THE BATTLE
The army was awake and desirous of marching; and as it was nearly five
o'clock, the general gave the order to start, telling the soldiers that
they should breakfast at Dawendorff, and that they were to have a double
ration of brandy.
Skirmishers were thrown out to capture the sentinels as they passed;
then they left the woods in three columns, one of which seized and
occupied Kaltenhausen, while the other two, to the right and left of the
village, drawing their light artillery after them, spread out over the
plain, and marched straight for Dawendorff.
The enemy had been surprised in Kaltenhausen, and had therefore made
little resistance; but the firing had given the alarm to Dawendorff, and
the troops could be seen drawn up in line of battle.
A slight eminence rose at a distance of about half a cannon-shot from
the village; the general put his horse to a gallop, and, followed by his
staff, gained the summit of the rise, whence he could see the whole
field of battle.
When he left, he directed General Macdonald to take the first battalion
of the Indre, which formed the head of the column, and dislodge the
enemy from Dawendorff.
He kept the eighth chasseurs near him as a reserve, and in front he
posted a battery of six guns. The battalion of the Indre, followed by
the rest of the army, strategically disposed, marched straight upon the
enemy. Intrenchments had been thrown up outside the village. When the
Republicans were not more than two hundred yards away, Pichegru made a
sign, and his artillery covered the breastworks with a leaden hail. The
Prussians on their side replied with a well-directed fire, which killed
about fifty. But the brave battalions which formed the attacking column
went steadily forward, and, preceded by beating drums, charged the enemy
with the bayonet.
Already harassed by the grape-shot which the general had turned upon
them, the enemy abandoned the intrenchments, and the Republicans poured
into the village with the Prussians. But in the meantime two large
bodies of troops appeared on either side of the village; they were the
royalist cavalry and infantry, commanded by the Prince de Condé and the
Duc de Bourbon. The two bodies threatened to attack the little army in
the rear, as it stood ranged in battle, as it were, behind the battalion
of the Indre, of which a part was following it.
Pichegru immediately despatched Captain Gaume, one of his aides-de-camp,
to order General Michaud, who commanded the centre, to form his men in a
hollow square, and to receive the enemy's charge with the bayonet.
Then calling Abatucci on the other side, he ordered him to put himself
at the head of the second regiment of chasseurs and to charge the
royalist infantry when he judged that the grape-shot had thrown their
lines into sufficient disorder.
From the top of the little hill where he stood fearlessly beside the
general, Charles saw, below him, Pichegru and the Prince de Condé, or,
in other words, the revolution and the counter-revolution, play at that
terrible game of chess which is called war.
He saw Captain Gaume cross at a gallop the broad open space which lay to
the left of the hill occupied by Pichegru, to carry the
general-in-chief's order to the adjutant-general, Michaud, who had at
that very moment perceived that his left was threatened by the Prince de
Condé and had anticipated the order sent him.
On the right he saw Captain Abatucci take the head of the chasseurs, and
descend the hill at a gentle trot, while three volleys of the cannon,
fired one after the other, raked the mass of infantry which was
approaching.
There was a movement of hesitation in the royalist ranks by which
Abatucci profited. He ordered his men to draw their swords, and on the
instant six hundred blades glittered in the rays of the sun.
The Duc de Bourbon attempted to form his men into a square, but either
the confusion was too great or the order was given too late. The charge
came like the deluge of a waterspout, and cavalry and infantry were seen
fighting hand to hand, while, on the other side, Adjutant-General
Michaud's men fired when they were not twenty-five feet away.
It would be impossible to describe the effect of this volley, fired at
such close quarters. More than a hundred riders fell, some, impelled by
their own momentum, rolling as far as the first ranks of the square. The
prince then retired to reform his cavalry out of range of the
cannon-shot.
At the same moment the battalion of the Indre was seen to retreat,
although slowly. They had found the village occupied in force, and had
been received by firing from every window, and also from two pieces of
cannon which were set up within the village as a battery. The regiment
had been obliged to fall back.
The general sent his fourth aide-de-camp, Chaumette, at full gallop to
find out what had happened and to direct Macdonald to hold the position
at any cost.
Chaumette crossed the field under fire of both the royalists and the
Republicans, and halted within a few feet of the intrenchments to
deliver his message. Macdonald replied that he certainly should not
yield the position, and that furthermore, as soon as the men had taken
breath, he should make a new attempt to recapture the village of
Dawendorff. But in order to facilitate the success of the movement he
wished that some diversion could be made to draw off the enemy's
attention for a few moments.
