Chapter II: Part 2

Notwithstanding the unpleasant circumstances in which my curiosity had involved me on the preceding day, I had in fact seen and heard nothing as far as related to my principal object. It was no battle, but merely an indecisive, though warm, affair. The first act of the piece concluded with aft illumination extending farther than the eye could reach, and occasioned by the innumerable watch-fires which were kindled in every quarter, and gradually spread farther and farther, as the lines of the bivouacking army were lengthened by the arrival of fresh columns. By way of variety, the flames rising from a number of burning houses in the distance formed as it were points of repose. Scarcely was the night over when all eyes and ears were on the alert, in expectation that the sanguinary scene would commence with the morning's dawn. All, however, remained quiet. People, therefore, again ventured abroad, and there thought themselves more secure than the preceding day, because they might the more easily avoid the danger while at a distance-than they could have done the night before. It required, to be sure, considerable strength of nerves not to be shocked at the spectacles which every where presented themselves. Many dead bodies of soldiers, who had come sick into bivouac, lay naked in the fields and upon the roads. The heirs had taken especial care to be on the spot at the moment of their decease, to take possession of all that the poor wretches had to bequeath. The mortality among the horses had been still greater: you met with their carcasses almost at every step; and, which way soever you turned your eyes, you beheld a still greater number which Death had so firmly seized in his iron grasp, that they inclined their heads to the ground, and fell, in a few minutes, to rise no more! Scarcely was there sufficient room on the high road for a slender pedestrian to find a passage. All the fields were covered with troops and baggage. Even on the place of execution they had erected bivouacs, and not the most inconvenient, because they were there less crowded than in other places. Except single musket-shots, nothing was to be heard but incessant cries of _Serrez! Serrez!_ (Closer! Closer!)--The dice yet lay in the box, and were not destined to be thrown that day. It was probably spent in reconnoitring, in order to make up the parties for the grand game in which empires were the stake. The preparations for the defence of the city became more serious and alarming. The exterior avenues had been previously palisaded, and provided with _chevaux de frise_; but the greater part of them were completely closed up. Loop-holes were formed in every wall, and _tirailleurs_ posted behind them. In every garden and at every hedge you stumbled upon pickets. As the inner town is better secured by its strong walls against a first onset, they contented themselves there with sawing holes in the great wooden gates, for the purpose of firing through them. Every thing denoted the determination not to spare the city in the least, however unfit in itself for a point of defence. The only circumstance calculated to tranquillize the timid was the presence of our king, for whom, at any rate, Napoleon could not but have some respect.

As there was no appearance of gleaning much information abroad, I now sought a wider prospect upon a steeple.--So much I had ascertained from all accounts, that it was principally the Austrians who had been engaged the preceding day. Some hundreds of prisoners had been brought in; the church-yard had been allotted to these poor fellows for their abode, probably that they might study the inscriptions on the grave-stones, and thus be reminded of their mortality. Nothing was given them to eat, lest they should be disturbed in these meditations. So far as the telescope would command were to be seen double and triple lines, the end of which the eye sought in vain. The French army stretched in a vast semicircle from Paunsdorf to Probstheide, and was lost in the woods of Konnewitz. It occupied therefore a space of more than one German mile (five English miles). Behind all these lines appeared reserves, who were posted nearer to the city. On this side the main force seemed to be assembled. Towards the north and west the ranks were more broken and detached. Of the armies of the allies, only some divisions could yet be discerned. The Cossacks were plainly distinguished at a distance of two leagues. They had the boldness to venture within musket-shot of the French lines, alight, thrust their pikes into the ground, and let their horses run about. The king of Saxony himself witnessed their audacity whilst in the midst of the French army, about half a league from Leipzig. A number of these men came unawares upon him; and a Saxon officer, with eighty horse, was obliged to face about against them, till the king had reached a place of safety. This was the principal reason why he made his entry into the city on horseback.

The 15th of October, which had been universally expected to give birth to important events, was now quietly passed. For many weeks the city had not been so tranquil as it was on the night of that day. Nothing but the incessant _Qui vive?_ at the gates, denoted the presence of the troops. On my return about eight o'clock from the suburbs, I was suddenly surprised by an unusual phenomenon: in the direction of Pegau, I saw three white rockets ascend to a great height amid the darkness. I stood still, and waited to observe what would follow. In about a minute four red ones rose above the horizon, apparently from Halle. After this there was nothing more to be seen. That they were signals could not be doubted, any more than that those signals must have been made by the combined troops. I concluded that they must have armies in those quarters, and that they were informing one another by these luminous messengers of the points at which they had arrived. It now became more certain than ever that the 16th would be the great day that should decide the fate of Germany. I expressed my conjectures to several French officers, that, according to all appearance, fresh armies of the allies were on their march toward Leipzig. They contradicted me point-blank; partly because, as they said, the crown-prince of Sweden and general Bluecher had been obliged to retreat precipitately across the Elbe, as an immense French army was in full march upon Berlin; and partly because they were convinced that the reinforcements which might be coming up could be of no great consequence; and were confident, that, at all events, they should be perfectly prepared to receive the enemy. Never did they make so sure of the most complete victory as they did previously to the then approaching engagement. Besides the French in garrison in the city, there were many German troops, who expressed little hope, and, on the other hand, declared their resolution to make no resistance, but to pass over to the allies, as many of their comrades had already done; and there was no reason to doubt their sincerity.--Thus passed the second day, between hope and fear.

