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Waterloo: A sequel to The Conscript of 1813, a novel by Erckmann-Chatrian

Chapter 13

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_ CHAPTER XIII

This general satisfaction continued for five or six days. The old mayors and their assistants were replaced as well as the field-guards, and all those who had been displaced a few months before. The whole city, even the women, wore little tri-colored cockades, and all the seamstresses were busily at work making them, of red, white, and blue ribbon; and those who railed so bitterly against the "ogre of Corsica," never spoke of Louis XVIII. except as the "Panada King." On the 25th of March a Te Deum was sung, the garrison and all the civil authorities joining in the service with great ceremony. After the Te Deum, the authorities gave a grand dinner to the officers of the garrison at the "Ville de Metz." The weather was fine and the windows were open, and the hall was lighted by clusters of lamps hanging from the ceiling. Catherine and I went out in the evening to enjoy the spectacle. We could see the uniforms and the black coats sitting side by side around the long tables, and first the mayor would rise, and then his assistants, or the new commandant of the post, Mr. Brandon, to drink to the health of the Emperor or of his ministers, of France, to peace or to victory, etc., etc., and this they kept up till midnight.

Inside the glasses jingled, and outside the children fired crackers. They had erected a climbing pole before the church, and wooden horses and organ-grinders had come from Saverne, and there was a holiday at the college. In Klein's Court, at the "Ox," there was a fight between dogs and donkeys; in short, it was just as it was in 1830 and in 1848, and afterward. The people never invent anything new to glorify those who rise, or to express their contempt for those who fall.

But they soon found out that the Emperor had no time to lose in rejoicings. The gazette said that "his Majesty wished for peace, that he made no demands, that he was on good terms with his father-in-law the Emperor Francis, that Marie Louise and the King of Rome were to return, they were daily expected," etc.

But meanwhile the order arrived to arm the place. Two years before Pfalzbourg was a hundred leagues from the frontier. The ramparts were in ruins, the ditches filled up, and there was nothing in the arsenal but miserable old muskets of the time of Louis XIV., which were discharged with matches; and the guns were so unwieldy on their heavy carriages, that horses were required to move them. The arsenals were really at Dresden and Hamburg and Erfurt; but though we had not stirred, we were ten leagues from Rhenish Bavaria, and it was upon us that the first shower of bombs and bullets would fall. So, day after day, we received orders to restore the earthworks and to clear out the ditches and to put the old ordnance in good condition. At the beginning of April a great workshop was established at the arsenal for repairing the arms, and skilful engineers and artillerists arrived from Metz to repair the earthworks of the bastions and make terraces around the embrasures. The activity was very great--greater than in 1805 and in 1813, and I thought more than once that these extensive frontiers had their good side, because we might in the interior live in peace, while they took the blows and bombardments.

But we had great anxiety, for naturally when the palisades were newly planted on the glacis, and the half-moons filled with fascines, when cannon were placed in every nook and corner, we knew that there must be soldiers to guard and serve them.

Often as we heard these decrees read at night, Catherine and I looked at each other in mute apprehension. I felt beforehand that instead of remaining quietly at home, cleaning and mending clocks, I would be obliged to be again on the march, and that always made me sad; and this melancholy increased from day to day. Sometimes Father Goulden, seeing this, would say cheerfully:

"Come! Joseph, courage! all will come right at last."

He wished to raise my spirits, but I thought: "Yes, he says that to encourage me, but any one who is not blind can see what turn affairs will take."

Events followed each other so rapidly, that the decrees came like hail, always with sounding phrases and grand words to embellish them.

And we learned too that the regiments were to take their old numbers, "illustrious in so many glorious campaigns." Without being very malicious, we could understand that the old numbers which had no regiments would soon find them again. And not only that, but we learned that the skeletons of the third, fourth, and fifth battalions of infantry, the fourth and fifth squadrons of cavalry, and thirty battalions of artillery trains were to be filled up, and twenty regiments of the Young Guard, ten battalions of military equipages, and twenty regiments of marines were to be formed, ostensibly to give employment to all the half-pay officers of both arms of the service, land and naval. That was very well to say; but when they are created they are to be filled up, and when they are full the soldiers must go. When I saw that, my confidence vanished, but yet everybody cried, "Peace, peace, peace! We accept the treaty of Paris. The kings and emperors convened at Vienna are our friends. Marie Louise and the King of Rome are coming."

The more I heard of these things, the more my distrust increased. In vain Mr. Goulden would say, "He has taken Carnot into his counsels. Carnot is a good patriot; Carnot will prevent him from going to war, or if we are forced to go to war, he will show him that the enemy must come here to find us, the nation must be roused, declare the country in danger, etc."

