CHAPTER VII. THE ARMISTICE
As I sat thus watching with steadfast gaze the features of the sleeping man, I heard the clattering of a horse’s hoofs on the pavement beneath, and the next moment the heavy step of some one ascending the stairs. Suddenly the door was flung wide open, and an officer in the handsome uniform of the Austrian Imperial Guard entered.
“Excuse this scant ceremony, Monsieur,” said he, bowing with much courtesy, “but I almost despaired of finding you out. I come from Holitsch with despatches for your Emperor; they are most pressing, as I believe this note will inform you.”
While I threw my eye over the few lines addressed by General Savary to the officer in waiting at Holitsch, and commanding the utmost speed in forwarding the despatch that accompanied them, the officer drew near the bed where De Beauvais was lying.
“Mère de ciel, it is the count!” cried he, starting back with astonishment.
“Yes,” said I, interrupting him; “I found him here on my arrival. He is badly wounded, and should be removed at once. How can this be done?”
“Easily. I ‘ll despatch my orderly at once to Holitsch, and remain here till he return.”
“But if our troops advance?”
“No, no! we’re all safe on that score; the armistice is signed. The very despatch in your hands, I believe, concludes the treaty.”
This warned me that I was delaying too long the important duty intrusted to me, and with a hurried entreaty to the Austrian not to leave De Beauvais, I hastened down the stairs, and proceeded to saddle for the road.
“One word, Monsieur,” said the officer, as I was in the act of mounting. “May I ask the name of him to whom my brother officers owe the life of a comrade much beloved?”
“My name is Burke; and yours, Monsieur?”
“Berghausen, chef d’escadron of the Imperial Guard. If ever you should come to Vienna – ” But I lost the words that followed, as, spurring my horse to a gallop, I set out towards the headquarters of the Emperor.
As I rode forward, my eyes were ever anxiously bent in the direction of our camp, not knowing at what moment I might see the advance of a column along the road, and dreading lest, before the despatches should reach the Emperor’s house, the advanced vedettes should capture the little party at Holitsch. At no period of his career was Napoleon more incensed against the adherents of the Bourbons; and if De Beauvais should fall into his hands, I was well aware that nothing could save him. The Emperor always connected in his mind – and with good reason, too – the machinations of the Royalists with the plans of the English Government. He knew that the land which afforded the asylum to their king was the refuge of the others also; and many of the heaviest denunciations against the “perfide Albion” had no other source than the dread, of which he could never divest himself, that the legitimate monarch would one day be restored to France.
While such were Napoleon’s feelings, the death of the Duc d’Enghien had heightened the hatred of the Bourbonists to a pitch little short of madness. My own unhappy experience made me more than ever fearful of being in any way implicated with the members of this party, and I rode on as though life itself depended on my reaching the imperial headquarters some few minutes earlier.
As I approached the camp, I was overjoyed to find that no movement was in contemplation. The men were engaged in cleaning their arms and accoutrements, restoring the broken wagons and gun-carriages, and repairing, as far as might be, the disorders of the day of battle. The officers stood in groups here and there, chatting at their ease; while the only men under arms were the new conscript? just arrived from France, – a force of some thousands, – brought by forced marches from the banks of the Rhine.
The crowd of officers near the headquarters of the Emperor pressed closely about me as I descended from my horse, eager to learn what information I brought from Holitsch; for they were not aware that I had been stationed nearly half-way on the road.
“Well, Burke,” said General d’Auvergne, as he drew his arm within mine, “your coming has been anxiously looked for this morning. I trust the despatches you carry may, if not Contradict, at least explain what has occurred.”
“Is this the officer from Holitsch?” said the aide-decamp of the Emperor, coming hurriedly forward. “The despatch, sir!” cried he; and the next moment hastened to the little hut which Napoleon occupied as his bivouac.
The only other person in the open space where I stood was an officer of the lancers, whose splashed and travel-stained dress seemed to say he had been employed like myself.
“I fancy, Monsieur,” said he, bowing, “that you have had a sharp ride also this morning. I have just arrived from Göding – four leagues – in less than an hour; and with all that, too late, I believe, to remedy what has occurred.”
“What, then, has happened?”
