BATTLE OF THE LINES OF WEISSENBURG.
Towards eight o'clock on the morning of the 6th Nivose, year II
(December 26, 1793), under cover of a thick fog, St. Just and Hoche
began their advance. The two leaders walked their horses side by side,
close behind a squad of cavalrymen detailed as scouts. A short distance
to the rear of the Representative of the people and the
Commander-in-chief followed a group of aides-de-camp and artillery
officers.
Gradually, in the teeth of a stiff north wind, the fog began again to
lift. The gallop of an approaching horse was heard, and one of Hoche's
aides loomed out of the thinning haze, made straight for his
commander-in-chief, and said, as he reined in his mount:
"Citizen General, our scouts just encountered a party of Uhlans. We
charged them and reached the enemy's advance guard near enough to make
out a considerable body of cavalry."
The north wind continued to blow, clearing away the mists, and soon,
from the rising ground where they had taken their station, St. Just,
Hoche, and their staff were able to sweep with their eye the field of
the approaching battle. Before them, from northwest to southeast at the
extreme edge of the horizon, stretched the regular outline of the
"Lines" or entrenchments of Weissenburg, parallel to the course of the
Lauter, a rapid river which served as moat to these fortified works. To
the right, the now leafless fastnesses of the forest of Bienvalt, which
also bordered on the Lauter over which the remnants of the fog still
hung, reached away till they lost themselves in the distance toward
Lauterburg, a town situated in one of the bends of the Rhine, now the
headquarters of the army of Conde.
With his glass Hoche examined the position of the Austrian army, and
said to St. Just:
"The Austrian general, as I foresaw, surprised by our march which has
taken from him the offensive, has changed his plan of battle by making
his infantry fall back half way upon the plateau of Geisberg. We must
haste to profit by the hesitation into which this discreet retreat will
have thrown the enemy." Then, addressing one of the artillery officers,
Hoche added: "Citizen, order General Ferino to push out with the cavalry
and flying artillery of his division. His cannoniers are to open fire
upon the enemy's squadrons, and when they weaken, he is to send in his
cavalry."
The officer left at a gallop to convey the order to Ferino, who
commanded the advance guard. The republican army was drawn up in three
columns, the cavalry on the right, the infantry in the center, and the
artillery on the left, with the reserves, the supplies and the
ambulances in second line. Suddenly a distant booming, deep and
prolonged, resounded on the left, in the direction of Nothweiller, and
Hoche exclaimed:
"The cannon! The cannon! Gonvion St. Cyr has followed my orders! He is
pouring out of the valley of the Lauter and attacking Brunswick's
position. There are the Prussians engaged. They will hardly bring aid to
the Austrians now! If Desaix has carried out his movement as well, and
attacked Conde's body at Lauterburg, the Austrian army is thrown on its
own resources. The Lines of Weissenburg are ours, and we shall raise the
siege of Landau!"
At that moment General Ferino, in response to Hoche's orders, advanced
at a rapid trot at the head of his cavalry and artillery. Beside the
General rode Lebas, the Representative of the people on mission to the
armies. Recognizing the importance of this first charge for the success
of the day, he desired to assist Hoche, and to march in the front rank.
"On, my brave Ferino," called Hoche to the General as he swept by.
"First shatter the Austrian cavalry with your cannon, and then--a taste
of your saber for them!"
"Count on me, General. I'll send the white-cloaks to drink in the
Lauter, whether they are thirsty or not," replied Ferino; and waving his
sword he turned towards his cohorts and gave the cry:
"Forward, my children, forward! Long live the Republic!"
"Long live the Republic!" shouted back the cavalrymen, flashing their
swords in the air as they thundered past Hoche. "Our comrades have
retaken Toulon--we shall free Landau!"
"Soldiers," called Hoche, "show yourselves worthy of your past
victories. The Republic counts on the Army of the Rhine and Moselle! To
victory or death!"
The battle was on. General Ferino's artillery mowed down the Austrian
cavalry, Wurmser's first line. Profiting by their disorder, gathering up
his squadrons and hurling them with himself at their head upon the
enemy, Ferino overthrew the forces which opposed him, and carried his
mounted sabers right into the infantry squares of the second line. Then
Hoche flung his attacking column upon Wurmser's center, while that
general's left wing fell under the fire of several batteries of flying
artillery. One of these batteries, consisting of six four-pounders, had
taken position on an eminence where lay a solitary farmhouse. From this
hillock it was possible to rake the Austrian's left flank from the rear.
