There is a strange, unnatural kind of pleasure felt sometimes in the
continued attacks of evil fortune: the dogged courage with which we bear
up against the ills of fate, swimming more strongly as the waves grow
rougher, has its own meed of consolation. It is only at such a time,
perhaps, that the really independent spirit of our natures is in the
ascendant, and that we can stand amid the storm, conscious of our
firmness, and bid the winds “blow and crack their cheeks.” Yet, through
how many sorrows must one have waded, ere he reach this point! through
what trials must he have passed I how must hope have paled, and
flickered, and died out I how must all self-love, all ambition, all
desire itself have withered within us, till we become like the mere rock
amid the breakers, against which the waves beat in vain! When that hour
comes, the heart has grown cold and callous, the affections have dried
up, and man looks no more upon his fellow-men as brothers.
Towards this sad condition I found myself rapidly verging; the isolation
of my homeless, friendless state, the death of my hopes, the uncheered
path in which I walked, all conspired to make me feel depressed, and
I perceived that a half-recklessness was already stealing over me, and
that in my indifference as to fortune now lay my greatest consolation.
There was a time when such a rencontre as lately befell me had made me
miserable till the hour came when I should meet my adversary; now, my
blood boiled with no indignant passion, no current of angry vengeance
stirred through my veins, a stupid sullenness was over me, and I cared
nothing what might happen. And if this state became not permanent, I owe
it to youth alone--the mainspring of many of our best endeavors.
We had travelled some seven or eight miles when we stopped for a few
seconds at the door of a cabaret, and then I discovered for the first
time that my old friend Pioche was the corporal of our little party. To
my slight reproach for his not having sooner made himself known to
me, the honest fellow replied that he saw I was low in spirits about
something, and did not wish to obtrude upon me.
“Not but, after all, mon lieutenant, the best way is always to 'face
front' against bad luck, and charge through; _sapermint_, that's the way
we did at Marengo, when Desaix's corps was cut off from the left--But
pardon, mon officier, I forgot you were not there.”
There was something so pleasant in the gruff courtesy of the hardy
cuirassier, that I willingly led him on to speak of his former
life,--a subject which, once entered on, he followed as fancy or memory
suggested.
“I used to feel low-spirited myself, once,” said Pioche, as he smoothed
down his great mustache with a complacent motion of his fingers--“I used
to be very low in heart when I entered the service first, and saw all my
old school-fellows and companions winning their epaulettes and becoming
captains and colonels,--ay, _parbleu_, and marshals, too,--while,
because I could not read, I was to remain all my life in the ranks; as
if one could not force a palisade nor break through a square till he had
stuffed his head with learning. All this made me very sad, and I would
sit brooding over it for hours long. But at last I began to think my
own lot was not the worst after all; my duty was easily done, and, when
over, I could sleep sound till the _reveil_ blew. I ran no danger of being
scolded by the Petit Caporal, because my division was not somewhere
yesterday, nor in some other place to-day. He never came with a frown to
ask me why I had not captured another howitzer and taken more prisoners.
No, faith! It was always,--'Well done, Pioche! bravely done, mon enfant!
here's a piece of twenty francs to drink my health.' Or perhaps he'd
mutter between his teeth, 'That honest fellow there would make a better
general than one half of them.' Not that he was in earnest, you know;
but still it was pleasant just to hear it.”
“And yet, Pioche,” said I, “it does surprise me why, seeing that this
want of learning was the bar to your promotion, you did not--”
“And so I did, mon lieutenant; at least I tried to learn to read.
_Morbleu!_ it was a weary time for me. I'd rather be under arrest three
days a week, than be at it again. Mademoiselle Minette--she was the
vivandiére of ours--undertook to teach me; and I used to go over to the
canteen every evening after drill. Many a sad heart had I over these
same lessons. Saprelotte, I could learn the look of every man in a
brigade before I could know the letters in the alphabet, they looked so
confoundedly alike when they stood up all in a line. The only fellows
I could distinguish were the big ones, that were probably the sergeants
and sous-officiers; and when my eye was fixed on one column, it would
stray away to another; and then mademoiselle would laugh, and that would
lead to something else. Et, _ma foi_, the spelling-book was soon thrown
aside, and lessons given up for that evening.”
“I suppose Mademoiselle Minette was pretty, Pioche?”
