AFTER THE BATTLE OF BAUTZEN.
For two days the battle had been raging, and even now, in the
afternoon of the 22d of May, the struggle was undecided. Blucher,
who, with his Prussians, occupied the heights of Kreckwitz, near
Bautzen, still hoped to achieve a victory. For two days the
Prussians and Russians fought like lions along the extended line of
battle; they engaged the hostile legions with undaunted courage and
joyful enthusiasm, regardless of the scorching heat, hunger, thirst,
and exhaustion. During these days Blucher was constantly in the
midst of his troops. Where the shower of bullets was thickest, where
the danger was most imminent, his voice was heard inciting the
soldiers; where the enemy approached with his most formidable
columns, Blucher stood with his faithful companion Gneisenau at the
head of his Prussians, brandishing his sword, advancing with
exulting cheers upon the enemy, and causing him to retreat.
The heights of Kreckwitz had to be held till General Barclay de
Tolly, with his Russians, would arrive, and Generals York and
Kleist, with their Prussians, to cover Blucher's left flank, which
was threatened by Marshal Ney. The booming of cannon was incessant.
The Russians stood like a wall, and when the front ranks were swept
down, others took their places; the living stepped over the dying,
undaunted, and remembering only one thing--that they had to take
revenge for the lost battle of Lutzen. [Footnote: Fought May 2,
1813. The French call this battle that of Lutzen; the Germans
generally that of Gross-Gorschen. Both sides claimed a victory. But
the latest German historians, especially Beitzke, admit that the
Germans were defeated.]
"Boys," shouted Blucher to his soldiers, just as the balls of the
enemy struck down whole ranks, "boys, remember that we have resolved
to sabre the French. They have exhausted the soil of Germany, we
must fertilize it with French corpses. Remember Gross-Gorschen,
where they wounded our General Scharnhorst. We must chastise them
for that, and capture a few French generals. [Footnote: General
Scharnhorst was wounded at the battle of Gross-Gorschen by Blucher's
side. He believed his wound was not dangerous, but he left the
headquarters to be cured. He went at first to Altenburg, and then to
Prague, to attend the peace congress. His wound reopened, and he
died at Prague on the 20th of June, 1813.] We must get at least four
of their marshals in return for General Scharnhorst, for the fellows
are light, and four of them do not weigh as much as one Scharnhorst.
Now, tell me, shall we get those four French marshals?"
"Yes, Father Blucher, yes!" shouted the Prussians, jubilantly. "Long
live Father Blucher!"
"Only a little longer, and the day is ours!" cried Gneisenau, in a
ringing voice. "The legions of Marshal Ney are charging again, but
General Barclay, with his Russians, has occupied the Windmill-knoll,
near Gleime, and will repulse him as we shall Napoleon's columns.
The heights of Kreckwitz are the Thermopylae of the Prussians, and
we will fall to a man rather than surrender!"
"Yes, that we will do!" cried the officers, enthusiastically, and
the soldiers echoed their shouts.
At this moment a terrific cannonade resounded on the right wing of
the Prussian troops. "There are the French!" exclaimed Blucher.
"Boys, now bring in those marshals!" The cannon roared, the muskets
rattled, and, as though heaven desired to participate in this
struggle of the nations, the thunder rolled, and flashes of
lightning darted into the clouds of battle-smoke.
But who was galloping up suddenly on a charger covered with foam,
his hair fluttering in the breeze, and his face pale and terrified?
It was a Prussian colonel, and still he does not join in the
exultation of his countrymen. He approached Generals Blucher and
Gneisenau.
"Halloo! Lieutenant-Colonel von Muffling," shouted Blucher, "are you
back? Do you bring us greetings from Barclay de Tolly? Has he
finished the French? Well, we are just about to recommence our work
here--the last work for to-day."
"General," cried Muffling, anxiously, "the French will soon have
finished Barclay de Tolly, and defeated us! For he is unable to hold
out. He has only fifty thousand men, and Ney is attacking him with a
much larger force. Barclay sends me for reenforcements, and if we do
not strengthen his line, he cannot maintain himself on the Windmill-
knoll. In a quarter of an hour it will be in Ney's hands."
"No; in a quarter of an hour Ney will be in our hands," shouted
Blucher, confidently. "Ney is a marshal, and we must have him!
