Sir Arthur Conan Doyle - The Complete Brigadier Gerard Stories

(1896)

You do very well, myfriends, to treat me with some little reverence, for in honouring me you arehonouring both France and yourselves. It is not merely an old, grey-moustachedofficer whom you see eating his omelette or draining his glass, but it is afragment of history. In me you see one of the last of those wonderful men, themen who were veterans when they were yet boys, who learned to use a swordearlier than a razor, and who during a hundred battles had never once let theenemy see the colour of their knapsacks. For twenty years we were teaching Europe how to fight, and even when they had learned their lesson it was only thethermometer, and never the bayonet, which could break the Grand Army down. Berlin, Naples, Vienna, Madrid, Lisbon, Moscowwe stabled our horses in them all. Yes, myfriends, I say again that you do well to send your children to me with flowers,for these ears have heard the trumpet calls of France, and these eyes have seenher standards in lands where they may never be seen again.

Even now, when Idoze in my arm-chair, I can see those great warriors stream before methe green-jacketedchasseurs, the giant cuirassiers, Poniatowskys lancers, the white-mantleddragoons, the nodding bearskins of the horse grenadiers. And then there comesthe thick, low rattle of the drums, and through wreaths of dust and smoke I seethe line of high bonnets, the row of brown faces, the swing and toss of thelong, red plumes amid the sloping lines of steel. And there rides Ney with hisred head, and Lefebvre with his bulldog jaw, and Lannes with his Gasconswagger; and then amidst the gleam of brass and the flaunting feathers I catcha glimpse of him, the man with the pale smile, the rounded shoulders,and the far-off eyes. There is an end of my sleep, my friends, for up I springfrom my chair, with a cracked voice calling and a silly hand outstretched, sothat Madame Titaux has one more laugh at the old fellow who lives among theshadows.

Although I was afull Chief of Brigade when the wars came to an end, and had every hope of soonbeing made a General of Division, it is still rather to my earlier days that Iturn when I wish to talk of the glories and the trials of a soldiers life. Foryou will understand that when an officer has so many men and horses under him,he has his mind full of recruits and remounts, fodder and farriers, and quarters,so that even when he is not in the face of the enemy, life is a very seriousmatter for him. But when he is only a lieutenant or a captain he has nothingheavier than his epaulettes upon his shoulders, so that he can clink his spursand swing his dolman, drain his glass and kiss his girl, thinking of nothingsave of enjoying a gallant life. That is the time when he is likely to haveadventures, and it is often to that time that I shall turn in the stories whichI may have for you. So it will be tonight when I tell you of my visit to theCastle of Gloom; of the strange mission of Sub-Lieutenant Duroc, and of thehorrible affair of the man who was once known as Jean Carabin, and afterwardsas the Baron Straubenthal.

You must know, then,that in the February of 1807, immediately after the taking of Danzig, MajorLegendre and I were commissioned to bring four hundred remounts from Prussia into Eastern Poland.

The hard weather,and especially the great battle at Eylau, had killed so many of the horses thatthere was some danger of our beautiful Tenth of Hussars becoming a battalion oflight infantry. We knew, therefore, both the Major and I, that we should bevery welcome at the front. We did not advance very rapidly, however, for thesnow was deep, the roads detestable, and we had but twenty returning invalidsto assist us. Besides, it is impossible, when you have a daily change offorage, and sometimes none at all, to move horses faster than a walk. I amaware that in the story-books the cavalry whirls past at the maddest ofgallops; but for my own part, after twelve campaigns, I should be verysatisfied to know that my brigade could always walk upon the march and trot inthe presence of the enemy. This I say of the hussars and chasseurs, mark you,so that it is far more the case with cuirassiers or dragoons.

For myself I am fondof horses, and to have four hundred of them, of every age and shade andcharacter, all under my own hands, was a very great pleasure to me. They werefrom Pomerania for the most part, though some were from Normandy and some fromAlsace, and it amused us to notice that they differed in character as much asthe people of those provinces. We observed also, what I have often provedsince, that the nature of a horse can be told by his colour, from thecoquettish light bay, full of fancies and nerves, to the hardy chestnut, andfrom the docile roan to the pig-headed rusty-black. All this has nothing in theworld to do with my story, but how is an officer of cavalry to get on with histale when he finds four hundred horses waiting for him at the outset? It is myhabit, you see, to talk of that which interests myself and so I hope that I mayinterest you.

We crossed the Vistula opposite Marienwerder, and had got as far as Riesenberg, when Major Legendre cameinto my room in the post-house with an open paper in his hand.

You are to leaveme, said he, with despair upon his face.

It was no very greatgrief to me to do that, for he was, if I may say so, hardly worthy to have sucha subaltern. I saluted, however, in silence.

It is an order fromGeneral Lasalle, he continued; you are to proceed to Rossel instantly, and toreport yourself at the headquarters of the regiment.

No message couldhave pleased me better. I was already very well thought of by my superiorofficers. It was evident to me, therefore, that this sudden order meant thatthe regiment was about to see service once more, and that Lasalle understoodhow incomplete my squadron would be without me. It is true that it came at aninconvenient moment, for the keeper of the post-house had a daughterone ofthose ivory-skinned, black-haired Polish girlswith whom I had hoped to havesome further talk. Still, it is not for the pawn to argue when the fingers ofthe player move him from the square; so down I went, saddled my big blackcharger, Rataplan, and set off instantly upon my lonely journey.

My word, it was atreat for those poor Poles and Jews, who have so little to brighten their dulllives, to see such a picture as that before their doors! The frosty morning airmade Rataplans great black limbs and the beautiful curves of his back andsides gleam and shimmer with every gambade. As for me, the rattle of hoofs upona road, and the jingle of bridle chains which comes with every toss of a saucyhead, would even now set my blood dancing through my veins. You may think,then, how I carried myself in my five-and-twentieth yearI, Etienne Gerard, thepicked horseman and surest blade in the ten regiments of hussars. Blue was ourcolour in the Tentha sky-blue dolman and pelisse with a scarlet frontand itwas said of us in the army that we could set a whole population running, thewomen towards us, and the men away. There were bright eyes in the Riesenbergwindows that morning which seemed to beg me to tarry; but what can a soldierdo, save to kiss his hand and shake his bridle as he rides upon his way?

It was a bleakseason to ride through the poorest and ugliest country in Europe, but there wasa cloudless sky above, and a bright, cold sun, which shimmered on the hugesnowfields. My breath reeked into the frosty air, and Rataplan sent up twofeathers of steam from his nostrils, while the icicles drooped from theside-irons of his bit. I let him trot to warm his limbs, while for my own partI had too much to think of to give much heed to the cold. To north and southstretched the great plains, mottled over with dark clumps of fir and lighterpatches of larch. A few cottages peeped out here and there, but it was onlythree months since the Grand Army had passed that way, and you know what thatmeant to a country. The Poles were our friends, it was true, but out of ahundred thousand men, only the Guard had waggons, and the rest had to live asbest they might. It did not surprise me, therefore, to see no signs of cattleand no smoke from the silent houses. A weal had been left across the countrywhere the great host had passed, and it was said that even the rats werestarved wherever the Emperor had led his men.