The dawn of the 16th of October was enveloped in a thick fog. It was gloomy, rainy, and cold. It was imagined that the hostile armies, though so eager for the combat, would restrain their ardour to engage till the fog should have cleared away. Soon after six, however, the thunder of the artillery began to roll from Liebertwolkwitz. It grew more violent, and approached nearer;--this was probably the moment when the Austrians stormed that place. The firing _en pelotons_ was already heard. From our elevated position we could discern nothing, the dense fog concealing every object at the distance of one hundred paces. About ten, the artillery thundered along the whole line of battle. The atmosphere became clearer, and the clouds dispersed. Every flash from the cannon was distinctly visible on the side of Konnewitz. Already a thousand engines of death hurled destruction among the contending armies. The fire of jaegers and sharp-shooters rattled on all sides, and we soon discovered whole ranges of battalions and regiments. It was a general engagement;--that was evident enough to every one, even though he had never before heard a cannon fired in all his life. On the side of the Halle and Ranstaedt gates all was yet quiet, and I began to imagine that my rockets had deceived me. For six hours the guns had roared, and all the lines were enveloped in clouds of smoke, through which the flashes incessantly darted like lightning. As yet neither party seemed to have receded an inch. The thunders of the artillery still continued to proceed from the same spot. No longer could the firing of single guns be distinguished; hundreds were every moment discharged, and united in one single protracted roar. How many victims must already have strewed the field!--At length, about eleven o'clock, a considerable change seemed to have taken place. The firing did not appear more distant, but became less general; single shots were heard, and the combatants seemed disposed to make a pause in the work of death. All on a sudden a new and tremendous cannonade commenced beyond Lindenau, towards Luetzen, not much more than half a league from the city. The batteries of the allies seemed to fire from Kleinschocher: those of the French were posted on the heights of Lindenau. The corps of count Giulay had arrived there, and now it appeared that my interpretation of the rockets was correct. I then turned my eyes quickly towards the north, in the direction of Halle, where before there was little or nothing to be seen. How was I astonished when I now beheld lines of soldiers stretching farther than the eye could reach, and fresh columns advancing behind them. It appeared as if the troops which had been so furiously engaged the whole morning were but the advanced guards of the immense armies that now extended themselves more and more before me. Whence the French lines which were so rapidly ranged opposite to them could have sprung, I am yet at a loss to conceive: an hour before, I should have estimated them at scarcely 10,000 men; and, what I now saw, my inexperienced eye computed at more than 200,000 on both sides. This prodigious army seemed about to form in order of battle. A few cannon-shot which it fired were probably designed only to announce its arrival to the other chiefs. Immediately afterwards, the cannonade beyond Lindenau, which had lasted about two hours, entirely ceased. On the left wing of the French the action was still very vigorously continued. It was about twelve o'clock when we descended, to learn what accounts had meanwhile been received in the city, that our relations with the lower world might not be totally suspended. Before the residence of our sovereign there was a crowd of officers of all ranks. The city-guard was drawn out on parade as well as the grenadier-guard. A full band was playing, by French order, though nobody could conceive what was the meaning of all this, while the cannon were yet thundering before the city. We soon learned that the allies had sustained a total defeat; that an Austrian prince, the archduke Ferdinand, had lost an arm, and been taken prisoner with 40,000 men; and that an immense quantity of artillery had been captured. This intelligence had been forwarded by marshal Ney from the field of battle, and preparations were instantly made to celebrate the victory. A regiment of the French guards marched to the promenade before the city--now, alas! an offensive sewer,--and, agreeably to command, expressed their exultation in the acquisition of these new laurels by a loud _Vive l'empereur!_ Of the citizens, but a very small portion took part in their joy; for what else could they have expected from such a victory than inevitable death by famine? The more intelligent shook their heads; and in truth there were but too many reasons to suspect the truth of the account. If you asked the wounded, who in troops either hobbled or were carried in at the gates, the answer, was, _Les Cossaques ont encore la meme position_--(The Cossacks are still in the same position). None of them had heard any thing about captured cannon, but they well knew that they had themselves lost five pieces that morning. I was unable to comprehend how the French commander-in-chief, possessing in so eminent a degree the quality of a correct military _coup d'oeil_, could so early announce that he had won the battle, when such numerous armies of the allies had but just arrived upon the field, and had not yet fired a single shot. Country-people, who had fled from the neighbourhood of Grimma, declared that a fresh army of Russians, under general Bennigsen, was in full march towards that place. In truth, only a small part of the allied forces had yet been engaged. Bennigsen, the crown-prince of Sweden, and field-marshal Bluecher, had not yet entered the lists. If this fiction was intended merely to pacify our king at the expense of truth, it was evident that this object could not be attained without compromising him;--a kind of treatment wholly unmerited by a prince who was never guilty of wilful falsehood[4].

