Charles Lever - Tom Burke Of Ours, Volume II

“It is exactly what I mean to do, François.”

“Come, sirs, none of this,” broke in the major. “Lieutenant Tascher, you may not fancy being placed under an arrest when the enemy is in the field. Master Francois, do you forget the sentence of a court-martial is hanging over your head for an affair at Elchingen, where you insulted a young officer of the hussars?”

“In that case I must be permitted to say that Maître François conducted himself like a man of honor,” said I.

“ Parbleu! and got the worst of it besides,” cried he, placing his hand on his hip. The tone of his voice as he said this, and the grimace he made, restored the party once more to good-humor, and we chatted away pleasantly till day was breaking.

As Tascher strolled along with me towards my quarters, I was rejoiced to discover that he had never heard of my name as being mixed up in the Chouan conspiracy; nor was he aware with how little reason he believed me to be favored by fortune.

I received, however, all his congratulations without any desire to undeceive him. Already had I learned the worldly lesson, that while friends cling closer in adversity, your mere acquaintance deems your popularity your greatest merit; and I at length perceived that, however ungenial in many respects the companionship, the life of isolation I led had rendered me suspected by others, and in a career, too, where frankness was considered the first of virtues.

I assented at once with pleasure to the prospect of our meeting frequently while in camp. My own regiment had joined Davoust’s corps, and I was glad to have the society of some others of my own age, if only to wean myself from my habits of solitude. While I formed these plans for the future, I little anticipated what events were in store for me, nor how soon I should be thrown among scenes and people totally different from those with which I had ever mixed before.

“You mess with us, then, Burke, – that’s agreed,” said Tascher. “They ‘re excellent fellows, these cuirassiers of ours, and I know you ‘ll like them.”

With this promise we parted, hoping to meet on the morrow.

At an early hour on the morning of the 4th came orders for the “Garde à Cheval” to hold themselves in readiness, with two squadrons of the carabineers, on the road to Holitsch; part of this force being under the command of General d’Auvergne. We found ourselves fully equipped and in waiting soon after eight o’clock. From the “tenue” and appearance of the troops, it was evident that no measure of active service was contemplated; yet, if a review were intended, we could not guess why so small a force had been selected. As usual on such occasions, many conjectures were hazarded, and a hundred explanations passed current, – one scarcely a whit better than the other, when at last we perceived a peloton of dragoons advancing towards us at a brisk trot.

The word was passed to close up and draw swords; and scarcely was it obeyed when the staff of the Emperor came up. They were all in the full blaze of their gala uniforms, brilliant with crosses and decorations. Napoleon alone wore the simple costume of the “Chasseurs of the Garde,” with the decoration of the Legion; but his proud look and his flashing eye made him conspicuous above them all. He was mounted on his favorite charger “Marengo,” and seemed to enjoy the high spirit of the mettled animal, as he tossed his long mane about, and lashed his sides with his great silken tail.

As the cortége passed we closed up the rear, and followed at a sharp pace, more than ever puzzled to divine what was going forward. After about two hours’ riding, during which we never drew bridle, we saw a party of staff-officers in front, who, saluting the Emperor, joined the cortége. At the same instant General d’Auvergne passed close beside me, and whispered in my ear. “Bernadotte has just come up, and been most coldly received.” I wished to ask him what was the object of the whole movement, but he was gone before I could do so. In less than a quarter of an hour afterwards we left the highroad, and entered upon a large plain, where the only object I could perceive was an old mill, ruined and dilapidated. Towards this the imperial staff rode forward, while the peloton in front wheeled about, and rode to the rear of our squadrons. The next moment we were halted, and drawn up in order of battle.

While these movements were going forward, I remarked that the Emperor had dismounted from his horse and dismissed his staff, all save Marshal Berthier, who stood at a little distance from him. Several dismounted dragoons were employed in lighting two immense fires, – a process which Napoleon appeared to watch with great interest for a second or two; and then, taking out his glass, he remained for several minutes intently surveying the great road to Holitsch.

In this direction at once every eye was turned; but nothing could we see. The road led through a wide open country for some miles, and at last disappeared in the recesses of a dark pine wood, that covered the horizon for miles on either side. Meanwhile Napoleon, with his hands clasped behind his back, walked hurriedly backwards and forwards beside the blazing fires, stopping at intervals to look along the road, and then resuming his walk as before. He was not more than two hundred paces from where we stood, and I could mark well his gesture of impatience, as he closed his glass each time, after looking in vain towards Holitsch.

“I say, Burke,” whispered one of my brother officers beside me, “I should not fancy being the man who keeps him waiting in that fashion. Look at Berthier, how he keeps aloof; he knows that something is brewing.”

“What can it all mean?” said I. “Who can he be expecting here?”

“They say now,” whispered my companion, “that Davoust cannot hold the bridge of Goding, and must fall back before the Russian column; and that Napoleon has invited Alexander to a conference here to gain time to reinforce Davoust.”

“Exactly; but the Czar is too wily an enemy for that to succeed; and probably hence the delay, which appears to irritate him now.”

The supposition, more plausible than most of those I heard before, was still contradicted by the account of the Emperor Alexander’s retreat; and again was I at a loss to reconcile these discrepancies, when I beheld Napoleon, with his glass to his eye, motion with his hand for Berthier to come forward. I turned towards the road, and now could distinguish in the distance a dark object moving towards us. A few minutes after the sun shone out, and I remarked the glitter of arms, stretching in a long line; while my companion, with the aid of a glass, called out, —

“I see them plainly; they are lancers. The escort are Hungarians, and there’s a calèche , with four horses in front.”

The Emperor stood motionless, his arms folded on his breast, and his head a little leaned forward, exactly as I have seen him represented in so many pictures and statues. His eyes were thrown downwards; and as he stirred the blazing wood with his foot, one could easily perceive how intensely his mind was occupied with deep thought.

The clattering sound of cavalry now turned my attention to another quarter; and I saw, exactly in front of us, and about five hundred paces off, a regiment of Hungarian Hussars, and some squadrons of Hulans drawn up. I had little time to mark their gorgeous equipment and splendid uniform, for already the calèche had drawn up at the roadside, and Prince John of Lichtenstein, descending, took off his chapeau, and offered his arm to assist another to alight. Slowly, and, as it seemed, with effort, a tall thin figure, in the white uniform of the Austrian Guard, stepped from the carriage to the ground. The same instant the officers of the staff fell back, and I saw Napoleon advance with open arms to embrace him. The Austrian emperor – for it was Francis himself – seemed scarcely able to control the emotion he felt at this moment; and we could see that his head rested for several seconds on Napoleon’s shoulder. And what a moment must that have been! How deeply must the pride of the descendant of the Cæsars have felt the humiliation which made him thus a suppliant before one he deemed a mere Corsican adventurer! What a pang it must have cost his haughty spirit as he uttered the words, Mon frère!