THE BATTLE OF LEIPSIC.
The struggle had already been going on for two days. On the 15th and
16th of October the Austrians, Russians, Prussians, and Swedes, had
fought a number of engagements with the French between Halle and
Leipsic. The Austrians, or the army of Bohemia, commanded by
Schwartzenberg, the general-in-chief, had been defeated by the
French at Wachau on the 16th of October; but the Prussians and
Russians, under Blucher, had gained a brilliant victory at Mockern
on the 16th of October; and though the Swedes, under Bernadotte, had
not participated in the battle, and had, as usual, managed on that
day to keep away from the carnage, they had at the same time
contrived to participate in the glory of victory.
The French had not gained a single decisive battle during these two
days, and yet Napoleon himself was at the head of his forces,
directing their movements. Thousands of his soldiers lay on the
blood-stained field of Wachau, and thousands more were mown down at
Mockern. His army was melting away hour by hour, while that of his
enemies constantly increased. Fresh reserves were moved up; the
battle array of the allies grew more imposing and overwhelming, and
the great, decisive battle was drawing nigh.
It was the evening of the second day, the 16th of October. Napoleon,
who had his headquarters on the preceding day at Reudnitz, four
miles from Leipsic, removed them for the night into the open field,
from which the city could be seen, and behind it the numerous fires
of the allies gleamed through the gathering shades. Beside the
emperor's tent a large camp-fire was kindled, and near it, on a
small field-stool, covered with red morocco, sat Napoleon, his gray
overcoat closely buttoned up, his three-cornered hat drawn over his
forehead, and his arms folded on his breast. His guards, who were
encamping in the plain in wide circles around him, could distinctly
see him, partially illuminated by the camp-fire. That bent, dark
form was their only hope--a hope which did not look up to the stars
shining above them, but which was satisfied with a mortal, who they
believed could guide and protect them. And he indeed could save them
from death by discontinuing the struggle, by accepting peace, though
at the heaviest cost--at the sacrifice of all his possessions
outside of France.
Two forms approached the camp-fire. It was only when they stood by
the emperor's side, that he perceived them and looked up. He
recognized the grave faces of Marshal Berthier and Count Daru.
"What do you want?" he asked, in a husky voice.
"Sire," said Berthier, solemnly, "we come, as envoys of all the
superior officers of the army, to lay our humble requests before
your majesty."
"Have you any thing to request?" asked Napoleon, sneeringly. "I
thought I had fulfilled at Duben all the wishes of my generals; I
gave up my plan against Berlin and the right bank of the Elbe, and
marched to Leipsic, in order to take the direct road to France. Are
my generals not yet satisfied?"
"Sire, who could suppose that on this road we would meet all the
corps of the allies?" sighed the Prince of Neufchatel. "Even your
majesty did not know it."
"I did not," replied Napoleon, "but my star forewarned me, and I
conceived the plan of going to Berlin. You overcame my will; what do
you still want?"
"Sire," said Berthier, almost timidly, "we want to implore your
majesty to offer an armistice and peace to the allies. Our troops
are dreadfully exhausted by these days of incessant fighting, and
are, besides, discouraged by the continued victories of our enemies.
The generals, too, are disheartened, the more so as we are unable to
continue the struggle two days longer, because our ammunition begins
to fail. We have recently used such a vast amount that scarcely
enough remains for a single day. Sire, if we, however, continue to
fight and are defeated, the road to France is open to our enemies,
and your majesty cannot prevent the allies from marching directly
upon Paris, for France has no soldiers to defend her when our army
is routed. Let your majesty, therefore, have mercy on your country
and your people; discontinue the war, and make proposals of peace!"
"Yes, sire." said Daru, "become anew the benefactor of your country,
overcome your great heart for the welfare of your people and your
army, whose last columns are assembled around you, and await life or
death from your lips. The terrible, unforeseen event has taken us by
surprise; we were not sufficiently prepared. We have no ambulances,
no hospitals; all the elements of victory are wanting, for when the
soldier knows that, after the battle, if he should be wounded or
taken sick, he will find a good bed, careful treatment, and medical
attendance, he goes with a feeling of some sort of security into
battle; but we are destitute of these necessities. Your majesty
knows full well that this is no fault of mine, but still it is so,
and that we lack almost every thing. Your majesty, therefore, will
be gracious enough to take a resolution which, it is true, is
painful and deplorable, but under the circumstances indispensable."
Napoleon listened to the two gentlemen with calmness and attention.
When Count Daru was silent, he fixed a sarcastic eye first on him,
then on Berthier. "Have you anything else to say?" he then asked.
The two gentlemen bowed in silence.
"Well, then," said Napoleon, rising, and, with his arms folded, "I
will reply to both of you. Berthier, you know that I do not attach
to your opinion in such matters as much as a straw's value; you may,
therefore, save yourself the trouble of speaking! As to you, Count
Daru, it is your task to wield the pen, and not the sword; you are
incapable of passing an opinion on this question. As to those who
are of the same way of thinking, and whose envoys you are, tell them
as my determined and final answer simply, 'They shall obey!'"
[Footnote: Napoleon's words.--Vide "Memoirs of the Duchess
d'Abrantes," vol. xvi., p. 386.]