“Davoust has been tricked into an armistice, and suffered the Russians to pass the bridge. The Emperor Alexander has taken advantage of the negotiations with Austria, and got his army clear through; so, at least, it would seem. I saw Napoleon tear the despatch into fragments, and stamp his foot upon them. But here he comes.”
The words were scarcely spoken when the Emperor came rapidly up, followed by his staff. He wore a gray surtout, trimmed with dark fur, and had his hands clasped within the cuffs of the coat. His face was pale as death, and save a slight contraction of his brows, there was nothing to show any appearance of displeasure.
“Who brought the despatch from Göding?”
“I did, Sire,” said the officer.
“How are the roads, sir?”
“Much cut up, and in one place a torrent has carried away part of a bridge.”
“I knew it, – I knew it,” said he, bitterly; “it is too late. Duroc,” cried he, while the words seemed to come forth with a hissing sound, “did I not tell you, ‘Grattez le Russe, et vous trouverez le Tartare!’”
The words were graven in my memory from that hour; even yet, I can recall the very accents as when I heard them.
“And you, sir,” said he, turning suddenly towards me, “you came from General Savary. Return to him with this letter. Have you written, Duroc? Well, you’ll deliver this to General Savary at Holitsch. He may require you to proceed to Göding. Are you well mounted?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“Come, then, sir. I made you a captain yesterday; let us see if you can win your spurs to-day.”
From the time I received the despatch to that in which I was in the saddle not more than five minutes elapsed. The idea of being chosen by the Emperor himself for a service was a proud one, and I resolved to acquit myself with credit. With what concert does one’s heart beat to the free stride of a mettled charger! how does each bold plunge warm the blood and stir up the spirits! and as, careering free over hill and valley, we pass in our flight the clouds that drift above, how does the sense of freedom, realized as it is, impart a feeling of ecstasy to our minds! Our thoughts, revelling on the wayward liberty our course suggests, rise free and untrammelled from the doubts and cares of every-day life.
Onward I went, and soon the old mill came in sight, rearing its ruined head amid the black desolation of the plain. I could not resist the impulse to see what had become of De Beauvais; and leading my horse into the kitchen, I hastened up the stairs and through the rooms. But all were deserted; the little chamber lay open, the granary too; but no one was there.
With a mind relieved, in a great measure, from anxiety, I remounted and continued my way; and soon entered the dark woods of Holitsch. The château and demesne were a private estate of the Emperor Francis, and once formed a favorite resort of Joseph the Second in his hunting excursions. The château itself was a large, irregular mass of building, but still, with all its incongruity of architecture, not devoid of picturesque effect, – and the older portion of it was even handsome. While I stood in front of a long terrace, on which several windows opened from a gallery that ran along one side of the château, I was somewhat surprised that no guard was to be seen, nor even a single sentinel on duty. I dismounted, and leading my horse, approached the avenue that led up between a double range of statues to the door. An old man, dressed in the slouched hat and light blue jacket of a Bohemian peasant, was busily engaged in wrapping matting around some shrubs, to protect them from the frost. A little boy – his second self in costume – stood beside him with his pruning-knife, and stared at me with a kind of stupid wonder as I approached. With some difficulty I made out from the old man that the Emperor occupied a smaller building called the Kaiser-Lust, about half a league distant in the forest, having given strict orders that no one was to approach the château nor its immediate grounds. It was his favorite retreat, and perhaps he did not wish it should be associated in his mind with a period of such misfortune. The old peasant continued his occupation while he spoke, never lifting his head from his work, and seeming all absorbed in the necessity of what he was engaged in. As I inquired the nearest road to the imperial quarters, he employed me to assist him for a moment in his task by holding one end of the matting, with which he was now about to envelop a marble statue of Maria Theresa.
I could not refuse a request so naturally proffered; and while I did so, a little wicket opened at a short distance off, and a tall man, in a gray surtout and a plain cocked hat without a feather, came forward. He held a riding-whip in his hand, and seemed, from his splashed equipment, to have just descended from the saddle.
“Well, Fritz,” said he, “I hope the frost has done us no mischief?”
The old gardener turned round at the words, and, touching his hat respectfully, continued his work, while he replied, —
“No, Mein Herr; it was but a white hoar, and everything has escaped well.”
“And whom have you got here for an assistant, may I ask?” said he, pointing to me, whom he now saw for the first time.