“Was I ay, and is, too. What! mon lieutenant, did you never see her on
parade? She's the handsomest girl in the army, and rides so well,--mille
cannons! She might have been a great lady before this if she 'd have
left the regiment; but no, she'd die first! Her father was tambour-major
with us, and killed at Groningen when she was only an infant; and we
used to carry her about in our arms on the march, and hand her from
one to another. I have seen her pass from the leading files to the
baggage-guard, on a long summer's day; that I have. Le Petit Caporal
knows her well; she gave him a gourd full of eau-de-vie at Cairo when
he was so faint he could scarcely speak. It was after that he saw her in
the breach at Acre; one of our fellows was lying wounded in the ruins,
and mademoiselle waited till the storming party fell back, and then ran
up to him with her flask in her hand. 'Whose pretty ankles are these? I
think I ought to know them,' said an officer, as she passed along. 'No
flattery will do with me, Monsieur,' cried Minette; 'it's hard enough
to get one's living here, without giving Nantz brandy for nothing.'
Saerigtif when the laugh made her turn about, she saw it was the Petit
Caporal himself who spoke to her. Poor Minette! she blushed scarlet, and
nearly dropped with shame; but that did not prevent her dashing up the
breach towards the wounded man; not that it was of any use, though,--he
was dead when she got up.”
“I should like much to see mademoiselle. Is she still with the Fourth?”
“Yes, mon lieutenant; I parted with her a few hours ago.”
A half suppressed sigh that followed these words showed that the worthy
corporal was touched on the most tender key of his nature, and for some
time he lapsed into a silence I could not venture to break. At length,
desiring to give the conversation a turn, I asked if he knew the
Capitaine Pichot.
“Know him!” cried Pioche, almost bounding in his saddle as he spoke.
“That I do. _Peste!_ I have good reason to know him: see there.” With
that he lifted the curled mustache from his upper lip, and disclosed
to my view a blue scar that marked one side of his mouth. “That was his
doing.”
“Indeed! How so, pray?”
“I 'll tell you. We were in garrison at Metz, where, as you know, the
great commissariat station is held,--thousands of cannon and mortars,
shells and shot, and tons of powder without end. Well, the orders were
very strict against smoking; any man found with a pipe in his mouth was
sentenced to a week in the 'salle de police,' and I can't say what else
besides. When we marched into the town, this order stared us in the
face; a great placard, with big letters, which they who could read said
was against smoking. Now, most of us came from Alsace, and it was pretty
much like setting a fish to live on dry land, bidding us go without
tobacco. As for me, I smoke just as I breathe, without knowing or
thinking of it. My pipe lies in my mouth as naturally as my foot rests
in the stirrup; and so, although I intended to obey the order, I knew
well the time might come when, just from not thinking, I should be
caught smoking away; for if I were on guard over a magazine it would be
all the same,--I could not help it. So I resolved, as the only way not
to be caught tripping, to leave all my pipes in a secret place, till
the time came for us to leave Metz,--an hour, I need not say, we all
anxiously longed for. This I did,” continued Pioche, “that same evening,
and all went on favorably for some time, when one night, as I was
returning to quarters, the devil, who meddles with everything in this
world, made me stick my hands into the pocket of my undress jacket, and
I there discovered a little bit of a pipe about the length of one joint
of your thumb,--a poor scrubby thing of clay, sure enough; but there
it was, and, worse still, ready filled with tobacco. Had it been a good
sized meerschaum, with a tassel and an amber mouthpiece, I had resisted
like a man; but the temptation came in so humble a shape, I thought I
was only guilty of a small sin in transgressing, and so I lit my little
friend, and went gayly along towards the barracks. Just as I passed the
corner of the market-place I heard a great noise of voices and laughing
in the café, and recognized the tones of our major and some of the
officers, as they sat sipping their wine in the verandah. Before I could
raise my hand to my mouth, Capitaine Pichot cried out, 'Halte-la!--right
about face!--attention!--left wheel!--eyes front!' This I did, as if on
parade, and stood stock still; when suddenly crack went a noise, and a
pistol-bullet smashed the pipe in two, and grazed my lip, when a roar of
laughing followed, as he called out louder than before, 'Quick march!'
and I stepped out to my quarters, never turning my head right or left,
not knowing what other ball practice might be in store for me. _Tonnerre
de Dieu!_ a little windage of the shot might have cost me every tooth I
have in the world!”
“It was a cruel jest, Pioche, and you 're a good-humored fellow to take
it so easily.”
“Not so. Lieutenant. I had no punishment afterwards, and was well
content to be quit for the fright.”
