Tom Burke Of "Ours", Volume II

“You wished to see something of a skirmish, Captain, I suppose? Well, you’re like enough to be gratified; we’re closing up rapidly now.”

“What may be the strength of your battalion, Corporal?”

“Twelve hundred men, sir; and they’re every one at this instant in the valley, though I’ll wager you don’t see a bough move nor a leaf stirring to show where they lie hid. You see that low copse yonder; well, there’s a company of ours beneath its shelter. But there goes the word to move on.”

A motion with his sword, the only command he gave, communicated the order; and the men, creeping stealthily on, obeyed the mandate, till at another signal they were halted.

From the little copse of brushwood where we now lay, to the farmhouse, the ground was completely open, – not a shrub nor a bush grew; a slight ascent of the road led up to the gate, which could not be more than three hundred paces in front of us. We were stationed at some distance to the right of the road, but the field presented no obstacle or impediment to our attack; and thither now were our looks turned, – the short road which would lead to victory or the grave.

From my ambush I could see the two fieldpieces which commanded the road, and beside which the artillerymen stood in patient attention. With what a strange thrill I watched one of the party, as from time to time he stooped down to blow the fuse beside the gun, and then seemed endeavoring to peer into the valley, where all was still and noiseless! As well as I could judge, our little party was nearest to the front; and although a small clump to the left of the road offered a safe shelter still nearer the enemy, I could not ascertain if it were occupied.

Not a word was now spoken. All save the corporal looked eagerly towards the enemy; he was watching for the signal, and knelt down with his drawn sword at his side. The deathlike stillness of the moment, so unlike the prelude to every movement in cavalry combat; the painful expectation which made minutes like years themselves; the small number of the party, so dissimilar to the closely crowded squadrons I was used to; but, more than all, the want of a horse, – that most stirring of all the excitements to heroism and daring, – unnerved me; and if my heart were to have been interrogated, I sadly fear it would have brought little corroboration to the song of the voltigeurs, which attributed so many features of superiority to their arm of the service above the rest of the army.

A thousand and thousand times did I wish to be at the head of a cavalry charge up that narrow road in face of those guns; ay, though the mitraille should sweep the earth, there was that in the onward torrent of the horseman’s course that left no room for fear. But this cold and stealthy approach, this weary watching, I could not bear.

“See, see,” whispered the corporal, as he pointed with his finger towards the clump to the left of the road, “how beautifully done! there goes another.”

As he spoke, I could perceive the dark shadow of something moving close to the ground, and finally concealing itself in the brushwood, beneath which now above twenty men lay hid. At the same instant a deep rolling sound like far-off thunder was heard; and then louder still, but less deep in volume, the rattling crash of musketry. At first the discharges were more prolonged, and succeeded one another more rapidly; but gradually the firing became less regular; then after an interval swelled more fully again, and once more relaxed.

“Listen!” said the corporal; “can’t you hear the cheering? There again; the skirmishers are falling back, – the fire is too heavy for them.”

“Which, the Prussians?”

“To be sure, the Prussians. Hark! there was a volley; that was no tirailleur discharge; the columns are advancing. Down, men, down!” whispered he, as, excited by the sounds of musketry, some three or four popped up their heads to listen. At the same instant a noise in front drew our attention to that quarter; and we now saw that a party of horse artillerymen were descending the road with a light eight-pounder gun, which they were proceeding to place in position on a small knoll of ground about eighty yards from the coppice I have mentioned.

“How I could pick off that fellow on the gray horse,” whispered a soldier beside me to his comrade.

“And bring the whole fire on us afterwards,” said the other.

“What can we be waiting for?” said the corporal, impatiently. “They are making that place as strong as a fortress; and there, see if that is not a reinforcement!”

While he spoke, the heavy tramp of men marching announced the approach of fresh troops; and by the bustle and noise within the farmhouse it was clear the preparations for its defence were making with all the activity the exigency demanded.

It was past seven o’clock; but as the day broke more out, the heavy fog increased, and soon grew so dense as to shut out from our view the Prussian picket and the guns upon the road. Meanwhile the firing continued at a distance, but, as it seemed, fainter than before.