Boys," he cried, drawing himself up in his stirrups, and looking
back toward his troops--"boys, we must have Marshal Ney, must we
not?"
"Yes, Father Blucher, we must have Marshal Ney!"
Heaven responded with a loud clap of thunder, the earth was shaken
by the booming of the cannon, the air was rent by the cheers of the
living, and the groans and imprecations of the wounded and dying.
Blucher still stood with his Prussians on the heights of Krockwitz,
his face radiant with enthusiasm, his eye flashing with courage; but
a warning adviser stood by his side.
"General," whispered Muffling, "we are lost if we remain here
longer. We must retreat."
"Retreat!" cried Blucher, in an angry voice, and a clap of thunder
burst at that moment.
Muffling pointed silently down into the plain, and over to the
Windmill-knoll. "Look yonder! Napoleon is advancing directly upon
our front, the Windmill-knoll is evacuated, Barclay has gone, and
the Russians are routed!"
"But we still stand," cried Blucher, triumphantly, "and we shall
stand in spite of Napoleon and the devil! And, then, we are not
without support. The Russian artillery attached to our corps is
thundering against the enemy, and York and Kleist are covering our
left wing."
"But, general, listen! The Russian artillery is firing less rapidly;
General Kleist is no longer able to cover our left wing, for the
sovereigns have sent him to Bairuth to cover Barclay's flank; and as
for York, he was unable to prevent the enemy from placing a battery
near Basantwitz. I saw it when I rode hither. We are, therefore, in
a triple cross-fire." And, as though the enemy intended to confirm
these warning words, the cannon flashed from three sides, and hurled
their balls into the ranks of the Prussians.
The flush of hoped-for victory paled in Blucher's face; Gneisenau
grew grave and gloomy. The staff came nearer to their chieftain, and
tried to read his thoughts in his eyes. The jubilant shouts of the
soldiers were hushed; heaven was still thundering, and in the
distance burning villages, like gigantic torches, lit up the
landscape, and shed a blood-red lustre over the gray sky. Blucher
looked around in silence; his lip quivered, his eyebrows contracted,
and large drops of cold perspiration stood on his forehead.
Gneisenau was by his side, gloomy and taciturn, like his chieftain.
Behind them halted the staff-officers, mournful as their leaders,
for now every one recognized the danger, and knew that, if they
remained at the "Thermopylae of Prussia," they would have to defend
themselves to the last man, or lay down their arms, because, as soon
as the enemy closed up the fourth side, escape would be impossible.
[Footnote: Muffling, "Aus meinem Lebem," p. 42]
On the other side of Blucher halted Colonel Muffling, who had
brought back such calamitous tidings from his reconnoissance. He
pointed silently to the French columns of Marshal Ney, that just
commenced climbing the heights, and then pulled out his watch. "We
have fifteen minutes left," he said, in a loud, solemn voice,
"fifteen minutes to extricate ourselves from the noose. Afterward we
shall be hemmed in. If we do not improve the time the cowards will
surrender, and the brave die fighting to the last, but unfortunately
without promoting in the least the welfare of the fatherland."
[Footnote: Muffling's words--Ibid., p. 43.]
Blucher did not reply, gazing down with a sombre eye on the enemy,
coming up in increasing masses. The cannon of the French, firing
from three sides, spoke a disheartening language. The Russian
batteries had ceased firing, for their ammunition was exhausted.
"Gneisenau," asked Blucher at last, in a hollow voice, and sighing,
as though a stone weighed down his breast, "Gneisenau, what do you
say?"
"I must admit that Lieutenant-Colonel von Muffling is right," sighed
Gneisenau. "Under the present circumstances all further bloodshed
will be useless, and it is our bounden duty to preserve our men for
a better opportunity. We must hasten to retreat." [Footnote:
Gneisenau's words.--Ibid., p. 43.] A single savage imprecation burst
from Blucher's lips, but only the nearest bystanders heard it, for
it was drowned by the roar of artillery and the thunder of heaven.
With a quick jerk he drew his cap over his forehead, so that his
eyes were shaded--those eyes which had flashed so defiantly, but
which were now dim, who could say whether from the rain that was
pouring down, or the smoke of battle, or from despairing tears? He
slowly turned toward the gentlemen of his staff. "We must descend,
therefore, from the heights," he said, in a harsh voice. "Forward!
