Read Ebook: La Folle Journée ou le Mariage de Figaro by Beaumarchais Pierre Augustin Caron De

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Ebook has 340 lines and 15920 words, and 7 pages

I am the last of the old line, and there is a conviction in my heart that the prophecy of the Rhymer is about to be fulfilled."

But for the well-known bravery, worth, and high spirit of the young subaltern, and the hereditary valour of the house he represented, we might have laughed at his strong faith in such an extremely old prediction--a faith in which, doubtless, his mother, his nurse, and many an old retainer had reared him; but as it was, we heard him in silence, till after a time, when Douglas endeavoured to reason with him on the folly of surrendering himself to such gloomy impressions, but in vain. His mind was sternly made up that he would fall on the morrow, and that he would die with honour to the attainted house he represented among us--the old lords of Inverugie and Dunotter, the earls marischal of Scotland.

While I was thinking of this--as we deemed it, fantastic idea--a hand was laid on my shoulder. I looked up and saw Major Shirley, who requested me to accompany him a little way apart. I could perceive by the light of the moon on one hand, and that of our watchfire on the other, that he was remarkably pale and somewhat agitated.

"Gauntlet," said he, with a smile, but with a very sickly one, "I have here a letter for you."

"From whom?"

"Your cousin; a letter which I quite forgot to deliver to you when I joined the army in Paderborn."

"This is somewhat odd--you forgot, eh?"

"Exactly; very awkward, is it not?"

"Rather," said I, somewhat ruffled. "Seven months have elapsed since you came from England, and you only remember it now! Do you recal that you stated she had not sent even a message to me?"

"Zounds! 'tis a fact, however odd," he replied, calmly, and in a very subdued voice. "I only bethought me to-night that the letter was in my dressing-case. We are to be engaged to-morrow; I may be knocked on the head as well as another, and thus have no wish to leave even the most trivial duty unfulfilled. You understand me?"

"Precisely," said I, with some contempt of manner.

"Here is your letter--adieu. I have an order for the Marquis of Granby. Where is his tent?"

"On the extreme right of the Inniskilling Dragoons."

It was sealed and bordered with black. I tore it open and read hurriedly by the wavering light of our watchfire. The whole tenor of the letter was melancholy, and at such a time and under all the circumstances, it moved me, though one or two sentences were rather galling in their purport.

Aurora informed me that she had lost her mother at Tunbridge Wells on the day after we sailed. Save twice, and under rather cloudy circumstances, I had never seen the good lady, and so I had no tears for the occasion.

"Dear cousin Basil," she continued, "my father is dead; my beloved mother is dead; my poor brother Tony and a little sister whom I loved dearly, are also dead: so I feel very lonely now. The loss of mamma has been my most severe calamity, for she was the person in whom all my thoughts, feelings, and anxieties centred. You are a soldier, and I know not whether you can feel like me--that each link of the loving chain as it breaks unites us closer, by near, dear, and mysterious ties, to those who are beyond the grave--the beloved ones who are gone, and to be with whom would be life in death. For a time after poor mamma left me I felt more a denizen of the world to come than of this, and I feel that though dead she can still strangely control or inspire my actions, my emotions, and my conduct here.

"When you return and visit us, as I trust in Heaven you shall , you will find wonderful improvements in the kennels, stableyard, vinery, and copsewood."

It was very pleasant to me, a poor devil of a cornet, half-starved on my pay, especially since the capture of Minden, with its 94,000 sacks of grain, by Messieurs de Broglie and de Bourgneuf, to read how this lovely interloper and her crusty Mentor cut and carved on my lands and woods, kennels and stables.

"You will regret to hear that poor Mr. Wylie is failing fast, poor man! His niece Ruth--a very pretty young woman indeed--has just had twins. Her husband is Bailie Mucklewham, of the neighbouring town--a grave and rigid man, and ruling Elder of the Tabernacle, whatever that may be."

Ruth and her twins, and her husband the demure Elder and Bailie! I could laugh now, at the boyish hour in which I thought seriously of marrying Ruth Wylie.

"Doubtful where to address this letter to you, I have committed it to the care of Major Shirley, who has been hunting in this neighbourhood, and is now proceeding to Germany, to join the staff of mv Lord George Sackville.

"P.S.--Write me, dear cousin, and tell me all about this horrible war, and if it will soon be over. The major is so impatient that I have not time to read over what I have written. Adieu, with a kiss, A.G."

In our comfortless bivouac, by the sinking light of the wavering watchfire, as I read on, Aurora's face came before me, so charming, so fair, so blooming, and so English. She was warmhearted, affectionate, and my only relative on earth, so could I think of her in such a time of peril otherwise than kindly?

"Can it be--I asked of myself--that I am forgetting Jacqueline? But wherefore remember her now!"

Shirley had been hunting in the vicinity of Netherwood, so I might be sure that all his time would not have been there devoted to the sports of the field. Aurora prayed for me! It was delightful to have some one at least who thought of me--whose friendship or regard blessed me and that my course in life was not unheeded or unmarked amid the perils of war.

Aurora might love me, if I wished; surely there was no vanity in me to think so? But I feared that I could never love her--at least as I had loved Jacqueline--for she was the holder, the usurper of all that should be mine.

