“We set off at daybreak. It was in June, and a lovely morning too; and as my prisoner was an officer and a man of honor, I took no escort, but rode along at his side. We halted at noon to dine in a little grove of cedars, where I opened my canteen and spread the contents on the grass: and after regaling ourselves pleasantly, we lighted our meerschaums and chatted away like old comrades over the war and its chances. A more agreeable fellow than the Austrian I never met. He told me his whole history, and I told him mine; and we drank Brüderschaft together, and swore I don’t know how many eternal friendships. The devil was just amusing himself with us all this time though, as you ‘ll see presently; for we soon got into an argument about the charge in which our brigade captured the guns. He said that if the ammunition had not failed we never would have dared the attack; and I swore that the discharges were pouring in while we rode down on the battery.
“We grew warm with the dispute, and drank deeper to cool us; and, what between the wine and our own passion, we became downright angry, and went so far as to interchange something not like Brüderschaft.
“‘Ah, how unfortunate I always am!’ said I, sighing. ‘If I had only the good luck to be the prisoner now, and you the escort – ’
“‘What then?’ said he.
“‘How easily, and how pleasantly too, could we settle this little affair. The ground is smooth as velvet; there is no sun; all still, and quiet, and peaceful.’
“‘No, no,’ said the Austrian; ‘I couldn’t do what you propose, – I should be dishonored forever if I took such an advantage of you. You must know, François,’ for he called me so, recurring at once to his tone of kindliness, ‘I am the first swordsman of my brigade.’
“I could scarcely avoid throwing myself into his arms as he spoke; never was there such a piece of fortune. ‘And I,’ cried I, in ecstasy, ‘I the first of the whole French army!’ You know, Comrades, I only said that en gascon, and to afford him the greater pleasure in our rencontre.
“We soon measured our swords and threw off our jackets. ‘François,’ said he, ‘I ought to mention to you that my lunge en tierce is my famous stroke; I rarely miss running my adversary through the chest with it.’
“‘I know the trick well,’ said I; ‘take care of my “pass” outside the guard.’
“‘Oh! if that’s your game,’ said he, laughing, ‘I’ll make short work of it. Now, to begin.’
“‘All ready,’ said I; ‘en garde!’ And we crossed our weapons. For a German he was a capital swordsman, and had a very pretty trick of putting in his point over the hilt, and wounding the sword-arm; but if it had not been for all the wine I drank the affair would have been over in a second or two. As it was, we both fenced loose, and without any judgment whatever.
“‘Ah! you got that,’ said I, ‘at last!’ as I pierced him in the back, outside the guard.
“‘No, no!’ cried he, passionately; for his temper was up, and he would not confess a touch.
“‘Well, then, that’s home!’ said I, thrusting beneath his hilt, till the blood spurted out along my blade and even in my eyes.
“‘Yes, that’s home,’ said he, staggering back, while one of his legs crossed over the other, and he fell heavily on the grass. I stooped down to feel his heart; and as I did so my senses failed, my limbs tottered, and I rolled headlong over him. Truth was, I was badly wounded, though I never knew when; for his sword had entered my chest, beneath a rib, and cut some large vessels in the lungs.
“The end of it all was, the Austrian was buried, and I was broke the service without pay or pension, my wound being declared by the doctors an incapacity to serve in future.
“Comrades, we often hear men talk of the happy day before them when they shall leave the army and throw off the knapsack, and give up the musket for the mattock. Well, trust me, it’s no such pleasure as they deem it, after all. There was I, turned loose upon the world, with nothing but a suit of ragged clothes my comrades made up amongst them, my old rapier, and a bad asthma. Such was my stock-in-trade, to begin life anew, at the age of forty-seven. And so, I set out on my weary way back to Paris.”
“Didn’t you try your chance with the Petit Caporal first?” asked one of the listeners.
“To be sure I did. I sent him a long petition, setting forth the whole circumstance, and detailing every minute particular of the duel; but I received it back, unopened, – with Duroc’s name, and the word ‘Rejected,’ on the back.
“It is strange-how unfit we old soldiers are for any occupation in a civil way, when we ‘ve spent half a lifetime campaigning. When I reached Paris, I could almost have wedged myself into the scabbard of my sword. Long marches and short rations had told heavily on me; and the custom-house officer at the barrier told me to pass on, without ever stopping to see that I carried no contraband goods about me.