In the midst of these rejoicings for the victory, the thunder of the artillery was again heard from Lindenau. The tremendous roar was almost immediately repeated from Taucha, Wiederitsch, and Breitenfeld. The Swedish army and that of Bluecher were now engaged. We again repaired to our lofty station. There was not a point round the city where the fatal engines were not dealing forth destruction. We knew not which way first to direct the glass. "Only look here," cried one. "Oh! that's nothing at all," replied another, "you must come this way."--"You none of you see any thing," exclaimed a third: "you must look yonder--there the cavalry are cutting away--and hark how the fresh artillery is beginning to fire." It was singular enough that just at the very point where the allies were reported to have sustained so signal a defeat, that is to say, on their left wing, at Liebertwolkwitz, the cannonade again became the most violent. Fresh troops, with artillery, including a large body of Polish cavalry, were seen hastening out by the Ranstaedt gate towards Lindenau. Napoleon himself rode with the king of Naples along the causeway to the Kuhthurm (cow-tower), as it is called, probably to observe how things were going on. The allies strove to make themselves masters of the pass near Lindenau. Their infantry had actually penetrated into the village, but was driven back, and this was succeeded by a tremendous fire of riflemen, which was near enough for us to distinguish the discharge of every single piece. I remarked on this occasion the incredible exertions of the French _voltigeurs_, who defended a ditch near the Kuhthurm, ran to and fro on the bank with inconceivable agility, availed themselves of the protection afforded by every tree and every hedge, and fired away as briskly as though they had carried with them the confederation of the Rhine, as their own property, in their cartouch-boxes. Cannon-balls and shells had fallen in the village itself, which was set on fire in several places. Whether friend or enemy had the advantage it was impossible to judge, on account of the broken nature of the ground and the woods, behind which the engagement was the hottest It was evident that one party exerted itself as strenuously to defend as the other did to take this important position. The French retained it; therefore the prize of victory in this instance must be adjudged to them. At Breitenfeld, Lindenthal, and Wiederitsch, the fortune of the day was different. There the lines of the allies evidently advanced. The cannonade was an infallible barometer. The French artillery receded, and was already driven back so close upon Gohlis and Eutritzsch, that the balls of their opponents fell in both villages. Night drew on: the vast field of battle became gradually enveloped in darkness, and the horizon was now illumined by the flashes of the guns alone, followed at long intervals by the low thunder of the report. The battle had lasted the whole day all round the city. The church-clocks struck six; and, as if all parties had unanimously agreed to suspend at this moment the horrid work of slaughter, the last cannon-shot was fired beyond Lindenau. The fire of small arms, however, was yet kept up; but, as though the mortal struggle became more and more faint, that too gradually ceased. Nothing now was seen around the horizon but one immense circle of many thousand watch-fires. In all directions appeared blazing villages, and from their number might be inferred the havoc occasioned by this arduous day. Its effects were still more plainly manifested when we descended into the streets. Thousands of wounded had poured in at all the gates, and every moment increased their numbers. Many had lost an arm or a leg, and yet limped along with pitiable moans. As for a dressing for their wounds, that was a thing which could not yet be thought of; the poor wretches had themselves bound them up with some old rag or other as well as they were able. All of them were seeking hospitals, the arrangements for which had, in truth, been most miserably neglected by the French. Upon the whole, I have had occasion to remark that the soldier, who has been crippled in the service, and incapacitated for further warfare, has nowhere so little regard paid to his situation as in the French army. At least such is the case just at the moment when he has most need of attention, that is to say, just after he is wounded. No carriages or other conveyances were provided for the removal of these mangled and mutilated soldiers, though the lives of thousands might perhaps have been preserved by such a precaution. When the combined Russian and Prussian army marched six months before to Luetzen, and prepared for battle, the amplest provision was made in regard to this point; and it is well known that their army was thus enabled to carry off by far the greater part of the wounded, and to afford them medical relief. Such, on the contrary, were the arrangements of the French, that, five days after that engagement, soldiers with their wounds still undressed, and near perishing for want of sustenance, were found on the field of battle, and at last owed their preservation chiefly to the surgeons and inhabitants of this city. To each French column are attached a great number of _ambulances_, but they are never to be found where they are most wanted. It is universally asserted that the French army surgeons are very skilful men; but, as they seem to consult their own convenience in a very high degree, and their number is too small--for a complete regiment has but five--the arrangements for hospitals in a campaign during which several great battles take place, and in which it is found necessary to crowd the sick and wounded much too closely together, as was the case in Saxony, are always most deplorable. But to return from this digression:--