In vain did he tell me these things, I always said to myself, "all these new regiments are to be filled; that is certain." We heard also that ten thousand picked men were to be added to the Old Guard, and that the light artillery was to be reorganized. Everybody knows that light artillery follows the army. To remain behind the ramparts or for defence at home, it is useless.

I came to this conclusion at once, and though I was generally careful to conceal my anxiety from Catherine, yet this night I could not help telling her so. She said nothing, which shows plainly that she had good sense and that she thought so too.

All these things diminished my enthusiasm for the Emperor very much indeed, and I sometimes said to myself as I was at work, "I would rather see processions going past my windows, than to go and fight against people whom I never saw." At least the sight would cost me neither leg nor arm, and if it annoyed me too much I could make an excursion to Quatre Vents. My vexation increased the more, as since the dispute with Mr. Goulden, Aunt Gredel did not come to see us. She was a very wilful woman and would not listen to reason, and would hold resentment against a person for years and years. But she was our mother, and it was our duty to yield something to her as she wished us only good. But how could we be reconciled to her ideas and those of Mr. Goulden?

This was what embarrassed us, for if we were bound to love Aunt Gredel, we owed also the most profound respect to him, who looked upon us as his own children, and who loaded us every day with his benefits.

These thoughts made us sad, and I had resolved to tell Mr. Goulden, that Catherine and I were Jacobins like himself, but without doing injustice to Jacobin ideas, or abandoning them, we ought to honor our mother, and go and inquire after her health.

I did not know how he would receive this declaration, when one Sunday morning, as we went down about eight o'clock, we found him dressed, and in excellent humor. He said to us, "Children, here it is more than a month since Aunt Gredel has been to see us. She is obstinate. I wish to show her that I can yield. Between friends like us, there should not be even a shadow of difference. After breakfast we will go to Quatre Vents, and tell her that she is prejudiced, and that we love her in spite of her faults. You will see how ashamed she will be." He laughed, but we were quite touched by his generosity.

"Ah! Mr. Goulden, how good and kind you are," said Catherine, "they who do not love you, must have very bad hearts."

"Ha!" he exclaimed, "is not what I have done quite natural? must we let a few words separate us? Thank God! age teaches us to be more reasonable and to be willing to take the first step,--that you know is one of the principles of the Rights of Man,--in order to maintain concord between reasonable persons."

Everything was summed up, when he had quoted the "Rights of Man." You can hardly imagine our satisfaction. Catherine could hardly wait till breakfast was over, she was here and there and everywhere, to bring his hat and cane and his shoes and the box which held his beautiful peruke. She helped him on with his brown coat, while he laughed as he watched her, and at last he kissed her saying, "I knew this would make you happy, so do not let us lose a minute, let us go."

We all set off together, Father Goulden gravely giving his arm to Catherine, as he always did in the street, and I marched on behind as happy as possible. Those I loved best in the world were here before my eyes, and as I went on I thought of what I should say to Aunt Gredel.

The weather was splendid, and on we went beyond the wall and the glacis, and in twenty minutes, without hurrying, we stood before Aunt Gredel's door. It might have been ten o'clock, and as I had gained a little on them at the "Roulette" I went in by the alley of elders that ran along the side of the house, and looked into the little window to see what aunt was doing. She was seated right opposite me near the fireplace, in which a little fire was smouldering, she had on her short skirt, striped with blue, with great pockets on the outside, and her linen corsage with shoulder-straps, and her old shoes. She was spinning away, with her eyes cast down, looking very sober, her great thin arms naked to the elbow, and her gray hair twisted up in her neck without any cap. "Poor Aunt Gredel," thought I, "she is thinking of us no doubt--and she is so obstinate in her vexation. It is sad though, all the same, to live alone and never see her children." It made me sad to see her.

At that moment the door opened on the side next the street, and Father Goulden walked in with Catherine, as happy as possible, exclaiming:

"Ha! Mother Gredel, you do not come to see us any more, therefore I have brought your children to see you, and have come myself to embrace you. You will have to get us a good dinner, do you hear? and that will teach you a lesson." He seemed a little grave with all his joy.

On seeing them, aunt sprang up and embraced Catherine, and then she fell into Mr. Goulden's arms and hung on his neck:

"Ah! Mr. Goulden, how happy I am to see you. You are a good man; you are worth a thousand of me."

Seeing that matters had taken a pleasant turn, I ran round to the door and found them both with their eyes full of tears. Father Goulden said:

"We will talk no more politics!"

"No! but whether one is Jacobin or anything else you will, the principal thing is to keep in good temper."

She then came and embraced me, and said:

"My poor Joseph! I have been thinking of you from morning till night. But all is well now and I am satisfied."

She ran into the kitchen and commenced bustling among the kettles to prepare something to regale us with, while Mr. Goulden placed his cane in a corner and hung his great hat upon it, and sat down with an air of contentment near the hearth.

