The Invasion of France in 1814

Hullin heard no more: for, casting his eyes accidentally down the valley, he caught sight of an infantry regiment coming up the road. Farther back in the street, cavalry were seen coming, five or six officers galloping in front of them.

"Ah, ah! there they come!" cried the old soldier, whose face glowed suddenly with an expression of strange energy and enthusiasm. "At last they have made up their minds!" Then he rushed out of the trench, shouting: "Attention, my children!"

Passing by, he saw Riffi, the little tailor of Charmes, bending over a long musket: the little man had been piling up the snow to give him a better position for aiming. Farther up, he saw the old wood-cutter Rochart, his great shoes trimmed with sheepskin: he had taken a gulp at his gourd, and was rising deliberately, having his carbine under his arm and his cotton cap over his ears.

That was all: for in order to command the whole of the action, he had to climb almost to the summit of the Donon, where there is a rock.

Lagarmitte followed, striding till his long legs looked like stilts. Ten minutes after, when they had reached the top of the rock, half-breathless, they perceived, fifteen hundred mètres below them, the enemy's column, three thousand strong, with white great-coats, leather belts, cloth gaiters, tall shakos, and red mustaches; and in the spaces formed by the companies, the young officers, with flat caps, waving their swords, and shouting in shrill voices: "Forward! forward!"

These troops were bristling with bayonets, and advancing at the charge toward the breastworks.

Old Materne, his beaked nose rising above a juniper branch and his brow erect, was also watching the arrival of the Germans; and as he was very clear-sighted, he could distinguish even faces among the crowd, and choose the man he wished to knock over.

In the centre of the column, on a large bay horse, an old officer was advancing right ahead, with a white wig, a three-cornered hat trimmed with gold, his waist encircled with a yellow scarf, and his breast decorated with ribbons. When this personage raised his head, the peak of his hat, surmounted by a tuft of black plumes, formed a vizor. He had great wrinkles along his cheeks, and looked sufficiently stern.

"There is my man!" thought the old hunter, deliberately taking aim.

He fired, and when he looked again the old officer had disappeared.

Immediately the whole hill-side became enveloped in fire all along the intrenchment; but the Germans, without replying, continued to advance toward the breastworks, their guns on their shoulders, and as steadily as though on parade.

To tell the truth, more than one brave mountaineer, father of a family, seeing this forest of bayonets coming up, and notwithstanding the excitement of battle, felt that he would have done better had he remained in his village, than to have mixed himself up in such an affair. But, as the proverb says, "The wine was drawn, and it had to be drunk."

Riffi, the little tailor, recalled the words of his wife Sapience: "Riffi, you will get yourself crippled, and it will serve you right."

He vowed a costly offering to St. Leon's Chapel should he return from the war; but at the same time he resolved to make good use of his musket.

When they were about two hundred feet from the breastworks, the Germans halted and began a rolling fire, such as had never been heard in the mountain before. It was a regular storm of shot: the balls in hundreds tore away the branches, sent bits of broken ice flying in all directions, or flattened themselves on the rocks on every side, leaping up with a strange hissing noise, and passing by like flocks of pigeons.

All this did not stop the mountaineers from continuing their fire, but it could no longer be heard. The whole hill-side was wrapped in blue smoke, which prevented their taking any aim.

About ten minutes later, there was the rolling of a drum, and all this mass of men made a rush at the breastworks, their officers shouting, "Forward!"

The earth shook with them.

Materne, springing up in the trench, with quivering lips and in a terrible voice, cried out, "To your feet! to your feet!"

It was time: for a good number of these Germans, – nearly all students in philosophy, law, and medicine, heroes of the taverns of Munich, Jena, and other places – who fought against us, because they had been promised great things after Napoleon's fall – all these intrepid fellows were climbing the icy slope, and endeavoring to jump into the intrenchment.

But they were received with the butt-end of the musket, and fell back in disorder.

It was then that the gallant conduct of the old wood-cutter Rochart was observable, knocking over, as he did, more than ten "kaiserlichs," whom he took by the shoulder and hurled down the incline. Old Materne's bayonet was red with blood; and little Riffi never ceased loading his musket and firing into the mass of Germans with great spirit. Joseph Larnette, who unluckily received a bullet in his eye; Hans Baumgarten, who had his shoulder smashed; Daniel Spitz, who lost two fingers by a sabre-cut, and many others, whose names should be honored and revered for ages – all these never once left off firing and reloading their guns.

Below the slope fearful cries were heard, while above nothing but bristling bayonets and men on horseback were to be seen.