A squadron of the Third Hussars and two companies of the Seventh
Battalion, Paris Volunteers, were detached to act as guard to this
artillery. The captain of the battery, on reconnoitering his position,
found that the farmhouse and its buildings occupied nearly the center of
a mound about three hundred paces in diameter. Toward the enemy the hill
presented a rapid rise of some thirty feet, while on the side of the
republican army it was nearly level with the plain occupied by the
reserves. A thicket of trees and live brush extended to the right and a
little to the rear of the battery's position. The inhabitants of the
place had fled with the opening of the engagement, carrying with them
their cattle and all their more valuable belongings. One by one the iron
spit-fires arrived to take their position in the battery, the first to
appear being Carmagnole, the sweetheart of quartermaster Duchemin. This
piece, by the almost grotesque cut of its furniture, presented a curious
example of the oddity of artillery carriages in those days.
The team drew up with a half-turn, Duchemin and his eight assistants
leaped to the ground, and confided their horses to the two artillerymen
charged with their care. The pin which coupled the piece proper to the
caisson was removed, and there she stood in position on her two wheels,
some distance ahead of the caisson, in which the cartridges were kept.
The drivers hurried their horses under shelter of the farmhouse, some
fifty paces away. Soon the six spit-fires were in position. The
commanders of the squadron of hussars and the two companies of
volunteers also took what advantage they could of the lay of the land to
protect their men from the fire which an Austrian battery might at any
moment be expected to open upon the republican guns. One of the Paris
Volunteers' companies was masked in the brush of the little wood just
mentioned, in position to fire from under cover in case the enemy should
attempt to seize the battery. The other company entrenched itself behind
the stone wall which enclosed the courtyard of the farm, and behind the
buildings which already acted as cover to the artillery horses.
By the chances of war there were thus reunited among the defenders of
the battery Oliver and Victoria, John Lebrenn and Castillon, and finally
the young Parisian recruit Duresnel, who also was a member of Captain
Martin's company.
"Well, comrade," said Captain Martin to him, "how goes it? Your heart is
still whole? Keep up your courage, all will go well."
"So far, captain, things are not going badly. But we must wait for the
end--or rather for the beginning, for we haven't begun to fight yet."
"It seems it is going to be warm!" volunteered Castillon. "By my pipe,
what a cannonade! That must be comrade Duchemin making his Carmagnole
spit! Let me see if I can get a glimpse of him over the wall."
Stretching himself on tiptoe, Castillon raised himself sufficiently to
cast his eye above the wall, upon the group of cannon, now half
enveloped in the smoke of their first volleys. Duchemin, kneeling on the
ground after conning the hostile battery through his pocket-glass, was
training his piece, already roughly aimed by a brigadier, while his
assistants on either side, armed with their ramrods, sponges and levers,
stood ready for action. One of them held the match, waiting for the
order to light the fuse. The other five pieces, ranged parallel to
Carmagnole, were likewise surrounded by their attendants and being
sighted by their under-officers. The captain of artillery and his
lieutenants, on horseback, superintended the manoeuvring. In the
distance the Austrian lines and the advancing columns of the French were
lost almost completely in the smoke and smother of the now general
cannonade. Nevertheless, the watchers on the hill soon perceived a large
mass of opposing infantry so cut up and thrown into disorder by the
relentless and accurate fire of the battery, that the Austrian general
was moving up four howitzers and four six-pounders, with the intention
of crippling the republican artillery. Seeing with his glass the first
howitzer advance to the left from the enemy's battery, Duchemin at once
carefully re-trained his Carmagnole, shook his fist in the howitzer's
direction, and growled under his heavy moustache, alluding to the short
and stocky build of those pieces:
"Ah, it is you who would presume to silence my Carmagnole, stump-nose!
I'll show you that you were never cast to clip my sweetheart's words!"
Just then, in response to a sign from the captain, the trumpeter of the
battery sounded the signal to "Fire!"
"Come, my cadet," cried Duchemin to the soldier with the burning match,
"the soup is ready--all we need is to serve it! Light her! light her!
Let her go!"
The cannonier touched off the fuse with his match, and Carmagnole's
discharge rang out several seconds ahead of the general volley of the
battery. Gazing again through his field-glass to watch the effect of his
shell, Duchemin cried out: "There she is! The stump-nose is knocked off
one wheel, and two of her flunkies are keeled over. Long live the
Republic!"
