CONTENTS
1. How the Brigadier came to the Castle of Gloom
2. How the Brigadier slew the brothers of Ajaccio
3. How the Brigadier held the King
4. How the King held the Brigadier
5. How the Brigadier took the field against the Marshal Millefleurs
6. How the Brigadier played for a kingdom
7. How the Brigadier won his Medal
8. How the Brigadier was tempted by the Devil
1. HOW THE BRIGADIER CAME TO THE CASTLE OF GLOOM[A]
You do very well, my friends, to treat me with some little reverence,
for in honouring me you are honouring both France and yourselves. It is
not merely an old, grey-moustached officer whom you see eating his
omelette or draining his glass, but it is a fragment of history. In me
you see one of the last of those wonderful men, the men who were
veterans when they were yet boys, who learned to use a sword earlier
than a razor, and who during a hundred battles had never once let the
enemy 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 the thermometer, and never the bayonet, which could
break the Grand Army down. Berlin, Naples, Vienna, Madrid, Lisbon,
Moscow--we stabled our horses in them all. Yes, my friends, 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 seen
her standards in lands where they may never be seen again.
Even now, when I doze in my arm-chair, I can see those great warriors
stream before me--the green-jacketed chasseurs, the giant cuirassiers,
Poniatowsky's lancers, the white-mantled dragoons, the nodding bearskins
of the horse grenadiers. And then there comes the thick, low rattle of
the drums, and through wreaths of dust and smoke I see the line of high
bonnets, the row of brown faces, the swing and toss of the long, red
plumes amid the sloping lines of steel. And there rides Ney with his red
head, and Lefebvre with his bulldog jaw, and Lannes with his Gascon
swagger; and then amidst the gleam of brass and the flaunting feathers I
catch a 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 spring from my chair, with a cracked voice calling and
a silly hand outstretched, so that Madame Titaux has one more laugh at
the old fellow who lives among the shadows.
Although I was a full Chief of Brigade when the wars came to an end, and
had every hope of soon being made a General of Division, it is still
rather to my earlier days that I turn when I wish to talk of the glories
and the trials of a soldier's life. For you 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 serious matter
for him. But when he is only a lieutenant or a captain he has nothing
heavier than his epaulettes upon his shoulders, so that he can clink his
spurs and swing his dolman, drain his glass and kiss his girl, thinking
of nothing save of enjoying a gallant life. That is the time when he is
likely to have adventures, and it is often to that time that I shall
turn in the stories which I may have for you. So it will be tonight when
I tell you of my visit to the Castle of Gloom; of the strange mission of
Sub-Lieutenant Duroc, and of the horrible affair of the man who was once
known as Jean Carabin, and afterwards as the Baron Straubenthal.
You must know, then, that in the February of 1807, immediately after the
taking of Danzig, Major Legendre and I were commissioned to bring four
hundred remounts from Prussia into Eastern Poland.
1100591011
1. How the Brigadier came to the Castle of Gloom
2. How the Brigadier slew the brothers of Ajaccio
3. How the Brigadier held the King
4. How the King held the Brigadier
5. How the Brigadier took the field against the Marshal Millefleurs
6. How the Brigadier played for a kingdom
7. How the Brigadier won his Medal
8. How the Brigadier was tempted by the Devil
1. HOW THE BRIGADIER CAME TO THE CASTLE OF GLOOM[A]
You do very well, my friends, to treat me with some little reverence,
for in honouring me you are honouring both France and yourselves. It is
not merely an old, grey-moustached officer whom you see eating his
omelette or draining his glass, but it is a fragment of history. In me
you see one of the last of those wonderful men, the men who were
veterans when they were yet boys, who learned to use a sword earlier
than a razor, and who during a hundred battles had never once let the
enemy 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 the thermometer, and never the bayonet, which could
break the Grand Army down. Berlin, Naples, Vienna, Madrid, Lisbon,
Moscow--we stabled our horses in them all. Yes, my friends, 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 seen
her standards in lands where they may never be seen again.
