Tom Burke Of "Ours" Volume Ii Part 62

"What! my old college friend and companion!" cried the colonel, as he stepped back in amazement. "Have I such good fortune as to see you in my regiment?"

"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 easily at college,--a colonel at last. But why are you not at the head of a regiment 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 to offer you, but such as it is, make it yours."

My old companion of the Polytechnique was, indeed, little altered by time,--careless, inconsiderate, and good-hearted as ever. He told me that 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 hold it much longer. The despatches just received tell that the Allies are concentrating at Trannes; and if so, we shall have a battle against overwhelming odds. No matter, Burke; you have got into a famous corps,--they fight splendidly, and my excellent uncle, his Majesty, loves to indulge their predilection."

I pa.s.sed the day with Tascher, chatting over our respective fortunes; and in discussing the past and the future the greater part of the night went 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, and gloomy. A cold wind drove the snowdrift in fitful gusts before it, and the deep roads made our progress slow and difficult. As our line of advance, however, was not that by which the other divisions were marching, it was already past noon before we knew that the enemy was but three leagues distant. On advancing farther, we heard the faint sounds of a cannonade; and then they grew louder and louder, till the whole air seemed tremulous with the concussion.

"A heavy fire, Colonel," said a veteran officer of the regiment. "I should guess there are not less than eighty or a hundred guns engaged."

"Press on, men! press on!" cried Tascher. "When his Majesty provides such music, it's scarcely polite to be late."

At a quick trot we came on, and about three o'clock debouched in the plain behind Oudinot's battalions of reserve, which were formed in two dense columns, about a hundred yards apart.

"Hussars to the front!" cried an aide-de-camp, as he galloped past, and waved his cap in the direction of the s.p.a.ce between the columns.

In separate squadrons we penetrated through the defile, and came out on an open plain behind the centre of the first line. The ground was sufficiently elevated here, so that I could overlook the front line; but all I could see was a dense, heavy smoke, which intervened between the two positions, in the midst of which, and directly in front, a village lay. Towards this, three columns of infantry were converging, and around the sounds of battle were raging. This was La Giberie: the hamlet formed the key of the French position, and had been twice carried by, and twice regained from, the Allies. As I looked, the supporting columns halted, wheeled, and retired; while a tremendous shower of grape was poured upon them from the village, which now seemed to have been retaken by the Allies.

"Cavalry to the front!" was now the order; and a force of six thousand sabres advanced from between the battalions, and formed for attack. It was Nansouty who led them, and his heavy cuira.s.siers 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 we went. The snow drifting straight against us, we could see nothing; nor was I conscious of any check to our course till the shaking of the vast column in front and then the opening of the squadrons denoted resistance, when suddenly a flash flared out, and a hurricane of cannon-shot tore through our dense files. Then I knew that we were attacking a battery of guns,--and not till then. Mad cheers and cries of wounded men burst forth upon the air, with the clashing din of sabres and small-arms; the ma.s.s of cavalry appeared to heave and throb like some great monster in its agony. The trumpet to retreat sounded, and we galloped 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 a.s.sembling a mighty force around the village; for now the cannonade opened with tenfold vigor in front, and fresh guns were called up to reply to the fire. Hitherto all was shrouded in the blue smoke of the artillery and the dense flakes of the snowdrift, when suddenly a storm of wind swept past, carrying with it both 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; and towards the third, La Bothiere, they were advancing quickly.

Ney's corps, ordered up to its defence, rushed boldly on, and the clattering musketry announced that they were engaged; while twelve guns were moved up in full gallop to their support, and opened their fire at once. Scarce had they done so, when a wild hurrah was heard; and like a whirlwind, a vast ma.s.s of cavalry,--the Cossacks of the Don and the Uhlans of the South, commingled and mixed,--bear down on the guns.

The struggle is for life or death; no quarter given. Ney recalls his columns, and the guns are lost.

