The dispositions for the battle of Austerlitz occupied the entire day.
From sunrise Napoleon was on horse-back, visiting every position; he
examined each battery with the skill of an old officer of artillery;
and frequently dismounting from his horse, carefully noted the slightest
peculiarities of the ground,--remarking to his staff, with an accuracy
which the event showed to be prophetic, the nature of the struggle, as
the various circumstances of the field indicated them to his practised
mind.
It was already late when he turned his horse's head towards the bivouac
hut,--a rude shelter of straw,--and rode slowly through the midst of
that great army. The _ordre du jour_, written at his own dictation, had
just been distributed among the soldiers; and now around every watchfire
the groups were kneeling to read the spirit-stirring lines by which he
so well knew how to excite the enthusiasm of his followers. They were
told that “the enemy were the same Russian battalions they had already
beaten at Hollabrunn, and on whose flying traces they had been marching
ever since.” “They will endeavor,” said the proclamation, “to turn our
right, but in doing so they must open their flank to us: need I say what
will be the result? Soldiers, so long as with your accustomed valor you
deal death and destruction in their ranks, so long shall I remain
beyond the reach of fire; but let the victory prove, even for a moment,
doubtful, your Emperor shall be in the midst of you. This day must
decide forever the honor of the infantry of France. Let no man leave his
ranks to succor the wounded,--they shall be cared for by one who never
forgets his soldiers,--and with this victory the campaign is ended!”
Never were lines better calculated to stimulate the energy and flatter
the pride of those to whom they were addressed. It was a novel thing in
a general to communicate to his army the plan of his intended battle,
and perhaps to any other than a French army the disclosure would not
have been rated as such a favor; but their warlike spirit and military
intelligence have ever been most remarkably united, and the men were
delighted with such a proof of confidence and esteem.
A dull roar, like the sound of the distant sea, swelled along the lines
from the far right, where the Convent of Reygern stood, and growing
louder by degrees, proclaimed that the Emperor was coming. It was
already dark, but he was quickly recognized by the troops, and with one
burst of enthusiasm they seized upon the straw of their bivouacs, and
setting fire to it, held the blazing masses above their heads, waving
them wildly to and fro, amid the cries of “Vive l'Empereur!” For above
a league along the plain the red light flashed and glowed, marking out
beneath it the dense squares and squadrons of armed warriors. It was
the anniversary of Napoleon's coronation; and such was the fête by which
they celebrated the day.
The Emperor rode through the ranks uncovered. Never did a prouder smile
light up his features, while thronging around him the veterans of the
Guard struggled to catch even a passing glance at him. “Do but look
at us tomorrow, and keep beyond the reach of shot,” said a _grognard_,
stepping forward; “we'll bring their cannon and their colors, and lay
them at thy feet.” The marshals themselves, the hardened veterans of
so many fights, could not restrain their enthusiasm; and proffers of
devotion unto death accompanied him as he went.
At last all was silent in the encampment; the soldiers slept beside
their watchfires, and save the tramp of a patrol or the _qui vive_? of
the sentinels, all was still. The night was cold and sharp; a cutting
wind blew across the plain, which gave way to a thick mist,--so thick,
the sentries could scarcely see a dozen paces off.
I sat in my little hovel of straw,--my mind far too much excited for
sleep,--watching the stars as they peeped out one by one, piercing the
gray mist, until at last the air became thin and clear, and a frosty
atmosphere succeeded to the weighty fog; and now I could trace out
the vast columns, as they lay thickly strewn along the plain. The old
general, wrapped in his cloak, slept soundly on his straw couch; his
deep-drawn breathing showed that his rest was unbroken. How slowly did
the time seem to creep along! I thought it must be nigh morning, and it
was only a little more than midnight.
