As he heard this, the Marshal Bernadotte—for it was he—turned his horse suddenly round, and rode back, followed by his staff. And now the drums beat to quarters along the line, and the hoarse trumpets of the cavalry might be heard summoning the squadrons throughout the field; while between the squares, and in the intervals of the battalions, single horsemen galloped past with orders. Soult's division, which extended for nearly a league to our right, was the first to move, and it seemed like one vast shadow creeping along the earth, as column beside column marched steadily onward. Our brigade had not as yet received orders, but the men were in readiness beside the horses, and only waiting for the word to mount.
The suspense of the moment was fearful. All that I had ever dreamed or pictured to myself of a soldier's enthusiasm was faint and weak, compared to the rush of sensations I now experienced. There must be a magic power of ecstasy in the approach of danger,—some secret sense of bounding delight, mingled with the chances of a battle,—that renders one intoxicated with excitement. Each booming gun I heard sent a wild throb through me, and I panted for the word “Forward!”
Column after column moved past us, and disappeared in the dip of ground beneath; and as we saw the close battalions filling the wide plain in front, we sighed to think that it was destined to be the day of glory peculiarly to the infantry. Wherever the nature of the field permitted shelter or the woods afforded cover, our troops were sent immediately to occupy. The great manoeuvre of the day was to be the piercing of the enemy's centre whenever he should weaken that point by the endeavor to turn our right flank.
A faint streak of gray light was marking the horizon when the single guns which we had heard at intervals ceased; and then, after a short pause, a long, loud roll of artillery issued from the distant right, followed by the crackling din of small-arms, which increased at every moment, and now swelled into an uninterrupted noise, through which the large guns pealed from time to time. A red glare, obscured now and then by means of black smoke, lit up the sky in that quarter, where already the battle was raging fiercely.
The narrow causeway between the two small lakes in our front conducted to an open space of ground, about a cannon-shot from the Russian line; and this we were now ordered to occupy, to be prepared to act as support to the infantry of Soult's left, whenever the attack began. As we debouched into the plain, I beheld a group of horsemen, who, wrapped up in their cloaks, sat motionless in their saddles, calmly regarding the squadrons as they issued from the wood: these were Murat and his staff, to whom was committed the attack on the Russian Guard. His division consisted of the hussars and chasseurs under Kellermann, the cuirassiers of D'Auvergne, and the heavy dragoons of Nansouty,—making a force of eight thousand sabres, supported by twenty pieces of field artillery. Again were we ordered to dismount, for although the battle continued to rage on the right, the whole of the centre and left were unengaged.
Thus stood we as the sun arose,—that “Sun of Austerlitz!” so often appealed to and apostrophized by Napoleon as gilding the greatest of his glories. The mist from the lakes shut out the prospect of the enemy's lines at first; but gradually this moved away, and we could perceive the dark columns of the Russians, as they moved rapidly along the side of the Pratzen, and continued to pour their thousands towards Reygern.
At last the roar of musketry swelled louder and nearer, and an officer galloping past told us that Soult's right had been called up to support Davoust's division. This did not look well; it proved the Russians had pressed our lines closely, and we waited impatiently to hear further intelligence. It was evident, too, that our right was suffering severely, otherwise the attack on the centre would not have been delayed. Just then a wild cheer to the front drew our attention thither, and we saw the heads of three immense columns—Soult's division—advancing at a run towards the enemy.
“Par Saint Louis,” cried General d'Auvergne, as he directed his telescope on the Russian line, “those fellows have lost their senses! See if they have not moved their artillery away from the Pratzen, and weakened their centre more and more! Soult sees it: mark how he presses his columns on! There they go, faster and faster! But look! there's a movement yonder,—the Russians perceive their mistake.”
“Mount!” was now heard from squadron to squadron; while dashing along the line like a thunderbolt, Murat rode far in advance of his staff, the men cheering him as he went.
“There!” cried D'Auvergne, as he pointed with his finger, “that column with the yellow shoulder-knots,—that's Vandamme's brigade of light infantry; see how they rush on, eager to be first up with the enemy. But St. Hilaire's grenadiers have got the start of them, and are already at the foot of the hill. It is a race between them!”