“Ha! there it comes now,” said the corporal, as a shrill whistle was heard to our left. “Look to your pieces, men! steady.” There was a pause; every ear was bent to listen, every breath drawn short, when again he spoke. “That ‘s it. En avant, lads! en avant!”

With the word he sprang forward, but still crouching, he went as if the thick mist were not enough to conceal him. The men followed their leader with cautious steps, their carbines in hand and bayonets fixed. For some minutes we ascended the hill, gradually nearing the road, along which a low bank offered a slight protection against fire.

The corporal halted here for a second or two, when another whistle, so faint as to be scarcely audible, was borne on the air. With a motion of his hand forwards he gave the order to advance, and led the way along the roadside.

As we followed in single file, I found myself next the corporal, whose every motion I watched with an intensity of interest I cannot convey. At last he stopped and wheeled round; then, kneeling down, he levelled his piece upon the low bank, – a movement quickly followed by all the rest who in silence obeyed his signal.

Directly in front of us now, and as it seemed not above a dozen yards distant, the yellow glare of the artillery fuse could be dimly discerned through the mist; thither every eye was bent and every musket pointed. Thus we knelt with beating hearts, when suddenly several shots rang out from the valley and the opposite side of the road; as quickly replied to by the enemy, and a smart but irregular clattering of musketry followed.

“Now,” cried the corporal, aloud, “now, and all together!”

And then with one long, stunning report, every gun was discharged, and a wild cry of the wounded blended with the sounds as we cleared the fence and dashed at the guns.

“Down, men, down!” called our leader, as we jumped into the road. The word was scarce uttered when a bright flash gleamed forth, a loud bang succeeded, and we heard the grapeshot crushing down the valley and tearing its way through the leaves and branches of the brushwood.

“En avant, lads! now’s your time!” cried the corporal, as he sprang to his feet and led towards the gun.

With one vigorous dash we pushed up the height, just as the cannoneers were preparing to load. The gunners fell back, and a party of infantry as quickly presented themselves.

The mist happily concealed the smallness of our force, otherwise the Prussians might have crushed us at once. For a second there was a pause; then both sides fired, an irregular volley was discharged, and the muskets were lowered to the charge. What must have been the fate of our little party now there could be no doubt; when suddenly, through the blue smoke which yet lingered near the guns, the bright gleaming of bayonets was seen to flash, while the loud vivas of our own soldiers rent the air.

So rapid was the rush, and so thronging did they come, it seemed as if the very ground had given them up. With a cry of “Forward!” on we went; the enemy retired and fell back behind the cover of the road, where they kept up a tremendous fire upon the gun, to which now all our efforts were directed, to turn against the walls of the farmhouse.

The mist by this was cleared away, and we were exposed to the shattering fire which was maintained not only along the road, but from every window and crevice in the walls of the farmhouse. Our men fell fast, – several badly wounded; for the distance was less than half musket-range, even to the farthest.

“The bayonet, men! the bayonet! Leave the gun, and sweep the road of those fellows yonder!” said the major, as, vaulting over the fence, he led the way himself.

We were now reinforced, and numbered fully four companies; so that our attack soon drove in the enemy, who retreated, still firing, within the courtyard around the farmhouse.

“Bring up the gun, lads, and we ‘ll soon breach them,” said the major. But, unhappily, the party to whom it was committed, being annoyed at the service which kept them back when their companions were advancing, had hurled the piece off its carriage, and rolled it down the mountain.

With a muttered sacré on their stupidity, the officer cried out to scale the walls. If honor and rank and wealth had lain on the opposite side, and not death and agony, they could not have obeyed with more alacrity. Raised on one another’s shoulders, the brave fellows mounted the wall; but it was only to fall back again into their comrades’ arms, dead or mortally wounded. Still they pressed on: a reckless defiance of danger had shut out every other thought; and their cheers grew wilder and fiercer as the fire told upon them, while the shouts of triumph from those within stimulated them to the verge of madness.

“Stand back, men! stand back!” called the major; “down! I say.”

