At an early hour on the morning of the 4th came orders for the “Garde
à Cheval” to hold themselves in readiness, with two squadrons of the
carabineers, on the road to Holitsch; part of this force being under the
command of General d'Auvergne. We found ourselves fully equipped and in
waiting soon after eight o'clock. From the “tenue” and appearance of
the troops, it was evident that no measure of active service was
contemplated; yet, if a review were intended, we could not guess why
so small a force had been selected. As usual on such occasions,
many conjectures were hazarded, and a hundred explanations passed
current,--one scarcely a whit better than the other, when at last we
perceived a peloton of dragoons advancing towards us at a brisk trot.
The word was passed to close up and draw swords; and scarcely was it
obeyed when the staff of the Emperor came up. They were all in the full
blaze of their gala uniforms, brilliant with crosses and decorations.
Napoleon alone wore the simple costume of the “Chasseurs of the Garde,”
with the decoration of the Legion; but his proud look and his flashing
eye made him conspicuous above them all. He was mounted on his favorite
charger “Marengo,” and seemed to enjoy the high spirit of the mettled
animal, as he tossed his long mane about, and lashed his sides with his
great silken tail.
As the cortége passed we closed up the rear, and followed at a sharp
pace, more than ever puzzled to divine what was going forward. After
about two hours' riding, during which we never drew bridle, we saw a
party of staff-officers in front, who, saluting the Emperor, joined the
cortége. At the same instant General d'Auvergne passed close beside me,
and whispered in my ear. “Bernadotte has just come up, and been most
coldly received.” I wished to ask him what was the object of the whole
movement, but he was gone before I could do so. In less than a quarter
of an hour afterwards we left the highroad, and entered upon a large
plain, where the only object I could perceive was an old mill, ruined
and dilapidated. Towards this the imperial staff rode forward, while the
peloton in front wheeled about, and rode to the rear of our squadrons.
The next moment we were halted, and drawn up in order of battle.
While these movements were going forward, I remarked that the Emperor
had dismounted from his horse and dismissed his staff, all save Marshal
Berthier, who stood at a little distance from him. Several dismounted
dragoons were employed in lighting two immense fires,--a process which
Napoleon appeared to watch with great interest for a second or two; and
then, taking out his glass, he remained for several minutes intently
surveying the great road to Holitsch.
In this direction at once every eye was turned; but nothing could we
see. The road led through a wide open country for some miles, and at
last disappeared in the recesses of a dark pine wood, that covered the
horizon for miles on either side. Meanwhile Napoleon, with his hands
clasped behind his back, walked hurriedly backwards and forwards beside
the blazing fires, stopping at intervals to look along the road, and
then resuming his walk as before. He was not more than two hundred paces
from where we stood, and I could mark well his gesture of impatience, as
he closed his glass each time, after looking in vain towards Holitsch.
“I say, Burke,” whispered one of my brother officers beside me, “I
should not fancy being the man who keeps him waiting in that fashion.
Look at Berthier, how he keeps aloof; he knows that something is
brewing.”
“What can it all mean?” said I. “Who can he be expecting here?”
“They say now,” whispered my companion, “that Davoust cannot hold the
bridge of Goding, and must fall back before the Russian column; and
that Napoleon has invited Alexander to a conference here to gain time to
reinforce Davoust.”
“Exactly; but the Czar is too wily an enemy for that to succeed; and
probably hence the delay, which appears to irritate him now.”
The supposition, more plausible than most of those I heard before, was
still contradicted by the account of the Emperor Alexander's retreat;
and again was I at a loss to reconcile these discrepancies, when I
beheld Napoleon, with his glass to his eye, motion with his hand for
Berthier to come forward. I turned towards the road, and now could
distinguish in the distance a dark object moving towards us. A few
minutes after the sun shone out, and I remarked the glitter of arms,
stretching in a long line; while my companion, with the aid of a glass,
called out,--
“I see them plainly; they are lancers. The escort are Hungarians, and
there's a _calèche_, with four horses in front.”
The Emperor stood motionless, his arms folded on his breast, and his
head a little leaned forward, exactly as I have seen him represented in
so many pictures and statues. His eyes were thrown downwards; and as he
stirred the blazing wood with his foot, one could easily perceive how
intensely his mind was occupied with deep thought.