Chaumette returned to Pichegru, who was stationed so near the
battlefield that it took only a few moments to deliver his messages and
return to him with the answers.
"Take twenty-five chasseurs and four trumpeters from Abatucci," said
Pichegru; "go round the village and enter the street opposite to where
Doumerc will charge; have the trumpets blown as loudly as possible while
Macdonald charges; the enemy will thus think it is caught between two
fires and will yield."
Chaumette rode down the slope of the hill again, reached Abatucci,
exchanged a few words with him, took the twenty-five men, and sent
another to tell Macdonald to charge, and that he was to attack the enemy
in the rear at the same time.
Macdonald immediately raised his sword, the drums beat the charge, and,
amid a terrible rattle of musketry, he boldly re-entered the village.
Almost at the same moment Chaumette's trumpets were heard at the other
end of the village.
The disorder now became general. The Prince de Condé turned upon Michaud
and his battalion, which had formed in a square. The royalist infantry
began to beat a retreat before Abatucci and the eighth chasseurs; and
Pichegru sent half of his reserve, about four or five hundred men, to
the assistance of the battalion of the Indre, keeping the other four or
five hundred with him to use in case of some unexpected emergency. As
the royalist infantry retreated they fired a last volley, not at
Abatucci and his chasseurs, but at the group upon the hill, where the
Republican general was easily recognized by his plume and his gold
epaulets.
Two men fell. The general's horse, struck in the chest, leaped in the
air. Charles uttered a sigh and fell forward in his saddle.
"Ah! poor child!" cried Pichegru; "Larrey, Larrey!"
A young surgeon about twenty-six or seven approached. They held the boy
upon his horse, and, as in falling he had pressed his hand to his
breast, they opened his vest. The general's surprise was great when they
discovered a foraging cap between the waistcoat and his shirt. They
shook the cap and a bullet fell out.
"It is useless to seek further," said the surgeon; "the shirt is intact
and there is no blood. The boy is not strong and the violence of the
blow has made him faint. This foraging cap, which would have been of no
protection in its proper place, has saved his life here. Give him some
brandy and he will be all right."
"How strange," said Pichegru; "this cap belongs to the chasseurs of
Condé's army."
Just then Charles revived, and his first movement, on coming to himself,
was to look for the foraging cap. He was about to ask for it when he saw
it in the general's hand. "Ah! general," he said, "pardon me."
"You may well ask pardon for having given us such a fright."
"Oh! not that," said Charles, smiling and pointing to the cap which
Pichegru held in his hand.
"You must explain this to me," said Pichegru.
Charles came close to the general and said in a low voice: "That belongs
to the Comte de Sainte-Hermine, that young noble who was shot; and when
he was dying he asked me to give it to his family."
"But," said Pichegru, feeling it, "there is a letter inside."
"Yes, general; to his brother. The poor fellow feared it might be lost
if he gave it to a stranger."
"While in confiding it to some one from his own part of the country he
had nothing to fear, I suppose."
"Have I done wrong, general?"
"It is never wrong to fulfil the wish of a dying man, particularly when
that wish is an honorable one. I may even say that it is a sacred duty
to do so as soon as possible."
"But I shall probably not return to Besançon at once."
"If I try, perhaps I can find some excuse for sending you there."
"Not because you are displeased with, me, general?" asked the boy, with
tears in his eyes.
"No; I will give you some commission which shall prove to your
compatriots that the Jura has still another boy in the service of the
Republic. Now let us see what is going on yonder."
In a few moments Charles forgot his own accident as his eyes wandered
over the battlefield and the town; he held his breath in the absorbing
interest of the sight, and, touching the general on the arm, pointed to
the men running over roofs, jumping out of windows, and climbing over
garden walls in their haste to reach the plain.
"Good," said Pichegru, "we are masters of the town, and the day is
ours." Then, turning to Lieber, the only one of his officers near him,
he said: "Take command of the reserve and prevent these men from
rallying."
Lieber put himself at the head of the four or five hundred men and
descended upon the village.
"Now," continued Pichegru with his usual calmness, "let us go to the
village and see what is happening."
And accompanied only by twenty-five or thirty chasseurs of the
rear-guard, together with General Boursier and Charles, he set off at a
gallop on the road to Dawendorff.
Charles cast a last glance at the plain; the enemy were fleeing in all
directions. This was the first time that he had seen a battle; he was
now to see a battlefield. He had seen the poetical side--the movement,
the fire, the smoke; but the distance had concealed all the details. He
was now to see the hideous side--the agony, the immobility of death: he
was about to enter upon the bloody reality.