not long

before I found him, or at least one whom I concluded
to be the same. He was a dark, sallow-complexioned
man, broad-shouldered and strong
made, though somewhat undersized. He wore a
suit of common blue homespun, with a thick
riding-coat of shaggy felt thrown loosely over it,
and a huge bonnet of uncut plush pulled forward
over his eyes. There was, indeed, little or nothing
peculiar about the man, unless it were a slightly
military bearing, which was but partially disguised
by what seemed to me an affected boorishness of
manner. Yet there was something about him
which excited my attention; a sort of undefinable
resemblance to some person I had seen before,
and that, too, at no very remote period. I looked
at him steadily, and he met my fixed gaze as
firmly, and with an air of utter unconsciousness.
I could not recall time or place, yet I felt certain
that I had caught his eye before; it was a feeling,
too, that gave me some disquiet, as though I had
some lurking cause of apprehension. Nothing,
however, was to be done. I mounted my horse
and rode slowly to my private quarters, pondering
as I went on the conversation I had heard that
evening. There was indeed much food for meditation:—the
mysterious lady; the youngest son of
three leading his father's vassals; and, above all,
the unaccountable absence of the elder brethren!
To say the least of it, there was a strange coincidence;
and I was hard set, as I rode homeward,
to discover some mode of gaining, without appearing
to desire it, more certain information on
the subject. Still, notwithstanding all this, the
countenance of the stranger was uppermost in my
mind; and the more I considered it, the more singular
did the pertinacity of his inquiries appear.
I determined, at length, though perhaps I could not
easily have explained the cause of my determination,
that I would on no account ride White Majestic—for
so my grooms had named him—on the
morrow.

“Martin,” I cried, as I entered my little dwelling,
“we shall have work to do right early! Go
find the orderlies of my three regiments forthwith,
and let them come to me at once for orders; and,
hark you! bear Monsieur Mornington's good
wishes to Colonel St. Agrêve, and ask the loan of
his black charger for to-morrow. Bayard is overdone,
and it lists me not to ride Majestic. I
await not his reply to-night; but see that a horse
—be it the black or no—be fully harnessed for the
field three hours before the daybreak. You, Martin,
if you will, shall bear my private ensign; I
hold a warrant from the prince of your appointment,

and here I have an order on the colonel of
the first regiment for a troop-horse and housings.
See that you be well accountred, and on foot before
the hour. Perform this speedily, and then get thee
to bed at once; 'tis late already.”

In half an hour's space I had despatched the
subalterns of every regiment with marching orders;
for half an hour more I mused till my head
grew dizzy with the fruitless toil; then threw myself
upon my lowly bed, and, over-fatigued alike in
body and in spirit, slept heavily, till I was aroused
by the wild flourish of our trumpets as they
sounded the reveillé.