The clattering sound of cavalry now turned my attention to another
quarter; and I saw, exactly in front of us, and about five hundred paces
off, a regiment of Hungarian Hussars, and some squadrons of Hulans drawn
up. I had little time to mark their gorgeous equipment and splendid
uniform, for already the _calèche_ had drawn up at the roadside, and
Prince John of Lichtenstein, descending, took off his chapeau, and
offered his arm to assist another to alight. Slowly, and, as it seemed,
with effort, a tall thin figure, in the white uniform of the Austrian
Guard, stepped from the carriage to the ground. The same instant the
officers of the staff fell back, and I saw Napoleon advance with
open arms to embrace him. The Austrian emperor--for it was Francis
himself--seemed scarcely able to control the emotion he felt at this
moment; and we could see that his head rested for several seconds on
Napoleon's shoulder. And what a moment must that have been! How deeply
must the pride of the descendant of the Cæsars have felt the humiliation
which made him thus a suppliant before one he deemed a mere Corsican
adventurer! What a pang it must have cost his haughty spirit as he
uttered the words, _Mon frère!_
As they walked side by side towards the plateau, where the fires were
lighted, it was easy to mark that Napoleon was the speaker, while
Francis merely bowed from time to time, or made a gesture of seeming
assent.
As the Emperor arrived at the place of conference, we fell back some
fifty yards; and although the air was still and frosty, and the silence
was perfect around, we could not catch a word on either side. After
about an hour the conversation appeared to assume a tone of gayety and
good-humor, and we could hear the sovereigns laughing repeatedly.
The conference lasted for above two hours, when once more the emperors
embraced, and, as we thought, with more cordiality, and separated; the
Emperor of Austria returning, accompanied by Prince Lichtenstein; while
Napoleon stood for some minutes beside the fire as if musing, and then,
beckoning his staff to follow, he walked towards the highroad.
Scarcely had the Austrian emperor reached his carriage, when Savary,
bareheaded and breathless, stood beside the door of it. He was the
bearer of a message from Napoleon. The next moment the _calèche_
started, accompanied by Savary, who, with a single aide-de-camp, took
the road towards the Austrian headquarters.
As Napoleon was about to mount his horse, I saw General d'Auvergne
move forward towards him. A few words passed between them; and then the
general, riding up to where I stood, said,--
“Burke, you are to remain here, and if any orders arrive from General
Savary, hasten with them to the headquarters of his Majesty. In twelve
hours you will be relieved.”
So saying, he galloped back to the imperial staff; and soon after the
squadrons defiled into the road, the cortége dashed forward, and all
that remained of that memorable scene was the dying embers of the fires
beside which the fate of Europe was decided.
The old mill of Holitsch had been deserted when the Austrian and Russian
columns took up their position before Austerlitz. The miller and his
household fled at the first news of the advance, and had not dared to
return. It was a solitary spot at best: a wild heath, without shelter of
any kind, stretched away for miles on all sides; but now, in its
utter loneliness, it was the most miserable-looking place that can be
conceived. While, therefore, I contented myself with the hope that my
stay there might not be long, I resolved to do what I could to render my
quarters more comfortable.
My first care was my horse, which I picketed in the kitchen, where I was
happy to find an abundant supply of firewood; my next, was to explore
the remainder of the concern, in which I discovered traces of its having
been already occupied by the allied troops,--rude caricatures of the
French army in full _déroute_, before terrible-looking dragoons in
Austrian and Russian uniforms, ornamented the walls in many parts; whole
columns of French prisoners were depicted begging their lives from a
single Austrian grenadier; and one figure, which it could be easily
discovered was intended for Napoleon himself, was about to be hanged
upon a tree, to the very marked satisfaction, as it would seem, of a
group of Russian officers, who stood by, laughing. It is easy to smile
at the ridicule of which fortune has thwarted the application and so I
amused myself a good while by contemplating these grotesque frescos.
But a more welcome sight still awaited me, in a small chamber at the
top of the building, where, in large letters, written with chalk on
the door, I read, “Rittmeister von Oxenhausen's quarters.” Here, to my
exceeding delight, I discovered a neatly-furnished chamber, with a
bed, sofa, and, better still, a table, on which the remains of the
Rittmeister's sapper yet stood,--a goodly ham, the greater part of a
capon, a loaf of wheaten bread, and an earthenware crock, with a lid
of brass, containing about two bottles of Austrian red wine. This was a
most agreeable surprise to me,--a pleasant exchange from the meagre
meal of bread and cheese I had but time to procure from a sergeant of
my troop at parting. It need not be supposed that I hesitated long about
becoming the Rittmeister's successor; and so I drew the chair to the
table, and the table nearer to the fire,--for, singularly enough, the
embers of a wood fire still slumbered on the hearth. Having taken the
keen edge off an appetite the cold air had whetted to the sharpest, I
began an inspection of my quarters, first having replenished the fire
with some logs of wood.