Even now, when I doze in my arm-chair, I can see those great warriors
stream before me--the green-jacketed chasseurs, the giant cuirassiers,
Poniatowsky's lancers, the white-mantled dragoons, the nodding bearskins
of the horse grenadiers. And then there comes the thick, low rattle of
the drums, and through wreaths of dust and smoke I see the line of high
bonnets, the row of brown faces, the swing and toss of the long, red
plumes amid the sloping lines of steel. And there rides Ney with his red
head, and Lefebvre with his bulldog jaw, and Lannes with his Gascon
swagger; and then amidst the gleam of brass and the flaunting feathers I
catch a 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 spring from my chair, with a cracked voice calling and
a silly hand outstretched, so that Madame Titaux has one more laugh at
the old fellow who lives among the shadows.
Although I was a full Chief of Brigade when the wars came to an end, and
had every hope of soon being made a General of Division, it is still
rather to my earlier days that I turn when I wish to talk of the glories
and the trials of a soldier's life. For you 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 serious matter
for him. But when he is only a lieutenant or a captain he has nothing
heavier than his epaulettes upon his shoulders, so that he can clink his
spurs and swing his dolman, drain his glass and kiss his girl, thinking
of nothing save of enjoying a gallant life. That is the time when he is
likely to have adventures, and it is often to that time that I shall
turn in the stories which I may have for you. So it will be tonight when
I tell you of my visit to the Castle of Gloom; of the strange mission of
Sub-Lieutenant Duroc, and of the horrible affair of the man who was once
known as Jean Carabin, and afterwards as the Baron Straubenthal.
You must know, then, that in the February of 1807, immediately after the
taking of Danzig, Major Legendre and I were commissioned to bring four
hundred remounts from Prussia into Eastern Poland.
The Exploits of BRIGADIER GERARD
CONTENTS
1. How the Brigadier came to the Castle of Gloom
2. How the Brigadier slew the brothers of Ajaccio
3. How the Brigadier held the King
4. How the King held the Brigadier
5. How the Brigadier took the field against the Marshal Millefleurs
6. How the Brigadier played for a kingdom
7. How the Brigadier won his Medal
8. How the Brigadier was tempted by the Devil
1. HOW THE BRIGADIER CAME TO THE CASTLE OF GLOOM[A]
You do very well, my friends, to treat me with some little reverence,
for in honouring me you are honouring both France and yourselves. It is
not merely an old, grey-moustached officer whom you see eating his
omelette or draining his glass, but it is a fragment of history. In me
you see one of the last of those wonderful men, the men who were
veterans when they were yet boys, who learned to use a sword earlier
than a razor, and who during a hundred battles had never once let the
enemy 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 the thermometer, and never the bayonet, which could
break the Grand Army down. Berlin, Naples, Vienna, Madrid, Lisbon,
Moscow--we stabled our horses in them all. Yes, my friends, 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 seen
her standards in lands where they may never be seen again.
Even now, when I doze in my arm-chair, I can see those great warriors
stream before me--the green-jacketed chasseurs, the giant cuirassiers,
Poniatowsky's lancers, the white-mantled dragoons, the nodding bearskins
of the horse grenadiers. And then there comes the thick, low rattle of
the drums, and through wreaths of dust and smoke I see the line of high
bonnets, the row of brown faces, the swing and toss of the long, red
plumes amid the sloping lines of steel. And there rides Ney with his red
head, and Lefebvre with his bulldog jaw, and Lannes with his Gascon
swagger; and then amidst the gleam of brass and the flaunting feathers I
catch a 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 spring from my chair, with a cracked voice calling and
a silly hand outstretched, so that Madame Titaux has one more laugh at
the old fellow who lives among the shadows.
