Part 43 (1/2)

The Archduke John now advanced with his ten thousand men with the utmost rapidity toward Marchegg. The troops were exhausted by the toils and fatigues of the last days; they had not eaten any thing for twenty-four hours; but the archduke and his generals and staff- officers always knew how to stir them up and induce them to continue their march with unflagging energy. Thus they at length reached Marchegg, where they were to rest for three hours.

But no sooner had they arrived there than Count Reuss, the generalissimo's aide-de-camp, galloped up on a charger covered all over with foam. The count had ridden in seven hours from Wagram to Marchegg for it was all-important that the archduke should accelerate his march. The battle was raging already with great fury.

The generalissimo was in urgent need of the archduke's a.s.sistance.

Hence, the latter was not to rest with his troops at Marchegg, but continue his march and advance with the utmost speed by Siebenbrunn to Loibersdorf. At Siebenbrunn he would find Field-Marshal Rosenberg; he should then, jointly with him, attack the enemy.

”Let us set out, then, for Loibersdorf,” said John, sighing; ”we will do all we can, and thus avoid being charged with tardiness. Up, up, my braves! The fatherland calls us; we must obey it!”

But the soldiers obeyed this order only with low murmurs, and many remained at Marchegg, exhausted to death.

The troops continued their march with restless speed, and mute resignation. The archduke's face was pale, his flas.h.i.+ng eyes were constantly prying into the distance, his breast was panting, his heart was filled with indescribable anxiety, and he exhorted his troops incessantly to accelerate their steps. Now they heard the dull roar of artillery at a distance; and the farther they advanced, the louder and more terrific resounded the cannon. The battle, therefore, was going on, and the utmost rapidity was necessary on their part. Forward, therefore, forward! At five o'clock in the afternoon they at last reached Siebenbrunn. But where was Field- Marshal Rosenberg? What did it mean that the roar of artillery had almost entirely died away? And what dreadful signs surrounded the horizon on all sides? Tremendous clouds of smoke, burning villages everywhere, and added to them now the stillness of death, which was even more horrible after the booming of artillery which had shaken the earth up to this time. Where was Field-Marshal Rosenberg?

An officer galloped up at full speed. It was a messenger from Field- Marshal Rosenberg, who informed the archduke that he had been repulsed, that all was over, and that the day was irretrievably lost.

”I have been ordered to march to Loibersdorf,” said the archduke, resolutely; ”I must comply with my instructions.”

And he continued his march toward Loibersdorf. Patrols were sent out and approached Wagram. The fields were covered with the dead and wounded, and the latter stated amid moans and lamentations that a dreadful battle had been fought, and that the Austrians had been defeated.

The archduke listened to these reports with a pale face and quivering lips. But he was still in hopes that he would receive a message from the generalissimo; hence, he remained at Loibersdorf and waited for news from his brother. Night came; profound stillness reigned all around, broken only now and then by dull reports of cannon and musketry fired at a distance, and there was no news yet from the generalissimo!

One of the patrols now brought in a French officer who had got separated from his men, and whom the Austrians had taken prisoner.

The archduke sent for him, and asked him for information regarding the important events of the day.

The officer gave him the required information with sparkling eyes and in a jubilant voice. A great battle had been fought during the previous two days. The French army had left the Island of Lobau on four bridges, which Napoleon had caused to be built in a single night by two hundred carpenters, and had given battle to the Archduke Charles at Wagram. A furious combat had raged on the 5th and 6th of July. Both armies had fought with equal boldness, bravery, and exasperation; but finally the Archduke Charles had been compelled to evacuate the field of battle and retreat. The Emperor Napoleon had remained in possession of the field; he had gained the battle of Wagram.

Large drops of sweat stood on the archduke's forehead while he was listening to this report; his eyes filled with tears of indignation and anger; his lips quivered, and he lifted his eyes reproachfully to heaven. Then he turned slowly to General Frimont, who was halting by his side, and behind whom were to be seen the gloomy, mournful faces of the other officers.

