The Battle of Tours.
We have now to record the expedition of the Prince of Nemours against his advancing cousin, Henry V. His Royal Highness could not march against the enemy with such a force as he would have desired to bring against them; for his royal father, wisely remembering the vast amount of property he had stowed away under the Tuileries, refused to allow a single soldier to quit the forts round the capital, which thus was defended by one hundred and forty-four thousand guns (eighty-four-pounders), and four hundred and thirty-two thousand men:— little enough, when one considers that there were but three men to a gun. To provision this immense army, and a population of double the amount within the walls, his Majesty1 caused the country to be scoured2 for fifty miles round, and left neither ox, nor ass3, nor blade of grass. When appealed to by the inhabitants of the plundered4 district, the royal Philip replied, with tears in his eyes, that his heart bled for them — that they were his children — that every cow taken from the meanest peasant was like a limb torn from his own body; but that duty must be done, that the interests of the country demanded the sacrifice, and that in fact, they might go to the deuce. This the unfortunate creatures certainly did.
The theatres went on as usual within the walls. The Journal des Debats stated every day that the pretenders were taken; the Chambers5 sat — such as remained — and talked immensely about honor, dignity, and the glorious revolution of July; and the King, as his power was now pretty nigh absolute over them, thought this a good opportunity to bring in a bill for doubling his children’s allowances all round.
Meanwhile the Duke of Nemours proceeded on his march; and as there was nothing left within fifty miles of Paris wherewith to support his famished7 troops, it may be imagined that he was forced to ransack8 the next fifty miles in order to maintain them. He did so. But the troops were not such as they should have been, considering the enemy with whom they had to engage.
The fact is, that most of the Duke’s army consisted of the National Guard; who, in a fit of enthusiasm, and at the cry of “LA PATRIE EN DANGER” having been induced to volunteer, had been eagerly accepted by his Majesty, anxious to lessen9 as much as possible the number of food-consumers in his beleaguered10 capital. It is said even that he selected the most gormandizing battalions11 of the civic12 force to send forth13 against the enemy: viz, the grocers, the rich bankers, the lawyers, &c. Their parting with their families was very affecting. They would have been very willing to recall their offer of marching, but companies of stern veterans closing round them, marched them to the city gates, which were closed upon them; and thus perforce they were compelled to move on. As long as he had a bottle of brandy and a couple of sausages in his holsters, the General of the National Guard, Odillon Barrot, talked with tremendous courage. Such was the power of his eloquence14 over the troops, that, could he have come up with the enemy while his victuals15 lasted, the issue of the combat might have been very different. But in the course of the first day’s march he finished both the sausages and the brandy, and became quite uneasy, silent, and crest-fallen.
It was on the fair plains of Touraine, by the banks of silver Loire, that the armies sat down before each other, and the battle was to take place which had such an effect upon the fortunes of France. ’Twas a brisk day of March: the practised valor16 of Nemours showed him at once what use to make of the army under his orders, and having enfiladed his National Guard battalions, and placed his artillery17 in echelons18, he formed his cavalry20 into hollow squares on the right and left of his line, flinging out a cloud of howitzers to fall back upon the main column. His veteran infantry21 he formed behind his National Guard — politely hinting to Odillon Barrot, who wished to retire under pretence22 of being exceedingly unwell, that the regular troops would bayonet the National Guard if they gave way an inch: on which their General, turning very pale, demurely23 went back to his post. His men were dreadfully discouraged; they had slept on the ground all night; they regretted their homes and their comfortable nightcaps in the Rue24 St. Honore: they had luckily fallen in with a flock of sheep and a drove of oxen at Tours the day before; but what were these, compared to the delicacies25 of Chevet’s or three courses at Vefour’s? They mournfully cooked their steaks and cutlets on their ramrods, and passed a most wretched night.
The army of Henry was encamped opposite to them for the most part in better order. The noble cavalry regiments26 found a village in which they made themselves pretty comfortable, Jenkins’s Foot taking possession of the kitchens and garrets of the buildings. The Irish Brigade, accustomed to lie abroad, were quartered in some potato fields, where they sang Moore’s melodies all night. There were, besides the troops regular and irregular, about three thousand priests and abbes with the army, armed with scourging-whips, and chanting the most lugubrious28 canticles: these reverend men were found to be a hindrance29 rather than otherwise to the operations of the regular forces.