In fact, Carmagnole's ball had crushed one of the wheels of the howitzer
and knocked down two of the Austrian artillerists an instant before the
hostile battery had gotten in its first shot. But almost immediately the
enemy's guns were crowned with several little clouds of white smoke,
lighted up with streaks of flame. A prolonged roar reached the
Frenchmen, and Duchemin exclaimed, turning towards the stone wall where
the volunteer infantrymen were entrenched:
"Citizens, look out for the shells!"
Hardly had Duchemin sounded the warning when the rain of iron was upon
them; the balls screamed, the shells rebounded and burst. The commander
of the little republican battery was cut in two by a flying shell; horse
and rider went down mangled before the shot. Another shell burst between
two cannon, killing one of their crew and wounding two others so
severely that they fell and with difficulty dragged themselves to the
ambulance sheltered behind the farmhouse.
"Cannoniers! Load at will! Aim for the howitzers!" cried the first
lieutenant, assuming command. The trumpet repeated the order through its
metal throat. The artillerymen vied with one another in haste to charge
their pieces. Then cries of "Fire! Fire!" rang out from the farmhouse,
which suddenly became enveloped in thick black smoke. A shell exploding
in a hay loft had set the blaze.
"In one way that little bonfire isn't bad," said Castillon, "for it is
deuced cold. But too much is too much, and now we're going to roast."
And catching sight of the volunteer Duresnel, pale, propping himself up
with his gun, his lips working as though he would talk, though no sound
proceeded from them, Castillon continued: "Well, neighbor, here we are,
'wo'd of honor;' but what the devil do you see back there to make your
eyes pop out so?" So saying, Castillon followed Duresnel's fixed and
frightened stare, and what he saw made him pull the young volunteer
toward him, with the words: "Come, comrade, do not look that way. You
haven't got the hang of the thing yet. That is the fortune of war."
"My heaven," stammered Duresnel, as he followed Castillon's advice. "My
heaven, it is horrible! Poor victims!"
A ball, rebounding on the inner face of the stone wall, had struck the
lines of volunteers sheltered there, killing and maiming all in its
path. The dead and wounded weltered in blood. Captain Martin, struck by
the spent ball near the end of its course, had been knocked down, but
only bruised on the shoulder. Soon recovering from the shock, he lent
his aid to the soldiers of his company, John Lebrenn among them, to
help or carry the wounded to the surgeons' post in the rear. These at
once gave their care to the cannoniers and to some hussars of the Third,
among whom a shell had also wrought its havoc.
Undaunted by these disasters, the republican artillery continued to work
marvels. At last the opposing commander, fearing lest his right wing be
annihilated, sent word to the regiment of the Gerolstein Cuirassiers to
storm the battery. Up to this time masked behind a hill, this regiment
of heavy reserve cavalry had taken no part in the conflict. They were
part of the contingent put by the principality of Gerolstein at the
service of the Germanic Confederation, and were commanded by the Grand
Duke himself. This prince was the father of Franz of Gerolstein, whom he
held immured in a state dungeon. In spite of his sixty-and-odd years,
the old Grand Duke preserved the freshness and buoyancy of youth; to his
natural bravery he now added the incentive of hatred for the Revolution.
The Count of Plouernel, having made good his second escape from Paris,
and now for some time married to the daughter of the Prince of Holtzern,
was second in command. The horsemen of this troop wore a cuirass and
helmet of steel, over a livery in the Grand Duke's colors--bright blue
with orange facings--with heavy boots, and white wool trousers. In
short, the regiment was one of the best equipped and finest in the
allied army. The rank and file, lusty fellows in the prime of life,
warlike, well drilled, well clad, well fed and well paid, pampered up,
in short, like a troop of the chosen, were typical 'soldiers of
monarchy.' Disciplined by their officers with the cane, after the German
fashion, they were the instrument of their master's will, ready to
saber father, mother, brother or fellow-citizen, or to march upon the
enemy, with equal indifference, killing merely because some one said
"Kill!" or falling in the onslaught because some one said "Forward!" On
the right of the regiment rode the Grand Duke, a robust man, tall of
frame, and hard and proud of feature. His face was half concealed under
the visor of his helmet, which was surmounted with a rich plume of heron
feathers. The gentlemen and officers of his household rode somewhat
apart from him, while he himself held the following conversation with
the Count of Plouernel, who now bore the uniform of a colonel of
cuirassiers:
"Count, I saw the Prince of Conde yesterday on his way through
Weissenburg to take up quarters at Lauterburg. 'The Republic,' he said
to me, 'is no longer betrayed by its generals. _Our goose is cooked!_'
The Prince's observation was sound; I look forward to a series of
reverses to our arms. In case I am killed in to-day's battle, do not
forget the promise you have given me. Go to my son Franz, in the prison
where he lies; tell him that my last thoughts were curses upon him.
