THE BAPTISM OF FIRE.
It was no false alarm that, as related in a preceding chapter, made
the advanced sentinels of the 95th, all hardy fellows from the
Thuringerwald, open fire in quick succession.
The Emperor Napoleon, who had recently arrived at Metz, looking old
and ill, with his head sunk on his breast, and who, on the 28th of
July, had issued that famous bulletin, 'Soldiers, the eyes of the
world are upon you! The fate of civilization depends upon our
success. Soldiers, let each one do his duty, and the God of armies
will be with us!'--the Emperor, we say, finding that the time had
come when something must be done to stimulate the spirit of those
troops whom he had massed in and about Metz, as well as to appease
the fiery impatience of the French people, being aware that Saarbrück
was of importance to the Prussians, who there had command of three
lines of railway for the conveyance of troops and stores, resolved to
carry the place by storm.
Hence, about nine o'clock on the morning of the 2nd of August, the
gleam of bayonets was seen on some heights that overlook the town,
and the dark columns of the French, in their long blue coats, and red
or madder-coloured breeches, became visible, and by that time the
whole Prussian force in and about Saarbrück was under arms, and their
cannon went thundering to the front.
Over the brass-spiked helmets, the brass-pointed pickel-haubes, with
the spread eagle, rose forests of bayonets, a steelly sea flashing in
the sunshine, the Uhlans riding with pennons furled and lances down
on the flanks of the massed close columns. Anon the drums beat
sharply, then the hoarse German words of command rang out on the
clear air, the colours rustled on the morning breeze, and rays of
light seemed to pass over all the force as the columns deployed into
line, elbow touching elbow, loosely, and the order was given to
load--to load those terrible needle-guns which carried death and
destruction into the Austrian ranks in the war of 1866. They are
simply breech-loading rifles, in which the charge is exploded by the
projection of a piece of steel, called 'the needle,' on the
detonating powder. The Prussians, whenever they encountered the
French, allowed them to exhaust the fire of their chassepots at long
range; then they poured in their own with deadly accuracy; and next
came the bayonet charge--and those who have seen the Prussians charge
will never forget the impression conveyed by their levelled ridge of
steel, the shining helmets, the hoarse hurrahs, the flushed, yet
resolute faces, the whole physique of the rushing infantry, and the
roar of the trumpets as the Uhlans went thundering on their flanks,
whirling their tremendous spears, as if impatient to close with the
foe.
All this did Charlie Pierrepont see on this eventful day at Saarbrück.
Ere the Prussians formed line, the booming of their artillery was
heard in front; a great deal of wood surrounded the town, and from
this, as from an ambuscade, their cannon were fired, and high in the
air rose the white smoke above the green foliage* With shouts of '_A
bas la Prusse!_' the 2nd French corps, under General Bataille, came
rushing on, only to be checked and decimated by the biting cannonade;
the grassy slope that led to the heights was soon dotted by killed
and wounded, and the stretchers and ambulance waggons made their
appearance along the whole line of route.
'What is the meaning of those cheers on the right?' asked Captain
Schönforst, a tall soldier-like fellow of the 95th, of Charlie, who
was busy scanning the enemy through his field-glass; 'are those
dragoons coming in from Forbach?'
'By Heaven, I think it is the Emperor in person, surrounded by a
brilliant staff, with a little boy riding by his side!' was the
excited response of Pierrepont.
And the Emperor it was, accompanied by the Prince Imperial, then in
his fourteenth year.
'Tell the officer commanding that gun near us who these new arrivals
are,' said Schönforst, a veteran of the Austro-Prussian war,' and
desire him to send a few doses of grape in their direction.'
Charlie promptly delivered the order; the direction of the gun was
altered, and thus it was that the young prince received what was
popularly known as his 'baptism of fire.'
'He was admirably cool,' wrote the Emperor to the Empress; 'we were
in front of the line, and the bullets fell at our feet. Louis has
kept one which fell close to him. Some of the soldiers shed tears on
seeing him so calm.'
Filled with enthusiasm by all this, General Froissard despatched two
battalions of the 67th regiment, under Colonel Theobaudin, to attack
the hamlet of St. Arnaul, which was occupied by our friends the
Thuringians, and was further defended by batteries of guns on the
right flank of the Saar. The 15th French regiment made a rush at
those batteries, and captured them with great bravery. Theobaudin's
battalion, supported now by the 40th and 66th regiments, and some
mitrailleuses--those horrible weapons, now for the first time tried
in active warfare--made a furious attack on the village of St. Arnaul.
Shoulder to shoulder stood the resolute Thuringians--the lineal
descendants of the ancient Hyrcinian foresters--volleying over wall
and bank and hedge with their deadly needle-guns; but the French came
rushing up the slope with glorious _élan_, though hundreds went
rolling down, dead or dying, and choking in blood.