March down the turnpike toward Weissenberg. Make the enemy at least
pay dearly for compelling us to retreat. Let the cavalry advance,
covering our retreat, and let not a single man or standard fall into
the hands of the French! Come, gentlemen, listen to what I have
still to say to you."
The quarter of an hour allowed by Muffling had not yet elapsed when
the Prussians commenced slowly descending the heights of Kreckwitz,
and marching down the turnpike toward Weissenberg. Blucher had
ridden from the position at a brisk trot, with Gneisenau and the
officers of his staff, and galloped a short distance along the level
valley-road; then halting suddenly, and, turning his horse, he
looked up to the heights, from which the Prussians were descending
in perfect order, but in gloomy silence. "This is the second time we
have been obliged to retreat," said Blucher, mournfully, "the second
time that Bonaparte is luckier than we are; the blockheads will now
say again that Bonaparte is invincible, and that they are fools who
resist him, God being on his side, and fortune never forsaking him.
But I say it is false; the good God is not on his side, but the
devil is, and fortune is only lulling him to sleep, to plunge him
the surer and deeper into the abyss. But it is true, nevertheless,
that this is the second battle we have lost, and the second time
that we are obstructed in our advance. But I swear here--and may
Heaven record my oath!--that this shall be the last time that I fall
back; that I will specially pay Bonaparte for my grief and anxiety
for the past month, and that I will bring him as much trouble as one
man can to another. What a fearful account Bonaparte has to settle
with me! how much he has to pay me! But, no matter; my sword is
sharp, and will surely erase one item of his indebtedness after
another. From this day I will begin. Will you lend me your
assistance, gentlemen?"
"Yes," replied the officers of his staff, "we will!"
"Well, then it is all right," said Blucher, nodding; "from to-day M.
Napoleon had better beware of me. Hitherto, I have only hated him;
now I abhor him, and the word backward exists no longer for me and
my Prussians!" He quickly galloped up to his troops. "Well, boys,"
he cried, "the heights of Kreckwitz are of no use to us, and it is
better for us, therefore, to descend from them, and leave them to
Bonaparte, who may put them into his pocket, if it affords him
pleasure; but henceforth let us reverse matters, and put HIM into
our pocket and keep him warm; otherwise, he might feel cold again,
as he did in Russia. Forward now, boys; forward! And as we are now
moving, I am sure you see that we do not move backward; he who
asserts that we are retreating is a blockhead. Forward!"
But whatever Blucher said--how plausibly soever he tried to
represent to his troops that they were not retreating, but
advancing--it was unfortunately but too true that the battle of
Bautzen was lost, and that the Prussians and Russians were obliged
to fall back. It is true, they did so in excellent order, but--they
retreated and Napoleon could boast of a new victory on German soil.
The whole army of the allies commenced retreating about dusk on the
same day, and turned again toward Silesia. The troops marched
sullenly, and sombre too were the faces of the two sovereigns, the
Emperor Alexander and King Frederick William. Full of hope that they
would achieve a victory, they had taken the field with their troops;
but now their hopes were blasted, and they were compelled to return
whence they had set out.
While the troops were marching down the wide highways, the two
sovereigns, preceding their forces, took a short cut to Reichenbach.
They were alone; only two footmen followed them at some distance;
not a vestige of their earthly greatness surrounded them. They were
both silent; slowly riding along, the king looked grave, while the
emperor frequently turned his eyes, with an expression of mournful
emotion, upon his friend, or raised them heavenward, with an
entreating glance. Silence reigned around; only at a great distance
was heard the dull rumbling of wagons, and here and there on the
horizon still flickered the burning ruins of a village.
For some time they thus rode side by side, when the king stopped his
horse. "There must be a change!" he exclaimed, in a tone of grief
and despair. "We are moving eastward, but we must advance westward."
"We must all move eastward," said the emperor, in a deep, fervent
tone; "from the east came our salvation; eastward, therefore, every
good Christian turns his face whenever he prays for assistance and
redemption."
The king, perhaps, did not hear these words, for he made no reply,
but looked moody and thoughtful. Both did not notice that the sky
had brightened, and that the sun in its splendor was shedding its
setting beams. It was a beautiful evening. The earth, refreshed by
the rain, exhaled sweet odors; the air was fresh and balmy, and the
blooming fields waved as a gentle sea. The sovereigns were too much
concerned with themselves to be attracted by the beauties of outward
nature. Their eyes were turned inward.