"What fine weather!" he exclaimed, "how green and flourishing everything is! How happy I should be to live in the fields, to see the hedges and apple-trees and plum-trees from my windows, covered with their red and white blossoms!"

He was gay as a lark, and we all should have been except for the thoughts of the war which were constantly coming into our heads.

"Leave all that, mother," said Catherine, "I will get the dinner to-day as I used to do; go and sit down quietly with Mr. Goulden."

"But you do not know where anything is, I have disarranged everything," said aunt.

"Sit down, I beg you," said Catherine, "I shall find the butter and the eggs and the flour and everything that is necessary."

"Well, well! I am going to obey you," said she, as she went down to the cellar.

Catherine took off her pretty shawl and hung it on the back of my chair, then she put some wood on the fire and some butter in a saucepan and looked into the kettles to see that everything was in order. Aunt came in at that moment with a bottle of white wine.

"You will first refresh yourselves a little before dinner, and while Catherine looks after the kitchen I will go and put on my sacque and give my hair a touch with the comb, for certainly it needs it, and you--go into the orchard;--here, Joseph, take these glasses and the bottle and go and sit in the bee-house, the weather is fine, in an hour all will be in order and I will come and drink with you."

Father Goulden and I went out through the tall grass and the yellow dandelions which came up to our knees. It was very warm and the air was full of soft murmurs. We sat down in the shade and looked at the glorious sunshine.

Mr. Goulden took off his peruke in order to be more at his ease and hung it up behind him, and I opened the bottle and we drank some of the good white wine.

"Well! all goes on even though man does commit follies; the Lord God watches over all his works. Look at the grain, Joseph, how it grows! What a harvest there will be in three or four months. And those turnips and cabbages, and the shrubs, and the bees, how busy everything is, how they live and grow! what a pity it is that men do not follow so good an example! what a pity that some must labor to support the others in idleness. What a pity that there must be always idlers of every kind, who treat us like Jacobins because we wish for order and peace and justice!"

There was nothing he liked so much to see as industry, not only that of man but even of the smallest insect that runs about in the grass, as in an endless forest, which builds and pairs and covers its eggs, heaps them up in its places of deposit, exposes them to the sunshine, protects them from the chills of night, and defends them from its enemies; in short, all that great universe of life where everything sings, everything is in its place; from the lark which fills the air with his joyous music to the ant which goes and comes and runs and mows and saws and pulls and is master of all trades.

This was what pleased Mr. Goulden, but he never spoke of it except in the fields, when this grand spectacle was right under his eyes, and naturally he then spoke of God, whom he called the "Supreme Being," as in the time of the Republic, and he said, He was reason and wisdom and goodness and love; justice, order, and life. The ideas of the almanac-makers came back to him also, and it was splendid to hear him talk of the "Pluviose" the season of rains, of "Nivose" the season of snows, of "Ventose" season of winds, and "Floreal, Prairial, and Fructidor." He said the ideas of men in those times were more closely allied to God's, while July, September, and October meant nothing, and were only invented to confuse and obscure everything. Once on this subject it was plain that he could not exhaust it. Unfortunately I have not the learning that that good man had, otherwise it would give me real pleasure to recount his sayings to you. We were just here when Mother Gredel, well washed and combed and in her Sunday dress, came round the corner of the house toward us. He stopped instantly that she might not be disturbed.

"Here I am," she said, "all in order."

"Sit down," said Father Goulden, making a place for her beside him on the bench.

"Do you know what time it is?" said she. "Does it not seem long to you? Listen!" and we heard the city clock slowly strike twelve.

"What! is it noon already! I would not have believed that we had been here more than ten minutes."

"Yes, it is noon, and dinner is waiting."

"So much the better," said Mr. Goulden, offering his arm to her, "since you have told me the hour I find I have a good appetite."

They went along the alley arm in arm, and when we were at the door a most charming sight met our eyes, the great tureen with its red flowers was smoking on the table, a breast of stuffed veal filled the room with a delicious odor. A great plate of cinnamon cakes stood on the edge of the old oak buffet, two bottles of wine, and glasses clear as crystal, shone on the white cloth beside the plates. The very sight of it made you feel that it is the joy of the Lord to shower blessings on His children.

Catherine, with her rosy cheeks and white teeth, laughed to see our satisfaction, and during the whole dinner our anxiety for the future was forgotten. We laughed and were as happy as if the world were in the best condition possible. But as we were taking coffee our sadness returned, and without knowing why, we were all very grave. Nobody wished to speak of politics, when suddenly Aunt Gredel herself asked if there was anything new. Mr. Goulden then said that the Emperor desired peace, and that he wished to put himself in a condition of defence, in order to warn our enemies that we were not afraid. He said that in any case, in spite of the ill-feeling of the allies they would not dare to attack us, that the Emperor Francis, though he had not much heart, would not wish to overthrow his son-in-law and his own daughter and grandson a second time, that it would be contrary to nature, and besides that, the nation would rise en masse, that they would declare the country to be in danger, and that it would not be a war of soldiers alone, but of all Frenchmen against those who wished to oppress them, that this would make the allied sovereigns reflect, etc., etc.

