After a brief delay at Mayence, it was with sincere pleasure I received
my orders to push forward to the advanced posts at Wetzlar, where
General d'Auvergne was with his division. Already the battalions were
crossing the Rhine, and directing their steps to different rendezvous
along the Prussian frontier; some pressing on eastwards, where the Saxon
territory joins the Prussian; others directly to the north, and taking
up positions distant by a short day's march from each other. The same
urgent haste which characterized the opening of the Austrian campaign
a year before, was here conspicuous; many of the corps being obliged to
march seven and eight leagues in the day, and frequently whole companies
being forwarded in wagons drawn by six or eight horses, in order to
come up with the main body of their regiments. Every road eastward was
covered with some fragment of the army. Now an infantry corps of young
conscripts, glowing with enthusiasm and eager for the fray, would
cheer the _calèche_ in which I travelled, and which, as indicating a
staff-officer, was surmounted by a small flag with an eagle. Now it was
the hoarse challenge of an outpost, some veteran of Bernadotte's army,
which occupied the whole line of country from Dusseldorf to Nuremberg.
Pickets of dragoons, with troops of led horses for remounts, hurried on,
and long lines of wagons crammed the road.
At last I joined General d'Auvergne, who, with all the ardor of the
youngest soldier, was preparing for the march. The hardy veteran,
disdaining the use of a carriage, rode each day at the head of his
column, and went through the most minute detail of regimental duty with
the colonels under his command. From whatever cause proceeding I knew
not, but it struck me as strange that he never alluded to my visit to
Paris, nor once spoke to me of the countess; and while this reserve on
his part slightly wounded me, I felt relieved from the embarrassment
the mere mention of her name would cause me, and was glad when our
conversation turned on the events of the war. Nor was he, save in this
respect, less cordial than ever, manifesting the greatest pleasure at
the prospect the war would open to my advancement, and kindly presaging
for me a success I scarcely dared to hope for.
“Nor is the hour distant,” said he to me one morning in the latter end
of September, as we rode side by side; “the grand movement is begun.”
Augereau, with his powerful _corps d'armée_ of twenty thousand, pressed
on from Frankfort and Mayence; Bernadotte moved up on his flank from
Nuremberg and Bamberg; Davoust hastened by forced marches from the
Danube; while Soult and Ney with a strong force remained in the south,
and in observation on the Austrian frontier. Farther to the north,
again, were the new levies and the whole Imperial Guard, strengthened
by four thousand additional men, which, together with Murat's cavalry,
formed a vast line embracing the Prussian frontier on the west and
south, and converging with giant strides towards the very heart of the
kingdom. Still, mid all the thunders of marching squadrons and the
din of advancing legions, diplomatists interchanged their respective
assurances of a peaceful issue to their differences, and politely
conveyed the most satisfactory sentiments of mutual esteem.
On the 1st of September the Emperor left Paris; but, even then, covering
his designs by an affected hope of peace, he was accompanied by the
Empress and her suite to Mayence, where all the splendor of a Court was
suddenly displayed amid the pomp and preparation of war. On the 6th he
started by daybreak; relays of horses were in waiting along the road
to Wetzlar, and with all speed he hastened forward to Bamberg, where he
issued his grand proclamation to the army.
With all his accustomed eloquence he represented to the army the
insulting demands of Prussia, and called on them, as at Austerlitz, to
reply to such a menace by one tremendous blow of victory, which should
close the campaign. “Soldiers!” said he, “you were about to return to
France to enjoy the well-won repose after all your victories. But an
enemy is in the field; the road to Paris is no longer open to you:
neither you nor I can tread it save under an arch of triumph.”
The day which succeeded the issue of this proclamation, a cavalry affair
occurred at the advanced posts, in which the Prussians were somewhat the
victors. Two days later, a courier arrived at the imperial headquarters
with the account of another and more important action, between the
grenadiers of Lannes and a part of Suchet's corps, against the advanced
guard of Prince Hohenlohe, commanded by the most daring general in the
Prussian service,--Prince Louis. A cavalry combat, which lasted for near
an hour, closed this brief but bloody encounter with the death of the
brave prince, who, refusing to surrender, was run through the body by
the sabre of a quartermaster of the Tenth Hussars.
General d'Auvergne's brigade had no share in this memorable action, for
on the 9th we were marched to Rudolstadt, some miles to the left of the
scene of the encounter; but having made a demonstration in that quarter,
were speedily recalled, and ordered with all haste to cross the Saale,
and move on to the eastward.
It was now that Napoleon's manoeuvres became apparent. The same intrigue
which succeeded at Ulm was again to be employed here: the enemy's flank
was to be turned, the communication with his reinforcements cut off, and
a battle engaged, in which defeat must prove annihilation. Such, then,
was the complete success of the Emperor's movements, that on the 12th
the French army was posted with the rear upon the Elbe, while the
Prussians occupied a line between them and the Rhine. This masterly
movement at once compelled the enemy to fall back and concentrate
his troops around Jena and Weimar, which, from that instant, Napoleon
pronounced must be the scene of a great battle.
All this detail I have been obliged to force on my reader, and now again
return to my story.