"Oh," resumed the king, after a pause, "what will be the end of all
this? Were not they right who cautioned me against this war, and
pointed to Napoleon's luck in order to prevent me from entering upon
it? Have not my troops done all that can be demanded of human
strength? Have they not braved with heroic resolution all fatigues
and privations, and behaved in battle with unsurpassed valor? Have
not the Russians also manifested the noblest devotion, and the most
intrepid constancy? And still our armies have been defeated in two
pitched battles--and still we are retreating? What have we to hope
for? What new resources have we? May we still hope for the accession
of Austria to our alliance?"
He uttered these questions in an undertone and thoughtfully, as if
to himself, and forgetful of the presence of another who could hear
him. When the emperor, therefore, replied to him, Frederick William
gave a start, and raised his head almost in surprise.
"No," said the emperor, gravely--"no, we must not count on Austria;
or, if you please, NOT YET. The mission of Count Stadion ought to
have proved this to us. They sent their diplomatist to treat with us
that, in case of a victory, we might not consider Austria, too, as
our enemy. Now, that we have not been victorious. Count Stadion will
undoubtedly leave our headquarters, repair to those of Napoleon, and
assure him of the most faithful and sincere devotion of Austria.
Austria desires only negotiation--to fight with words, not with the
sword."
"But, without Austria," cried the king, vehemently, "we are too
weak! Oh, at times it seems to me as though no human strength were
able to accomplish any thing against the surpassing genius of
Napoleon, and as though God alone, who made him so great, and raised
him so high, could humble him! We have done all that men could do,
but it is all in vain! He has conquered!"
"But we have made him purchase his victories very dearly," said
Alexander, "and if we yielded, it was at least with honor. None of
our battalions were dispersed, and I believe the number of prisoners
is about the same on both sides. On the whole, nothing is lost as
yet, and with God's help we will soon do better."
"Yes, but only with God's help," cried the king; "we need it above
all; without it we are lost."
"But God is with us," exclaimed Alexander, enthusiastically, "I know
it; I have gained this firm conviction ever since the great and
terrible days of Moscow and the Beresina. God sent me those days of
trial and terror that I might believe--and now I do believe. Until
then I was a man enthralled by worldly doubts, relying upon my own
strength, and rejoicing, not without vanity, in my earthly
greatness. I thought of God, I loved Him, but He did not fill my
whole soul--I pursued my own path, and diverted myself. But the
conflagration of Moscow illuminated my mind, and the judgment of the
Lord on the ice-fields filled my heart with a fervor of faith which
it had never felt until then. With the flames of the holy city the
hand of God wrote on the reddened sky, 'I am the Lord thy God!' With
the rivers of blood flowing from the grand army of the French, the
finger of the Lord wrote on the snow-fields, 'Thou shalt have no
other gods before me!' Since then there is a wonderful joy, an
indescribable humility, and an immovable faith in my heart--since
then I have become another man. To the deliverance of Europe from
utter ruin I owe my own soul's salvation." [Footnote: The emperor's
words.--Vide Eylert, "Frederick William III.," vol. ii., p. 248.]
"It is He alone who is able to deliver us," said the king,
profoundly moved; "I bow my head in humility, and confess that we
are nothing without Him. May He send us His support!"
"He will," exclaimed Alexander, fervently; "God will be with us, for
we are engaged in a just cause!"
"Yes, it is just," responded Frederick William, with deep emotion,
and, slowly raising his eyes, he whispered, "Pray for us, Louisa,
that we may conquer!"
Both were silent, and, with pious emotion, they lifted their hearts
to heaven. Suddenly a joyful gleam kindled the face of the king,
and, offering his hand to Alexander, he said in a deeply-moved tone,
"We must not despond, but courageously continue the struggle. If
God, as I hope, bless our united efforts, we will profess before the
whole world that the glory belongs to Him alone." [Footnote: The
king's words.--Vide Eylert, "Frederick William III.," vol. ii., p.
248.]
"Yes," cried Alexander, putting his right hand into that of his
friend. "Let us not be ashamed to declare that the glory belongs to
God. And now, my friend," exclaimed the emperor, when they halted,
"let us repair to our headquarters, and hold a council of war with
our generals."
"Very well," replied Frederick William; "let us examine the strength
of our forces, and see what ought to be done. The battle of Bautzen
must not be the end of this war."