‘“You are major of the Seventh regiment,” said he. “Now, there is another of yours I must ask for; how is he called that surprised the Austrian battery on the Dorran Kopf?”
‘“Himself again, sire,” interrupted Duroc, who saw that I hesitated how to answer him.
‘“Very well, very well indeed, Elgenheim; report him as Chef de Bataillon, Duroc, and colonel of his regiment. There, sir, your countrymen call me unjust and ungenerous. Show them your brevet to-night, and do you, at least, be a witness in my favour.”
‘I bowed and uttered a few words of gratitude, and was about to withdraw, when Duroc, who had been whispering something in the Emperor’s ear, said aloud, “I’m certain he’s the man to do it. Elgenheim, his Majesty has a most important despatch to forward to Innspruck to Marshal Ney. It will require something more than mere bravery to effect this object—it will demand no small share of address also. The passes above Saltzbourg are in the possession of the Tyrolese sharpshooters; two vedettes have been cut off within a week, and it will require at least the force of a regiment to push through. Are you willing to take the command of such a party?”
‘“If his Majesty will honour me with——”
‘“Enough, sir,” interrupted the Emperor; “we have no time to lose here. Your orders shall be ready by daybreak; you shall have a squadron of Chasseurs, as scouts, and be prepared to march to-morrow.”
‘The following day I left the camp with my party of eight hundred men, and moved to the southward. It may seem strange to think of a simple despatch of a few lines requiring such a force—indeed, I thought so at the time; but I lived to see two thousand men employed on a similar service in Spain, and, worse still, not always successfully. In less than a week we approached Landherg, and entered the land of mountains. The defiles, which at first were sufficiently open to afford space for manouvres, gradually contracted; while the mountains at either side became wilder and more lofty, a low brushwood of holly and white-oak scarce hiding the dark granite rocks that seemed actually piled loosely one above another, and ready to crash down at the least impulse. In the valleys themselves the mountain rivulets were collected into a strong current, which rattled along amid masses of huge rock, and swept in broad flakes of foam sometimes across the narrow road beside it. Here, frequently, not more than four men could march abreast; and as the winding of the glens never permitted a view of much more than a mile in advance, the position, in case of attack, was far from satisfactory.
‘For three entire days we continued our march, adopting, as we went, every precaution against surprise I could think of; a portion of the cavalry were always employed as éclaireurs in advance, and the remainder brought up the rear, following the main body at the distance of a mile or two. The stupendous crags that frowned above, leaving us but a narrow streak of blue sky visible; the mournful echoes of the deep valleys; the hoarse roar of the waters or the wild notes of the black eagle—all conspired to throw an impression of sadness over our party, which each struggled against in vain. It was now the third morning since we entered the Tyrol, and yet never had we seen one single inhabitant. The few cottages along the roadside were empty, the herds had disappeared from the hills, and a dreary waste, unrelieved by one living object, stretched far away before us. My men felt the solitude far more deeply than if every step had been contested with them. They were long inured to danger, and would willingly have encountered an enemy of mortal mould; but the gloomy images their minds conjured up were foes they had never anticipated nor met before. For my own part, the desolation brought but one thought before me; and as I looked upon the wild wastes of mountain, where the chalet of the hunter or the cot of the shepherd reared its humble head, the fearful injustice of invasive war came fully to my mind. Again and again did I ask myself what greatness and power could gain by conflict with poverty like this? How could the humble dweller in these lonely regions become an object of kingly vengeance, or his bleak hills a thing for kingly ambition? And, more than all, what could the Tyrol peasant ever have done thus to bring down upon his home the devastating tide of war? To think that but a few days back the cheerful song of the hunter resounded through those glens, and the laugh of children was heard in those cottages where now all was still as death. We passed a small cluster of houses at the opening of a glen—it could scarce be called a village—and here, so lately had they been deserted, the embers were yet warm on the hearth, and in one hut the table was spread and the little meal laid out, while they who were to have partaken of it were perhaps miles away.
‘Plunged in these sad reflections, I sat on a little eminence of rock behind the party, while they reposed themselves during the heat of noon. The point I occupied afforded a view for some miles of the road we had travelled, and I turned to see if our cavalry detachment was coming up; when, as I strained my eyes in the direction, I thought I could perceive an object moving along the road, and stooping from time to time. I seized my glass, and now could distinctly perceive the figure of a man coming slowly onwards. That we had not passed him on the way was quite evident, and he must therefore have been on the mountain, or in concealment beside the road. Either thought was sufficient to excite my suspicion, and without a second’s delay I sprang into the saddle, and putting my horse to his speed galloped back as fast as I could. As I came nearer, I half fancied I saw the figure move to one side and then back again, as though irresolute how to act; and fearing lest he should escape me by taking to the mountain, I called to him aloud to halt. He stood still as I spoke, and I now came up beside him. He was an old man, seemingly over eighty years of age; his hair and beard were white as snow, and he was bent almost double with time; his dress was the common costume of a Tyrolese, except that he wore in addition a kind of cloak with a loose hood, such as the pilgrims wear in Austria; and indeed his staff and leathern bottle bespoke him such. To all my questions as to the road and the villages he replied in a kind of patois I could make nothing of, for although tolerably well versed in all the dialects of Southern Germany, his was quite unintelligible to me. Still, the question how he came there was one of great moment; if he had been concealed while we passed so near, why not others? His age and decrepitude forbade the thought of his having descended the mountain, and so I felt puzzled in no common degree. As these doubts passed through my mind, the poor old man stood trembling at my side as though fearing what fate might be in store for him. Anxious to recompense him for the trouble I had caused him, I drew out my purse; but no sooner did he see it than he motioned it away with his hand, and shook his head in token of refusal.
‘“Come, then,” said I, “I never met a pilgrim who would refuse a cup of wine;” and with that I unslung my canteen and handed it to him. This he seized eagerly and drained it to the bottom, holding up both hands when he had finished, and muttering something I conjectured to be a prayer. He was the only living object belonging to the country that I had seen; a sudden whim seized me, and I gave him back the flask, making a sign that he should keep it. He clutched the gift with the avidity of old age, and sitting down upon a stone began to admire it with eager eyes. Despairing of making him understand a word, and remembering it was time to move forward, I waved my hand in adieu and galloped back.