Although I was a full Chief of Brigade when the wars came to an end, and
had every hope of soon being made a General of Division, it is still
rather to my earlier days that I turn when I wish to talk of the glories
and the trials of a soldier's life. For you 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 serious matter
for him. But when he is only a lieutenant or a captain he has nothing
heavier than his epaulettes upon his shoulders, so that he can clink his
spurs and swing his dolman, drain his glass and kiss his girl, thinking
of nothing save of enjoying a gallant life. That is the time when he is
likely to have adventures, and it is often to that time that I shall
turn in the stories which I may have for you. So it will be tonight when
I tell you of my visit to the Castle of Gloom; of the strange mission of
Sub-Lieutenant Duroc, and of the horrible affair of the man who was once
known as Jean Carabin, and afterwards as the Baron Straubenthal.
You must know, then, that in the February of 1807, immediately after the
taking of Danzig, Major Legendre and I were commissioned to bring four
hundred remounts from Prussia into Eastern Poland.
1. How the Brigadier came to the Castle of Gloom
2. How the Brigadier slew the brothers of Ajaccio
3. How the Brigadier held the King
4. How the King held the Brigadier
5. How the Brigadier took the field against the Marshal Millefleurs
6. How the Brigadier played for a kingdom
7. How the Brigadier won his Medal
8. How the Brigadier was tempted by the Devil
1. HOW THE BRIGADIER CAME TO THE CASTLE OF GLOOM[A]
You do very well, my friends, to treat me with some little reverence,
for in honouring me you are honouring both France and yourselves. It is
not merely an old, grey-moustached officer whom you see eating his
omelette or draining his glass, but it is a fragment of history. In me
you see one of the last of those wonderful men, the men who were
veterans when they were yet boys, who learned to use a sword earlier
than a razor, and who during a hundred battles had never once let the
enemy 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 the thermometer, and never the bayonet, which could
break the Grand Army down. Berlin, Naples, Vienna, Madrid, Lisbon,
Moscow--we stabled our horses in them all. Yes, my friends, 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 seen
her standards in lands where they may never be seen again.
Even now, when I doze in my arm-chair, I can see those great warriors
stream before me--the green-jacketed chasseurs, the giant cuirassiers,
Poniatowsky's lancers, the white-mantled dragoons, the nodding bearskins
of the horse grenadiers. And then there comes the thick, low rattle of
the drums, and through wreaths of dust and smoke I see the line of high
bonnets, the row of brown faces, the swing and toss of the long, red
plumes amid the sloping lines of steel. And there rides Ney with his red
head, and Lefebvre with his bulldog jaw, and Lannes with his Gascon
swagger; and then amidst the gleam of brass and the flaunting feathers I
catch a 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 spring from my chair, with a cracked voice calling and
a silly hand outstretched, so that Madame Titaux has one more laugh at
the old fellow who lives among the shadows.
Although I was a full Chief of Brigade when the wars came to an end, and
had every hope of soon being made a General of Division, it is still
rather to my earlier days that I turn when I wish to talk of the glories
and the trials of a soldier's life. For you 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 serious matter
for him. But when he is only a lieutenant or a captain he has nothing
heavier than his epaulettes upon his shoulders, so that he can clink his
spurs and swing his dolman, drain his glass and kiss his girl, thinking
of nothing save of enjoying a gallant life. That is the time when he is
likely to have adventures, and it is often to that time that I shall
turn in the stories which I may have for you. So it will be tonight when
I tell you of my visit to the Castle of Gloom; of the strange mission of
Sub-Lieutenant Duroc, and of the horrible affair of the man who was once
known as Jean Carabin, and afterwards as the Baron Straubenthal.
You must know, then, that in the February of 1807, immediately after the
taking of Danzig, Major Legendre and I were commissioned to bring four
hundred remounts from Prussia into Eastern Poland.
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The Exploits of BRIGADIER GERARD
The Exploits of BRIGADIER GERARD
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Product Details
| BN ID: | 2940013091580 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | SAP |
| Publication date: | 08/31/2011 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| File size: | 184 KB |
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