CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE LAST CAMPAIGN
The snow, half melted with the heavy rains, lay still deeply on theroads, and a dark, lowering sky stretched above, as I harried onwards,with all the speed I could, towards the east of France.
Already the Allies had passed the Rhine. Schwartzen-berg in the south,Blucher in the east, and Bernadotte on the Flemish frontier, wereconveying their vast armies to bear down on him whom singly none haddared to encounter. All France was in arms, and every step was turnedeastwards. Immense troops of conscripts, many scarce of the age ofboyhood, crowded the highways. The veterans themselves were enrolledonce more, and formed battalions for the defence of their nativeland. Every town and village was a garrison. The deep-toned rollingof ammunition wagons and the heavy tramp of horses sounded throughthe nights long. War, terrible war, spoke from every object around.Strongholds were strengthening, regiments brigading, cavalry organizingon all sides.
No longer, however, did I witness the wild enthusiasm which I sowell remembered among the soldiers of the army. Here were no gloriousoutbreaks of that daring spirit which so marked the Frenchman, and madehim almost irresistible in arms. A sad and gloomy silence prevailed:a look of fierce but hopeless determination was over all. They marchedlike men going to death, but with the step and bearing of heroes.
I entered the little town of Verviers. The day was breaking, but thetroops were under arms. The Emperor had but just taken his departurefor Chalons-sur-Marne. They told me of it as I changed horses,--notwith that fierce pride which a mere passing glance at the great Napoleonwould once have evoked; they spoke of him without emotion. I asked if hewere paler or thinner than his wont: they did not know. They said thathe travelled post, but that his staff were on horseback. From this Igathered that he was either ill, or in that frame of mind in which hepreferred to be alone. While I was yet speaking, an officer of Engineerscame up to the carriage, and called out,--
"Unharness these horses, and bring them down to the barracks. These,sir," said he, turning towards me, "are not times to admit of ceremony.We have eighteen guns to move, and want cattle."
"Enough, sir," said I. "I am not here to retard your movements, but ifI can, to forward them. Can I, as a volunteer, be of any service at thismoment?"
"Have you served before? Of course you have, though. In what arm?"
"As a Hussar of the Guard, for some years."
"Come along with me; I 'll bring you to the general at once."
Re-entering the inn, the officer preceded me up stairs, and after amoment's delay, introduced me into the presence of General Letort, thencommanding a cavalry brigade.
"I have heard your request, sir. Where is your commission? Have you gotit with you?"
I handed it to him in silence. He examined it rapidly; and then turningthe reverse, read the few lines inscribed by the minister of war.
"I could have given you a post this day, sir, this very hour," saidhe, "but for a blunder of our commissariat people. There's a troop herewaiting for a re-mount, but the order has not come down from Paris; andour officials here will not advance the money till it arrives, as ifthese were times for such punctilio. They are to form part of GeneralKellermann's force, which is sadly deficient. Remain here, however, andperhaps by to-morrow--"
"How much may the sum be, sir?" asked I, interrupting.
The general almost started with surprise at the abruptness of myquestion, and in a tone of half reproof answered,--
"The amount required is beside the matter, sir; unless," added he,sarcastically, "you are disposed to advance it yourself."
"Such was the object of my question," said I, calmly, and determiningnot to notice the manner he had assumed.
"_Parbleu!_" exclaimed he, "that is very different. Twenty thousandfrancs, however, is a considerable sum."
"I have as much, and something more, if need be, in my carriage,--ifEnglish gold be no objection."
"No, _pardie!_ that it is not," cried he, laughing; "I only wish we sawmore of it. Are you serious in all this?"
The best reply to his question was to hasten down stairs and return withtwo small canvas bags in my hands.
"Here are one thousand guineas," said I, laying them on the table.
While one of the general's aides-de-camp was counting and examining thegold, I repeated at his request the circumstances which brought me onceagain to France to serve under the banner of the Emperor.
"And your name, sir," said he, as he seated himself to write, "is ThomasBurke, ci-devant captain of the Eighth Hussars of the Guard. Well, I canpromise you the restoration of your old grade. Meanwhile, you musttake command of these fellows. They are mere partisan troops, hurriedlyraised, and ill organized; but I'll give you a letter to GeneralDamremont at Chalons, and he 'll attend to you."