I resolved to write to her kindly, affectionately, after the battle, and then I would think of her no more; but somehow Aurora's image was very persisting, and would not be set aside.

I put the letter in my sabretache, and was looking about for a soft place whereon to sleep for an hour or so, when the sharp twang of the trumpet sounding, and the voice of Tom Kirkton shouting "Saddles and boots! to horse, the Greys!" warned me that day had broken, and that we must stand to arms, for the bloody game of Minden was about to begin.

BATTLE OF MINDEN.

The morning of the 1st of August dawned fair and softly. The sky was a deep blue, and light fleecy clouds were floating across it. It was the opening of a day of battle, a day of doom to many, for who among us were fated to fall, and who to see its close?

A gentle breeze waved the foliage of the green woods, and swayed the ripened corn in yellow billows as it passed over the broad harvest-fields.

Bright, clear, and sparkling amid the blue ether shone the morning star, and lower down rolled a mass of amber-coloured cloud, on the edges of which glittered the rays of the yet unrisen sun.

Phosphor paled, the light gradually became golden, and the last shadows of night grew fainter as they faded away. Then the light breeze died, and there was not a breath to stir the foliage of the dense old forests which cast their shadows on the current of the Weser--that watery barrier which the French were to defend, and we to force at all hazards; hence, as the morning drew on, the air became close, heavy, and hot, and our men--horse, loot, and artillery--while wheeling, deploying, and getting into position among green hedgerows and deep corn, laden as they were in heavy marching order, soon felt their frames relaxed and the bead-drops oozing from under their grenadier caps and heavy cocked hats.

Brightly the sun burst forth from amid his amber clouds, and ere long the embattled walls of Minden, and its Gothic spires, Catholic and Lutheran, were shining in light.

The allied army formed in order of battle on the plain called Todtenhausen, in front of the town of Minden, which occupies the left bank of the Weser, and in which there was a strong French garrison, whose cannon commanded the famous stone bridge of six hundred yards in length. After capturing the town from General Zastrow, the main body of the army of M. de Contades had encamped near it.

On his left rose a steep hill, in his front lay a deep morass, and in his rear flowed a rugged mountain-stream.

As this position was strong, Prince Ferdinand employed all his strategy to draw the mar?chal from it. With this view he had quitted his camp on the Weser, and marched to a place named Hille, leaving, however, General Wangenheim with a body of troops entrenched on the plain of Todtenhausen. Then detaching his nephew with six thousand men, he gave him orders to make a detour towards the French left, and thus cut off their communication with Paderborn.

Though not ignorant of the compass of these triple dispositions, Contades, the Duc de Broglie, and Prince Xavier of Saxony, leader of the Household Cavalry of France, readily fell into the snare.

"Messeigneurs," said Mar?chal Contades, with confidence, "the opportunity which we have so long sought for cutting off Prince Ferdinand's communication with the Weser has been found at last. It is the very consummation of our wishes. Already we may behold those vainglorious allies divided and separated in three masses without the possibility of a reunion. Let us march, gentlemen, and by the ruin of General Wangenheim, obtain the full command of the Weser!"

It was with this idea in their minds that we saw the French troops leaving their strong position between the hill, the long and impassable morass, and the rugged stream, and advancing into the open plain--precisely the same fatal error committed about a hundred years before by the Scots at the battle of Dunbar.

The allied army, composed of fifty-nine squadrons of horse and forty-three battalions of infantry, with forty-eight 12-pound field-pieces and four mortars, was formed in three lines.

We, the Scots Greys, were in Elliot's brigade of Lord Granby's Cavalry Division, and with the 3rd Dragoon Guards and 10th Dragoons were on the extreme right of the second line, when we formed up from open column of squadrons through fields of hemp and flax.

In our front were the Horse Guards and Inniskilling Dragoons, who formed the right of the first line.

Over those thousands forming in order of battle the shadow of death was passing; but no thought had we then, save of victory and triumph, and of regilding our lost laurels!

"There will be rough work to-day--Auld Geordie has his buff-coat on," I heard our men muttering.

As the kettledrums beat and the trumpets sounded the usual flourish when swords were drawn, old Preston looked along our glittering line with a grim smile of satisfaction on his wrinkled visage.

"They have unsheathed as one man!" exclaimed Lord Granby, approvingly.

"'Tis well, my lord," said Colonel Preston, "for those swords have killed as many Frenchmen as any blades in Europe."

As yet all was still--not a shot had stirred the morning air; but we knew that the French were advancing, as from time to time the sky-blue colours, with the golden lilies and the steady gleam of bayonets appeared among the trees, the hedges, and broken ground in front.

James Keith of Inverugie was near me. He was smiling now, and there was a bright flush on his cheek with a feverish restlessness in his eye, for the belief in the old prediction was stronger than ever in his heart, and I pitied the poor lad, for he was brave as a Bayard or a Du Guesclin.

Ere long a noisy murmur--the hum of expectation--passed along the first line, when eight battalions of French--the vanguard, which was led by the Duc de Broglie , and which had passed the Weser at midnight, after marching on with perfect confidence until they reached the crest of an eminence, halted simultaneously, on finding to their astonishment the whole army of the allies now acting in unison, disposed in excellent order, and formed in three lines, the first of which reached almost to the gates of Minden, and covered the entire plain of Todtenhausen!

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