"Who shall bring the Emperor the tidings?" said Tascher, as his voice trembled with excitement. "I'd rather storm the battery single-handed than do it."

"He has seen worse than that already to-day," said an aide-de-camp at our side. "He has seen Lahorie's squadrons of the Dragoons of the Guard cut to pieces by the Russian horse."

"The Guard! the Guard!" repeated Tascher, in accents where doubt and despair were blended.

"There goes another battalion to certain death!" muttered the aide-de-camp, as he pointed to a column of grenadiers emerging from the front line; "see,--I knew it well,--they are moving on La Bothiere. But here comes the Emperor."

Before I could detect the figure among the crowd, the staff tore rapidly past, followed by a long train of cavalry moving towards the left.

"His favorite stroke," said Tascher: "an infantry advance, and a flank movement with cavalry." And as the words escaped him, we saw the hors.e.m.e.n bearing down at top speed towards the village.

But now we could look no longer; our brigade was ordered to support the attack, and we advanced at a trot. The enemy saw the movement, and a great ma.s.s of cavalry were thrown out to meet it.

"Here they come!" was the cry repeated by three or four together, and the earth shook as the squadrons came down.

Our column dashed forward to meet them; when suddenly through the drift we beheld a ma.s.s of fugitives, scattered and broken, approaching: they were our own cavalry, routed in the attempt on the flank, now flying to the rear, broken and disordered.

Before we could cover their retreat, the enemy were upon us. The shock was dreadful, and for some minutes carried all before it; but then rallying, the brave hors.e.m.e.n of France closed up and faced the foe. How vain all the efforts of the redoubted warrior of the Dnieper and the Wolga against the stern soldier of Napoleon! Their sabres flashed like lightning glances, and as fatally bore down on all before them; and as the routed squadrons fell back, the wild cheers of "Vive l'Empereur!"

told that at least one great moment of success atoned for the misfortunes of the day.

"His Majesty saw your charge, Colonel," said a general officer to Tascher as he rode back at the head of a squadron. "So gallant a thing as that never goes unrewarded."

Tascher's cheek flushed as he bowed in acknowledgment of the praise; but I 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 made by Napoleon's favorite manoeuvre of cavalry, artillery, and infantry combined, each supporting and sustaining the other. Eighteen guns, with three thousand sabres, and two columns of infantry numbering four thousand each, were drawn up in readiness for the moment to move. Ney received orders to lead them, and now they issued forth into the plain.

Our own impatience at not being of the number was quickly merged in intense anxiety for the result. It was a gorgeous thing, indeed, to see that mighty ma.s.s unravelling itself,--the guns galloping madly to the front, supported on either flank by cavalry; while, masked behind, marched the black columns of infantry, their tall shakos nodding like the tree-tops of a forest. The snow was now falling fast, and the figures grew fainter and fainter, and all that remained within our view was the tail of the columns, which were only disengaging themselves from the lines.

A deafening cannonade opened from the Allied artillery on the advance, unreplied to by our guns, which were ordered not to fire until within half range of the enemy. Suddenly a figure is seen emerging from the heavy snowdrift at the full speed of his horse; another, and another, follow him in quick succession. They make for the position of the Emperor. "What can it be?" cries each, in horrible suspense; "see, the columns have halted!"

Dreadful tidings! The guns are embedded in the soft ground,--the horses cannot stir them; one-half of the distance is scarcely won, and there they are beneath the withering cannonade of the Allied guns, powerless and immovable! Cavalry are dismounted, and the horses harnessed to the teams: all in vain! the wheels sink deeper in the miry earth. And now the enemy have found out the range, and their shot are sweeping through the dense ma.s.s with frightful slaughter. Again the aides-de-camp hasten to the rear for orders. But Ney can wait no longer; he launches his cavalry at the foe, and orders up the infantry to follow.