As he spoke, a dead silence followed; the men retreated behind the cover of the fence, and lay down flat with their faces to the ground. A low, hissing noise was then heard; and then, with a clap like thunder, the strong gate was rent into fragments and scattered in blazing pieces about the field. The crash of the petard was answered by a cheer wild as a war-whoop, and onward the infuriated soldiers poured through the still burning timbers. And now began a scene of carnage which only a hand-to-hand encounter can ever produce. From every door and window the Prussians maintained a deadly fire: but the onward tide of victory was with us, and we poured down upon them with the bayonet; and as none gave, none asked for, quarter, the work of death was speedy. To the wild shouts of battle, the crash, the din, the tumult of the fight, a dropping irregular fire succeeded; and then came the low, wailing cries of the wounded, the groans of the dying, and all was over! We were the victors; but what a victory! The garden was strewn with our dead; the hall, the stairs, every room was covered with bodies of our brave fellows, their rugged faces even sterner than in life.

For some minutes it seemed as though our emotions had unnerved us all, as we stood speechless, gazing on the fearful scene of bloodshed; when the low rolling of drums, heard from the mountain side, startled every listener.

“The Prussians! the Prussians!” called out three or four voices together.

“No, no!” shouted François; “I was too long a tambour not to know that beat; they ‘re our fellows.”

The drums rolled fuller and louder; and soon the head of a column appeared peering over the ascent of the road. The sun shone brightly on their gay uniforms and glancing arms, and the tall and showily-dressed tambour-major stepped in advance with the proud bearing of a conqueror.

“Form, men, and to the front!” said the major of the voltigeurs, who knew that his place was in the advance, and felt a noble pride that he had won it bravely.

As the column came up the road, the voltigeurs, scattered along the road on either side, advanced at a run. But no longer was there any obstacle to their course; no enemy presented themselves in sight, and we mounted the ascent without a single shot being fired.

As I stopped for time to recover breath, I could not help turning to behold the valley, which, now filled with armed men, was a grand and a gorgeous sight. In long columns of attack they came, the artillery filling the interspaces between them. A brilliant sunlight shone out; and I could distinguish the different brigades, with whose colors I was now familiar. Still my eye ranged over the field in search of cavalry, the arm I loved above all others, – that which, more than all the rest, revived the heroic spirit of the chivalrous ages, and made the horseman feel the ancient ardor of the belted knight. But none were within sight. Indeed, the very nature of the ground offered an obstacle to their movement, and I saw that here, as at Austerlitz, the day was for the infantry.

Meanwhile we toiled up the height, and at length reached the crest of the ridge. And then burst forth a sight such as all the grandeur I had ever beheld of war had never presented the equal to. On a vast tableland, slightly undulating on the surface, was drawn up the whole Prussian army in battle array, – a splendid force of nigh thirty thousand infantry, flanked by ten thousand sabres, the finest cavalry in Europe. By some inconceivable error of tactics, they had offered no other resistance to the French ascent of the mountain than the skirmishing troops, which fell back as we came on; and even now they seemed to wait patiently for the enemy to form before the conflict should begin. As our columns crowned the hill they instantly deployed, to cover the advance of those who followed: but the precaution seemed needless; for, except at the extreme left, where we heard the firing before, the Prussian army never moved a man, nor showed any disposition to attack.

It was now nine o’clock; the sky clear and cloudless, and a bright autumnal day permitted the eye to range for miles on every side. The Prussian army, but forty thousand strong, was drawn up in the form of an arch, presenting the convexity to our front; while our troops, ninety thousand in number, overlapped them on either flank, and extended far beyond them.

The battle began by the advance of the French columns and the retreat of the enemy, – both movements being accomplished without a shot being fired, and the whole seeming the manoeuvres of a field-day.

At length, as the Prussians took up the position they intended to hold, their guns were seen moving to the front; squadrons of cavalry disengaged themselves from behind the infantry masses; and then a tremendous tire opened from the whole line. Our troops advanced en tirailleurs, – that is, whole regiments thrown out in skirmishing order, – which, when pressed, fell back, and permitted the columns to appear.