The chamber was an octagon, with five windows in as many of the faces,
a fireplace and two doors occupying the other three. One of the
doors--that by which I entered,--opened from the stairs; the other
led into a granary, or something of that nature,--at least, so I
conjectured, from a heap of sacks which littered the floor, and filled
one corner completely. As I could not discover any corn, I resolved on
sharing my loaf with my horse,--a meal every campaigning steed is well
accustomed to make. And now, returning to my little chamber, I resumed
my supper with all the satisfaction of one who felt he had made his
rounds of duty, and might enjoy repose.
As I knew the Château de Holitsch, where the Emperor Francis held his
quarters, was some six leagues distant, I guessed that General Savary
was not likely to return from his mission before morning at very
soonest; and so it behooved me to make my arrangements for passing the
night where I was. Having, then, looked to my horse, for whose bedding I
made free with some dozen of the corn-sacks in the granary, I brought up
to my own quarters a supply of wood; and having fastened the door, and
secured the windows as well as I was able, I lit my meerschaum, and lay
down before the fire in as happy a frame of mind as need be.
Indeed, I began to fancy that fortune had done tormenting, and was now
about to treat me more kindly. The notice of the Emperor had relieved my
heart of a load which never ceased to press on it, and I could not help
feeling that a fairer prospect was opening before me. It is true, time
and misfortune had both blunted the ardor of enthusiasm with which I
started in life; the daring aspirations after liberty, the high-souled
desire for personal distinction, had subsided into calmer hopes and less
ambitious yearnings. Young as I yet was, I experienced in myself that
change of sentiment and feeling which comes upon other men later on in
life; and I was gradually reconciling myself to that sense of duty
which teaches a man well to play his part, in whatever station he may
be called to act, rather than indulge in those overweening wishes for
pre-eminence, which in their accomplishment are so often disappointing,
and in their failure a source of regret and unhappiness. These feelings
were impressed on me more by the force of events than by any process of
my own reasoning. The career in which I first started as a boy had led
to nothing but misfortune. The affection I conceived for one,--the only
one I ever loved,--was destined equally to end unhappily. The passion
for liberty, in which all my first aspirations were centred, had met the
rude shocks which my own convictions suggested; and now I perceived
that I must begin life anew, endeavoring to forget the influences whose
shadows darkened my early days, and carve out my destiny in a very
different path from what I once intended.
These were my last waking thoughts, as my head sank on my arm, and I
fell into a deep sleep. The falling of a log from the fire awoke me
suddenly. I rubbed my eyes, and for a second or two could not remember
where I was. At length I became clearer in mind, and looking at my
watch, perceived it was but two o'clock. As the flame of the replenished
fire threw its light through the room, I remarked that the door into
the granary stood ajar. This struck me as strange. I thought I could
remember shutting it before I went to sleep. Yes,--I recollected
perfectly placing a chair against it, as the latch was bad, and a
draught of cold air came in that way; and now the chair was pushed back
into the room, and the door lay open. A vague feeling, half suspicion,
half curiosity, kept me thinking of the circumstance, when by
chance--the merest chance--my eyes fell upon the table where I had left
my sabre and my pistols. What was my amazement to find that one of the
latter--that which lay nearest the door--was missing!
In an instant I was on my feet. Nothing can combat drowsiness like the
sense of fear; and I became perfectly awake in a moment. Examining the
room with caution, I found everything in the same state as I had left
it, save the door and the missing pistol. The granary alone, then, could
be the shelter of the invader, whoever he might be. What was to be done?
I was totally unprovided with light, save what the fire afforded; and
even were it otherwise, I should expose myself by carrying one, long
before I could hope to detect a concealed enemy. The best plan I could
hit upon seemed to secure the door once more; and then, placing myself
in such a position as not to be commanded by it again, to wait for
morning patiently. This then, I did at once; and having examined my
remaining pistol, and found the charge and priming all safe, I drew
my sabre, and sat down between the door and the window, but so that it
should open against me.
Few sensations are more acutely painful than the exercise of the hearing
when pushed to intensity. The unceasing effort to catch the slightest
sound soon becomes fatigue, and as the organ grows weary, the mental
anxiety grows more acute; and then begins a struggle between the failing
sense and the excited brain. The spectral images of the eye in fever are
not one half so terrible as the strange discordant tones that jar
upon the tympanum in such a state as this. Each inanimate object seems
endowed with its own power of voice, and whispering noises come stealing
through the dead silence of midnight.
