THE ORGAN
It was noon and the victory was complete. The conquered Prussians
abandoned the battlefield covered with dead and wounded, twenty-four
ammunition wagons, and eighteen cannon.
The cannon were dragged before the two generals, and their captors were
paid for them at the price set upon them at the beginning of the
conflict--six hundred francs apiece.
The battalion of the Indre had taken two. The soldiers were exhausted,
first from their night's march, and then from the three long hours of
fighting. The generals decided that while one battalion took possession
of Froeschwiller, the others should halt and breakfast upon the
battlefield.
The trumpets sounded and the drums beat a halt. Arms were stacked. The
French relighted the Prussian fires, some of which were not wholly
extinguished. When they left Dawendorff they had all received their full
rations, and as they had in addition their back pay for five months,
each one had added a sausage, a roast fowl, a smoked tongue or a leg of
ham to the regular fare. All had full canteens.
If one chanced to be less well provisioned, and had only dry bread, he
opened a dead comrade's knapsack and found all he wanted.
In the meantime the surgeons were going over the field; those who could
stand the transportation were sent to Froeschwiller to await attention
there, the others were looked after at once. The generals established
themselves in the redoubts previously occupied by General Hodge half way
up the hill. The Goddess of Reason, now the citizeness Faraud, in her
quality of first canteen-bearer of the Army of the Rhine, and having no
rival in the Army of the Moselle, had assumed charge of the generals'
repast. A few chairs, knives and forks and glasses were discovered; they
had hoped to find all other necessaries in the general's wagon, but a
stray ball had shattered the caisson and all that it contained. The
table was set with all the necessary dishes, but all kinds of food and
drink were conspicuous by their absence.
Pichegru was about to ask tithes of his soldiers, when a voice, which
seemed to come from the bowels of the earth, cried: "Victory! Victory!"
It was Faraud, who had discovered a trap-door, a staircase, and a cellar
containing a well-furnished pantry.
Ten minutes later the generals and their staff were dining at the same
table. No words could describe these fraternal love-feasts, where
soldiers, officers and generals broke the bread of the bivouac together.
These men who were to conquer the world, and had started at the Bastile
as Cæsar's soldiers had started at the Golden Mile, began to feel in
themselves the supreme confidence which gives victory. They did not know
whither they were to go, but they were ready to go anywhere. They had
before them the whole world, and behind them France--the land which is
more solicitous than all others, the only one which lives, breathes, and
loves her children, which has a heart, which trembles with pleasure
beneath their feet when they triumph, with sadness when they are
vanquished, and with gratitude when they die for her.
Oh! he only knows her, this Cornelia among nations, he only can cherish
her pride, who can place on her head a laurel-crown, and in her hand the
sword of Charlemagne, of Philippe-Auguste, of François I., or of
Napoleon--he alone knows what milk can be drawn from her bosom, what
tears from her eyes, what blood from her heart!
In this genesis of the nineteenth century, with the mire of the
eighteenth still clinging to its feet while its head was in the
clouds--in these first battles, when a single people, in the name of
liberty and the happiness of the human race, threw down the gauntlet to
the whole civilized world--there was something grand, Homeric, sublime,
which I feel myself powerless to describe, and yet for the purpose of
describing which I have undertaken this book. It is not the least of the
poet's misfortunes to feel grandeur, and yet, breathless, stifled,
discontented with himself, to fall far short of that which he feels.
With the exception of the five hundred men who had been sent to occupy
Froeschwiller, the remainder of the army, as we have seen, bivouacked
upon the field of battle, rejoicing over their victory, and already
forgetful of the price it had cost them. The cavalry, which had been
sent in pursuit of the Prussians, now returned with twelve hundred
prisoners and six pieces of artillery. Their story was as follows:
A short distance beyond Woerth, the second carabineers, the third
hussars and the thirtieth chasseurs had attacked a large force of
Prussians surrounding one of Abatucci's regiments, which, having lost
its way, had found itself in the midst of the enemy. Attacked on all
sides by a force ten times superior to them, the men formed a square and
fired a volley of musketry which had attracted the attention of their
comrades.
The three regiments did not hold back; they burst through the terrible
wall of fire which encircled their comrades; and the latter, realizing
that help was at hand, formed in column and fell upon the enemy with
terrible energy. Cavalry and infantry then began their retreat toward
the French army, but an overwhelming force issued from Woerth and
intercepted them. The battle began anew, and, as the French were
contending with four times their number, they might have had to yield,
had not a regiment of dragoons cut a way through the flames for the
infantry, thus setting it free. The infantry in turn, being once more
able to open a regular fire, soon cleared a space around it. The cavalry
enlarged this space; then horse and foot dashed forward, cutting and
slashing, and, singing the "Marseillaise," made sure their position, and
were thus able to return to the French army without even losing their
guns, amid cries of "Long live the Republic!"