On the morning of the 13th, Murat appeared for the first time at our
headquarters, below Jena; and after a short consultation with the staff,
our squadrons were formed and ordered to push on with haste towards
Jena.
Everything now showed that the decisive hour could not be distant:
couriers passed and repassed; messengers and orderlies met us at every
step; while, as is ever the case, the most contradictory rumors were
circulated about the number and position of the enemy. As we neared
Lausnitz, however, we learned that the whole Prussian army occupied the
plateau of Jena, save a corps of twenty thousand men which were
stationed at Auerstadt. From the elevated spot we occupied, the columns
of Marshal Berna-dotte's division could be seen marching to the
eastward. A halt was now commanded, and the troops prepared their
bivouacs; when, as night was falling, a staff-officer rode up, with
orders from the Emperor himself to push on without delay for Jena.
The road was much cut up by the passage of cavalry and wagons, and as
the night was dark, our pace was occasionally impeded. I was riding with
one of the leading squadrons, when General d'Auvergne directed me to
take an orderly with me, and proceed in advance to make arrangements for
the quarters of the men at Jena. Selecting a German soldier as my guide,
I dashed forwards, and soon left the squadron out of hearing. We had not
gone far, when I remarked, from the tramp of the horses, that we were
upon an earthen road, and not on the pavement. I questioned my orderly,
but he was positive there had been no turning since we started. I paid
no more attention to the circumstance, but rode on, hard as ever. At
last the clay became deeper and heavier, the sides of the way closer,
and all the appearance, as well as the gloom would allow us to guess,
rather those of a byroad than the regular _chaussée_. To return would
have been hopeless; the darkness gave no prospect of detecting at what
precise spot we had left the main road, and so I determined to make my
way straight onwards at all hazards.
After about an hour's fast trotting, the orderly, who rode some paces
in advance, called out, “A light!” and then, the moment after, he cried,
“There are several lights yonder!”
I reined in my horse at once, for the thought struck me that we had
come down upon the Prussian lines. Giving my horse to the soldier, with
orders to follow me noiselessly at a little distance, I walked on for
above a mile, my eyes steadily fixed upon the lights, which moved from
place to place, and showed, by their taper glare, that they were not
watchfires. At length I gained a little ridge of the ground, and
could distinctly see that it was a line of guns and artillery wagons,
endeavoring to force their way through a narrow ravine; a few minutes
after, I heard the sounds of French, and relieved of all apprehensions,
I mounted my horse and soon came up with them.
They were four troops of Lannes's artillery, which, by a mistake similar
to my own, had left the highroad and entered one of the field-tracks,
which thus led them astray; and here they were, jammed up in a narrow
gorge, unable to get back or forward. The officer in command was a
young colonel, who was completely overwhelmed by his misfortune; for he
informed me that the whole artillery of the division was following him,
and would inevitably be involved in the same mishap. The poor fellow,
who doubtless would have faced the enemy without a particle of fear, was
now so horrified by the event, that he ran wildly from place to place,
ordering and counter-ordering every instant, and actually increasing
the confusion by his own excitement. Some of the leading trains were
unharnessed, and efforts made to withdraw the guns from their position;
but the axles were, on both sides, embedded in the rock, and seemed to
defy every effort to disengage them.
At this moment, when the confusion had reached its height, and the
horses were unharnessed from the guns, the men standing in groups around
or shouting wildly to one another, a sullen silence spread itself over
the whole, and a loud, stern voice called out,--
“Who commands this division?”
“General Latour,” was the answer.
“Where is he?” said the first speaker, so close to my ear that I started
round, and saw the short square figure of a man in a great coat, holding
a heavy whip in his hand.
“With the main body at the rear.”
“Cannoneers, dismount!” said the other. “Bring the torches to the
front.”
Scarcely was the order obeyed, when the light of the firewood fell upon
his features, and I saw it was the Emperor himself. In an instant the
whole scene was changed. The park tools were taken out, working parties
formed, and the ravine began to echo to the strong blows of the brawny
arms; while Napoleon, with a blazing torch in his hand, stood by to
light their labors. Giving directions to the under-officers and the men,
he never deigned a word to the officers, who now stood trembling around
him, and were gradually joined by several more, who came up with the
remainder of the train.
I think still I can see that pale, unmoved face, which, as the light
flickered upon it, gazed steadily at the working party. Not a syllable
escaped him, save once, when he muttered half to himself, “And this was
the first battery to open its fire to-morrow!”
General Savary stood at his side, but never dared to address him. Too
well he knew that his deepest anger showed itself by silence. By degrees
the granite wall gave way, the axles once more became free, and the
horses were again harnessed; the gun-carriages moved slowly through the
ravine. Nor did the Emperor quit the spot before the greater part of
the train passed; then mounting his horse, he turned towards Jena, and
notwithstanding the utter darkness of the night he rode at full speed.
Following the clatter of the horse's hoofs, I rode on, and in less than
an hour reached a small cluster of houses, where a cavalry picket was
placed, and several large fires were lighted, beside which, at small
tables, sat above a dozen staff-officers busily writing despatches. The
Emperor halted but for a second or two, and then dashed forward again;
and I soon perceived we were ascending a steep hill, covered with ferns
and brushwood. We had not gone far, when a single aide-de-camp who
accompanied him turned his horse's head and rode rapidly down the
mountain again.
