I, a youngster, stuck to him like a burr, and helped him to rub his military buttons like mirrors, and to pipe-clay his vest--for Monsieur Le Grand liked to look well--and I followed him to the watch, to the roll-call, to the parade--in those times there was nothing but the gleam of weapons and merriment--_les jours de fête sont passés_! Monsieur Le Grand knew only a little broken German, only the chief expressions--"Bread," "Kiss," "Honour"--but he could make himself very intelligible with his drum. For instance, if I did not know what the word _liberté_ meant, he drummed the _Marseillaise_--and I understood him. If I did not understand the word _egalité_, he drummed the march, "_Ca ira_, ... _les aristocrats à la lanterne!_" and I understood him. If I did not know what _bêtise_ meant, he drummed the Dessauer March, which we Germans, as Goethe also declares, have drummed in Champagne--and I understood him. He once wanted to explain to me the word _l'Allemagne_, and he drummed the all too simple primeval melody, which on market days is played to dancing dogs--namely, _dum--dum--dum_.[7] I was vexed, but I understood him. In the same way he taught me modern history. I did not understand the words, it is true, but as he constantly drummed while speaking, I knew what he meant. At bottom this is the best method. The history of the storming of the Bastille, of the Tuilleries, and the like, we understand first when we know how the drumming was done. In our school compendiums of history we merely read: "Their excellencies, the Baron and Count, with the most noble spouses of the aforesaid, were beheaded. Their highnesses the Dukes, and Princes, with the most noble spouses of the aforesaid, were beheaded. His Majesty the King, with his most sublime spouse, the Queen, was beheaded." But when you hear the red guillotine march drummed, you understand it correctly, for the first time, and you know the how and the why. Madame, that is indeed a wonderful march! It thrilled through marrow and bone when I first heard it, and I was glad that I forgot it. One forgets so much as one grows older, and a young man has now-a-days so much other knowledge to keep in his head--whist, Boston, genealogical tables, parliamentary data, dramaturgy, the liturgy, carving--and yet, notwithstanding all jogging up of my brain, I could not for a long time recall that tremendous tune! But, only think, Madame! not long ago I sat at table with a whole menagerie of Counts, Princes, Princesses, Chamberlains, Court-marshallesses, Seneschals, Upper Court Mistresses, Court-keepers-of-the-royal-plate, Court-hunters' wives, and whatever else these aristocratic domestics are termed, and their under-domestics ran about behind their chairs and shoved full plates before their mouths--but I, who was passed by and neglected, sat without the least occupation for my jaws, and I kneaded little bread-balls, and drummed for _ennui_ with my fingers--and, to my