The division to which I found myself attached received orders to move obliquely across the plain, in the direction of some cottages, which I soon heard was the village of Vierzehn Heiligen, and the centre of the Prussian position. A galling fire of artillery played upon the column as it went; and before we accomplished half the distance, our loss was considerable. More than once, too, the cry of “cavalry!” was heard; and quick as the warning itself, we were thrown into square, to receive the impetuous horsemen, who came madly on to the charge. Ney himself stood in the squares, animating the men by his presence, and cheering them at every volley they poured in.

“Yonder, men! yonder is the centre of their position,” said he, pointing to the village, which now bristled with armed men, several guns upon a height beyond it commanding the approach, and a cloud of cavalry hovering near, to pounce down upon those who might be daring enough to assail it. A wild cheer answered his words: both general and soldiers understood each other well.

In two columns of attack the division was formed; and then the word “Forward!” was given. “Orderly time, men!” said General Dorsenne, who commanded that with which I was; and, obedient to the order, the ranks moved as if on parade.

And now let me mention a circumstance, which, though trivial in itself, presents a feature of the peculiar character of courage which distinguished the French officer in battle. As the line advanced, the fire of the Prussian battery, which by this had found out our range most accurately, opened severely on us, but more particularly on the left; and as the men fell fast, and the grapeshot tore through the ranks, a wavering of the line took place, and in several places a broken front was presented. Dorsenne saw it at once, and placing himself in front of the advance, with his back towards the enemy, he called out, as if on parade, “Close order – close order! Move up there – left, right – left, right!” And so did he retire step by step, marking the time with his sword, while the shot flew past and about him, and the earth was scattered by the torrent of the grapeshot. Courage like this would seem to give a charmed life, for while death was dealing fast around him, he never received a wound.

The village was attacked at the bayonet point, and at the charge the enemy received us. So long as their artillery could continue its fire, our loss was fearful; but once within shelter of the walls and close in with the Prussian ranks, the firing ceased, and the struggle was hand to hand. Twice did we win our way up the ascent; twice were we beaten back. Strong reinforcements were coming up to the enemy’s aid; when a loud rolling of the drums and a hoarse cheer from behind revived our spirits, – it was Lannes’s division advancing at a run. They opened to permit our retiring masses to re-form behind them, and then rushed on. A crash of musketry rang out, and through the smoke the glancing bayonets flashed and the red flame danced wildly.

“En avant! en avant!” burst from every man, as, maddened with excitement, we plunged into the fray. Like a vast torrent tumbling from some mountain gorge, the column poured on, overwhelming all before it, – now struggling for a moment, as some obstacle delayed, but could not arrest, its march; now rushing headlong, it swept along. The village was won; the Prussians fell back. Their guns opened fiercely on us, and cavalry tore past, sabring all who sought not shelter within the walls: but the post was ours, the key of their position was in our hands; and Ney sent three messengers one after the other to the Emperor to let him know the result, and enable him to push forward and attack the Prussian centre.

Suddenly a wild cry was heard from the little street of the village: the houses were in flames. The Prussians had thrown in heated shells, and the wooden roofs of the cottages caught up the fire. For an instant all became, as it were, panic-struck, and a confused movement of retreat was begun: but the next moment order was restored; the sappers scaled the walls of the burning houses, and with their axes severed the timbers, and suffered the blazing mass to fall within the buildings.

But by this time the Prussians had re-formed their columns, and once more advanced to the attack. The moment was in their favor: the disorder of our ranks, and the sudden fear inspired by an unlooked-for danger still continued, when they came on. Then, indeed, began a scene of bloodshed the most horrible to witness: through the narrow streets, within the gardens, the houses themselves, the combatants fought hand to hand; neither would give way; neither knew on which side lay their supporting columns. It was the terrible carnage of deadly animosity on both sides.

Meanwhile the flames burst forth anew, and amid the crackling of the burning timbers and the dense smoke of the lighted thatch, the fight went on.

“Vandamme! Vandamme!” cried several voices, in ecstasy; “here come the grenadiers!” And, true enough, the tall shakos peered through the blue cloud.