As the question was asked in German, although I understood it I left the reply to the gardener.
“God knows!” said the old fellow, in a tone of easy indifference; “I think he must be a soldier of some sort.”
The other smiled at the remark, and, turning towards me, said, in French, —
“You are, perhaps, unaware, sir, being a stranger, that it is the Emperor of Austria’s desire this château should not be intruded on.”
“My offending, sir,” interrupted I, “was purely accidental. I am the bearer of despatches for General Savary; and having stopped to inquire from this honest man – ”
“The general has taken his departure for Göding,” he broke in, without paying further attention to my explanation.
“For Goding! and may I ask what distance that may be?”
“Scarcely a league, if you can hit upon the right path; the road lies yonder, where you see that dead fir-tree.”
“I thank you, sir,” said I, touching my hat; “and must now ask my friend here to release me, – my orders are of moment.”
“You may find some difficulty in the wood, after all,” said he; “I ‘ll send my groom part of the way with you.”
Before I could proffer my thanks suitably for such an unexpected politeness, he had disappeared in the garden through which he entered a few minutes before.
“I say, my worthy friend, tell me the name of that gentleman; he’s one of the Emperor’s staff, if I mistake not. I ‘m certain I ‘ve seen the face before.”
“If you had,” said the old fellow, laughing, “you could scarcely forget him; old Frantzerl is just the same these twenty years.”
“Whom did you say?”
Before he could reply, the other was at my side.
“Now, sir,” said he, “he will conduct you to the highroad. I wish you a good journey.”
These words were uttered in a tone somewhat more haughty than his previous ones; and contenting myself with a civil acknowledgment of his attention, I bowed and returned to my horse, which the little peasant child had been holding.
“This way, Monsieur,” said the groom, who, dressed in a plain dark brown livery, was mounted on a horse of great size and symmetry.
As he spoke, he dashed forward at a gallop which all my efforts could not succeed in overtaking. In less than ten minutes the man halted, and, waiting till I came up, he pointed to a gentle acclivity before me, across which the highroad led.
“There lies the road, sir; continue your speed, and in twenty minutes you reach Göding.”
“One word,” said I, drawing forth my purse as I spoke, – “one word. Tell me, who is your master?”
The groom smiled, slightly touched his hat, and without uttering a word, wheeled round his horse, and before I could repeat my question, was far on his road back to the château.
Before me lay the river, and the little bridge of Göding, across which now the Russian columns were marching in rapid but compact order. Their cavalry had nearly all passed, and was drawn with some field-guns along the bank; while at half-cannon-shot distance, the corps of Davoust were drawn up in order of battle, and standing spectators of the scene. On an eminence of the field a splendid staff were assembled, accompanied by a troop of Tartar horsemen, whose gay colors and strange equipment were a remarkable feature of the picture; and here, I learned, the Emperor Alexander then was, accompanied by General Savary.
As I drew near, my French uniform caught the eye of the latter, and he cantered forward to meet me. Tearing open the despatch with eagerness, he rapidly perused the few lines it contained; then, seizing me by the arm in his-strong grasp, he exclaimed, —
“Look yonder, sir! You see their columns extending to Serritz. Go back and tell his Majesty. But no; my own mission here is ended. You may return to Austerlitz.”
So saying, he rode back to the group around the Emperor, where I saw him a few minutes after addressing his Majesty; and then, after a formal leave-taking, turn his horse’s head and set out towards Brunn.
As I retraced my steps towards the camp, I began to muse over the events which had just occurred; and even by the imperfect glimpses I could catch of the negotiations, could perceive that the Czar had out-manoeuvred Napoleon. It is true, I was not aware by what means the success had been obtained; nor was it for many a year after that I became cognizant of the few autograph lines by which Alexander induced Davoust to suspend his operations, under the pretence that the Austrian armistice included the Russian army. It was an unworthy act and ill befitting one whose high personal courage and chivalrous bearing gave promise of better things.