Our position was a small rising ground about a mile in front of the left
centre, and communicating with the enemy's line by a narrow road between
the marshes. This had been defended by a battery of four guns, with
a stockade in front; and along it now, for a considerable distance, a
chain of sentinels were placed, who should communicate any movement that
they observed in the Russian lines, of which I was charged to convey
the earliest intelligence to the quartier-général. This duty alone would
have kept me in a state of anxiety, had not the frame of my mind already
so disposed me; and I could not avoid creeping out from time to time, to
peer through the gloom in the direction of the enemy's camp, and listen
with an eager ear for any sounds from that quarter. At last I heard the
sound of a voice at some distance off; then, a few minutes after, the
hurried step of feet, and a voltigeur came up, breathless with haste:
“The Russians were in motion towards the right. Our advanced posts could
hear the roll of guns and tumbrels moving along the plain, and it was
evident their columns were in march.” I knelt down and placed my ear to
the ground, and almost started at the distinctness with which I could
hear the dull sound of the large guns as they were dragged along; the
earth seemed to tremble beneath them.
I awoke the general at once, who, resting on his arm, coolly heard my
report; and having directed me to hasten to headquarters with the news,
lay back again, and was asleep before I was in my saddle. At the top
speed of my horse I galloped to the rear, winding my way between the
battalions, till I came to a gentle rising ground, where, by the
light of several large fires that blazed in a circle I could see the
dismounted troopers of the _chasseurs à cheval_, who always formed the
Imperial Bodyguard. Having given the word, I was desired by the officer
of the watch to dismount, and following him, I passed forward to a space
in the middle of the circle, where, under shelter of some sheaves of
straw piled over each other, sat three officers, smoking beside a fire.
“Ha! here comes news of some sort,” said a voice I knew at once to be
Murat's. “Well, sir, what is't?”
“The Russian columns are in motion, Monsieur le Maréchal; the artillery
moving rapidly towards our right.”
“_Diantre!_ it's not much more than midnight! Davoust, shall we awake
the Emperor?”
“No, no,” said a harsh voice, as a shrivelled, hard-featured man turned
round from the blaze, and showing a head covered by a coarse woollen
cap, looked far more like a pirate than a marshal of France; “they 'll
not attack before day breaks. Go back,” said he, addressing me; “observe
the position well, and if there be any general movement towards the
southward, you may report it.”
By the time I regained my post, all was in silence once more; either the
Russians had arrested their march, or already their columns were out
of hearing,--not a gleam of light could I perceive along their entire
position. And now, worn out with watching, I threw myself down among the
straw, and slept soundly.
“There! there! that's the third!” said General d'Auvergne, shaking me by
the shoulder; “there again! Don't you hear the guns?”
I listened, and could just distinguish the faint booming sound of
far-off artillery coming up from the extreme right of our position. It
was still but three o'clock, and although the sky was thick with stars,
perfectly dark in the valley. Meanwhile we could bear the galloping of
cavalry quite distinctly in the same direction.
“Mount, Burke, and back to the quartier-général! But you need not; here
comes some of the staff.”
“So, D'Auvergne,” cried a voice whose tones were strange to me, “they
meditate a night attack, it would seem; or is it only trying the range
of their guns?”
“I think the latter, Monsieur le Maréchal, for I heard no small arms;
and, even now, all is quiet again.”
“I believe you are right,” said he, moving slowly forward, while a
number of officers followed at a little distance. “You see, D'Auvergne,
how correctly the Emperor judged their intentions. The brunt of the
battle will be about Reygern. But there! don't you hear bugles in the
valley?”
As he spoke, the music of our tirailleurs' bugles arose from the glen
in front of our centre, where, in a thick beech-wood, the light infantry
regiments were posted.
“What is it, D'Esterre?” said he to an officer who galloped up at the
moment.
“They say the Russian Guard, sir, is moving to the front; our
skirmishers have orders to fall back without firing.”
As he heard this, the Marshal Bernadotte--for it was he--turned his
horse suddenly round, and rode back, followed by his staff. And now the
drums beat to quarters along the line, and the hoarse trumpets of the
cavalry might be heard summoning the squadrons throughout the field;
while between the squares, and in the intervals of the battalions,
single horsemen galloped past with orders. Soult's division, which
extended for nearly a league to our right, was the first to move, and it
seemed like one vast shadow creeping along the earth, as column beside
column marched steadily onward. Our brigade had not as yet received
orders, but the men were in readiness beside the horses, and only
waiting for the word to mount.
