“Our major’s hut, more carefully and strongly constructed, had resisted the hurricane: it stood close beside that of the captain. The major was long since asleep and snoring; but his servant, a cunning, careful dog, was still a-foot, and watched his opportunity to get possession of a long bean-stick, to be used as an additional prop to the already solid edifice under which his master slumbered. The unlucky marauder had not remarked that this stake formed one of the supports of the captain’s dormitory. He seized and pulled it violently, and down came the hut, burying its inmate under the ruins. There was a shout of laughter from the spectators of the downfal, and then the Pole disengaged himself from the wreck, cursing awfully, and rushed upon the unfortunate fellow who had played him the trick. Pale and trembling, the delinquent awaited his fate; but his cry of terror brought him assistance from his master, who suddenly stepped forth in his night-dress, a large gray cavalry cloak thrown about him, and a white cloth bound round his head. The major was an excellent and kind-hearted man, loved like a father by his men, but subject to occasional fits of uncontrollable passion, which made him lose sight of all propriety and restraint. Without investigation, he at once took his servant’s side against the captain, in which he was certainly wrong, seeing that his worthy domestic had been caught in the very act of theft. He snatched the bean-stick from the man’s hand: the captain already grasped the other end; and, for some minutes, there they were, major and captain, pulling, and tugging, and reeling about the bivouac, not like men, but like a brace of unmannerly boys. Myself and the soldiers were witnesses of this singular encounter. Accustomed to regard our superiors with fear and respect, we now beheld them in the most childish and ludicrous position. Astonishment kept us motionless and silent. At last the captain made a violent effort to wrest the pole from his antagonist: the major held firm, and resisted with all his strength; when, suddenly, his opponent let go his hold, and our major, a little round man, measured his length in the mud. In an instant he was on his feet again. Throwing away the bean-stick, and stepping close up to his opponent, ‘To-morrow,’ said he, ‘we will settle this like men: here we have been fools; and you, captain, a malicious fool.’
“‘I accept your invitation with pleasure,’ replied the captain, ‘and trust our next meeting will be with bullets. But, for to-day, the pole is mine.’ And he seized it triumphantly.
“‘Certainly; yours to-day,’ retorted the major. ‘To-morrow we will fight it out upon my dirty cloak.’
“The morrow came, and the battle began, not, however, between major and captain, but between French and Prussians. Silent we stood in deep dark masses, listening to the music of the bullets. ‘Firm and steady!’ was the command of our little major—of the same man who, a few hours before, had played so childish a part. Skirmishers were called in, and a charge with the bayonet ordered. The foe abandoned his first position. Animated by success, we attacked the second. Our battalion hurried on from one success to another, and my gallant captain was ever the first to obey, in the minutest particular, the orders of our famous little major. The noble emulation between the two brave fellows was unmistakeable. In their third position the French defended themselves with unparalleled obstinacy, and our young soldiers, in spite of their moral superiority, were compelled to recede. ‘Forward, my fine fellows!’ cried the major; ‘Follow me, men!’ shouted the captain, and, seizing the sinking standard, whose bearer had just been shot, he raised it on high, and dashed in amongst the foe. With a tremendous ‘Hurra!’ the whole line followed, and Napoleon’s ‘Vieille Garde’ was forced to a speedy retreat.
“The major gazed in admiration at his bitter opponent of the preceding day. Calling him to him, he clasped him in his arms. For a moment the two men were enveloped in the cloak upon which they were to have fought. Words cannot describe that scene. Suddenly a cannon-ball boomed through the air, and, lo! they lay upon the ground, shattered and lifeless, reconciliation their dying thought. The fight over, and our bivouac established in a stubble-field, we paid then the last military honours. Fifty men, all that remained of my company, followed their bodies, and a tear stood in every eye as we consigned the gallant fellows to one grave.”
With bitter and ill-suppressed rage did the military portion of the French nation, after a brief but busy campaign, see themselves compelled to submission, their emperor an exile, their hearths intruded upon by the foreigners who, at Jena and Wagram, Austerlitz and Marengo, had quailed and fled before their conquering eagles. Resistance, in a mass, was no longer to be thought of: the French army was crushed, crippled, almost annihilated, but its individual members still sought opportunities of venting their fury upon the hated victors. By sneer, and slighting word, and insulting look, they strove to irritate and lure them to the lists; and their provocations, even the more indirect ones, rarely failed of effect. On the duelling-ground, as in the field, steady German courage was found fully a match for the brio and presumption of these French spadassins. After the capitulation of Paris, Von Rahden’s regiment was sent into country-quarters at Amiens, and they were but a few days in the town before the ill-smothered antipathy between Gaul and German broke out into a flame.