With those dreadful showers of balls, the mitrailleuses, 'those
master-pieces for death and carnage,' were heard amid the roar of the
musketry by the strange noise of their discharge, which was dry,
shrieking, and terrible!
Their balls in continuous streams tore thtough the Prussian ranks,
mowing them down as scythes mow a field of corn. Everywhere the
smoke was dense. Heinrich had an epaulette torn off by one bullet,
and the spike of his helmet by another, while Charlie was twice on
the point of being taken prisoner, when his company was skirmishing
in front, at the time when the 8th and 23rd French regiments were
also in skirmishing order through some thickly wooded ravines. Two
powerful soldiers attacked him--in fact, he had run against them in
the smoke--and he must inevitably have been killed or taken had he
not rid himself of one with his revolver, while Captain Schönforst
passed his long straight sword through the body of the other.
But the Prussian drums were now beating a retreat. It was impossible
for the small force in Saarbrück--a mere weak advanced guard--to
withstand the many battalions sent against it by the Emperor,
especially as the attacking force was supported by an entire battery
of mitrailleuses.
The affair was a skirmish rather than a battle, and ended by the town
being set on fire, and the thick columns of smoke from the burning
houses rose from amid the trees, rolled along the railway
embankments, and added to the obscurity and confusion. Amid this
rang the roar of the red flashing musketry, and the horrible
shrieking of the mitrailleuse. The latter we may describe for the
information of the reader is a four-pound gun, divided into
twenty-five compartments by as many rifle barrels, all loaded at the
breech by cartridges, and all discharged at once, the loading only
requiring five actions, by which seven thousand eight hundred balls
can be discharged in one hour into a circle of twelve feet in
diameter.
It was by the fire of one of these that Charlie saw an event which
was one of the most touching scenes in the war. His skirmishers had
been driven by the French 23rd close to the railway bank, and near
them lay a Zouave, terribly wounded in the lungs apparently. The
poor man's agony was frightful. He was past speech, and could only
clasp his hands in prayer, cross himself, and point imploringly to
his mouth.
A kindly sergeant of the 95th uncorked his water-bottle, and raising
the Frenchman's head, was about to slake his thirst, when the
shrieking sound was heard amid the smoke close by. Out of that smoke
came the leaden storm of the mitrailleuse, and the Prussian and the
Zouave were literally blown to fragments.
Over the railway bank the Thuringians were now driven, and everywhere
the whole Prussian line was giving way! The moment the Emperor
became aware of this, with generous humanity he ordered the
mitrailleuses to cease firing, and thus arrested the useless carnage.
As yet Charlie Pierrepont had escaped without a scratch, though
frequently the very sod beneath his feet was torn and sowed by balls.
Though the French obtained possession of Saarbrück--the last troops
out of which were the Thuringians--the Prussians still continued to
lurk in the village of St. Johann, on the further side of the Saar,
and in the thick woods beyond it, from whence the white smoke spirted
out in incessant puffs as their well-concealed skirmishers kept up a
galling fire on the enemy.
This gradually ceased, and the shadows of evening began to deepen
over Saarbrück, and on the faces of the dead and dying who lay by the
sedgy banks of the once peaceful river. The fishers had fled,
abandoning their tubs and baskets; no figures were seen moving on
either side now save those of men in various uniforms; and terrified
by the unnatural din that then had seemed to rend the sky, the little
birds were seen to grovel amid the reeds and grass, as if too scared
to seek their nests in those thickets around which the tide of
carnage rolled.
The advanced sentinels were posted for the night, and under the
shelter of a shattered cottage wall. Charlie Pierrepont, Heinrich,
and Captain Schönforst congratulated each other that they all escaped
untouched, and sat down amid the _debris_ of what had once been a
cabbage-garden, to enjoy an humble repast, some German sausage, a few
slices of bread, and the contents of their water-bottles, dashed with
cognac.
The telegram which, on that same evening, the Baron Rhineberg so duly
reported at Frankenburg, thereby piercing, as with a poniard, the
heart of Ernestine, was correct in some of its details, as the
_first_ man killed in the Franco-Prussian war was an Englishman--but
not Charlie.
Prior to the affair at Saarbrück, twenty Baden troopers, led by a Mr.
Winslow, made a dash into France at Lauterburg, and galloping on as
far as Niederbronn, in open daylight, cut all the telegraph wires
along the line of railway there. They halted next morning to
breakfast at a French farmhouse, when they were surprised, and, in
the combat that ensued, Winslow was cut down and slain.
The terror and anxiety of Ernestine were, however, short-lived, as
Heinrich's letter, written next morning, contained an enclosure for
her that gave her a blessed relief.