The suspense of the moment was fearful. All that I had ever dreamed
or pictured to myself of a soldier's enthusiasm was faint and weak,
compared to the rush of sensations I now experienced. There must be a
magic power of ecstasy in the approach of danger,--some secret sense of
bounding delight, mingled with the chances of a battle,--that renders
one intoxicated with excitement. Each booming gun I heard sent a wild
throb through me, and I panted for the word “Forward!”
Column after column moved past us, and disappeared in the dip of ground
beneath; and as we saw the close battalions filling the wide plain in
front, we sighed to think that it was destined to be the day of glory
peculiarly to the infantry. Wherever the nature of the field permitted
shelter or the woods afforded cover, our troops were sent immediately
to occupy. The great manoeuvre of the day was to be the piercing of the
enemy's centre whenever he should weaken that point by the endeavor to
turn our right flank.
A faint streak of gray light was marking the horizon when the single
guns which we had heard at intervals ceased; and then, after a short
pause, a long, loud roll of artillery issued from the distant right,
followed by the crackling din of small-arms, which increased at every
moment, and now swelled into an uninterrupted noise, through which the
large guns pealed from time to time. A red glare, obscured now and then
by means of black smoke, lit up the sky in that quarter, where already
the battle was raging fiercely.
The narrow causeway between the two small lakes in our front conducted
to an open space of ground, about a cannon-shot from the Russian line;
and this we were now ordered to occupy, to be prepared to act as support
to the infantry of Soult's left, whenever the attack began. As we
debouched into the plain, I beheld a group of horsemen, who, wrapped up
in their cloaks, sat motionless in their saddles, calmly regarding the
squadrons as they issued from the wood: these were Murat and his staff,
to whom was committed the attack on the Russian Guard. His division
consisted of the hussars and chasseurs under Kellermann, the cuirassiers
of D'Auvergne, and the heavy dragoons of Nansouty,--making a force of
eight thousand sabres, supported by twenty pieces of field artillery.
Again were we ordered to dismount, for although the battle continued
to rage on the right, the whole of the centre and left were unengaged.
Thus stood we as the sun arose,--that “Sun of Austerlitz!” so often
appealed to and apostrophized by Napoleon as gilding the greatest of his
glories. The mist from the lakes shut out the prospect of the enemy's
lines at first; but gradually this moved away, and we could perceive the
dark columns of the Russians, as they moved rapidly along the side of
the Pratzen, and continued to pour their thousands towards Reygern.
At last the roar of musketry swelled louder and nearer, and an officer
galloping past told us that Soult's right had been called up to support
Davoust's division. This did not look well; it proved the Russians had
pressed our lines closely, and we waited impatiently to hear further
intelligence. It was evident, too, that our right was suffering
severely, otherwise the attack on the centre would not have been
delayed. Just then a wild cheer to the front drew our attention
thither, and we saw the heads of three immense columns--Soult's
division--advancing at a run towards the enemy.
“_Par Saint Louis_,” cried General d'Auvergne, as he directed his
telescope on the Russian line, “those fellows have lost their senses!
See if they have not moved their artillery away from the Pratzen, and
weakened their centre more and more! Soult sees it: mark how he presses
his columns on! There they go, faster and faster! But look! there's a
movement yonder,--the Russians perceive their mistake.”
“Mount!” was now heard from squadron to squadron; while dashing along
the line like a thunderbolt, Murat rode far in advance of his staff, the
men cheering him as he went.
“There!” cried D'Auvergne, as he pointed with his finger, “that column
with the yellow shoulder-knots,--that's Vandamme's brigade of light
infantry; see how they rush on, eager to be first up with the enemy. But
St. Hilaire's grenadiers have got the start of them, and are already at
the foot of the hill. It is a race between them!”