“When we were fairly installed in our quarters, and the first little squabbles and disagreements between towns-people and soldiers had been settled, chiefly by the good offices of the authorities, we officers gave ourselves up to the pleasures of the place, amongst which a large and elegant café was not to be forgotten. In this coffee-house the tables were of marble, the walls covered with mirrors, the windows and doors of plate-glass, in gilt frames. All was gold and glitter, and the dames de comptoir might, from their appearance, have been fashionable ladies, placed there to lead the conversation. All this was very new and attractive, and well calculated to dazzle us young men. Accordingly, from early morn till late at night, hundreds of officers, of all arms, sat in the café, drinking, playing, and sighing.
Happening one forenoon to be orderly-officer, I received several complaints from soldiers concerning the younger son of the family upon which they were quartered. He had returned home only the day before, had shown himself very unfriendly towards the men, and did his utmost to irritate their other hosts against them. Upon inquiry, I found the complaint to be just, and that a young and handsome man, of military appearance, was doing all in his power to excite ill-will towards us. After several warnings, which were unattended to, I was compelled to arrest and put him in the guard-room, menacing him with further punishment. This done, I joined my comrades at the café.
“That day our favourite place of resort presented an unusual aspect. A regiment of French hussars, on its march westwards, had halted for the night at Amiens, and upwards of twenty of the officers were now seated in the coffee-house. There was a good deal of talk going on, but not so much as usual; and the division between the different nations was strongly marked. To the right the hussars had assembled, crowded round three or four tables; on the other side of the saloon sat fifty or sixty Prussian infantry officers. The situation was not the most agreeable, and there was a mutual feeling of constraint. Presently there came to the coffee-house (by previous arrangement, as I am fully persuaded) one of those Italian pedlars, for the most part spies and thieves, of whom at that time great numbers were to be met with in France and other parts of the Continent. Stopping at the glazed door opening into the street, he offered his wares for sale. Soon one of the hussar officers called to him in excellent German, and asked him if he had any pocket-books to sell. He wanted one, he said, to note down the anniversaries of the battles of Jena, Austerlitz, &c. Although this inquiry was manifestly a premeditated insult, we Prussians remained silent, as if waiting to see what would come next. The pedlar supplied the demands of the Frenchman, and was about to leave the room, when one of our officers, Lieutenant von Sebottendorf, of the 23d infantry regiment, called to him in his turn, and observed, in a loud voice, that he also required a pocket-book, wherein to mark the battles of Rossbach, the Katzbach, and Leipzig. The names of Rossbach and Leipzig served for a signal. As by word of command, the hussars sprang from their chairs and drew their long sabres; we followed their example, and bared our weapons, which for the most part were small infantry swords. In an instant a mêlée began; the French pressing upon Sebottendorf; we defending him. At the same moment the hussar trumpets and our drums sounded and beat in the streets. As officer of the day, those sounds called me away. With great difficulty I got out of the café, and hurried to the main-guard, which was already menaced by the assembled hussars. I had just made my men load with ball-cartridge—we had no other—when luckily several companies came up and rescued me from my very critical position. Nothing is more painful than to be compelled to use decisive and severe measures in such a conjuncture, at the risk of one’s acts being disapproved and disavowed.
“Meanwhile, in the coffee-house, a somewhat indecorous fight went on, the mirrors and windows were smashed, and the scuffle ended by the officers forcing each other out into the street. All these affronts naturally would have to be washed out in blood. In a quarter of an hour our battalions were drawn up in the market-place: the general commanding at Amiens, and who just then happened to be absent, had given the strictest orders, that, in case of such disturbances, we were not to use our arms till the very last extremity. We were compelled, therefore, patiently to allow the French to march through our ranks, on foot and with drawn sabres, challenging us to the fight, as they passed, not with words, certainly, but by their threatening looks. Amongst them I saw, to my great astonishment, the young civilian whom I had that morning put in confinement, and who now passed several times before me, in hussar uniform, and invited me to follow him. In the confusion of the first alarm, he had escaped from the guard-room, put on regimentals, and now exhaled his vindictiveness in muttered invectives against me and the detested Prussians. Of course I could not leave my company; and, had I been able, it would have been very foolish to have done so.