“I had a miserable time enough of it for twelve or fourteen months. The only way of support I could find was teaching recruits the sword exercise; and you know they could n’t be very liberal in their rewards for the service. But even this poor trade was soon interdicted, as the police reported that I encouraged the young soldiers to fight duels, – a great offence, truly! But you see everything went unluckily with me at that time.
“What was to become of me now I couldn’t tell; when an old comrade, pensioned off from Moreau’s army, had interest to get me appointed supernumerary, as they call it, in the Grand Opera, where I used to perform as a Roman soldier, or a friar, or a peasant, or some such thing, for five francs a week. Not a sou more had I, and the duty was heavier than on active service.
“After two years, the ‘big drum’ died of a rheumatic fever, from beating a great solo in a new German Opera, and I was promoted to his place; for by this time I was quite recovered from the effects of my wound, and could use my arms as well as ever.
“Some of the honorable company may remember the first night that Napoleon visited the Grand Opera after he was named Emperor. It was a glorious sight, and one can never forget it. The whole house was filled with generals and field-marshals: it was a grand field-day, by the glare of ten thousand wax-lights. And the Empress was there, and her whole suite, and all the prettiest women in France. Little time had I to look at them, though; for there was I, in the corner of the orchestra, with my big drum before me, on which I was to play the confounded thing that killed the other fellow.
“It was a strange performance, sure enough: for in the midst of a great din and crash, came a dead pause; and then I was to strike three solemn bangs on the drum, – to be followed by a succession of blows, fast as lightning, for five minutes. This was the composer’s notion of a battle, – distant firing! Heaven bless his heart! I was wishing he ‘d seen some of it. This was to come on in the second act, up to which time I had nothing to do.
“Why do I say nothing? I had to gaze at the Petit Caporal, who sat there in the box over my head, looking as stern and as thoughtful as ever, and not minding much what the Empress said, though she kept prattling into his ear all the time, and trying to attract his attention. Parbleu! he was not thinking of all the nonsense before him, – his mind was on real battles: he had seen real smoke, – that he had! He was fatter and paler than he used to be; and I thought, too, his frown was darker than when I saw him last: but, to be sure, that was at Marengo, and he ever looked pleased on the field of battle. I could n’t take my eyes from him: his fine thoughtful face, so full of determination and energy, reminded me of my old days of campaigning. I thought of Areola and Rivoli, of Cairo and the Pyramids, and the great charge at Marengo when Desaix’s division came up, – and my heart was nigh bursting when I remembered that I wore the epaulette no longer. I forgot, too, where I was; and expected every instant to hear him call for one of the marshals, or see him stretch out his hand to point to a distant part of the field. And so absorbed was I in my reveries, that I had neither eyes nor ears for anything around me; when suddenly all the din of the orchestra ceased, – not a sound was heard; and a hand rudely shook me by the arm, while a voice whispered, ‘Now! now!’
“Mechanically I seized the drumsticks. But my eyes still were riveted in the Emperor, – my whole heart and soul were centred in him. Again the voice called to me to begin; and a low murmur of angry meaning ran through the orchestra.
“I sprang to my legs, and in the excitement of the moment, losing all memory of time and place, I rolled out the pas de charge!
“Scarce had the first roulade of the well-known sounds reverberated through the house, when one cry of ‘Vive l’Empereur!’ burst forth. It was not a cheer; it was the heart-given outbreak of ten thousand devoted followers. Marshals, generals, colonels, ambassadors, ministers, all joined; and the vast assembly rocked to and fro like the sea in a storm, while Napoleon himself, slowly rising, bent his proud head in acknowledgment, and then sat down again amid the thundering shouts of acclamation. It was full twenty minutes before the piece could proceed; and even then momentary outbreaks of enthusiasm would occur to interrupt it, and continued to burst forth till the curtain fell.
“Just then an aide-de-camp appeared beside the orchestra, and ordered me to the Emperor’s box. Satristi!how I trembled! I did n’t know what might come of it.
“‘Ah, coquin! said he, as I stood ready to drop with fear at the door of the box, ‘this has been one of thy doings, eh?’