"It is not a position for myself I seek, General," said I. "Wherever Ican best serve the Emperor, there only I desire to be."
"I have ventured to leave that point to General Damremont," said he,smiling. "Your motives do not require much explanation. Let us tobreakfast now, and by noon we shall have everything in readiness foryour departure."
Thus rapidly, and as it were by the merest accident, was I again becomea soldier of the Emperor; and that same day was once more at the head ofa squadron, on my way to Chalons. My troop were, indeed, very unlikethe splendid array of my old Hussars of the Guard. They were hurriedlyraised, and not over well equipped, but still they were stout-looking,hardy peasants, who, whatever deficiency of drill they might display, Iknew well would exhibit no lack of courage before an enemy.
On reaching Chalons, I found that General Damremont had left with thestaff for Vitry only a few hours before; and so I reported myself to theofficer commanding the town, and was ordered by him to join the cavalrybrigade then advancing on Vitry.
Had I time at this moment, I could not help devoting some minutes toan account of that strange and motley mass which then were brigadedas Imperial cavalry. Dragoons of every class, heavy andlight-armed,--grenadiers a cheval and hussars, cuirassiers, carbineers,and lancers,--were all, pell-mell, mixed up confusedly together, andhurried onwards; some to join their respective corps if they could findthem, but all prepared to serve wherever their sabres might becalled for. It was confusion to the last degree; but a tumult withoutenthusiasm or impulse. The superior officers, who were well acquaintedwith the state of events, made no secret of their gloomy forebodings;the juniors lacked energy in a cause where they saw no field foradvancement; and the soldiers, always prepared to imbibe their feelingsfrom their officers, seemed alike sad and dispirited.
What a change was this from the wild and joyous spirit which onceanimated every grade and class,--from the generous enthusiasm thatonce warmed each bold heart, and made every soldier a hero! Alas! theterrible consequences of long defeat were on all. The tide of battlethat rolled disastrously from the ruined walls of the Kremlin stillswept along towards the great Palace of the Tuileries. Germany hadwitnessed the destruction of two mighty armies; the third and last wasnow awaiting the eventful struggle on the very soil of their country.The tide of fugitives, which preceded the retiring columns of Victor andNey, met the advancing bodies of the conscripts, and spread dismay andconsternation as they went.
The dejection was but the shadow of the last approaching disaster.
On the night of the 27th January, the cavalry brigade with which I wasreceived orders to march by the Forest of Bar on Brienne, where Bluecherwas stationed in no expectation of being attacked. The movement,notwithstanding the heavy roads, was made with great rapidity; and bynoon on the following day we came up with the main body of the army infull march against the enemy.
Then once more did I recognize the old spirit of the army. Joyoussongs and gay cheers were heard from the different corps we passed.The announcement of a speedy meeting with the Prussians had infused newvigor among the troops. We were emerging from the deep shade of the woodinto a valley, where a light infantry regiment were bivouacked. Theirfires were formed in a wide cir
cle, and the cooking went merrily on,amid the pleasant song and jocund cries.
Our own brief halt was just concluded, when the bugles sounded to resumethe march; and I stood for a moment admiring the merry gambols ofthe infantry, when an air I well remembered was chanted forth in fullchorus. But my memory was not left long in doubt as to where and howthese sounds were first heard. The wild uproar at once recalled both, asthey sang out,--
"Hurrah for the Faubourg of St. Antoine!"
No sooner did I hear the words, than I spurred my horse forward and rodedown towards them.
"What regiment's yours, Comrade?" said I, to a fellow hurrying to theranks.
"The Fifth, mon officier," said he, "Voltigeurs of the Line."
"Have you a certain Francois, a maitre d'armes, still among you?"
"Yes, that we have. There he is yonder, beating time to the roulade."
I looked in the direction he pointed, and there stood my old friend. Hewas advanced in front of a company, and with the air of a tambour-majorhe seemed as if he was giving time to the melody.
"Ah, _sacre_ conscripts that ye are!" cried he, as with his fistclenched he gesticulated fiercely towards them; "can't ye keep themeasure? Once, now, and all together:--
"'Picardy first, and then--."