CHAPTER VIII. THE COMPAGNIE D’ELITE
With whatever triumphant feelings the Emperor Napoleon may have witnessed the glorious termination of this brief campaign, to the young officers of the army it brought anything rather than satisfaction, and the news of the armistice was received in the camp with gloom and discontent. The brilliant action at Elchingen, and the great victory at Austerlitz, were hailed as a glorious presage of future successes, for which the high-sounding phrases of a bulletin were deemed but a poor requital. A great proportion of the army were new levies, who had not seen service, and felt proportionably desirous for opportunities of distinction; and to them the promise of a triumphant return to France was a miserable exchange for those battlefields on which they dreamed they should win honor and fame, and from whence they hoped to date their rise of fortune. Little did we guess, that while words of peace and avowals of moderation were on his lips, Napoleon was at that very moment meditating on the opening of that great campaign, which, beginning at Jena, was to end in the most bloody and long sustained of all his wars.
Nothing, however, was now talked of but the fêtes which awaited us on our return to Paris, – while liberal grants of money were made to all the wounded, and no effort was spared which should mark that feeling of the Emperor’s, which so conspicuously opened his bulletin, in the emphatic words, “Soldiers, I am content with you!”
Napoleon well understood, and indeed appeared to have anticipated, the disappointment the army would experience at this sudden cessation of hostilities; and endeavored now to divert the torrent of their enthusiasm into another and a safer channel. The bulk of the army were cantoned around Brunn and Olmutz; some picked regiments were recalled to Vienna, where the Emperor was soon expected to establish his headquarters; while many of those who had suffered most severely from forced marches and fatigues were formed into corps of escort to accompany the Russian prisoners – sixteen thousand in number – on their way to France; and lastly, a compagnie d’élite, as it was called, was selected to carry to the Senate the glorious spoils of victory, – forty-five standards taken on the field of Austerlitz, and now destined to grace the Palace of the Luxembourg.
I had scarcely seated myself to the humble supper of my bivouac, when an orderly came to command me to General d’Auvergne’s quarters. The little sitting-room he occupied, in a peasant hut, was so filled with officers that it was some time before I could approach him; and my impatience was not lessened by more than once hearing my name mentioned aloud, – a circumstance not a little trying to a young man in the presence of his superiors in station.
“But here he is,” said the general, beckoning to me to come forward. “Burke, his Majesty has most graciously permitted me to include your name in the compagnie d’élite, – a testimony of his satisfaction you’ve every reason to be proud of. And just at the moment I was about to communicate the fact to you, I have received a message from Marshal Murat, requesting that I may permit you to serve on his own staff.”
“Yes, Captain,” said an officer in the uniform of a colonel, – it was the first time I had been addressed by my new title, and I cannot express what a thrill of pleasure the word gave me, – “Marshal Murat witnessed with pleasure the alacrity and steadiness of your conduct on the 2d, and has sent me with an offer which I fancy few officers would not deem a flattering one.”
“Unquestionably it is, Colonel,” said General d’Auvergne; “nay, more, I will say I regard it as the making of a young man’s fortune, thus early in his career to have attracted such high notice. But I must be passive here; Captain Burke shall decide for himself.”
“In that case, sir, I shall cause you but little delay, if you will still permit me to serve on your own staff.”
“But stay, my boy, do not be rash in this affair. I will not insult your better feeling by dwelling on the little power I possess, and the very great enjoyed by Marshal Murat, of serving your interests; but I must say, that with him, and on his personal staff, opportunities of distinction – ”
“And here I must interpose,” said the colonel, smiling courteously: “with no officer in this army can a man expect to see service, in its boldest and most heroic colors, rather than with General d’Auvergne.”
“I know it, – I feel it, too; and with him, if he will allow me – ”
“Enough, my dear boy,” said the old man, grasping my hand in his. “Colonel, you must explain to the marshal how stands this matter; and he is too kind of heart and too noble of soul to think the worse of any of us for our obstinacy. And now, my young friend, make your arrangements to join the compagnie d’élite; they march to-morrow afternoon, – and this is a service you cannot decline. Leave me to make your acknowledgments to the marshal, and lose no more time here.”
Short as had been my absence from my quarters, when I re-entered, I descried Tascher seated at the table, and busily employed in discussing the last fragments of my supper.
“You see, my dear friend,” said he, speaking with his mouth full, – “you see what it is to have a salmi for supper. I sat eating a confounded mess of black bread, and blacker veal, for fifteen minutes, when the breeze brought me the odor of your delicious plat. It was in vain I summoned all my virtue to resist it; if there ever was a dish made to seduce a subaltern on service, it is this. But, I say, won’t you eat something?”