“‘Yes, Sire,’ muttered I in a half whisper.
“‘And how hast thou dared to spoil an opera in this fashion?’ said he, frowning fiercely. ‘Answer me, sirrah!’
“‘It was your Majesty’s fault,’ said I, becoming reckless of all consequences. ‘You did n’t seem to care much for all their scraping and blowing, and so I thought the old roulade might raise you a bit. You used to like it once; and might still, if the times be not altered.’
“‘And they are not,’ said he, sternly. ‘Who art thou, that seem’st to know me thus well?’
“‘Old François, that was maître d’armes of the Fourth in Egypt, and who saved you from the stroke of a Mameluke sabre at Chebrheis.’
“‘What! the fellow who killed an Austrian prisoner after Marengo? Why, I thought thee dead.’
“‘Better for me I had been!’ said I. ‘You would n’t read my petition. (‘Yes, you may frown away, General,’ said I to Duroc, who kept glowering at me like a tiger.) I began life at the tambour; I have come down to it again. You can’t bring me lower, parbleu!
“The Emperor whispered something to the Empress, who turned round towards me and laughed; and then he made a sign for me to withdraw. Before I had got a dozen paces from the box, an aide-de-camp overtook me.
“‘François,’ said he, ‘you are to appear before the medical commission to-morrow; and if their report be favorable, you are to have your old grade of maître d’armes.’
“And so it was. Not only was I restored, but they even placed me in the same regiment I served in during the campaigns of Egypt and Italy. The corps, however, was greatly changed since I knew it before; and so I asked the Emperor to appoint me to a voltigeur battalion, where discipline is not so rigid, and pleasant comrades are somewhat more plentiful. I had my wish, gentlemen. And now, with your permission, we’ll drink the ‘Faubourg St. Antoine,’ the cradle of our arm of the service.”
In repeating Maître Francois’s tale, I could only wish it might have one half the success with my reader it met with from his comrades of the bivouac. This, however, I cannot look for, and must leave it and him to their fortunes, and now turn to follow the course of my own.
François was not the only one who felt surprised at my being able to resist the pleasures of a voltigeurs life; and my companion the corporal looked upon my determination to join the hussar brigade as one of those extraordinary instances of duty predominating over inclination. “Not,” said he, “but there may be brave fellows and good soldiers among the dragoons; though having a horse to ride is a sore drawback on a man’s courage. And when one has felt the confidence of standing face to face, and foot to foot, with the enemy, I cannot see how he can ever bring himself to fight in any other fashion.”
“A man can accustom himself to anything, Corporal,” said an old, hardy-looking soldier, who sat smoking with the most profound air of thoughtful reflection. “I remember being in the ‘dromedary brigade’ at Cairo. Few of us could keep our seats at first; and when we fell off, it was often hard enough to resist the Mamelukes and hold the beasts besides; but even that we learned with time.”
This explanation, little flattering as it was to the cavalry, seemed to convince the listeners that time, which smoothes so many difficulties, will even make a man content to be a dragoon.
“Well, since you will not be ‘of ours,’” said François, “let us drink a parting cup, and say good-by, for I hear the bugle sounding the call.”
“A health to the ‘Faubourg St. Antoine,’ boys!” cried I, and a hearty cheer re-echoed the toast; and with many a shake-hands, and many a promise of welcome whenever I saw the error of my ways sufficiently to doff the dolman for the voltigeur’s jacket, I took leave of the gallant Twenty-second, and set out towards Weimar.
CHAPTER XXV. BERLIN AFTER “JENA.”
As the battle of Austerlitz was the deathblow to the empire of Austria, so with the defeat at Jena did Prussia fall, and that great kingdom became a prey to the conquering Napoleon. Were this a fitting place, it might be curious to inquire into the causes which involved a ruin so sudden and so complete; and how a vast and highly organized army seemed at one fell stroke annihilated and destroyed.