For the reception of the wounded, in this instance, orders had been given to clear out the corn-magazine, which is capable of accommodating about 2,500. Each of these poor fellows received a written ticket at the outer gate of the city, and was directed to that hospital. The persons who superintended this business never gave it a thought to distribute only such a number of these billets as the building would hold of sick, but continued to send all that came to the corn-magazine, long after it was too full to admit another individual. Overjoyed on having at last found the spot, the wretched cripple exerted his last remains of strength, that he might obtain relief as speedily as possible at the hands of the surgeons. Judge then of the feelings of the unfortunate man when his hopes were here most cruelly disappointed; when he found many hundreds of his fellow-sufferers moaning with anguish on the wet stones, without straw to lie upon, without shelter of any kind, without medical or surgical attendance, nay, even without a drop of water, for which they so often and so earnestly petitioned;--when he was peremptorily refused admittance at the door, and he too had no other resource than to seek a couch like the rest upon the hard pavement, which his wounds very often were unable to endure. No more attention was here paid to him than the stones on which he gave vent to his anguish. Many hobbled farther in quest of something to appease the cravings of hunger and thirst. But who could give it them? Extreme want had long prevailed in the city; the very inhabitants had great trouble and difficulty to obtain for money sufficient to make a scanty meal for themselves and their families. The fainting soldier might think himself fortunate if his solicitations procured him a crust of bread or an apple. Thousands were not so lucky.--Such was the state of things at the magazine; such was the spectacle exhibited in all the streets, and especially in the market-place, where every corner provided with a shelter was converted into an hospital. The consequences were inevitable. Many; as might naturally be expected, perished, in the night, of hunger, agony, and cold. Their lot was enviable--they no longer needed any human assistance. What heart would not have bled at such scenes of horror!--and yet it was the very countrymen of these unfortunate wretches who seemed to care the least about them, and passed by with the most frigid indifference, probably because they are so familiarized with such spectacles. O ye mothers, ye fathers, ye sisters of France, had ye here beheld your agonized sons and brothers, the sight, like a hideous phantom, would surely have haunted you to the last moment of your lives. The laurels acquired by your nation have indeed been purchased at a most exorbitant price.

I have forgotten to mention a circumstance worthy of notice in the history of this day. It is this; that in the midst of the cannonade all round Leipzig--when the whole city shook with the thunders of the artillery, and the general engagement had, strictly speaking, but just commenced--all the bells of the churches were rung by French command, to celebrate the victory won in the forenoon. Such an instance was certainly never afforded by any battle which had scarcely begun, and terminated in the total and decisive overthrow of him who had already fancied himself mounted in triumph upon the car of victory. This day, however, the engagement still remained undecided, according to the reports of those who returned from different points of the field of battle. The French had stood as if rooted to the spot--the allies, like rocks of granite. The former had fought like men, the latter like lions. Both parties, inspired with mutual respect, desisted from hostilities during the night.

The combined troops, who had not been able in two sanguinary days to bring the contest to an issue, had, however, during that time gained several essential advantages. They had ascertained the strength of their antagonist, and made themselves acquainted with the nature of the ground. They knew what points were the most vulnerable, and could thence infer how the enemy would manoeuvre. They were enabled to make their own dispositions accordingly, and to give to the plan of the grand engagement that perfection by which it is so peculiarly characterized. In this point of view the allies had, without our suspecting it, advanced a considerable step on the night of the third day.

According to the general opinion of the inhabitants of Leipzig, the 17th was destined to be the important day on which the last act of the great tragedy was to be performed. We were, however, mistaken. The morning came, and we heard nothing from either side. We had long ceased to take notice of single shots. The French lines occupied Probstheide, and all the points where they had the preceding day been posted. The order of battle had, however, been considerably changed. The vast armies which had been drawn up to the west and north had almost entirely disappeared. In the forenoon a cannonade commenced about Gohlis, but soon ceased again. In the meadows between the city and Lindenau were posted some cavalry. At a greater distance but few troops were to be seen; and the allies seemed to have renounced any farther attempts on that pass. The left wing of the French grand army extended to Abtnaundorf, and had strong corps posted as far as Taucha; the centre stretched behind the Kohlgaerten and Stoetteritz to Probstheide, and the right wing reached beyond Konnewitz to the wood and the Elster. Several lines were advanced to Markleeberg. The combined army occupied parallel positions. You will not expect me to say more respecting the order of battle, especially as a circumstantial account of it has already appeared. The motives which occasioned a kind of truce to be observed during the whole of this day are unknown to me. This phenomenon was, the more surprising, as Napoleon is not accustomed long to defer business of such importance. From what I can learn, there was no parleying, as has been asserted, between the contending parties. Several Frenchmen assigned, as a reason, that the emperor expected a strong reinforcement of three corps, and therefore undertook nothing on this day. On all sides columns of smoke were yet seen rising from the villages that were reduced to ashes. All at once the church of Probstheide also appeared in flames. It soon fell in, and is now totally demolished. This fire is said to have been occasioned by negligence.