In this state of almost frenzied anxiety I sat long,--my eyes turned
towards the door, which oftentimes I fancied I could perceive to move.
At length the thought occurred to me, that by affecting sleep, if any
one lay concealed within whose object was to enter the room, this would
probably induce him.
[Illustration: 089]
[Illustration: BrowneLocomotiveChair055]
I had not long to wait for the success of my scheme. The long-drawn
breathing of my seeming slumber was not continued for more than a few
minutes, when I saw the door slowly, almost imperceptibly, move. At
first it stirred inch by inch; then gradually it opened wider and wider
till it met the obstacle of the chair. There now came a pause of several
seconds, during which it demanded all my efforts to sustain my
part,--the throbbing at my throat and temples increasing almost beyond
endurance, and the impulse to dash forward, and flinging wide the door,
confront my enemy, being nearly too much for my resistance. Again it
moved noiselessly as before; and then a hand stole out, and, laying hold
of the chair, pushed it slowly backwards. The gray light of the breaking
day fell upon the spot, and I could see that the cuff of the coat was
laced with gold.
This time my anxiety became intense. Another second or two and I should
be engaged in the conflict,--I knew not against how many. I clutched my
sabre more fairly in my grasp, as my breathing grew thicker and shorter.
The chair still continued to slide silently into the room, and already
the arm of the man within protruded. Now was the moment, or never; and
with a spring, I threw myself on it, and, pinioning the wrist in my
hands, held it down upon the floor while I opposed my weight against the
door.
[Illustration: 090]
Quick as lightning the other hand appeared, armed with a pistol; and I
had but a moment to crouch my head nearly to the ground when a bullet
whizzed past and smashed through the window behind me, while with
a crash the frail door gave way to a strong push, and a man sprang
fiercely forward to seize me by the throat. Jumping backward, I
recovered my feet; but before I could raise my pistol he made a spring
at me, and we both rolled together on the floor. On the pistol both our
hands met, and the struggle was for the weapon.
Twice was it pointed at my heart; but my hand held the lock, and not
all his efforts could unclasp it. At last I freed my right hand from the
sword-knot of my sabre, and striking him with my clenched knuckles on
the forehead, threw him back. His grasp relaxed at the instant, and I
wrenched the pistol from his fingers, and placed the muzzle against his
chest.
Another second and he would have rolled a corpse before me, when, to my
horror and amazement, I saw in my antagonist my once friend, _Henri de
Beauvais_. I flung the weapon from me, as I cried out, “De Beauvais,
forgive me! forgive me!”
A deathly paleness came over his features; his eyes grew glazed and
filmy, and with a low groan he fell fainting on the floor. I bathed
his temples with water; I moistened his pale lips; I rubbed his clammy
fingers. But it was long before he rallied; and when he did come to
himself and looked up, he closed his eyes again, as though the sight of
me was worse than death itself.
“Come, Henri!” said I, “a cup of wine, my friend, and you will be better
presently. Thank God, this has not ended as it might.”
He raised his eyes towards me, but with a look of proud and unforgiving
sternness, while he uttered not a word.
“It is unfair to blame me, De Beauvais, for this,” said I. “Once more I
say, forgive me!”
His lips moved, and some sounds came forth, but I could not hear the
words.
“There, there,” cried I; “it's past and over now. Here is my hand.”
“You struck me with that hand,” said he, in a deep, distinct voice, as
though every word came from the very bottom of his chest.
“And if I did, Henri, my own life was on the blow.”
“Oh that you had taken mine with it!” said he, with a bitterness I can
never forget. “I am the first of my name that ever received a blow;
would I were to be the last!”
“You forget, De Beauvais--”
“No, sir; I forget nothing. Be assured, too, I never shall forget
this night. With any other than yourself I should not despair of that
atonement for an injury which alone can wash out such a stain; but
_you_,--I know you well,--_you_ will not give me this.”
“You are right, De Beauvais; I will not,” said I, calmly. “Sorry am I
that even an accident should have brought us into collision. It is a
mischance I feel deeply, and shall for many a day.”
“And I, sir,” cried he, as, starting up, his eyes flashed with passion
and his cheek grew scarlet,--“and I, sir!--what are to be my feelings?