The victories of Jena and Auerstadt, great and decisive as they were, were nevertheless inadequate to such results; and if the genius of the Emperor had not been as prompt to follow up as to gain a battle, they never would have occurred. But scarcely had the terrible contest ceased, when he sent for the Saxon officers who were taken prisoners, and addressing them in a tone of kindness, declared at once that they were at liberty and might return to their homes, first pledging their words not to carry arms against France or her allies. One hundred and twenty officers of different grades, from lieutenant-general downwards, gave this promise and retired to their own country, extolling the generosity of Napoleon. This first step was soon followed up by another and more important one; negotiations were opened with the Elector of Saxony, and the title of king offered to him on condition of his joining the Confederacy of the Rhine; and thus once more the artful policy already pursued with regard to Bavaria in the south, was here renewed in the north of Germany, and with equal success.
This deep-laid scheme deprived the Prussian army of eighteen thousand men, and that on the very moment when defeat and disaster had spread their demoralizing influences through the entire army. Several of their greatest generals were killed, many more dreadfully or fatally wounded: Prince Louis, Ruchel, Schmettau, among the former; the Duke of Brunswick and Prince Henry both severely wounded. The Duke survived but a few days, and these in the greatest suffering; Marshal Möllendorf, the veteran of nigh eighty years, had his chest pierced by a lance. Here was misfortune enough to cause dismay and despair; for unhappily the nation itself was but an army in feeling and organization, and with defeat every hope died out and every arm was paralyzed. The patriotism of the people had taken its place beneath a standard, which when once lowered before a conqueror, nothing more remained. Such is the destiny of a military monarchy: its only vitality is victory; the hour of disaster is its deathblow.
The system of a whole corps capitulating, which the Prussians had not scrupled to sneer at when occurring in Austria, now took place here with even greater rapidity. Scarcely a day passed that some regiment did not lay down their arms, and surrender sur parole. A panic spread through the whole length and breadth of the land; places of undoubted strength were surrendered as insecure and untenable. No rest nor respite was allowed the vanquished: the gay plumes of the lancers fluttered over the vast plains in pursuit; columns of infantry poured in every direction through the kingdom; and the eagles glittered in every town and every village of conquered Prussia.
Never did the spirit of Napoleon display itself more pitiless than in this campaign; for while in his every act he evinced a determination to break down and destroy the nation, the “Moniteur” at Paris teemed with articles in derision of the army whose bravery he should never have questioned. Even the gallant leaders themselves – old and scarred warriors – were contemptuously described as blind and infatuated fanatics, undeserving of clemency or consideration. Not thus should he have spoken of the noble Prince Louis and the brave Duke of Brunswick; they fought in a good cause, and they met the death of gallant soldiers. “I will make their nobles beg their bread upon the highways!” was the dreadful sentence he uttered at Weimar. And the words were never forgotten.
The conduct and bearing of the Emperor was the more insulting from its contrast with that of his marshals and generals, many of whom could not help acknowledging in their acts the devotion and patriotism of their vanquished foes. Murat lost no occasion to evince this feeling; and sent eight colonels of his own division to carry the pall at General Schmettau’s funeral, who was interred with all the honors due to one who had been the companion of the Great Frederick himself.
Soult, Bernadotte, Augereau, Ney, and Davoust, with the several corps under their command, pursued the routed forces with untiring hostility. In vain did the King of Prussia address a supplicating letter asking for a suspension of arms. Napoleon scarcely deigned a reply, and ordered the advanced guard to march on Berlin.
But a year before and he had issued his royal mandates from the palace of the Caesars; and he burned now to date his bulletins from the palace of the Great Frederick. And on the tenth day after the battle of Jena the troops of Lannes’s division bivouacked in the plain around Potsdam. I had joined my brigade the day previous, and entered Berlin with them on the morning of the 23d of October.