All the large edifices in the city were now selected for the purpose of being converted into hospitals. The number of the wounded kept continually augmenting, and by far the greatest part of them had still no other shelter than the streets. Many, though after three days of suffering, were yet unable to obtain any assistance. The king resolutely remained in the city, in order, as the event shewed, there to await his fate, whatever it might be. Our condition became every moment more alarming; and, in proportion as our anxiety grew more painful, our hopes diminished. What will become of us before this time to-morrow? was the general question on the evening of that day, and we looked forward with dejection and despondency to the morrow's dawn. We felt much less anxiety in the midst of the thunder of the artillery than we did at the close of this fourth day. It resembled the dead calm which precedes the impending storm. The combined troops took their leave of us for the night, as they had done on the preceding, with the discharge of three cannon. It had been Sunday, and you might almost have imagined that the contending parties had suffered it to pass thus peaceably, out of respect to the commandment--_Thou shalt keep the sabbath-day holy._

The 18th of October at length appeared. It was a day equal in importance to many a century; and the fewer History can produce that deserve to be classed along with it, the more memorable it will remain. All that preceded it had merely opened the way, and there were yet almost inaccessible cliffs to climb before we could flatter ourselves with the hope of reaching the wished-for goal. The leaders of the allies had already shewn the ablest French generals, in several grand engagements, that they possessed sufficient means and talents to dissolve the charm of their invincibility. They were now about to enter the lists with the hero whom a thousand panegyrists, during a period of near twenty years, had extolled far above the greatest generals of ancient and modern times; whose enemies had to boast of but one victory over him at most--a victory which he himself did not admit, as he ascribed the total destruction of his army in Russia to physical causes alone. It was the conqueror of Marengo, Austerlitz, Friedland, Ratisbon, Wagram, and Mojaisk. Fresh laurels entwined his brow at Luetzen, Bautzen, and Dresden. Here at Leipzig the allies attempted to wrest them from him who grasps so firmly. It was easy to foresee that with unshaken resolution he would risk all, in order, as on former occasions, to gain all, and to put an end to the campaign with a single blow. He seemed to contemplate nothing less than the utter annihilation of the allies, as all the bridges far and near were broken down to cut off their retreat. Whether the situation in which he had placed himself was such as to justify these hopes, I shall leave to the decision of those who are better qualified to judge. His confidence in victory must, however, have been very strong, as he had made such inadequate preparations for his own retreat.

The action commenced in the centre of the French army beyond Probstheide, probably with the storming of the villages in its front, for we afterwards learned that they were several times taken and recovered. They have been more or less reduced to heaps of rubbish. That the work of slaughter might be completed on this day, it had been begun with the first dawn of morning. So early as nine o'clock all the immense lines from Taucha to Konnewitz were engaged. As the latter village lay nearest to us, we could see what was passing there the most distinctly. From Loesnig, a village situated beyond Konnewitz, a hollow, about two thousand paces in length, runs from north-west to south-east. It is bordered with a narrow skirt of wood, consisting of alders, limes, and oaks, and forms an angle with the village. Beyond this line were advanced several French batteries, the incessant movements of which, as well as every single shot, might be clearly distinguished with our glasses. To make myself better acquainted with this neighbourhood, I explored two days afterwards this part of the field of battle, and found that the French artillery must there have formed an open triangle; for the road which runs straight from Leipzig, behind Konnewitz through Dehlis and Loesnig, of course from north to south, was also lined by French batteries. The houses of those villages had served them for a _point d'appui_ in the rear, and were most of them dreadfully shattered by the balls of the Austrians. The artillery of the latter seems to have had a great advantage in regard to the ground. The French cannon brought into the line from Konnewitz to Dehlis and Loesnig stood in a hollow--those of the Austrians on eminences. These last had moreover the advantage of enfilading the two angles formed by the batteries of the French. That this had actually been the case was evident from the numbers of French cannoniers and horses lying dead in rows in the line of the above-mentioned villages, where they had been swept down by the guns of their opponents. On the eminences where the hostile cannon were planted the number of dead was much smaller, and these were apparently not artillery-men, but infantry, who were probably engaged in covering those batteries. The firearms which lay beside them confirmed the conjecture. This pass must nevertheless have been obstinately defended, as it was not taken the whole day. The fire of musketry grew more and more brisk--a proof that the combatants were already in close action. The French _tirailleurs_ could not be driven out of the woods, on which their right wing was supported. We remarked frequent charges of cavalry, which seemed to decide nothing. All the villages lying beyond Konnewitz, on the road to Borna, as far as Markleeberg, were on fire. The thunder from the French centre, as well as from the left wing, gradually approached nearer to the city. The seventh corps, under general Reynier, was in the left wing, and posted towards Taucha. It was principally composed of Saxons. They had just come into action, and the allies had already brought up a great number of guns against them. To the no small astonishment and consternation of their leader, they suddenly shouldered their arms, marched forward in close files with their artillery, and went over to the enemy. Several French battalions, misled by this movement, joined them, and were immediately disarmed and made prisoners by the allies. The French cuirassiers, suspecting the design of the Saxons, followed, apparently with the intention of falling upon them. The Saxons faced about, and compelled them, by a smart fire of musketry, to return. A volley of small arms was discharged after them, but with no more effect--it did them no injury. Their horse-artillery turned about, and soon dismounted that of the French. They were greeted with a joyful _hurrah!_ by the Cossacks, who cordially shook hands with their new comrades. The Saxons desired to be immediately led back to the attack of the French. The hearts of these soldiers individually had long glowed with revenge for all the devastations committed in their native land by their allies and companions in arms, for whom they had so often shed their blood in torrents. The generals of the allies refused on very good grounds to comply with their desire. The Saxons marched a league into the rear of the field of battle, and there bivouacked. Their artillery only was afterwards invited to take part in the engagement, and did great execution. This circumstance had an essential influence on the issue of the contest, inasmuch as the defection of a body of more than 8000 men facilitated the advance of the right wing of the allies. But for this step the Saxons would have fared very badly, as their opponents had already ranged upwards of thirty pieces of cannon against their line, and were bringing up still more to the attack. These now proved the more galling to the ranks of the French, who were driven back almost to the Kohlgaerten. From my position this advance of the allies was not to be perceived except by the approach of the thunder of the artillery. The French centre yet stood immoveable; at least we could not observe from the city any change which denoted a retrograde movement. The sanguinary character of this tremendous conflict might be inferred from the thousands of wounded, who hobbled, crawled, and were carried in at the gates. Among the latter were many officers of rank. If you inquired of those who returned from the field, how the battle was going on, the reply almost invariably was--"Badly enough,--the enemy is very strong." A Saxon cuirassier declared, without reserve, that it might be considered as decided, adding, "We have lost a deal of ground already."--Stoetteritz and Schoenefeld were stormed the same evening. All the streets were covered with wounded, and fortunate were they who could find a shelter. As for surgical aid and refreshments, these were not to be thought of. A far greater number of those miserable wretches were yet left behind in the villages, as might be seen from the detached limbs, which were piled in heaps, especially at Probstheide.