And so had it become. The two columns advanced, cheering wildly; while
the officers, waving their caps, led them on, and others rode along the
flanks urging the men forward.
The order now came for our squadrons to form in charging sections,
leaving spaces for the light artillery between. This done, we moved
slowly forward at a walk, the guns keeping step by step beside us. A few
minutes after, we lost sight of the attacking columns; but the crashing
fire told us they were engaged, and that already the great struggle had
begun.
For above an hour we remained thus; every stir, every word loud spoken,
seeming to our impatience like the order to move. At last, the squadrons
to our right were seen to advance; and then a tremulous motion of
the whole line showed that the horses themselves participated in the
eagerness of the moment; and, at last, the word came for the cuirassiers
to move up. In less than a hundred yards we were halted again; and
I heard an aide-de-camp telling General d'Auvergne that Davoust had
suffered immensely on the right; that his division, although reinforced,
had fallen back behind Reygern, and all now depended on the attack of
Soult's columns.
I heard no more, for now the whole line advanced in trot, and as our
formation showed an unbroken front, the word came,--“Faster!” and
“Faster!” As we emerged from the low ground we saw Soult's column
already half way up the ascent; they seemed like a great wedge driven
into the enemy's centre, which, opening as they advanced, presented two
surfaces of fire to their attack.
“The battery yonder has opened its fire on our line,” said D'Auvergne;
“we cannot remain where we are.”
“Forward!--charge!” came the word from front to rear, and squadron after
squadron dashed madly up the ascent. The one word only, “Charge!” kept
ringing through my head; all else was drowned in the terrible din of the
advance. An Austrian brigade of light cavalry issued forth as we came
up, but soon fell back under the overwhelming pressure of our force.
And now we came down upon the squares of the red-brown Russian infantry.
Volley after volley sent back our leading squadrons, wounded and
repulsed, when, unlimbering with the speed of lightning, the horse
artillery poured in a discharge of grapeshot. The ranks wavered, and
through their cleft spaces of dead and dying our cuirassiers dashed
in, sabring all before them. In vain the infantry tried to form again:
successive discharges of grape, followed by cavalry attacks, broke
through their firmest ranks; and at last retreating, they fell back
under cover of a tremendous battery of field-guns, which, opening their
fire, compelled us to retire into the wood.
Nor were we long inactive. Bernadotte's division was now engaged on our
left, and a pressing demand came for cavalry to support them. Again we
mounted the hill, and came in sight of the Russian Guard, led on by the
Grand-Duke Constantino himself,--a splendid body of men, conspicuous for
their size and the splendor of their equipment. Such, however, was the
impetuous torrent of our attack that they were broken in an instant; and
notwithstanding their courage and devotion, fresh masses of our dragoons
kept pouring down upon them, and they were sabred, almost to a man.
While we were thus engaged, the battle became general from left to
right, and the earth shook beneath the thundering sounds of two hundred
great guns. Our position, for a moment victorious, soon changed; for
having followed the retreating squadrons too far, the waves closed
behind us, and we now saw that a dense cloud of Austrian and Russian
cavalry were forming in our rear. An instant of hesitation would have
been fatal. It was then that a tall and splendidly-dressed horseman
broke from the line, and with a cry to “Follow!” rode straight at
the enemy. It was Murat himself, sabre in hand, who, clearing his way
through the Russians, opened a path for us. A few minutes after we had
gained the wood; but one third of our force had fallen.
“Cavalry! cavalry!” cried a field-officer, riding down at headlong
speed, his face covered with blood from a sabre-cut, “to the front!”
The order was given to advance at a gallop; and we found ourselves next
instant hand to hand with the Russian dragoons, who having swept along
the flank of Bernadotte's division, were sabring them on all sides.
On we went, reinforced by Nansouty and his carabineers, a body of nigh
seven thousand men. It was a torrent no force could stem. The tide of
victory was with us; and we swept along, wave after wave, the infantry
advancing in line for miles at either side, while whole brigades of
artillery kept up a murderous fire without ceasing. Entire columns of
the enemy surrendered as prisoners; guns were captured at each instant;
and only by a miracle did the Grand-Duke escape our hussars, who
followed him till he was lost to view in the flying ranks of the allies.