With such stray memories of his campaigning days did Pioche beguile the
way: now moralizing over the chances and changes of a soldier's fortune;
now comforting himself with some pleasant reflection, that even in his
own humble walk he had assisted at some of the greatest triumphs of the
French armies. Of the future he spoke with the easy confidence of one
who felt that in the Emperor's guidance there could be full trust,--both
of the cause being a just one, and the result victorious. A perfect
type of his class, his bravery was only to be equalled by the implicit
confidence he felt in his leader. That the troops of any country, no
matter how numerous and well equipped, could resist a French army was
a problem he could not even entertain. The thing was too absurd; and if
Napoleon did not at that moment wield undisputed sway over the whole of
Europe, it was simply owing to his excess of moderation, and the willing
sacrifice of his ambition to his greater love of liberty.
I confess, if I were sometimes tempted to smile at the simplicity of the
honest soldier, I was more often carried away by his warm enthusiasm; so
frequently, too, did he interweave in his narrative the mention of those
great victories, whose fame was unquestionable, that in my assent to
the facts I went a great way in my concurrence with the inferences he
deduced from them. And thus we travelled on for several days in
advance of the division, regulating the halting-places and the billets,
according to the nature and facilities of the country. The towns and
villages in our “route” presented an aspect of the most profound peace;
and however strange it seemed, yet each day attested how completely
ignorant the people were of the advance of that mighty army that now, in
four vast columns of march, was pouring its thousands into the heart of
Germany. The Princes of Baden and Darmstadt, through whose territories
we passed, had not as yet given in their adherence to the Emperor; and
the inhabitants of those countries seemed perplexed and confused at
the intentions of their powerful neighbor, whose immense trains of
ammunition and enormous parks of artillery filled every road and blocked
up every village.
At length we reached Manheim, where a portion of the corps of Maréchal
Davoust were in waiting to join us: and there we first learned, by the
imperial bulletin, the object of the war and the destination of the
troops. The document was written by Napoleon himself, and bore abundant
evidence of his style. After the usual programme, attesting his sincere
love for peace, and his desire for the cultivation of those happy and
industrious habits which make nations more prosperous than glorious,
it went on to speak of the great coalition between Russia and Austria,
which, in union with the “_perfide_ Albion,” had no other thought nor
wish than the abasement and dismemberment of France. “But, soldiers!”
continued he, “your Emperor is in the midst of you. France itself in all
its majesty, is at your back, and you are but the advanced guard of a
mighty people! There are fatigues and privations, battles, and forced
marches, before you; but let them oppose to us every resistance they are
able, we swear never to cry 'Halt!' till we have planted our eagles on
the territory of our enemies!”
We halted two days at Manheim to permit some regiments to come up, and
then marched forward to Nordlingen, which place the Emperor himself had
only quitted the night before. Here the report reached us that a
smart affair had taken place the previous morning between the Austrian
division and a portion of Ney's advanced guard, in which we had
rather the worst of it, and had lost some prisoners. The news excited
considerable discontent among the troops, and increased their impatience
to move forward to a very great degree. Meanwhile, the different
divisions of the French army were converging towards Ulm, from the
north, south, and west; and every hour brought them nearer to that
devoted spot, which as yet, in the security of an enormous garrison,
never dreamed of sudden attack.
The corps of Soult was now pushed forward to Augsburg, and, extended by
a line of communication to Meiningen, the only channel of communication
which remained open to the enemy. The quartier-général of the Emperor
was established at Zummerhausen; Ney was at Guntzburg: Marmont
threatened in the west; and Bernadotte, arriving by forced marches
from Prussia, hovered in the north.--so that Ulm was invested in every
direction at one blow, and that in a space of time almost inconceivable.
While these immense combinations were being effected,--requiring as
they did an enormous extent of circumference to march over before the
fortress could be thus enclosed, as it were, within our grasp,--our
astonishment increased daily that the Austrians delayed to give battle;
but, as if terror-stricken, they waited on day after day while the
measures for their ruin were accomplishing. At length a desperate sortie
was made from the garrison; and a large body of troops, escaping by the
left bank of the Danube, directed their course towards Bohemia; while
another corps, in the opposite direction, forced back Ney's advanced
guard, and took the road towards Nordlingen. Having directed a strong
detachment in pursuit of this latter corps, which was commanded by
the Archduke Frederick himself, the Emperor closed in around Ulm, and
forcing the passage of the river at Elchingen, prepared for the final
attack.