“I fear not,” said I, half angrily.
“And why?” replied he. “See what a capital wing that is, – a little bare, to be sure; and there’s the back of a pigeon. Ma foi! you have no reason to complain. I say, is it true you are named among the compagnie d’élite?”
I nodded, and ate on.
“Diable! there never was such fortune. What a glorious exchange for this confounded swamp, with its everlasting drill from morning to night, – shivering under arms for four hours, and shaking with the ague the rest of the day after, – marching, mid-leg in water, half frozen, and trying quick movements, when the very blood is in icicles! And then you ‘ll be enjoying Paris, – delightful Paris! – dining at the ‘Rocher,’ supping at the ‘Cadran,’ lounging into the salons, at the very time we shall be hiding ourselves amidst the straw of our bivouacs. I go mad to think of it. And, what’s worse than all, there you sit, as little elated as if the whole thing were only the most natural in the world. I believe, on my word, you ‘d not condescend to be surprised if you were gazetted Maréchal de France in to-morrow’s gazette.”
“When I can bear, without testifying too much astonishment, to see my supper eaten by the man who does nothing but rate me into the bargain, perhaps I may plume myself on some equanimity of temper.”
“Confound your equanimity! It’s very easy to be satisfied when one has everything his own way.”
“And so, Tascher, you deem me such a fortunate fellow?”
“That I do,” replied he, quickly. “You have had more good luck, and made less of it, than any one I ever knew. What a career you had before you when we met first! There was that pretty girl at the Tuileries quite ready to fall in love with you; I know it, because she rather took an air of coldness with me. Well, you let her be carried off by an old general, with a white head and a queue, – unquestionably a bit of pique on her part. Then, somehow or other, you contrived to pink the best swordsman of the army, little François there; and I never heard that the circumstance gained you a single conquest.”
“Quite true, my friend,” said I, laughing; “I confess it all. And, what is far worse, I acknowledge that until this moment I did not even know the advantages I was wilfully wasting.”
“And even now,” continued he, not minding my interruption, – “even now, you are about to return to Paris as one of the élite. Well, I ‘ll wager twenty Naps that the only civil speeches you ‘ll hear will be from some musty old senators at the Luxembourg. Oh dear! if my amiable aunt, the Empress, would only induce my most benevolent uncle, the Emperor, to put me on that same list, depend upon it you ‘d hear of Lieutenant Tascher in the ‘Faubourg St. Honoré.’”
“But you seem to forget,” said I, half piqued at last by the impertinence of his tone, “that I have neither friends nor acquaintances; that, although a Frenchman by service, I am not so by birth.”
“And I, – what am I?” interrupted he. “A Creole, come from Heaven knows what far-away place beyond seas; that there never was a man with more expensive tastes, and smaller means to supply them, – with worse prospects, and better connections; in short, a kind of live antithesis. And yet, with all that, exchange places with me now, and see if, before a fortnight elapse, I have not more dinner invitations than any officer of the same grade within the Boulevards; watch if the prettiest girl at Paris is not at my side in the Opera. But here comes your official appointment, I take it.”
As he said this, an orderly of the “Garde” delivered a sealed packet into my hands, which, on opening, I discovered was a letter from General Duroc, wherein I read, that “it was the wish of his Majesty, Emperor and King, that I, his well-beloved Thomas Burke, in conformity with certain instructions to be afterwards made known to me, should proceed with the compagnie d’élite to Paris, then and there – ”
As I read thus far aloud, Tascher interrupted me, snatching the paper from my hands, and continued thus: —
“Then and there to mope, muse, and be ennuyé until such time as active service may again recall him to the army. My dear Burke, I am really sorry for you. Wars and campaigning may be – indeed they are – very fine things; but as the means, not the end. His Majesty, my uncle, – whom may Heaven preserve and soften his heart to his relations! – loves them for their own sake; but we, – you and I, for instance, – what possible reason can we have for risking our bones, and getting our flesh mangled, save the hope of promotion? And to what end that same promotion, if not for a wider sphere of pleasure and enjoyment? Think what a career a colonel, at our age, would have in Paris!”