Then," the Grand Duke added, with a sinister air, "see that justice
takes its course with him. My highest court has judged and condemned my
unworthy son; he is convicted of a revolutionary plot against the safety
of my states, and against my person. He has incurred the penalty of
death--the sentence is to be executed with the briefest possible delay.
My nephew Otto, whose cousin you married, is to inherit my grand-ducal
crown. All the bequests, minutely set forth in my testament, are to be
fully carried out."
"Drive away these dark thoughts, monseigneur," replied the Count. "You
will reign a long time yet, and decide all these matters for yourself."
The word to advance was given, and the Gerolstein regiment, the Grand
Duke at its head, set out at a round trot. The ground shook under the
hoofs of its eight hundred horses; the rattle of its sabers, muskets and
breastplates made a formidable din. Two hundred rods away rose the
hillock on whose brow scowled the republican battery that now menaced
every foot of the plain the cuirassiers were advancing over. Unable to
outflank the battery, owing to its being protected to the right by the
little wood and to the left by the semi-demolished farm buildings, the
Grand Duke could see nothing for it but to charge right into the muzzles
of the cannon which he hoped to capture, little thinking that they were
supported by both infantry and cavalry so cunningly disposed that he was
prevented from detecting them.
"The republican position is too strong, monseigneur, to be attacked in
front," said the Count of Plouernel, "and yet it would be difficult to
try to turn its flank."
"I am resolved to take it in front," replied the Grand Duke. "I rely on
the courage of my cuirassiers. Here we are within short range of their
cannon, and those fellows do not fire."
"They await our closer approach, that their discharge may be the more
deadly."
"Then let us close up the distance, and start the action," exclaimed the
Grand Duke.
The trumpets sounded the charge. Formed in a narrow column, to offer
less front to the republican fire, the troop trotted rapidly forward.
Then, at two hundred paces from the hill, they spread out into two
lines, and, at the Grand Duke's command, spurred their steeds to a
gallop. In this order, and uttering loud huzzahs, they reached the foot
of the hill. Here their impetuous advance was checked by the steep rise
they had to surmount in order to reach the summit and the guns. They
discharged their muskets at the cannoniers of the battery, whose pieces,
pointed straight down the hill, and till this minute dumb, now spoke out
with a fearful volley of shot and shell. The Paris Volunteers, placed as
sharpshooters in the fringes of the woody thicket, rained upon their
assailants a storm of bullets which mingled with the fire of the other
company cloaked in the courtyard of the farmhouse. The rain of lead and
iron being especially trained on the steeds of the first advancing line,
these fell or stumbled, rolled over on their riders, and threw the
second line into such disorder that in spite of its momentum it was
forced to waver and flee. The Grand Duke ordered a retreat on the
gallop, in order to reform his ranks out of range.
Repeated cries of "Long live the Republic!" greeted the retreat. The
German musketry-fire had gone over the heads of the French; only a few
were wounded. All hastened to reload their pieces. The volunteers threw
fresh cartridges into their guns, in order to receive the second charge
of the enemy. The cuirassiers, galled and goaded by the desire to
retrieve their first set-back, reformed while describing a wide circuit
on the plain. Then, led on by the example of the impetuous Grand Duke,
they came on again, not this time in wide front, but in still narrower
column. Again they reached the rise of the hill, bending low over their
horses' manes, and belaboring the animals with boot and spur. They
received the new volley of artillery almost point blank, but still
almost immediately gained the top of the eminence, the Grand Duke in the
lead. They found themselves awaited by the two companies of volunteers,
formed in a hollow square about the cannon, whose attendants were
furiously reloading them. Of the three ranks which formed the square,
the first was on one knee; the others were erect, their bodies bent
forward, guns at position; ready to let fly at the command of Captain
Martin.
Solemn silence reigned among the volunteers as they saw, some thirty
paces from them, the Grand Duke of Gerolstein gain the summit of their
hillock, flanked on one side by a colossus in casque and cuirass bearing
the regimental standard, and followed by several officers of his
military household.
Castillon, who was in the second line, with John Lebrenn half kneeling
before him, and the new volunteer Duresnel behind, said to the former,
sotto voice:
"Friend John, let us unite to bowl over that drum-major on horseback
with the flag. What say you? Let us fire together."
