THE "FIRST GRENADIER OF FRANCE."

BY C. W. FISHER.

How many of the young people have ever heard the story of that simple-hearted, brave soldier of Napoleon's empire, so long known as the "First Grenadier of France"?

Born in the provinces, La Tour d'Auvergne received a thorough military schooling, and entered the army when quite young.

Throughout a career of nearly twoscore years, he served ever with fidelity and distinction, yet always refused the promotion which was constantly offered him, preferring, as he said, the familiar duties of the grenadier to even the glories of a marshal.

His wishes were, in a measure, respected. He held always the rank of Captain, though eventually his command equalled in numbers almost ten regiments.

After his death, which occurred in action, there was instituted in the regiment with which he had been connected, and by the express directions of Bonaparte himself, a most touching tribute to his faithful service. His name had never been stricken from the roll, and at its call, upon the daily parade, the oldest veteran present would step forward, and saluting, answer, "Died on the field of battle."

The details of his history show that his life was well worthy the honors thus paid to his memory, and many incidents are told of him which illustrate his unselfish devotion to the profession he loved so well.

Upon one occasion, being on furlough, he paid a visit to an old friend in a section of the country as yet remote from actual war.

While there, he learned that a detachment of several hundred Austrians, having in view the prevention of a certain important movement of the French, was on the march to a spot where this purpose could be easily accomplished. To reach this they must pass through a narrow defile, guarded by an old stone tower, which was garrisoned by perhaps half a company of French soldiers.

To warn these of their danger in time to prepare for defense was the aim of our hero, and putting up a slender store of provisions, he started off.

To his dismay he found on arriving at the tower that his comrades had been only too well warned already, and had fled, even leaving their muskets and a goodly supply of ammunition behind them.

He knew that if the Austrians could be held in check long enough to allow the completion of the French manœuvre, by that time tower and pass would be of little use to either side. He determined, single-handed, to make the fight against a regiment.

There were many conditions which favored the successful carrying out of this brave resolve. The tower could be approached only through a narrow ravine, in which but two or three men could walk abreast, and as he was abundantly supplied with arms, the grenadier did not despair of at least partial success. He barricaded the doors, carefully loaded all the muskets, which he placed in convenient positions for instant handling, made a good meal off the food he had brought with him, and then sat down to await the enemy.

He was unmolested until near dawn, when unusual sounds without announced the Austrians' approach.

They halted at the mouth of the defile, and almost immediately an officer, bearing a flag of truce, appeared with a demand for surrender.

D'Auvergne answered the call, replying that "the garrison would defend itself to the last," and the messenger, little suspecting that the entire garrison was comprised in the person of the single soldier who stood before him, retired.

A small cannon was shortly after brought to bear upon the tower; but our grenadier made such good use of his weapons that half a dozen of the Austrians lay wounded upon the ground before they could fire a single shot. Finding this mode of attack ineffectual, an assault was ordered; but as the head of the column came within range of the tower, so deadly a fire was poured upon it that it was ordered back amid great confusion.

Two further attacks were made, with like results, and when night fell, the solitary grenadier was still in possession of his stronghold, and unhurt, while nearly fifty of the enemy were either killed or wounded.

Sunset brought a second summons to yield, with an intimation that, if refused, a regular siege would be entered upon, and kept up until hunger should compel submission.

Deeming the twenty-four hours which had elapsed sufficient time for the accomplishment of the French move, D'Auvergne returned answer that the garrison would surrender the following morning if allowed safe-conduct to the French lines, and permission to retain its arms. These terms, after a little parley, were acceded to.

At daybreak on the morrow, accordingly, the enemy were drawn up to receive the vanquished garrison.

The door of the tower opened, and a soiled and scarred veteran, literally staggering under the weight of as many muskets as he could carry, walked slowly between the ranks, and depositing his load at the feet of the Colonel, saluted. To the surprise of the latter, no one followed.

"But where is the garrison, grenadier?" asked he.

"Sir, I am the garrison," replied the soldier.

For a moment astonishment held the Austrian dumb; then ordering his command to present arms, and raising his cap, "Grenadier, I salute you," said he: "so brave a deed is without parallel."

The desired escort was provided, and with it was sent a dispatch relating the whole affair.

When the circumstance became known to the Emperor, the offer of promotion was renewed, and again declined, and D'Auvergne remained to the day of his death simply the "First Grenadier of France."