It was a touching30 sight, on the morning before the battle, to see the alacrity31 with which Jenkins’s regiment27 sprung up at the FIRST reveille of the bell, and engaged (the honest fellows!) in offices almost menial for the benefit of their French allies. The Duke himself set the example, and blacked to a nicety the boots of Henri. At half-past ten, after coffee, the brilliant warriors32 of the cavalry were ready; their clarions rung to horse, their banners were given to the wind, their shirt-collars were exquisitely33 starched34, and the whole air was scented35 with the odors of their pomatums and pocket-handkerchiefs.
Jenkins had the honor of holding the stirrup for Henri. “My faithful Duke!” said the Prince, pulling him by the shoulder-knot, “thou art always at THY POST.” “Here, as in Wellington Street, sire,” said the hero, blushing. And the Prince made an appropriate speech to his chivalry36, in which allusions37 to the lilies, Saint Louis, Bayard and Henri Quatre, were, as may be imagined, not spared. “Ho! standard-bearer!” the Prince concluded, “fling out my oriflamme. Noble gents of France, your King is among you today!”
Then turning to the Prince of Ballybunion, who had been drinking whiskey-punch all night with the Princes of Donegal and Connemara, “Prince,” he said, “the Irish Brigade has won every battle in the French history — we will not deprive you of the honor of winning this. You will please to commence the attack with your brigade.” Bending his head until the green plumes38 of his beaver39 mingled40 with the mane of the Shetland pony41 which he rode, the Prince of Ireland trotted42 off with his aides-de-camp; who rode the same horses, powerful grays, with which a dealer43 at Nantz had supplied them on their and the Prince’s joint44 bill at three months.
The gallant45 sons of Erin had wisely slept until the last minute in their potato-trenches, but rose at once at the summons of their beloved Prince. Their toilet was the work of a moment — a single shake and it was done. Rapidly forming into a line, they advanced headed by their Generals,— who, turning their steeds into a grass-field, wisely determined46 to fight on foot. Behind them came the line of British foot under the illustrious Jenkins, who marched in advance perfectly47 collected, and smoking a Manilla cigar. The cavalry were on the right and left of the infantry, prepared to act in pontoon, in echelon19, or in ricochet, as occasion might demand. The Prince rode behind, supported by his Staff, who were almost all of them bishops48, archdeacons, or abbes; and the body of ecclesiastics49 followed, singing to the sound, or rather howl, of serpents and trombones, the Latin canticles of the Reverend Franciscus O’Mahony, lately canonized under the name of Saint Francis of Cork50.
The advanced lines of the two contending armies were now in presence — the National Guard of Orleans and the Irish Brigade. The white belts and fat paunches of the Guard presented a terrific appearance; but it might have been remarked by the close observer, that their faces were as white as their belts, and the long line of their bayonets might be seen to quiver. General Odillon Barrot, with a cockade as large as a pancake, endeavored to make a speech: the words honneur, patrie, Francais, champ de bataille might be distinguished51; but the General was dreadfully flustered52, and was evidently more at home in the Chamber6 of Deputies than in the field of war.
The Prince of Ballybunion, for a wonder, did not make a speech. “Boys,” said he, “we’ve enough talking at the Corn Exchange; bating’s the word now.” The Green-Islanders replied with a tremendous hurroo, which sent terror into the fat bosoms53 of the French.
“Gentlemen of the National Guard,” said the Prince, taking off his hat and bowing to Odillon Barrot, “will ye be so igsthramely obleeging as to fire first.” This he said because it had been said at Fontenoy, but chiefly because his own men were only armed with shillelaghs, and therefore could not fire.
But this proposal was very unpalatable to the National Guardsmen: for though they understood the musket-exercise pretty well, firing was the thing of all others they detested54 — the noise, and the kick of the gun, and the smell of the powder being very unpleasant to them. “We won’t fire,” said Odillon Barrot, turning round to Colonel Saugrenue and his regiment of the line — which, it may be remembered, was formed behind the National Guard.
“Then give them the bayonet,” said the Colonel, with a terrific oath. “Charge, corbleu!”
At this moment, and with the most dreadful howl that ever was heard, the National Guard was seen to rush forwards wildly, and with immense velocity55, towards the foe56. The fact is, that the line regiment behind them, each selecting his man, gave a poke57 with his bayonet between the coat-tails of the Nationals, and those troops bounded forward with an irresistible58 swiftness.