"Halloo, Maitre Francois! can you remember an old friend?"
The little man turned suddenly, and bringing his hand to the salute,remained stiff and erect, as if on parade.
"Connais pas, mon capitaine," was his answer, after a considerablepause.
"What! not know me!--me, whom you made one of your own gallant company,calling me 'Burke of Ours'?"
"Ah, _par la barbe de Saint Pierre!_ is this my dear comrade of theEighth? Why, where have you been? They said you left us forever andaye."
"I tried it, Francois; but it wouldn't do."
"Mille bombes!" said he; "but you 're back in pleasant times,--to seethe Cossacks learning to drink champagne, and leave us to pay the score.Come along, however; take your old place here. You are free to choosenow, and needn't be a dragoon any longer; not but that your old generalwill be glad to see you again."
"General d'Auvergne! Where is he now?"
"With the light cavalry brigade, in front; I saw him pass here two hourssince."
"And how looks he, Francois?"
"A little stooped, or so, more than you knew him; but his seat in thesaddle seems just as firm. _Ventrebleu!_ if he 'd been a voltigeur, he'd be a good man these ten years to come."
Delighted to learn that I was so near my dearest and oldest friendin the world, I shook Francois's hand, and parted; but not without apledge, that whenever I joined the infantry, the Fifth Voltigeurs of theLine were to have the preference.
As we advanced towards Brienne the distant thunder of large guns washeard; which gradually grew louder and more sustained, and betokenedthat the battle had already begun. The roads, blocked up with densemasses of infantry and long trains of wagons, prevented our rapidadvance; and when we tried the fields at either side, the soil, cut upwith recent rains, made us sink to the very girths of our horses. Still,order after order came for the troops to press forward, and every effortwas made to obey the command.
It was five o'clock as we debouched into the plain, and beheld thefields whereon the battle had been contested; for already the enemy wereretiring, and the French troops in eager pursuit. Behind, however, laythe town of Brienne, still held by the Russians, but now littlebetter than a heap of smoking ruins, the tremendous fire of the Frenchartillery having reduced the place to ashes. Conspicuous above all rosethe dismantled walls of the ancient military college; the school whereNapoleon had learned his first lesson in war, where first he essayedto point those guns which now with such fearful havoc he turned againstitself. What a strange, sad Subject of contemplation for him who nowgazed on it! On either side, the fire of the artillery continued tillnightfall; but the Russians still held the town. A few straggling shotsclosed the combat; and darkness now spread over the wide plain, savewhere the watchfires marked out the position of the French troops.
A sudden flash of lurid flame, however, threw its gleam over the town,and a wild cheer was heard rising above the clatter of musketry. Itwas a surprise party of grenadiers, who had forced their way into thegrounds of the old chateau, where Bluecher held his headquarters. Louderand louder grew the firing, and a red glare in the dark sky told howthe battle was raging. Up that steep street, at the top of which thevenerable chateau stood, poured the infantry columns in a run. Thestruggle was short. The dull sound of the Russian drum soon proclaimeda retreat; and a rocket darting through the black sky announced to theEmperor that the position had been won.
The next day the Emperor fixed his headquarters at the chateau, anda battalion of the guard bivouacked in the park around it. I had sentforward the letter to General Damremont, and was wondering when andin what terms the reply might come, when the general himself rode up,accompanied by a single aide-de-camp.
"I have had the opportunity, sir, to speak of your conduct in the properquarter," said he, courteously; "and the result is, your appointment asmajor of the Tenth Hussars, or, if you prefer it, the staff."
"Wherever, sir, my humble services can best be employed. I have no otherwish."
"Then take the regimental rank," said he; "your brigade will see enoughof hot work ere long. And now push forward to Mezieres, where you'llfind your regiment. They have received orders to march to-morrow,early."
I was not sorry to be relieved from the command of my irregular horse,who went by the title of "brigands" in the army generally; though, ifthe truth were to be told, the reproach on the score of honesty came illfrom those who conferred it. Still, it was a more gratifying position tohold a rank in a regiment of regular cavalry, and one whose reputationwas second to none in the service.
"I wish to present myself to the colonel in command, sir," said I,addressing an officer, who with two or three others stood chatting atthe door of a cottage.