As we gained the crest of the hill, we were in time to see Soult's
victorious columns driving the enemy before them; while the Imperial
Guard, up to that moment unengaged, reinforced the grenadiers on the
right, and broke through the Russians on every side.
The attempt to outflank us on the right we had perfectly retorted on the
left; where Lannes's division, overlapping the line, pressed them on two
sides, and drove them back, still fighting, into the plain, which, with
a lake, separated the allied armies from the village of Austerlitz. And
here took place the most dreadful occurrence of the day.
The two roads which led through the lake were soon so encumbered and
blocked up by ammunition wagons and carts that they became impassable;
and as the masses of the fugitives thickened, they spread over the lake,
which happened to be frozen. It was at this time that the Emperor came
up, and seeing the cavalry halted, and no longer in pursuit of the
flying columns, ordered up twelve pieces of the artillery of the
Imperial Guard, which, from the crest of the hill, opened a murderous
fire on them. The slaughter was fearful as the discharges of grape and
round shot cut channels through the jammed-up mass, and tore the dense
columns, as it were, into fragments.
Dreadful as the scene was, what followed far exceeded it in horror;
for soon the shells began to explode beneath the ice, which now, with a
succession of reports louder than thunder, gave way. In an instant
whole regiments were ingulfed, and amid the wildest cries of despair,
thousands sank never to appear again, while the deafening artillery
mercilessly played upon them, till over that broad surface no living
thing was seen to move, while beneath was the sepulchre of five thousand
men. About seven thousand reached Austerlitz by another road to the
northward; but even these had not escaped, save for a mistake of
Bernadotte, who most unaccountably, as it was said, halted his division
on the heights. Had it not been for this, not a soldier of the Russian
right wing had been saved.
The reserve cavalry and the dragoons of the Guard were now called up
from the pursuit, and I saw my own regiment pass close by me, as I stood
amid the staff round Murat. The men were fresh and eager for the fray;
yet how many fell in that pursuit, even after the victory! The Russian
batteries continued their fire to the last. The cannoneers were cut
down beside their guns, and the cavalry made repeated charges on our
advancing squadrons; nor was it till late in the day they fell back,
leaving two thirds of their force dead or wounded on the field of
battle.
On every side now were to be seen the flying columns of the allies,
hotly followed by the victorious French. The guns still thundered at
intervals; but the loud roar of battle was subdued to the crashing din
of charging squadrons, and the distant cries of the vanquishers and
the vanquished. Around and about lay the wounded in all the fearful
attitudes of suffering; and as we were fully a league in advance of our
original position, no succor had yet arrived for the poor fellows whose
courage had carried them into the very squares of the enemy.
Most of the staff--myself among the number--were despatched to the rear
for assistance. I remember, as I rode along at my fastest speed, between
the columns of infantry and the fragments of artillery which covered
the grounds, that a _peloton_ of dragoons came thundering past, while a
voice shouted out “Place! place!” Supposing it was the Emperor himself,
I drew up to one side, and uncovering my head, sat in patience till he
had passed, when, with the speed of four horses urged to their utmost,
a calèche flew by, two men dressed like couriers seated on the box.
They made for the highroad towards Vienna, and soon disappeared in the
distance.
“What can it mean?” said I, to an officer beside me; “not his Majesty,
surely?”
“No, no,” replied he, smiling: “it is General Lebrun on his way to Paris
with the news of the victory. The Emperor is down at Reygern yonder,
where he has just written the bulletin. I warrant you he follows that
calèche with his eye; he'd rather see a battery of guns carried off by
the enemy than an axle break there this moment.”
Thus closed the great day of Austerlitz--a hundred cannons, forty-three
thousand prisoners, and thirty-two colors being the spoils of this the
greatest of even Napoleon's victories.