”The generalissimo has lost a battle,” he said, with a sigh. ”This is a twofold calamity for us. You know that we could not come sooner. We arrived even at an earlier hour than I had promised. You will see that the whole blame for the loss of the battle will be laid at our door, and we shall be charged with undue tardiness. This pretended tardiness will be welcome to many a one. A scapegoat is needed, and I shall have to be this scapegoat!” [Footnote: The archduke's own words.--See Hormayr's work on ”The Campaign of 1809,”

p. 286.]

The Archduke John was not mistaken; he had predicted his fate. He was really to be the scapegoat for the loss of the battle. In the proclamation which the Archduke Charles issued to his army a few days afterward at Znaym, and in which he informed it that he had concluded an armistice with the Emperor Napoleon, he deplored that, owing to the too late arrival of the Archduke John, the battle had not been won, despite the admirable bravery which the troops had displayed at Wagram, and that the generalissimo had been compelled thereby to retreat.

The Archduke John did not defend himself. He lifted his tearful eyes to heaven and sighed: ”Another battle lost, and this battle decides the fate of Austria! Now Prussia will not ally herself with us, for we did not strike the second blow which the king demanded, and she will look on quietly while Austria is being humiliated! O G.o.d, G.o.d, protect Austria! Protect Germany! save us from utter ruin!”

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE ARMISTICE OF ZNAYM

The guests of Anthony Steeger, the innkeeper of Lienz, had been greatly excited to-day; they had talked, debated, lamented, and sworn a great deal. In accordance with the request of Andreas Hofer, the most influential leaders of the Tyrolese had met there and drawn up, as Hofer proposed, a pet.i.tion to the Emperor Francis, who was now in Hungary at one of the palaces belonging to the Prince of Lichtenstein. The disastrous tidings of the battle of Wagram had been followed a few days afterward by news fully as disheartening.

The Archduke Charles had concluded an armistice with the Emperor Napoleon at Znaym, on the 12th of July, 1809. By this armistice hostilities were to be suspended till the 20th of August; but in the mean time the Austrians were to evacuate the Tyrol, Styria, and Carinthia entirely, and restore to the Bavarians and French the fortified cities which they had occupied.

These calamitous terms of the armistice had induced Andreas Hofer to summon some of his friends to Lienz, and draw up with them a pet.i.tion to the emperor, in which they implored him with touching humility to have mercy upon them in their distress, and not to forsake his faithful Tyrol. They stated that they had been told that the Austrian troops, in accordance with the stipulations of the armistice, were to evacuate the Tyrol, but this did not confer upon the French and Bavarians the right of occupying the Tyrol. They besought the emperor to prevent this, and not to permit the enemy to occupy the country.

Such were the contents of the pet.i.tion which Andreas Hofer and the other leaders of the Tyrolese had signed to-day at the inn of Anthony Steeger, at Lienz, and which Jacob Sieberer was to convey as the last cry of the despairing Tyrol to the headquarters of the emperor at Totis, while Eisenstecken was to deliver a copy of the pet.i.tion to General Buol, commander-in-chief of the Austrian troops.

Night had now come; the friends and comrades had long since left Anthony Steeger's house, and Andreas Hofer alone remained with him to talk with his faithful friend about the disastrous change in their affairs, and the gloomy prospects of the future.

”I cannot believe that all is as they say,” said Andreas Hofer, with a sigh. ”The emperor promised us solemnly never to give up or forsake again his faithful Tyrol, and it would be high-treason to suppose that the emperor will not honestly redeem his pledges. No, no; I tell you, Anthony, the emperor and our dear Archduke John certainly do not intend to abandon us; only the Austrian generals are opposed to the continuance of the war, and long to get away from our mountains, because they are afraid of Bonaparte, and think he would punish them if they should stay here any longer and refuse to deliver the province to his tender mercies.”