"You 'll find him here, sir," said he, pointing to the hut. But, as hespoke, the clank of a sabre was heard, and at the same instant a tall,soldierlike figure stooped beneath the low doorway, and came forth.
"The colonel of the Tenth, I presume?" said I, handing the despatch fromGeneral Damremont.
"What! my old college friend and companion!" cried the colonel, as hestepped back in amazement. "Have I such good fortune as to see you in myregiment?"
"Can it be really so?" said I, in equal astonishment. "Are you Tascher?"
"Yes, my dear friend; the same Tascher you used to disarm so easilyat college,--a colonel at last. But why are you not at the head of aregiment long since? Oh! I forgot, though," said he, in some confusion;"I heard all about it. But come in here; I've no better quarters tooffer you, but such as it is, make it yours."
My old companion of the Polytechnique was, indeed, little altered bytime,--careless, inconsiderate, and good-hearted as ever. He told methat he had only gained the command of the regiment a few weeks before;"and," added he, "if matters mend not soon, I am scarcely like to holdit much longer. The despatches just received tell that the Allies areconcentrating at Trannes; and if so, we shall have a battle againstoverwhelming odds. No matter, Burke; you have got into a famouscorps,--they fight splendidly, and my excellent uncle, his Majesty,loves to indulge their predilection."
I passed the day with Tascher, chatting over our respective fortunes;and in discussing the past and the future the greater part of the nightwent over. Before dawn, however, we were on the march towards Chaumiere,whither the army was directed, and the Emperor himself then stationed.
It was the 1st of February, and the weather was dark, lowering, andgloomy. A cold wind drove the snowdrift in fitful gusts before it, andthe deep roads made our progress slow and difficult. As our lineof advance, however, was not that by which the other divisions weremarching, it was already past noon before we knew that the enemy was butthree leagues distant. On advancing farther, we heard the faint soundsof
a cannonade; and then they grew louder and louder, till the whole airseemed tremulous with the concussion.
"A heavy fire, Colonel," said a veteran officer of the regiment. "Ishould guess there are not less than eighty or a hundred guns engaged."
"Press on, men! press on!" cried Tascher. "When his Majesty providessuch music, it's scarcely polite to be late."
At a quick trot we came on, and about three o'clock debouched in theplain behind Oudinot's battalions of reserve, which were formed in twodense columns, about a hundred yards apart.
"Hussars to the front!" cried an aide-de-camp, as he galloped past, andwaved his cap in the direction of the space between the columns.
In separate squadrons we penetrated through the defile, and came outon an open plain behind the centre of the first line. The ground wassufficiently elevated here, so that I could overlook the front line; butall I could see was a dense, heavy smoke, which intervened between thetwo positions, in the midst of which, and directly in front, a villagelay. Towards this, three columns of infantry were converging, and aroundthe sounds of battle were raging. This was La Giberie: the hamlet formedthe key of the French position, and had been twice carried by, and twiceregained from, the Allies. As I looked, the supporting columns halted,wheeled, and retired; while a tremendous shower of grape was pouredupon them from the village, which now seemed to have been retaken by theAllies.
"Cavalry to the front!" was now the order; and a force of six thousandsabres advanced from between the battalions, and formed for attack. Itwas Nansouty who led them, and his heavy cuirassiers were in the van;and then came the grenadiers a cheval; ours was the third, in column.As each regiment debouched, the word "Charge!" rang out, and forward wewent. The snow drifting straight against us, we could see nothing; norwas I conscious of any check to our course till the shaking of thevast column in front and then the opening of the squadrons denotedresistance, when suddenly a flash flared out, and a hurricane ofcannon-shot tore through our dense files. Then I knew that we wereattacking a battery of guns,--and not till then. Mad cheers and criesof wounded men burst forth upon the air, with the clashing din of sabresand small-arms; the mass of cavalry appeared to heave and throb likesome great monster in its agony. The trumpet to retreat sounded, and wegalloped back to our lines, leaving above five hundred dead behind us,on a field where I had not yet seen the enemy.