Think you, that because I am an exile and an outcast,--forced
by misfortune to wear the livery of one who is not my rightful
sovereign,--that my sense of personal honor is the less, and that the
mark of an insult is not as blood-stained on my conscience as ever it
was?”
“Nothing but passion could blind you to the fact that there can be no
insult where no intention could exist.”
“Spare me your casuistry, sir,” replied he, with an insolent wave of his
hand, while he sank into a chair, and laid his head upon the table.
For an instant my temper, provoked beyond endurance, was about to give
way, when I perceived that a handkerchief was bound tightly around his
leg above the knee, where a great stain of blood marked his trouser. The
thought of his being wounded banished every particle of resentment, and
laying my hand on his shoulder, I said,--
“De Beauvais, I know not one but yourself to whom I would three times
say, forgive me. But we were friends once, when we were both happier.
For the sake of him who is no more,--poor Charles de Meudon--”
“A traitor, sir,--a base traitor to the king of his fathers!”
“This I will not endure!” said I, passionately. “No one shall dare--”
“Dare!”
“Ay, dare, sir!--such was the word. To asperse the memory of one like
him is to dare that which no man can, with truth and honor.”
“Come, sir, I'm ready,” said Be Beauvais, rising, and pointing to the
door, “Sortons!”
No one who has not heard that one word pronounced by the lips of a
Frenchman can conceive how much of savage enmity and deadly purpose
it implies. It is the challenge which, if unaccepted, stamps cowardice
forever on the man who declines it: from that hour all equality ceases
between those whom a combat had placed on the same footing.
“Sortons!” The word rang in my ears, and tingled through my very heart,
while a host of different impulses swayed me,--shame, sorrow, wounded
pride, all struggling for the mastery: but above them all, a better
and a higher spirit,--the firm resolve, come what would, to suffer no
provocation De Beauvais could offer, to make me stand opposite to him as
an enemy.
“What am I to think, sir?” said he, with a voice scarcely articulate
from passion,--“what am I to think of your hesitation? or why do you
stand inactive here? Is it that you are meditating what new insult can
be added to those you have heaped on me?”
“No, sir,” I replied, firmly; “so far from thinking of offence, I am but
too sorry for the words I have already spoken. I should have remembered,
and remembering, should have made allowance for, the strength of
partisan feelings, which have their origin in a noble, but, as I
believe, a mistaken source.”
“Indeed!” interrupted he, in mockery. “Is it, then, come to this? Am
I, a Frenchman born, to be lectured on my loyalty and allegiance by a
foreign mercenary?”
“Not even that taunt, De Beauvais, shall avail you anything. I am firm
in my resolve.”
“_Pardieu!_ then,” cried he, with savage energy, “there remains but
this!”
As he spoke, he leaped from his chair, and sprang towards me. In so
doing, however, his knee struck the table, and with a groan of agony,
he reeled back and fell on the floor, while from his reopened wound a
torrent of blood gushed out and deluged the room.
For a second or two he motioned me away with his hand; but as his
weakness increased, he lay passive and unresisting, and suffered me to
arrest the bleeding by such means as I was able to practise.
It was a long time ere I could stanch the gaping orifice, which had been
inflicted by a sabre, and cut clean through the high boot and deep into
the thigh. Fortunately for his recovery, he had himself succeeded in
getting off the boot before, and the wound lay open to my surgical
skill. Lifting him cautiously in my arms, I laid him on the bed, and
moistened his lips with a little wine. Still the debility continued,--no
signs of returning strength were there; but his features, pale and
fallen, were glazed with a cold sweat that hung in heavy drops upon his
brow and forehead.
Never was agony like mine. I saw his life was ebbing fast; the
respiration was growing fainter and more irregular; his pulse could
scarce be felt; yet dare I not leave my post to seek for assistance. A
hundred thoughts whirled through my puzzled brain, and among the rest,
the self-accusing one that I was the cause of his death. “Yes,” thought
I, “better far to have stood before his pistol, at all the hazard of my
life, than see him thus.”
In an instant all his angry speeches and his insulting gestures were
forgotten. He looked so like what I once knew him, that my mind was
wandering back again to former scenes and times, and all resentment was
lost in the flood of memory. Poor fellow! what a sad destiny was his!
fighting against the arms of his country,--a mourner over the triumphs
of his native land! Alien that I was, this pang at least was spared me.
As these thoughts crossed my mind, I felt him press my hand. Overjoyed,
I knelt down and whispered some words in his ear.
“No, no,” muttered he, in a low, plaintive tone; “not all lost,--not
all! La Vendee yet remains!” He was dreaming.