"I am with you. Take the man--I shall aim for the horse."
"Citizens, I also shall aim at the giant," said Duresnel, in his
reed-like voice; "if you will permit, I shall be of your party."
At that moment Captain Martin saw behind the Grand Duke, their bodies
half over the brow of the hill, the first rank of cuirassiers. Only
then, the cavalry being exposed, did he give the order: "Citizens!
Attention! Pick each his man! Aim! Fire!"
"Onward, cuirassiers! Saber this canaille!" shouted the Grand Duke,
urging his horse to a great leap in order to reach the serried square.
"Onward! Hurrah! Thrust, my braves, and on!"
Attackers and defenders disappeared together in the heavy cloud of smoke
from cannon and musket. For long the lurid obscurity of battle hung over
the little hill; when the blue haze cleared away, the scene that
presented itself to the survivors was one of rejoicing for the Republic,
of rout and disaster for its enemies.
The foremost cuirassiers, overwhelmed by the fire from the hollow
square, had nearly all either fallen, with their horses, or been
trampled down by the following ranks which succeeded in scaling the
hill. Still the Grand Duke of Gerolstein and several of his men had been
carried by the impetuosity of their charge into the interior of the
square, in spite of the forest of bayonets with which it bristled; but
they came to a stop when their coursers, exhausted by their last
assault, and pierced by the republican bayonets, sank under them.
Castillon had been sabered in the shoulder by the old Grand Duke;
Duresnel was stunned and bruised but not wounded. Both at once, after
their first disorder, beheld the Grand Duke within the square, pinned
under his riddled horse. The great orange belt which he wore marked him
as a military chieftain. Castillon and Duresnel precipitated themselves
upon him and took him prisoner. John Lebrenn, for his part, had aimed
accurately, and sent a ball into the chest of the color-bearer's mount.
The giant, proof against musket balls, thanks to the thickness of his
helmet, breastplate and heavy boots, leaped clear of his steed, and, his
saber in one hand, his standard in the other, defended himself against
John, who rushed at him with fixed bayonet. The colossus whirled his
sword about him and wounded John in the knee; though wounded, the latter
rushed on--and captured the colors.
Simultaneously with this, at a few paces' distance, another episode was
enacting. An under-officer of the Gerolstein Cuirassiers, seeing himself
surrounded, fell furiously upon quartermaster Duchemin and his men.
Duchemin, old wagoner that he was, entrenched himself behind one of
Carmagnole's wheels, which thus served to shield nearly half his body
from the saber and hoof-strokes which his adversary sought to rain upon
him. Thus barricaded, and further defending himself with a gun-swab, he
at last succeeded in landing so masterful a blow upon his antagonist's
helmet that the latter tumbled from his saddle half senseless. Meanwhile
Carmagnole's other servitors had reloaded her. At a signal the ranks
opened, and once more the artillery belched forth its iron hail upon the
last squadron of the Gerolstein regiment, a reserve squad which the
Count of Plouernel led again to the charge. Suddenly the remaining
cuirassiers, seized with panic, wheeled about and fled full tilt down
the steep incline. Their hurried departure was not due alone to the
lively and sustained fire of the republican battery. The squadron of the
Third Hussars, drawn up in battle array behind the burning farm
buildings, had so far taken no part in the fray. Its captain had been
killed and its lieutenant disabled by an exploding shell. But Oliver,
although the youngest of the under-officers, already possessed so great
a reputation for bravery that the soldiers, by common accord, voted him
the command of the regiment. "Ah, I was sure of it!" said the dashing
young man, leaning over to Victoria, as they walked their horses
together alongside the first platoon; "I felt that I should either be
killed to-day or win my epaulets. I shall be named an officer on the
field of battle."
The French squadron, now put to a gallop, fell upon the rear ranks of
the Gerolstein Cuirassiers just as their head was being thrown into
disorder and repulsed by the joint fire of the battery and the volunteer
infantrymen. Oliver charged the German horsemen furiously. The broil was
desperate. The Count of Plouernel, who strove in vain to rally the
fleers, suddenly found himself beset by a young hussar whose cap had
fallen off in the tumult of battle.
Apparently careless of self the young cavalier rushed straight at the
traitor Count--slashed at his face--one eye he would never see out of
again. Infuriated by the wound, the Count made a lunge and drove his
saber into his adversary's breast. Then Neroweg urged his horse towards
the left wing of the Austrian army, and escaped the pursuit of the
republican hussars.
The young horseman was Victoria.