Had any of the allied corps succeeded this day in penetrating on any side into our city, nothing less than the total destruction of the French army would probably have been the consequence; since it might from this place, as from the centre of the field of battle, have fallen upon the rear of any part of the French force, and have hemmed in both the centre and the wings. This misfortune Napoleon had taken good care to prevent. He now felt, however, that his strength was broken, and that he was no longer in a condition to maintain the contest. He resolved upon retreat, but carefully sought to conceal this intention from his enemies. Though night had come on; yet the cannon thundered as furiously as in the morning, and the fire of musketry was brisker than ever. A long column, with an endless train of artillery, was seen defiling from Probstheide to Konnewitz. Again I trembled for the cause of the allies. These, I imagined, were the French guards, marching to the attack of the right wing. Now methought the moment had arrived when Napoleon would strike the decisive blow, which he had so often deferred till the very last hour. Soon afterwards the cannonade seemed to gain redoubled vigour, and continued an hour without intermission, so that every house in the city was shaken. As, however, it at length ceased without removing to a greater distance, we naturally concluded that this last attack had proved unsuccessful. More than ten great conflagrations illumined the whole horizon amid the obscurity of night.

The excessive bustle in the city rendered it impossible for us to observe that the retreat had in fact commenced. The greatest part of the persons attached to the army had already left the city, while the others were making all the requisite preparations for their departure. Most of them had wonderfully changed the tone in which they had spoken the preceding day. They now talked of the miseries of war, deplored the sufferings of the people, and declared that peace would be the greatest of blessings for all parties. The multitude of French officers here was so great, that even those of high rank on the staff were obliged to put up with the most wretched accommodations, for which they paid handsomely, leaving their horses and equipages in the street, where the former frequently ran away. One of these officers sought a night's lodging in a mean house in the author's neighbourhood. He was called up at midnight, and informed that his column had just begun to retreat. He inquired whether the whole army was doing the same--the messenger replied that he did not know. This circumstance first confirmed my belief that the French had sustained a defeat, and rendered the conjecture that their whole army was retreating highly probable. Many French _employes_ and soldiers had, several days before, while they yet had an opportunity, exchanged their uniform for the plainest attire, that, under this peaceful aegis, they might the more calmly await the issue of events; and that, in case the allies should come upon them too unexpectedly, they might, under the disguise of honest citizens, hasten away to their beloved Rhine without being challenged by the lances of the Cossacks. With greater composure than any of them did general Bertrand, the governor of the city, who, perhaps, as an intelligent officer, was the least confident of victory, look forward to the event. He abandoned not his post at the precipitate departure of the emperor, and was in consequence made prisoner the following day.