Meanwhile a great cloud of cavalry issues from the Allied lines, and directs its course towards the flank of the column: the Emperor sees the danger, and despatches one of his staff to prepare them to receive cavalry. Too late! too late!--the snowdrift has concealed the advance, and the wild hors.e.m.e.n of the desert ride down on the brave ranks.

Disorder and confusion ensue; the column breaks and scatters. The lancers pursue the fugitives through the plain; and before the very eyes of the Emperor, the Guard--his Guard--are sabred and routed.

"What is to become of our cavalry?" is now the cry, for they have advanced 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 an officer: "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, and mount the slope beyond it. The drift clears, and what a spectacle is before us! The cavalry are dismounted; their horses, dead or dying, c.u.mber the ground; the men, sabre in hand, have attacked the village by a.s.sault. 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 a farmyard admits our leading squadron, and in an instant we have taken them in flank and rear.

The Russians will neither retreat nor surrender, and the carnage is awful; for though overpowered by numbers, they still continue the slaughter, and deal death while dying. The chief farmhouse of the village has been carried by our troops, but the enemy still holds the garden: the low hedge offers a slight obstacle, and over it we dash, and down upon them ride the gallant Tenth with cheers of victory.

At this instant the crashing sound of cannon-shot among masonry is heard. It is the Allied artillery, which, regardless of their own troops, has opened on the village. Every discharge tells; the range is at quarter distance, and whole files fall at every fire. The trumpet sounds a retreat; and I am endeavoring to collect my scattered followers, when my eye falls on the aigulet of a general officer among the heap of dead; and at the same time I perceive that some old and gallant officer has fallen sword in hand, for his long white hair is strewn loosely across his face.

I spring down from my horse and push back the snowy locks, and with a shriek of horror I recognize the friend of my heart,--General d'Auvergne. I lift him in my arms, and search for the wound. Alas! a grapeshot had torn through his chest, and cut asunder that n.o.ble heart whose 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 last energy 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 pale crescent of a new moon I dug a grave beneath the ruined wall of the farmhouse. The labor was long and tedious; but my breaking heart took no note of time. My task completed, I sat down beside the grave, and taking his now cold hand in mine, pressed it to my lips. Oh, could I have shared that narrow bed of clay, what rapture would it have brought to my sorrowing soul! I lifted the body and laid it gently in the earth; and as 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 his neck. I detached it from its place, and put it in my bosom. One lock of the snowy hair I severed from his n.o.ble head, and then covered up the grave. "Adieu forever!" I muttered, as I wandered from the spot.

It was the death of a true D'Auvergne,--"on the field of battle!"

CHAPTER x.x.xIX. THE BRIDGE OF MONTEREAU

Ere I left the village, a shower of sh.e.l.ls was thrown into it from the French lines, and in a few minutes the whole blazed up in a red flame, and threw a wide glare over the battlefield. Spurring my horse to his speed, I galloped onward, and now discovered that our troops were retiring in all haste. The Allies had won the battle, and we were falling back on Brienne.

Leaving seventy-three guns in the hands of the enemy, above one thousand prisoners, and six thousand killed in battle, Napoleon drew off his shattered forces, and marched through the long darkness of a winter's night. Thus ended the battle of Arcis-sur-Aube,--the most fatal for the hopes of the Emperor since the dreadful day of Leipzic.

From that hour Fortune seemed to frown on those whose arms she had so often crowned with victory; and he himself, the mighty leader of so many conquering hosts, stood at the window of the chateau at Brienne the whole night long, dreading lest the enemy should be on his track.

He whose battles were wont to be the ovations of a conqueror, now beheld with joy his ma.s.ses retiring unpursued.

Why should I dwell on a career of disaster, or linger on the expiring moments of a mighty Empire? Of what avail now are the reinforcements which arrived to our aid,--the veteran legions of the Peninsula? The cry is ever, "Too late! too late!" Dreadful words, heard at every moment!

sad omens of an army devoted and despairing!