Meanwhile the Russians were assembling a mighty force around thevillage; for now the cannonade opened with tenfold vigor in front,and fresh guns were called up to reply to the fire. Hitherto all wasshrouded in the blue smoke of the artillery and the dense flakes of thesnowdrift, when suddenly a storm of wind swept past, carrying with itboth sleet and smoke; and now, within less than five hundred yards,we beheld the Allied armies in front of us. Two of the three villages,which formed our advanced position, already had been carried; andtowards the third, La Bothiere, they were advancing quickly.
Ney's corps, ordered up to its defence, rushed boldly on, and theclattering musketry announced that they were engaged; while twelve gunswere moved up in full gallop to their support, and opened their fire atonce. Scarce had they done so, when a wild hurrah was heard; and likea whirlwind, a vast mass of cavalry,--the Cossacks of the Don and theUhlans of the South, commingled and mixed,--bear down on the guns.The struggle is for life or death; no quarter given. Ney recalls hiscolumns, and the guns are lost.
"Who shall bring the Emperor the tidings?" said Tascher, as his voicetrembled with excitement. "I'd rather storm the battery single-handedthan do it."
"He has seen worse than that already to-day," said an aide-de-camp atour side. "He has seen Lahorie's squadrons of the Dragoons of the Guardcut to pieces by the Russian horse."
"The Guard! the Guard!" repeated Tascher, in accents where doubt anddespair were blended.
"There goes another battalion to certain death!" muttered theaide-de-camp, as he pointed to a column of grenadiers emerging from thefront line; "see,--I knew it well,--they are moving on La Bothiere. Buthere comes the Emperor."
Before I could detect the figure among the crowd, the staff tore rapidlypast, followed by a long train of cavalry moving towards the left.
"His favorite stroke," said Tascher: "an infantry advance, and aflank movement with cavalry." And as the words escaped him, we saw thehorsemen bearing down at top speed towards the village.
But now we could look no longer; our brigade was ordered to support theattack, and we advanced at a trot. The enemy saw the movement, and agreat mass of cavalry were thrown out to meet it.
"Here they come!" was the cry repeated by three or four together, andthe earth shook as the squadrons came down.
Our column dashed forward to meet them; when suddenly through the driftwe beheld a mass of fugitives, scattered and broken, approaching: theywere our own cavalry, routed in the attempt on the flank, now flying tothe rear, broken and disordered.
Before we could cover their retreat, the enemy were upon us. The shockwas dreadful, and for some minutes carried all before it; but thenrallying, the brave horsemen of France closed up and faced the foe. Howvain all the efforts of the redoubted warrior of the Dnieper and theWolga against the stern soldier of Napoleon! Their sabres flashed likelightning glances, and as fatally bore down on all before them; and asthe routed squadrons fell back, the wild cheers of "Vive l'Empereur!"told that at least one great moment of success atoned for themisfortunes of the day.
"His Majesty saw your charge, Colonel," said a general officer toTascher as he rode back at the head of a squadron. "So gallant a thingas that never goes unrewarded."
Tascher's cheek flushed as he bowed in acknowledgment of the praise; butI heard him mutter to himself the same instant, "Too late! too late!"Fatal words they were,--the presage of the mishap they threatened!
A great attack on La Rothiere was now preparing. It was to be madeby Napoleon's favorite manoeuvre of cavalry, artillery, and infantrycombined, each supporting and sustaining the other. Eighteen guns,with three thousand sabres, and two columns of infantry numbering fourthousand each, were drawn up in readiness for the moment to move. Neyreceived orders to lead them, and now they issued forth into the plain.
Our own impatience at not being of the number was quickly merged inintense anxiety for the result. It was a gorgeous thing, indeed, to seethat mighty mass unravelling itself,--the guns galloping madly to thefront, supported on either flank by cavalry; while, masked behind,marched the black columns of infantry, their tall shakos nodding likethe tree-tops of a forest. The snow was now falling fast, and thefigures grew fainter and fainter, and all that remained within our viewwas the tail of the columns, which were only disengaging themselves fromthe lines.
A deafening cannonade opened from the Allied artillery on the advance,unreplied to by our guns, which were ordered not to fire until withinhalf range of the enemy. Suddenly a figure is seen emerging from theheavy snowdrift at the full speed of his horse; another, and another,follow him in quick succession. They make for the position of theEmperor. "What can it be?" cries each, in horrible suspense; "see, thecolumns have halted!"