Such was the conclusion of the fifth day. It beheld a field of battle, of unparalleled extent, strewed with slain; and left one of the most flourishing districts of Saxony, as it were, one general conflagration. With anxious solicitude the people of Leipzig awaited its coming, and with expectations unfulfilled they witnessed its close. Though it appeared probable to us all, that, in this colossal engagement, victory had wholly forsaken the Gallic eagles, still the fate of our city was far from being decided. We were yet in the midst of the crater of the tremendous volcano, which by one mighty effort might hurl us into atoms, and leave behind scarcely a vestige of our existence. Napoleon had received a severe blow; and now it behoved him to oppose an immediate barrier to the impetuous course of the conquerors, and to prevent the total loss of his yet remaining army, artillery, and baggage. The only bulwark that he could employ for this purpose was Leipzig. All that art had formerly done to render it a defensive position had long since disappeared. Planks, hedges, and mud walls, were scarcely calculated to resist the butt-end of a musket. This deficiency it was every where necessary to supply by living walls, and that was in fact done in such a way as filled us all with consternation.

At day-break on the 19th the allies put the finishing hand to the great work. A considerable part of the French army, with an immense quantity of artillery, had already passed through and into the city with great precipitation. The troops that covered the retreat were furiously attacked, and driven on all sides into the city. Napoleon attempted to arrest the progress of victory by an expedient which had so often before produced an extraordinary effect, that is, by negotiation. A proposal was made to evacuate the city voluntarily, and to declare the Saxon troops there as neutral, on condition that the retreating army should have sufficient time allowed to withdraw from it with its artillery and waggon-train, and to reach a certain specified point. The allies too clearly perceived what an important advantage would in this case be gained by the French army, which was less anxious for the fate of the city than to effect its own escape. These terms were rejected, and several hundred pieces of artillery began to play upon Leipzig. Our fate would have been decided had the allied sovereigns cherished sentiments less generous and humane than they did. It behoved them to gain possession of Leipzig at any rate; and this object they might have accomplished in the shortest way, and with inconsiderable loss to themselves, if they had bombarded it for one single hour with shells, red-hot balls, and Congreve rockets, with which an English battery that accompanied them was provided. Their philanthropic spirits, on the contrary, revolted at the idea of involving the innocent population of a _German_ city in the fate of Moscow and Saragossa. They resolved to storm the town, and to support the troops employed in this duty with artillery no farther than was necessary to silence the enemy, and to force their way through the palisaded avenues and gates. Meanwhile the discharges of artillery, quite close to us, were so tremendous, that each seemed sufficient to annihilate the city. The king of Saxony himself sent flags of truce, entreating that it might be spared. The allies replied that this should be done in as far as the defence of the enemy might render it practicable: they promised, moreover, security to persons and property after the place should be taken, and to enforce as rigid discipline as it was possible on such an occasion. To these assurances they annexed the condition that no French should be secreted in the city, declaring that every house in which one or more of them should be found would run the risk of being reduced to ashes. The cannon, though only in a proportionably small number from the north and east, immediately began to play. They were partly directed against the palisades at the gates, partly against the French artillery which defended the avenues. For more than two hours balls and shells from the east and north frequently fell in the city itself, and in the suburbs. Many a time I was filled with astonishment at the effects of one single ball, which often penetrated through two thick walls, and pursued its course still farther. Though they seldom fell in the streets, it was impossible to venture abroad without imminent hazard of life, as these tremendous visitors beat down large fragments of roofs, chimneys, and walls, which, tumbling with a frightful crash, threatened to bury every passenger beneath their ruins. Still greater havoc was made by the shells, which, bursting as soon as they had descended, immediately set their new habitations in flames. Fortunately for us, but few of these guests were sent into the city. The most that fell came from the north, that is, in the direction of Halle. Three times did fires break out in the Bruehl, which, in a short consumed several back buildings contiguous to the city wall, and nothing but the instantaneous measures adopted for their extinction prevented farther damage. The allies had no other object, in dispatching these ministers of destruction, than to shew the retreating enemy, who, in the general confusion and bustle, could no longer move either forward or backward, that, if they now forbore to annihilate him, it was because the innocent citizens might be involved in equal destruction with the fugitives. Pfaffendorf, a farm-house near the north side of the city, had previously been set on fire, when the Russian jaegers had penetrated thither through the Rosenthal, and was consumed to the very walls. As this place had been converted into an hospital, many poor fellows there fell a sacrifice to the flames.