Nothing could withstand the tremendous impetus59 of that manoeuvre60. The Irish Brigade was scattered61 before it, as chaff62 before the wind. The Prince of Ballybunion had barely time to run Odillon Barrot through the body, when he too was borne away in the swift rout63. They scattered tumultuously, and fled for twenty miles without stopping. The Princes of Donegal and Connemara were taken prisoners; but though they offered to give bills at three months, and for a hundred thousand pounds, for their ransom64, the offer was refused, and they were sent to the rear; when the Duke of Nemours, hearing they were Irish Generals, and that they had been robbed of their ready money by his troops, who had taken them prisoners, caused a comfortable breakfast to be supplied to them, and lent them each a sum of money. How generous are men in success!— the Prince of Orleans was charmed with the conduct of his National Guards, and thought his victory secure. He despatched a courier to Paris with the brief words, “We met the enemy before Tours. The National Guard has done its duty. The troops of the pretender are routed. Vive le Roi!” The note, you may be sure, appeared in the Journal des Debats, and the editor, who only that morning had called Henri V. “a great prince, an august exile,” denominated him instantly a murderer, slave, thief, cut-throat, pickpocket65, and burglar.
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1
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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2
scoured
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| 走遍（某地）搜寻（人或物）( scour的过去式和过去分词 )； （用力）刷； 擦净； 擦亮 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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plundered
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| 掠夺，抢劫( plunder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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7
famished
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| adj.饥饿的 | |
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ransack
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| v.彻底搜索，洗劫 | |
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lessen
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| vt.减少，减轻；缩小 | |
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10
beleaguered
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| adj.受到围困[围攻]的；包围的v.围攻( beleaguer的过去式和过去分词)；困扰；骚扰 | |
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11
battalions
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| n.（陆军的）一营（大约有一千兵士）( battalion的名词复数 )；协同作战的部队；军队；（组织在一起工作的）队伍 | |
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12
civic
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| adj.城市的，都市的，市民的，公民的 | |
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13
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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14
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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15
victuals
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| n.食物；食品 | |
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16
valor
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| n.勇气，英勇 | |
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17
artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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18
echelons
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| n.（机构中的）等级，阶层( echelon的名词复数 )；（军舰、士兵、飞机等的）梯形编队 | |
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19
echelon
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| n.梯队；组织系统中的等级；v.排成梯队 | |
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20
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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21
infantry
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| n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
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22
pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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demurely
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| adv.装成端庄地，认真地 | |
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rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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25
delicacies
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| n.棘手( delicacy的名词复数 )；精致；精美的食物；周到 | |
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26
regiments
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| （军队的）团( regiment的名词复数 )； 大量的人或物 | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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28
lugubrious
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| adj.悲哀的，忧郁的 | |
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29
hindrance
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| n.妨碍，障碍 | |
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30
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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31
alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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32
warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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33
exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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starched
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| adj.浆硬的，硬挺的，拘泥刻板的v.把（衣服、床单等）浆一浆( starch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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35
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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36
chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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37
allusions
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| 暗指，间接提到( allusion的名词复数 ) | |
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38
plumes
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| 羽毛( plume的名词复数 )； 羽毛饰； 羽毛状物； 升上空中的羽状物 | |
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39
beaver
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| n.海狸，河狸 | |
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40
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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41
pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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42
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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43
dealer
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| n.商人，贩子 | |
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44
joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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45
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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46
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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47
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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48
bishops
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| （基督教某些教派管辖大教区的）主教( bishop的名词复数 )； （国际象棋的）象 | |
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49
ecclesiastics
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| n.神职者，教会，牧师( ecclesiastic的名词复数 ) | |
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50
cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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51
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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52
flustered
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| adj.慌张的；激动不安的v.使慌乱，使不安( fluster的过去式和过去分词) | |
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53
bosoms
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| 胸部( bosom的名词复数 )； 胸怀； 女衣胸部（或胸襟）； 和爱护自己的人在一起的情形 | |
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54
detested
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| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55
velocity
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| n.速度，速率 | |
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56
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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57
poke
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| n.刺，戳，袋；vt.拨开，刺，戳；vi.戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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58
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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impetus
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| n.推动，促进，刺激；推动力 | |
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manoeuvre
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| n.策略，调动；v.用策略，调动 | |
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61
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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62
chaff
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| v.取笑，嘲笑；n.谷壳 | |
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63
rout
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| n.溃退，溃败；v.击溃，打垮 | |
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64
ransom
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| n.赎金，赎身；v.赎回，解救 | |
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pickpocket
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| n.扒手；v.扒窃 | |
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