The preparations for a triumphal entry were made on the day before; and by noon the troops approached the capital in all the splendor of full equipment. First came the grenadiers of Oudinot’s brigade, – one of the finest corps in the French army; their bright yellow facings and shoulder-knots had given them the sobriquet of the Grenadiers jaunes: they formed part of Davonst’s force at Auerstadt, and were opposed to the Prussian guard in the greatest shock of the entire day. After them came two battalions of the Chasseurs à pied, – a splendid body of infantry, the remnant of four thousand who went into battle on the morning of the 15th. Then followed a brigade of artillery, each gun-carriage surmounted by a Prussian standard. These again were succeeded by the red lancers of Berg, with Murat himself at their head; for they were his own regiment, and he felt justly proud of such followers: the grand duke was in all the splendor of his full dress, and wore a Spanish hat, looped up, with an immense brilliant in front, and a plume of ostrich feathers floated over his neck and shoulders. Two hundred and forty chosen men of the Imperial Guard marched two and two after these, each carrying a color taken from the enemy in battle. Nansouty’s cuirassiers came next; they had suffered severely at Jena, and were obliged to muster several of their wounded men to fill up the gaps in their squadrons. Then there were the horse artillery brigade, whose uniforms and equipments, notwithstanding every effort to conceal it, showed the terrible effects of the great battle. General d’Auvergne’s division, with the hussars and the light cavalry attached, followed. These were succeeded by the voltigeurs, and eight battalions of the Imperial Guard, – whose ranks were closed up with the Grenadiers à cheval, and more artillery, – in all, a force of eighteen thousand, the élite of the French army.
Advancing in orderly time, they came, – no sound heard save the dull reverberation of the earth as it trembled beneath the columns, when the hoarse challenge to “halt” was called from rank to rank as often as those in the rear pressed on the leading files; but as they reached the Brandenburg gate, the band of each regiment burst forth, and the wide Platz resounded with the clang of martial music.
In front of the palace stood the Emperor, surrounded by his staff, which was joined in succession by each general of brigade as his corps moved by. A simple acknowledgment of the military salute was all Napoleon gave as each battalion passed, – until the small party of the Imperial Guard appeared, bearing the captured colors. Then his proud features relaxed, his eye flashed and sparkled, and he lifted his chapeau straight above his head, and remained uncovered the whole time they were marching past. This was the moment when enthusiasm could no longer be restrained, and a cry of “Vive l’Empereur!” burst forth, that, caught up by those behind, rose in ten thousand echoes along the distant suburbs of Berlin.
To look upon that glorious and glittering band, bronzed with battle, their proud faces lit up with all the pride of victory, was indeed a triumph; and one instinctively turned to see the looks of wondering and admiration such a sight must have inspired. But with what sense of sadness came the sudden thought: this is the proud exultation of the conqueror over the conquered; here come no happy faces and bright looks to welcome those who have rescued them from slavery; here are no voices calling welcome to the deliverer. No: it was a people crushed and trodden down; their hard-won laurels tarnished and dishonored; their country enslaved; their monarch a wanderer, no one knew where. Little thought they who raised the statue of brass to the memory of the Great Frederick, that the clank of French musketry would be heard around it. Rossbach was, indeed, avenged, – and cruelly avenged.
Never did a people behave with more dignity under misfortune than the Prussians on the entrance of the French into their capital. The streets were deserted; the houses closed; the city was in mourning; and none stooped to the slavish adulation which might win favor with the conqueror. It was a triumph; but there were none to witness it. Of the nobles, scarce one remained in Berlin. They had fallen in battle, or followed the fortunes of their beaten army, now scattered and dispersed through the kingdom. Their wives and daughters, in deepest mourning, bewailed their ruined country as they would the death of a dearest friend. They cut off their blonde locks, and sorrowed like those without a hope. Their great country was to be reduced to the rank of a mere German province; their army disbanded; their king dethroned. Such was the contrast to our hour of triumph; such the sad reverse to the gorgeous display of our armed squadrons.
Scarcely had the Emperor established his headquarters at Potsdam than the whole administration of the kingdom was begun to be placed under French rule. Prefects were appointed to different departments of the kingdom; a heavy contribution was imposed upon the nation; and all the offices of the state were subjected to the control of persons named by the Emperor.
Among these, the first in importance was the post-office; for, while every precaution was taken that no interruption should occur in the transmission of the mails as usual, a cabinet noir was established here, as at Paris, whose function it was to open the letters of suspected persons, and make copies of them; the latter, indeed, were often so skilfully executed as to be forwarded to the address, while the originals were preserved as “proofs” against parties, if it were found necessary to accuse them afterwards. (And here I might mention that the art of depositing metals in a mould by galvanic process was known and used in imitating and fabricating the seals of various writers, many years before the discovery became generally known in Europe.)