You may easily conceive the sensations of the inhabitants of the upper town when we beheld the black clouds of smoke rising from the lower, while the incessant fire of the artillery rendered it impossible for us to repair thither, to obtain information or to afford assistance. Here, as every where else, the fears of the inhabitants were wound up to the highest pitch. A cry was raised that several streets were already in flames, and every one now hastened to his own house, that he might be at hand in case a similar accident should happen there. It became more and more dangerous to remain in the upper stories, which the inhabitants accordingly quitted, and betook themselves to the kitchens and cellars. If such were the terrors of the inmates, old and young, the fears and anxiety of the French who chanced to be in the houses surpassed all description. Many of them were seen weeping like children, and starting convulsively at every report of the cannon. In the midst of this hideous uproar I made another attempt to learn what was passing in the suburbs. In the streets I found inexpressible confusion, people running in all directions, officers driving their men to the gates. Cries and shouts resounded from all quarters, though very few of the persons from whom they proceeded knew what they would be at. At this time cartouch-boxes and muskets were to be seen thrown away here and there in the streets. The Saxon grenadier guards were drawn out with wonderful composure and grounded arms, before the royal residence. Every unarmed person anxiously sought to gain the nearest house, but commonly found it shut against him. Several had already lost their lives or been severely wounded by the balls which fell in all directions. Napoleon was still in the city; he was at this moment with our king, with whom he had an animated conversation, which lasted near an hour. Soon afterwards I saw him, accompanied by the king of Naples, proceeding on horseback toward the Ranstaedt gate. I had meanwhile taken the opportunity of slipping into a house which overlooks that street, and now for the first time beheld a French retreat in the height of its confusion. Not a vestige of regularity was any where observable. The horse and foot guards poured along in mingled disorder. They would probably have marched in quicker time, had they been permitted by the waggons and cannon, which were locked in one another, and obstructed the way. Between these they were obliged to pass singly, and I really thought that it would be at least six hours before they could all have effected their passage. Immense droves of cattle were cooped up among the crowd. These seemed to be objects of particular concern to the French. They sought out a space, however narrow, along the town-ditch, by which they might drive forward their horned favourites. Whoever was bold enough, and had any hopes of being able to conduct these animals into his own habitation, had now an opportunity of making an advantageous bargain. A few pieces of silver might be carried off with much greater facility than a huge clumsy ox. Notwithstanding all the efforts to preserve this valuable booty from the general wreck, it was absolutely impossible to save the whole of it. Many horned cattle and horses were left behind, and now innocently sought a scanty repast by the city-walls. That, amidst all this "confusion worse confounded," there was no want of shouting and blustering, you may easily imagine, though nobody got forward any faster for all this noise. On a sudden we saw at a distance the emperor himself, with not a numerous retinue, advancing on horseback into the midst of this chaos. He got through better than I expected. I afterwards learned that he took a by-road through a garden to the outer Ranstaedt gate. Prince Poniatowsky attempted, higher up, to ford the Elster. The banks on each side are of considerable height, soft and swampy; the current itself narrow, but in this part uncommonly deep and muddy. How so expert a rider should have lost the management of his horse, I cannot imagine. According to report, the animal plunged headlong into the water with him, so that he could not possibly recover himself. He fell a victim to his temerity, and was drowned. His body was found several days afterwards, and interred with all the military honours due to his rank[5].

As the commander-in-chief had so precipitately quitted the city, we could no longer doubt the proximity of the enemy to our walls. The fire of the artillery and musketry in the place, which gradually approached nearer, was a much more convincing proof of this than we desired. The men already began to cut away the traces, in order to save the horses. The bustle among the soldiers augmented; a weak rearguard had taken post in Reichel's garden, to keep the allies in check, in case they should penetrate into the high road. We thought them still at a considerable distance, when a confused cry suddenly proclaimed that the Russians had stormed the outer Peter's gate, and were coming round from the Rossplatz. The French were evidently alarmed. The Russian jaegers came upon them all at once, at full speed, with tremendous huzzas and fixed bayonets, and discharged their pieces singly, without stopping. I now thought it advisable to quit my dangerous post, and hasten home with all possible expedition. I was informed by the way that the Prussians had that moment stormed the Grimma gate, and would be in the city in a few minutes. On all sides was heard the firing of small arms, intermixed at times with the reports of the artillery, already playing upon the waggon-train in the suburbs. Musket-balls, passing over the city wall, likewise whizzed through the streets; and, when I ventured to put my head out of the window, I observed with horror, not far from my house, two Prussian jaegers pursuing and firing at some Frenchmen who were running away. Behind them I heard the storm-march, and huzzas and shouts of _Long live Frederic William!_ from thousands of voices. A company of Baden jaegers was charged with the defence of the inner Peter's gate. These troops immediately abandoned their post, and ran as fast as their legs would carry them to the market-place, where they halted, and, like the Saxon grenadier guards, fired not a single shot.

Thus the so long feared and yet wished-for hour was at length arrived. What we should never have expected after the 2nd of May, namely, to see a single Prussian again at Leipzig, was nevertheless come to pass. They had then left us as friends, and, by their exemplary conduct, had acquired our highest respect. We bore them, as well as the Russians, in the most honourable remembrance. They now appeared as enemies, whose duty had imposed on them the task of storming the city. Our sons and brothers had fought against them. What might not be our fate? We had not forgotten that which befell Luebeck, seven years before, under similar circumstances. But they were the warriors of Alexander, Francis, Frederic William, and Charles John; terrible as destroying angels to the foe, kind and generous to the defenceless citizen. As far as the author's knowledge extends, not a man was guilty of the smallest excess within our walls. They even paid in specie for bread, tobacco, and brandy. The suburbs, indeed, fared not quite so well. There many an inhabitant suffered severely; but how was it possible for the commanders to be present every where, and to prevent all irregularities, after a conflict which had raged in every corner of the city? Would you compare the victors, upon the whole, with our late friends and protectors, go through all Saxony, and then judge in whose favour the parallel must be drawn.