“Come, Tascher, I will not believe you in all this. If there were not something higher to reward one for the fatigues and dangers of a campaign than the mere sensual delights you allude to, I, for one, would soon doff the epaulettes.”
“You are impracticable,” said he, half angrily; “but it is as much from the isolation in which you have lived as any conviction on the subject. You must let me introduce you to some relatives of mine in Paris. They will be delighted to know you; for, as one of the compagnie d’élite, you might figure as a very respectable ‘lion’ for two, nay, three entire evenings. And you will have the entrée to the pleasantest house in Paris; they receive every evening, and all the best people resort there. I only exact one condition.”
“And that is – ”
“You must not make love to Pauline. That you will fall in love with her yourself is a fact I can’t help, – nor you either. But no advance on your part; promise me that.”
“In such case, Tascher, it were best for all parties I should not know the lady. I have no fancy, believe me, for being smitten whether I will or no.”
“I see, Master Burke, there is a bit of impertinence in all this. You sneer at my warnings about la belle cousine; now, I am determined you shall see her at least. Besides, you must do me a service with the countess I have had the bad luck to be for some time out of favor with my aunt Josephine, – some trumpery debts of mine they make a work about at the Tuileries. Well, perhaps you could persuade Madame de Lacostellerie to take up my cause; she has great influence with the Empress, and can make her do what she pleases. And, if I must confess it, it was this brought me over to your quarters tonight; and I ate your supper just to pass away time till you came back again. You ‘ll not refuse me?”
“Certainly not. But reflect for a moment, Tascher, and you will see that no man was ever less intended for a diplomate. It is only a few minutes since you laughed at my solitary habits and hermit propensities.”
“I’ve thought of all that, Burke, and am not a whit discouraged. On the contrary, you are the more likely to think of my affairs because you have none of your own; and I don’t know any one but yourself I should fancy to meet Pauline frequently and on terms of intimacy.”
“This, at least, is not a compliment,” said I, laughing.
He shrugged his shoulders, and threw up his eyebrows with a French expression, as though to say, it can’t be helped; and then continued: —
“And now remember, Burke, I count on you. Get me out of this confounded place; I ‘d rather be back at Toulon again, if need be. And as I shall not see you again before you leave, farewell. I ‘ll send the letter for the countess early to-morrow.”
We shook hands warmly and parted: he to return to his quarters; and I to sit down beside my fire, and muse over the events that had just occurred, and think of Tascher himself, whose character had never been so plainly exposed to me before.
If De Beauvais, with his hot-headed impetuosity, his mad devotion to the cause of the Legitimists, was a type of the followers of the Bourbons; so, in all the easy indifference and quiet selfishness of his nature, was Tascher a specimen of another class of his countrymen, – a class which, wrapped up in its own circle of egotistical enjoyments, believed Paris the only habitable spot of the whole globe. Without any striking traits of character, or any very decided vices, they led a life of pleasure and amusement, rendering every one and everything around them, so far as they were able, subservient to their own plane and wishes; and perfectly unconscious the while how glaring their selfishness had become, and how palpable, even to the least observant, was the self-indulgence they practised on every occasion. Without cleverness or tact enough to conceal their failings, they believed they imposed on others because they imposed on themselves, – just as the child deems himself unseen when he closes his eyes.
Josephine’s followers were, many of them, like this, and formed a striking contrast to the young men of the Napoleonite party, who, infatuated by the glorious successes of their chief, deemed the career of arms alone honorable. St. Cyr and the Polytechnique were the nurseries of these, – the principles instilled there were perpetuated in after life; and however exaggerated their ideas of France and her destiny, their undoubted heroism and devotion might well have palliated even heavier errors.
It was in ruminating thus over the different characters of the few I had ever known intimately, that I came to think seriously on my own condition, which, for many a day before, I had rather avoided than sought to reflect on. I felt, – as how many must have done! – that the bond of a common country, the inborn patriotism of the native of the soil, is the great resource on which men fall back when they devote themselves to the career of arms; that the alien’s position, disguise it how he will, is that of the mere mercenary. How can he identify himself with interests on which he is but half-informed, or feel attachment to a land wherein he has neither hearth nor home? In the very glory he wins he can scarce participate. In a word, his is a false position, which no events nor accidents of fortune can turn to good account, and he must rest satisfied with a life of isolation and estrangement.