The invasion of private right involved in this breach of trust gave, as might be supposed, the greatest offence throughout the kingdom. But the severity with which every case of suspicious meaning was followed up and punished converted the feelings of indignation and anger into those of fear and trepidation. For this was ever part of Napoleon’s policy: the penalty of any offence was made to exclude the sense of ridicule its own littleness might have created, and men felt indisposed to jest where their mirth might end in melancholy.
The most remarkable case, and that which more than any other impressed the public mind of the period, was that of the Prince de Hatzfeld, whose letter to the King of Prussia was opened at the post-office, and made the subject of a capital charge against him. Its contents were, as might be imagined from the channel of transmission, not such as could substantiate any treasonable intention on his part. A respectful homage to his dethroned sovereign; a detail of the mournful feeling experienced throughout his capital; and some few particulars of the localities occupied by the French troops, was the entire. And for this he was tried and condemned to death, – a sentence which the Emperor commanded to be executed before sunset that same day. Happily for the fate of the noble prince, as for the fair fame of Napoleon, both Duroc and Rapp were ardently attached to him, and at their earnest entreaties his life was spared. But the impression which the circumstances made upon the minds of the inhabitants was deep and lasting; and there was a day to come when all these insults were to be remembered and avenged. If I advert to the occurrence here, it is because I have but too good reason to bear memory of it, influencing, as it did, my own future fortunes.
It chanced that one evening, when sitting in a café with some of my brother officers, the subject of the Prince de Hatzfeld’s offence was mooted; and in the unguarded freedom with which one talks to his comrades, I expressed myself delighted at the clemency of the Emperor, and conceived that he could have no part in the breach of confidence which led to the accusation, nor countenance in any way his prosecution. My companions, who had little sympathy for Prussians, and none for aristocracy whatever, took a different view of the matter, and scrupled not to regret that the sentence of the court-martial had not been executed. The discussion grew warm between us; the more, as I was alone in my opinion, and assailed by several who overbore me with loud speaking. Once or twice, too, an obscure taunt was thrown out against aliens and foreigners, who, it was alleged, never could at heart forgive the ascendency of France and Frenchmen.
To this I replied hotly, for while not taking to myself an insult which my conduct in the service palpably refuted, I was hurt and offended. Alas! I knew too well in my heart what sacrifices I had made in changing my country; how I had bartered all the hopes which attach to one’s fatherland for a career of mere selfish ambition. Long since had I seen that the cause I fought in was not that of liberty, but despotism. Napoleon’s glory was the dazzling light which blinded my true vision; and my following had something of infatuation, against which reason was powerless. I say that I answered these taunts with hasty temper; and carried away by a momentary excitement, I told them, that they it was, not I, who would detract from the fair renown of the Emperor.
“The traits you would attribute to him,” said I, “are not those of strength, but weakness. Is it the conqueror of Egypt, of Austria, and now of Prussia, who need stoop to this? We cannot be judges of his policy, or the great events which agitate Europe. We would pronounce most ignorantly on the greatness of his plans regarding the destinies of nations; but, on a mere question of high and honorable feeling, of manly honesty, why should we not speak? And here I say this act was never his.”
A smile of sardonic meaning was the only reply this speech met with; and one by one the officers rose and dropped off, leaving me to ponder over the discussion, in which I now remembered I had been betrayed into a warmth beyond discretion.
This took place early in November; and as it was not referred to in any way afterwards by my comrades, I soon forgot it. My duties occupied me from morning till night; for General d’Auvergne, being in attendance on the Emperor, had handed me over for the time to the department of the adjutant-general of the army, where my knowledge of German was found useful.
On the 17th of the month a general order was issued, containing the names of the various officers selected for promotion, as well as of those on whom the cross of the “Legion” was to be conferred. Need I say with what a thrill of exultation I read my own name among the latter, nor my delight at finding it followed by the words, “By order of his Majesty the Emperor, for a special service on the 13th October, 1806.” This was the night before the battle; and now I saw that I had not been forgotten, as I feared, – here was proof of the Emperor’s remembrance of me. Perhaps the delay was intended to test my prudence as to secrecy; and perhaps it was deemed fitting that my name should not appear except in the general list: in any case, the long-wished reward was mine, – the proud distinction I had desired for so many a day and night.