This lasted a good quarter of an hour. No one knew what the Germans would do, since there was no passage; when they suddenly decided on going away. Most of the students had fallen, and the others – old campaigners used to honorable retreats – no longer fought with the same steadiness.

At first they retreated slowly, then more quickly. Their officers struck them from behind with the flat end of their swords; the musketry-fire pursued them; and, finally, they ran away with as much precipitation as they had been orderly in advancing.

Materne, and fifty others, rose upon the barricades, the old hunter brandishing his carbine, and bursting into hearty roars of laughter.

At the foot of the bank were heaps of wounded dragging themselves along the ground. The trodden-down snow was red with blood. In the midst of the piles of dead were two young officers, still alive, but unable to disengage themselves from their dead horses.

It was horrible! But men are, in fact, savages: there was not one among the mountaineers who pitied those poor wretches; but, on the contrary, they seemed to rejoice at the sight.

Little Riffi, transported with a noble enthusiasm, just then glided out along the bank. To the left, underneath the breastworks, he had caught sight of. a superb horse, which had belonged to the colonel killed by Materne, and had retired unhurt into his nook.

"Thou shalt be mine," said he to himself. "Sapience will be astonished!"

All the others envied him. He seized the horse by the bridle and sprang upon him; but judge of the general stupefaction, and of Riffi's in particular, when this noble animal began to shape his course toward the Germans in full gallop.

The little tailor lifted his hands to heaven, imploring God and all the saints.

Materne would have liked much to fire; but he dared not, the horse went so fast.

At last Riffi disappeared amid the bayonets of the enemy.

Everybody thought he had been killed. However, an hour later, he was to be seen passing along the main street of Grandfontaine, his hands tied behind him, and Corporal Knout at his back, bearing his emblem of office.

Poor Riffi! He alone did not partake of the triumph, and his comrades laughed at his misfortune, as though he had been but a "kaiserlich."

Such is the character of men; so long as they are happy themselves, the misery of others grieves them but little.

CHAPTER XV

THE BATTLE RENEWED

The mountaineers were almost beside themselves with enthusiasm: they lifted their hands and bepraised one another, as if they were the cream of mankind.

Catherine, Louise, Doctor Lorquin and all the others came out of the farm, cheering and congratulating each other, gazing at the marks of the bullets and at the bank blackened with powder; then at Joseph Larnette stretched in his hole, having his head smashed; at Baumgarten, who, with his arm hanging down, walked in great pallor toward the ambulance; and then at Daniel Spitz, who, in spite of his sabre-cut, wanted to stay and fight; but the doctor would not hear of it, and forced him to enter the farm.

Louise came up with the little cart, and poured out brandy for the combatants; while Catherine Lefèvre, standing at the edge of the sloping bank, watched the dead and wounded scattered over the road, and led up to by long lines of blood. There were both young and old among them, with faces white as wax, wide-opened eyes, and outstretched arms. Some few tried to raise themselves, but no sooner had they done so than they fell back again; others looked up as though they were afraid of receiving some more bullets, and dragged themselves along the bank in order to get under shelter.

Many of them seemed resigned to their fate, and were looking for a place to die, or else watching their retreating regiment on its way to Framont – that regiment with which they had quitted their homes, with which they had made a long campaign, and which was now abandoning them! "It will see old Germany again!" they thought. "And when some one asks the captain or the sergeant, 'Did you know such a one – Hans, Kasper, Nickel, of the 1st or of the 2d company?' they will reply, 'Ah! I think so. Had he not a scar on the ear, or on the cheek? fair or dark hair? five feet six in height? Yes, I know him. He was buried in France, near a little village whose name I do not remember. Some mountaineers killed him the same day big Major Yéri-Peter was killed. He was a fine fellow!' And then it is, 'Good-day to you.'"

Perhaps, too, there were some of them who dreamed of their mother, or of a pretty girl left behind them, Gretchen or Lotchen, who had given, them a ribbon, and shed hot tears when they left: "I will await thy return, Kasper. I will only marry thee! Yes, yes, thou wilt have to wait long!"

It was not pleasant to think of.

Madame Lefèvre, seeing this, thought of Gaspard. Hullin, who came up with Lagarmitte, cried out in a joyous tone, "Well, my boys, you have been under fire. Bravo! everything goes well. The Germans will have no occasion to boast of this day."

Then he embraced Louise, and hurried up to Catherine.

"Are you satisfied, Catherine? There! our success is certain. But what is the matter? You do not smile."

"Yes, Jean-Claude, all goes well. I am satisfied. But look down at the road. What a butchery!"

"It is only what happens in war," replied Hullin, gravely.