Tom Burke Of "Ours", Volume II. Lever Charles James
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