He said many other things which I do not recall. Aunt Gredel listened without saying a word. She rose at last, and went to a closet and took a piece of paper from a porringer, and, giving it to Mr. Goulden, said, "Read this; such papers are all around the country; this came to me from the Vicar Diemer. You will see whether peace is so certain."

As Mr. Goulden had left his spectacles at home, I read the paper. I put all those old papers aside years and years ago, they have grown yellow and no one thinks of them or speaks of them, and still it is well to read them. How do we know what will happen? Those old kings and emperors died after doing us all the harm possible, but their sons and grandsons still live, and do not wish us overmuch good, and that which they said then they may say again now, and those who lent their aid to the fathers might incline to help their sons. Here is the paper.


"The Allied Powers which signed the treaty of Paris, assembled in Congress at Vienna, having been informed of the escape of Napoleon Bonaparte, and of his entrance into France with arms in his hands, owe it to their dignity and to the interest of social order to make a solemn declaration of the sentiments which this event has excited. In violating the terms of the convention which placed him at Elba, Bonaparte destroyed his only legal title to life; and in reappearing in France with projects for disturbing the public peace, he has deprived himself of the protection of the laws, and made it manifest to the universe that there can be neither truce nor peace with him."


And so they continued through two long pages, and those people who had nothing in common with us, who had no concern with our affairs, and who gave themselves the title of Defenders of the Peace, finished by declaring that they united themselves to maintain the treaty of Paris and replace Louis XVIII. on the throne.

When I had finished, aunt turned to Mr. Goulden and asked:

"What do you think of all that?"

"I think," said he, "that those sovereigns despise the people, and that they would exterminate the human race without shame or pity in order to maintain fifteen or twenty families in luxury. They look upon themselves as gods, and upon us as brutes."

"Doubtless," replied Aunt Gredel. "I do not deny it, but all that will not prevent Joseph from being compelled to go away."

I turned quite pale, for I saw that she was right.

"Yes," said Mr. Goulden, "I knew that some days ago, and this is what I have done. You have heard, no doubt, Mother Gredel, that great workshops have been built for repairing arms. There is an arsenal at Pfalzbourg, but they are in want of skilful workmen. Of course the good laborers render as much service to the state in repairing arms as those who go to battle; they have more to do, but they do not risk their lives, and they remain at home. Well! I went at once to the commandant of artillery, and asked him to accept Joseph as a workman. It is nothing for a good clock-maker to repair a gun-lock, and Mr. Montravel accepted him at once. Here is his order," said he, showing us a paper which he took from his pocket.

I felt as if I had returned to life, and I exclaimed, "Oh! Mr. Goulden, you are more than a father; you have saved my life."

Catherine, who had been overwhelmed with anxiety, got up and went out, and Aunt Gredel kissed Mr. Goulden twice over, and said, "Yes, you are the best of men, a man of sense and of a great spirit. If all Jacobins were like you, women would wish only for Jacobins."

"But it was the most simple thing in the world to do!"

"No, no; it is your good heart which gives you good thoughts."

Words failed me in my joy and astonishment, and while aunt was speaking I went out into the orchard to take the air. Catherine was there in a corner of the bake-house, weeping hot tears.

"Ah! now I can breathe again," she said, "now I can live."

I embraced her with deep emotion. I saw what she had suffered during the last month, but she was a brave woman, and had concealed her anxiety from me, knowing that I had enough on my own account. We stayed for ten minutes in the orchard to wipe away our tears, and then went in. Mr. Goulden said:

"Well, Joseph! you go to-morrow; you must set off early, and you will not lack work."

Oh! what joy to think I should not be compelled to go away, and then too I had other reasons for wishing to remain at home, for Catherine and I already had our hopes. Ah! those who have not suffered cannot realize our feelings, nor understand what a weight this good news lifted from our hearts. We stayed an hour longer at Quatre Vents, and as the people were coming from vespers, at nightfall, we set off for the town. Aunt Gredel went with us to where the post changes horses, and at seven o'clock we were at home again.

It was thus that peace was established between Aunt Gredel and Mr. Goulden, and now she came to see us as often as before. I went every day to the arsenal and worked at repairing the guns. When the clock struck twelve I went home to dinner, and at one returned to my work and stayed until seven o'clock. I was at once soldier and workman, excused from roll-call but overwhelmed with work. We hoped that I could remain in that position till the war was over, if unfortunately it commenced again, but we were sure of nothing. _

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