The generals mounted and rode into the town to prepare for its defence
should the Prussians attack it. They also wished to visit the hospitals.
All the peasants in the neighborhood, and workmen from Froeschwiller,
about seven or eight hundred, were requisitioned to bury the dead. They
immediately began to dig immense trenches in the plain, in which they
placed French and Prussian soldiers, regardless of their nationality.
Prussians and French, in the morning living enemies, became reconciled
in the sleep of death at nightfall.
The town was too small to lodge all the army; but with the intelligence
and rapidity of French soldiers a temporary village arose as if by magic
upon the plain, over which shot and shell had whistled in the morning,
while the rest of the army occupied the intrenchments thrown up by the
Prussians. The two generals took up their quarters in the great redoubt,
sheltered by the same tent.
It was about five o'clock in the evening. The officers were seated at
dinner with Pichegru between Charles, who had that day for the first
time witnessed the terrors of war and was in consequence extraordinarily
thoughtful, and Doumerc, who was on the contrary extremely loquacious.
Suddenly Pichegru, thinking he caught a distant sound, which might be a
signal, hurriedly placed one hand on Doumerc's arm, and the other on
his own lips to command silence. Every one obeyed.
Then from the distance came a far-off echo of the strains of the
"Marseillaise." Pichegru smiled and looked at Hoche.
"All right, gentlemen," he said. "Doumerc, you may go on." And Doumerc
continued his narration.
Only two persons understood the meaning of this interruption and caught
the sound of the organ.
Five minutes later, the sounds still approaching, Pichegru went to the
flap of his tent and stepped out upon the covered platform which gave
entrance to it. The organ came nearer; the musician was evidently
climbing the hill. The general soon saw him approaching by the light of
the fires on the great redoubt. But the sentinel's challenge stopped him
when he was not more than twenty feet from the door. As the musician had
not the countersign he began to play the "Marseillaise" again; and at
the first notes the general's voice called from the top of the
embankment: "Let him pass."
The sentinel recognized the general as he leaned over the parapet, and
drew back obediently. Five minutes later the general and the spy were
face to face.
Pichegru signed to Stephan to follow him, and the spy, seeing that he
had been recognized, stopped playing. Then Pichegru led him to the
cellar where General Hodge's stores had been found, and where Leblanc
had placed a table and pen, paper and ink. Leblanc was then put on guard
at the door, with orders to allow no one to pass save General Hoche and
citizen Charles.
Six o'clock struck in the village. Stephan listened and counted the
strokes.
"Good!" he said, "we have twelve hours of darkness before us."
"Can we do anything to-night?" asked Pichegru, eagerly.
"Please God," replied Stephan, "we will take Woerth."
"Stephan," exclaimed Pichegru, "if you keep your word what shall I give
you?"
"Your hand," replied Stephan.
"There it is," replied Pichegru, seizing the other's hand, and shaking
it heartily. Then, motioning to him to sit down, he continued: "And now,
what must we do?"
Stephan placed his organ in a corner, but still remained standing.
"I shall need ten wagons of straw and ten of hay in less than two
hours."
"Nothing easier," replied Pichegru.
"Sixty daring men, ready to risk everything, of whom at least half speak
German."
"I have a battalion of Alsatian volunteers."
"Thirty Prussian uniforms."
"We can get them from the prisoners."
"And three thousand men under command of a capable general, who must
leave here at ten o'clock, and, passing by way of Enashausen, must be
within a hundred feet of the Haguenau gate at midnight."
"I will command them myself."
"The first corps must remain silent and motionless until they hear the
word 'Fire' and see a great light, then they must hasten into the town,
to which they will find the gate open."
"Very well," said Pichegru, "I understand. But how are you going to make
the gates of a fortified city open to your ten wagons of straw at this
time of night?"
Stephan drew a paper from his pocket.
"Here is the order," he said.
And he showed Pichegru an order to the citizen Bauer, landlord of the
Golden Lion, to deliver within twenty-four hours ten wagons of straw and
ten of hay, for the use of the chasseurs of Hohenlohe.
"You have an answer for everything," laughed Pichegru; then, calling
Leblanc, he said: "Give your best supper to citizen Stephan, and tell
General Hoche and Charles to come here."