Dreadful tidings! The guns are embedded in the soft ground,--the horsescannot stir them; one-half of the distance is scarcely won, and therethey are beneath the withering cannonade of the Allied guns, powerlessand immovable! Cavalry are dismounted, and the horses harnessed to theteams: all in vain! the wheels sink deeper in the miry earth. And nowthe enemy have found out the range, and their shot are sweeping throughthe dense mass with frightful slaughter. Again the aides-de-camp hastento the rear for orders. But Ney can wait no longer; he launches hiscavalry at the foe, and orders up the infantry to follow.
Meanwhile a great cloud of cavalry issues from the Allied lines, anddirects its course towards the flank of the column: the Emperor seesthe danger, and despatches one of his staff to prepare them to receivecavalry. Too late! too late!--the snowdrift has concealed the advance,and the wild horsemen of the desert ride down on the brave ranks.Disorder and confusion ensue; the column breaks
and scatters. Thelancers pursue the fugitives through the plain; and before the very eyesof the Emperor, the Guard--his Guard--are sabred and routed.
"What is to become of our cavalry?" is now the cry, for they haveadvanced unsupported against the village. Dreadful moment of suspense!None can see them; the guns lie deserted, alike by friend and foe.Who dares approach them now? "They are cheering yonder," exclaimed anofficer: "I hear them again."
"Hussars, to the front!" calls out Damremont,--"to your comrades'rescue! Men, yonder!" and he points in the direction of the village.
Like an eagle on the swoop, the swift squadrons skim the plain, andmount the slope beyond it. The drift clears, and what a spectacle isbefore us! The cavalry are dismounted; their horses, dead or dying,cumber the ground; the men, sabre in hand, have attacked the village byassault. Two of the enemy's guns are taken and turned against them,and the walls are won in many places. An opening in the enclosure of afarmyard admits our leading squadron, and in an instant we have takenthem in flank and rear.
The Russians will neither retreat nor surrender, and the carnage isawful; for though overpowered by numbers, they still continue theslaughter, and deal death while dying. The chief farmhouse of thevillage has been carried by our troops, but the enemy still holds thegarden: the low hedge offers a slight obstacle, and over it we dash, anddown upon them ride the gallant Tenth with cheers of victory.
At this instant the crashing sound of cannon-shot among masonry isheard. It is the Allied artillery, which, regardless of their owntroops, has opened on the village. Every discharge tells; the range isat quarter distance, and whole files fall at every fire. The trumpetsounds a retreat; and I am endeavoring to collect my scatteredfollowers, when my eye falls on the aigulet of a general officer amongthe heap of dead; and at the same time I perceive that some old andgallant officer has fallen sword in hand, for his long white hair isstrewn loosely across his face.
I spring down from my horse and push back the snowy locks, and witha shriek of horror I recognize the friend of my heart,--Generald'Auvergne. I lift him in my arms, and search for the wound. Alas! agrapeshot had torn through his chest, and cut asunder that noble heartwhose every beat was honor. Though still warm, no ray of life remained:the hand I had so often grasped in friendship, I wrung now in the lastenergy of despair, and fell upon the corpse in the agony of my grief.
The night was falling fast. All was still around me; none remained near;the village was deserted. The deafening din of the cannonade continued,and at times some straggling shot crashed through the crumbling walls,and brought them thundering to the earth; but all had fled. By the palecrescent of a new moon I dug a grave beneath the ruined wall of thefarmhouse. The labor was long and tedious; but my breaking heart took nonote of time. My task completed, I sat down beside the grave, and takinghis now cold hand in mine, pressed it to my lips. Oh, could I haveshared that narrow bed of clay, what rapture would it have brought to mysorrowing soul! I lifted the body and laid it gently in the earth; andas I arose, I found that something had entangled itself in my uniform,and held me. It seemed a locket, which he wore by a ribbon round hisneck. I detached it from its place, and put it in my bosom. One lock ofthe snowy hair I severed from his noble head, and then covered up thegrave. "Adieu forever!" I muttered, as I wandered from the spot.
It was the death of a true D'Auvergne,--"on the field of battle!"
Tom Burke Of Ours, Volume II Page 38