Napoleon was now alone, some fifty paces in front. I could see the faint
outline through the darkness, my sight guided by my hearing to the spot.
His pace, wherever the ground permitted, was rapid; but constantly he
was obliged to hold in, and pick his steps among the stones and dwarf
wood that covered the mountain. Never shall I cease to remember the
strange sensations I felt as I followed him up that steep ascent.
There was he, the greatest monarch of the universe, alone, wending his
solitary way in darkness, his thoughts bent on the great event before
him,--the tremendous conflict in which thousands must fall. There was a
sense of awe in the thought of being so near to one on whose slightest
word the destiny of nations seemed to hang; and I could not look on the
dark object before me without a superstitious feeling, deeper than fear
itself, for that mightiest of men.
My thoughts permitted my taking no note of time, and I know not how long
it was before we reached the crest of the hill, over whose bleak surface
a cold, cutting wind was blowing. It seemed as if a great tableland
extended now for some distance on every side, over which the Emperor
took his way, as though accustomed to the ground. While I was wondering
at the certainty with which he appeared to determine on his road, I
remarked the feeble flickering of a light far away towards the horizon,
and by which it was evident he guided his steps. As we rode on, several
watchfires could be seen towards the northwest, stretching away to a
great distance, and throwing a yellowish glare in the dark sky above
them. Suddenly I perceived the Emperor halt and dismount, and as
speedily again he was in the saddle; but now his path took a different
direction, and diverged considerably to the southward. Curious to learn
what might have caused his change of direction, I rode up to the
spot, and got off. It was the embers of a watchfire; they were almost
extinguished, but still, as the horse's hoof struck the wood, a few
sparks were emitted. It was this, then, which altered his course; and
once more he pressed his horse to speed.
A steep ascent of some hundred yards lay before us now. But on gaining
the top, a brilliant spectacle of a thousand watchfires met the eye: so
close did they seem, it looked like one great volcanic crater blazing
on the mountain top; while above, the lurid glow reddened the black sky,
and melted away into the darkness in clouds of faint yellowish hue. Far,
very far away, and to the north, stretched another much longer line of
fires, but at great intervals apart, and occupying, as well as I might
guess, about two leagues in extent. Several smaller fires dotted the
plain, marking the outpost positions; and it was not difficult to trace
the different lines of either army even by these indications.
While I yet looked, the Emperor had gained a short distance in advance
of me; and suddenly I heard the hoarse challenge of a sentry, calling
out, “Qui vive?” Buried in his own thoughts,--perhaps far too deeply
lost in meditation to hear the cry,--Napoleon never replied nor
slackened his speed. “Qui vive?” shouted the voice again: and before
I could advance, the sharp bang of a musket-shot rang out; another and
another followed; and then a roll of fire swept along the plain, happily
not in the direction of the Emperor. But already he had thrown himself
from his horse, and lay flat upon the ground.
[Illustration: 264]
Not a moment was now to be lost. I dashed my spurs into my jaded horse,
and rode forwards, calling aloud, at the top of my voice, “The Emperor!
the Emperor!” Still, the panic overbore my words, and another discharge
was given: with one bullet I was struck in the shoulder, another killed
my horse; but springing to my legs in an instant, I rushed on, repeating
my cry. Before I could do more than point to the spot, Napoleon
came forward, leading his horse by the bridle. His step was slow and
measured, and his face--for many a torchlight was now gathered to the
place--was calm and tranquil.
“Ye are well upon the alert, _mes enfant!_” said he, with a smile; “see
that ye be as ready with your fire to-morrow!” A wild cheer answered
these words, while he continued: “These are the new levies, Lieutenant;
the Guards would have had more patience. Where is the officer who
followed me?”
“Here, Sire,” said I, endeavoring to conceal the appearance of being
wounded.
“Mount, sir, and accompany me to headquarters.”
“My horse is killed, Sire.”
“Yes, _parbleu!_” said a young soldier, who had not learned much respect
before his superiors; “and he has a ball in his neck himself.”
“Are you wounded?” said the Emperor, with a quickness in his manner.
“A mere flesh-wound in the arm,--of no consequence, Sire.”
“Let the surgeon of the detachment see to this at once, Lieutenant,”
said he to the officer of the party; “and do you come to headquarters
when you are able.”
With this, the Emperor mounted again, and in a few seconds more was lost
to our sight.
“_Ventrebleu!_” said the old lieutenant, who had served without
promotion from the first battles of the Republic, “you'll be a colonel
for that scratch on your epaulette, if we only beat the Prussians
to-morrow; and here am I, with eight wounds from lead and steel, and
the Petit Caporal never bade me visit him at his bivouac. Come, come! I
don't wish to be unfriendly; it's not _your_ fault, it's only _my_ bad
fortune. And here comes the surgeon.”
The lieutenant was right,--the epaulette had the worst of the adventure;
and, in half an hour I proceeded on my way to headquarters.