“Hurrah for the Faubourg!” shouted a wild voltigeur, as he waved his cap and sprang forward. “Let us not lose the glory now, boys!”

The appeal was not made in vain. From every window and doorway the men leaped down into the street, and rushed at the Prussian column, which was advancing at the charge. Suddenly the column opened, a rushing sound was heard, and down with the speed of lightning rode a squadron of cuirassiers. Over us they tore, sabring as they went, nor halted till the head of Vandamme’s column poured in a volley. Then wheeling, they galloped back, trampling on our wounded, and dealing death with their broadswords.

As for me, a sabre-cut in the head had stunned me; and while I leaned for support against the wall of a house, a horseman tore past, and with one vigorous cut he cleft open my shoulder. I staggered back and fell, covered with bloody upon the door-sill. I saw our column pass on, cheering, and heard the wild cry, “En avant I en avant!” swelling from a thousand voices; and then, faint and exhausted, my senses reeled, and the rest was like an indistinct dream.

CHAPTER XXIV. A FRAGMENT OF A MAÎTRE d’ARMES EXPERIENCES

Stunned, and like one but half awake, I followed the tide of marching men which swept past like a mighty river, the roar of the artillery and the crash of battle increasing the confusion of my brain. All distinct memory of the remainder of the day is lost to me. I can recollect the explosion of several wagons of the ammunition train, and how the splinters wounded several of those around me; I also have a vague, dreamy sense of being hurried along at intervals, and then seeing masses of cavalry dash past. But the great prevailing thought above all others is, of leaning over the edge of a charrette, where I lay with some wounded soldiers, to watch the retreat of the Prussians, as they were pursued by Murat’s cavalry. François was at my side, and described to me the great events of the battle; but though I seemed to listen, the sounds fell unregarded on my ear. Even now, it seems to me like a dream; and the only palpable idea before me is the heated air, the dark and lowering sky, And the deafening thunder of the guns.

It is well known how the victory of Jena was crowned by the glorious issue of the battle of Auerstadt, where the main body of the Prussians, under the command of the king himself, was completely beaten by Davoust with a force not half their number. The two routed armies crossed in their flight, while the headlong fury of the French cavalry pressed down on them; nor did the terrible slaughter cease till night gave respite to the beaten.

The victors and the vanquished entered Weimar together, a distance of full six leagues from the field of battle. All struggle had long ceased. An unresisting massacre it was; and such was the disappointment and anger of the people of the country, that the Prussian officers were frequently attacked and slain by the peasantry, whose passionate indignation made them suspect treachery in the result of the battle.

All whose wounds were but slight, and whose health promised speedy restoration, were mounted into wagons taken from the enemy, and sent forward with the army. Among this number I found myself, and that same night slept soundly and peacefully in the straw of the charrette in which I travelled from Jena.

The Emperor’s headquarters were established at Weimar, and thither all the ambulances were conveyed; while the marshals, with their several divisions, were sent in pursuit of the enemy. As for myself, before the week elapsed, I was sufficiently recovered to move about; for happily the stunning effects which immediately followed the injury were its worst consequences, and my wound in the shoulder proved but trifling.

“And so you are determined to join the cavalry again?” said François, as he sat by my side under a tree, where a cheerful fire of blazing wood had drawn several to enjoy its comfort. “That is what I cannot comprehend by any stretch of ingenuity, – how a man who has once seen something of voltigeur life can go back to the dull routine of dragoon service.”

“Perhaps I have had enough of skirmishing, François,” said I, smiling.

“Is it of that knock on the pate you speak?” said he, contemptuously. “Bah! the heavy shako you wear would give a worse headache. Come, come; think better on ‘t. I can tell you” – here he lowered his voice to a whisper – “I can tell you, Burke, the major noticed the manner you held your ground in the old farmhouse. I heard him refuse to send a reinforcement when the Prussians made their second attack. ‘No, no,’ said he; ‘that hussar fellow yonder does his work so well, he wants no help from us.’ When he said that, my friend, be assured your promotion is safe enough. You were made for a voltigeur.”