While these dispositions were being effected, the cavalry brigade, under
General d'Auvergne, consisting of three regiments of heavy dragoons, the
Fourth Cuirassiers, and Eighth Hussars, continued to descend the left
bank of the Danube in pursuit of a part of the Austrian garrison which
had taken that line in retreat towards Vienna. We followed as far
as Guntzburg without coming up with them; and there the news of the
capitulation of Meiningen, with its garrison of six thousand men, to
Marechal Soult, reached us, along with an order to return to Ulm.
Up to this time all I had seen of war was forced marches, bivouacs
hastily broken up, hurried movements in advance and retreat, the fatigue
of night parties, and a continual alert. At first the hourly expectation
of coming in sight of the enemy kept up our spirits; but when day after
day passed, and the same pursuit followed, where the pursued never
appeared, the younger soldiers grumbled loudly at fatigues undertaken
without object, and, as it seemed to them, by mistake.
On the night of the 17th of October we bivouacked within a league of
Ulm. Scarcely were the pickets formed for the night, when orders came
for the whole brigade to assemble under arms at daybreak. A thousand
rumors were abroad as to the meaning of the order, but none came near
the true solution; indeed, the difficulty was increased by the added
command, that the regiments should appear _en grande tenue_, or in full
dress.
I saw that my old commander made a point of keeping me in suspense as to
the morrow, and affected as much as possible an air of indifference on
the subject. He had himself arrived late from Ulm, where he had seen
the Emperor; and amused me by mentioning the surprise of an Austrian
aide-de-camp, who, sent to deliver a letter, found his Majesty sitting
with his boots off, and stretched before a bivouac fire. “Yes,” said
Napoleon, divining at once his astonishment, “it is even so. Your master
wished to remind me of my old trade, and I hope that the imperial purple
has not made me forget its lessons.”
By daybreak the next morning our brigade was in the saddle, and in
motion towards the quartier-général,--a gently rising ground, surmounted
by a farmhouse, where the Emperor had fixed his quarters. As we mounted
the hill we came in sight of the whole army drawn up in battle array.
They stood in columns of divisions, with artillery and cavalry between
them, the bands of the various regiments in front. The day was a
brilliant one, and heightened the effect of the scene. Beyond us lay
Ulm,--silent as if untenanted: not a sentinel appeared on the walls; the
very flag had disappeared from the battlements. Our surprise was great
at this; but how was it increased as the rumor fled from mouth to
mouth,--“Ulm has capitulated; thirty-five thousand men have become
prisoners of war!”
Ere the first moments of wonder had ceased, the staff of the Emperor was
seen passing along the line, and finally taking up its station on the
hill, while the regimental bands burst forth into one crash the most
spirit-stirring and exciting. The proud notes swelled and filled the
air, as the sun, bursting forth with increased brilliancy, tipped every
helmet and banner, and displayed the mighty hosts in all the splendor
of their pageantry. Beneath the hill stretched a vast plain in the
direction of Neuburg; and here we at first supposed it was the Emperor's
intention to review the troops. But a very different scene was destined
to pass on that spot.
Suddenly a single gun boom, out; and as the lazy smoke moved heavily
along the earth, the gates of Ulm opened, and the head of an Austrian
column appeared. Not with beat of drum or colors flying did they
advance; but slow in step, with arms reversed, and their heads downcast,
they marched on towards the mound. Defiling beneath this, they moved
into the plain, and, corps by corps, piled their arms and resumed
their “route,” the white line serpentining along the vast plain, and
stretching away into the dim distance. Never was a sight so sad as
this! All that war can present of suffering and bloodshed, all that the
battlefield can show of dead and dying, were nothing to the miserable
abasement of those thousands, who from daybreak till noon poured on
their unceasing tide!
On the hill beside the Emperor stood several officers in white uniform,
whose sad faces and suffering looks attested the misery of their hearts.
“Better a thousand deaths than such humiliation!” was the muttered cry
of every man about me; while in very sorrow at such a scene, the tears
coursed down the hardy cheeks of many a bronzed soldier, and some turned
away their heads, unable to behold the spectacle.
Seventy pieces of cannon, with a long train of ammunition wagons, and
four thousand cavalry horses, brought up the rear of this melancholy
procession,--the spoils of the capitulation of Ulm. Truly, if that day
were, as the imperial bulletin announced it, “one of the most glorious
for France,” it was also the darkest in the history of Austria,--when
thirty-two regiments of infantry and fifteen of cavalry, with artillery
and siege defences of every kind, laid down their arms and surrendered
themselves prisoners.
Thus in fifteen days from the passing of the Rhine was the campaign
begun and ended, and the Austrian Empire prostrate at the feet of
Napoleon.