He turned his back upon them and entered his tent. Constant and
Roustan had taken pains to give it as comfortable and elegant an
appearance as possible. A beautiful Turkish carpet covered the
floor. On the table in the middle of the tent were placed the
emperor's supper, consisting of some cold viands on silver plates
and dishes. On another table was an inkstand, papers, books, and
maps; and in a nook, formed by curtains and draperies, stood the
emperor's field-bed. The sight of this snug little room, and the
stillness surrounding him, seemed to do him good; the solitude
allowed him to let the mask fall from his face, and to permit the
melancholy and painful thoughts which filled his soul to reflect
themselves in his features. With a sigh resembling a groan he sank
down on the easy-chair. "They want to crush me to earth," he
murmured--"to transform the giant into a pigmy, because they are too
much afraid of his strength. Their fear has at length made brave men
of these allies, and they have resolved to put me on the bed of
Procrustes, and to reduce me to the size of a common man, like
themselves. Will it be necessary to submit to this? Must I allow
them to cut off my limbs, to save my life?" He paused, and became
absorbed deeper in his reflections.
Suddenly he was interrupted by approaching footsteps. The curtain of
the tent was drawn back, and one of the emperor's adjutants
appeared. "Sire," he said, "the Austrian General Meerfeldt, who was
taken prisoner by your majesty's troops at Wachau, has just arrived
under escort, and awaits your orders."
The emperor rose more quickly than usual. "Fate responds to my
questions and doubts," he said to himself, hastily pacing his tent
floor. "I endeavored to find an expedient, and a mediator appears
between myself and my enemies. All is not yet lost, then, for Fate
seems still to be my ally." He turned with a quick motion of his
head toward the adjutant. "Admit General Meerfeldt. I will see him."
A few minutes afterward the Austrian general entered the tent. The
emperor quickly met him, and gazed with a strange, triumphant look
into the embarrassed face of the count. "I believe we are old
acquaintances," said Napoleon, "for, if I am not mistaken, it was
you who, in 1797, solicited the armistice of Leoben, and you
participated, too, in the negotiations which terminated in the
treaty of Campo-Formio."
"Yes, sire, you are right; I had at that time the good fortune to
become acquainted with General Bonaparte," said Count Meerfeldt,
with a deep bow; "he was just entering a career which has led him
from victory to victory, and adorned his head with well-merited
laurels."
"Yes, you were one of the signers of the treaty of Campo-Formio,"
exclaimed Napoleon. "But that was not all. Was it not you who wished
to present me, in the name of the emperor of Austria, with some
magnificent gifts? What was it you came to offer me then?"
"Sire," said the count, in confusion, "I had orders to repeat that
which Count Cobenzl had already vainly proposed to General
Bonaparte. I had orders to offer him, in the emperor's name, a
principality in Germany, several millions in ready money, and a team
of six white horses."
"I declined the principality in Germany because I thought that one
ought either to inherit or conquer sovereignties, but never accept
them as gifts, for he who accepts a gift always remains the moral
vassal of the giver. I rejected the millions because I would not
allow myself to be bribed; but I did accept the six horses, and with
them made my entry into Germany and came to Rastadt."
"It was the first triumphal procession of your majesty in Germany,
and, like Julius Gassar you could say, 'I came, saw, and
conquered!'"
"Since then circumstances have greatly changed," said the emperor,
thoughtfully; "General Bonaparte became the Emperor Napoleon, and
the latter did what General Bonaparte refused to do: he accepted at
the hands of the Emperor of Austria a gift more precious than
principalities, for it was a beautiful young wife. Ah, general, you
are my prisoner, and I ought not to release you, but send you to
Paris, that you might have the good fortune of kissing the hand of
the Empress of France, the daughter of my enemy, and of seeing
whether the little fair-haired King of Rome looks like his
grandfather.--But no, I will set you at liberty, I will make you my
negotiator! You were one of those with whom I concluded, in the name
of France, the first peace with Austria; I, therefore, commission
you now to mediate my last peace; for I want to wage no more wars--I
am tired of this unceasing bloodshed; I ask naught but to repose in
peace, and dream of the happiness of France, after having dreamed of
its glory. Go, repeat this to the emperor, your master; tell him
that I desire no more conquests, but repose. Tell him that I long
for nothing more ardently than peace, and that I am ready to
conclude it, even before our swords have crossed."
"Sire," said Count Meerfeldt, hesitatingly, "if I repeat all this to
the emperor, he will ask me what guaranties your majesty offers him,
and what cessions of territory you propose to make."
"Cessions of territory!" exclaimed Napoleon. "Yes, that is it! You
want to render me powerless; that is all you are fighting for; that
is why the Russians and Swedes are in Germany; that is why the
Germans accept subsidies at the hands of England!--all to attain a
single object: to deprive me of my power, and narrow the boundaries
of France. But do you think that the Russians, the Swedes, and the
English, will require no indemnities for services rendered, and that
they will very conveniently find them in the territories which you
propose to wrest from me? What will Germany gain thereby? She will
have rendered France, her natural ally, so powerless that she can
never assist her, and, in return, she will have secured a footing in
Germany to her three natural enemies, Russia--that is, barbarism;
England--that is, foreign industry and commerce in colonial goods;
Sweden--that is, navigation on the northern shores. But you will do
all this rather than leave me in possession of my power, though I
tell you that I wish to fight no more, but long for repose. Is it
not so?"
"Sire," said Count Meerfeldt, in a low voice, "the allied sovereigns
are, perhaps, familiar with the words of Caesar, who said that
laurels, if they were not to wither, should be often bathed in
hostile blood, and fed every year with soil from new fields of
victory. Your majesty being the modern Caesar, the allies may be
afraid lest you should adopt this maxim."
"Yes," cried Napoleon, "you are afraid of the very sleep of the
lion; you fear that you will never be easy before having pared his
nails and cut his mane. Well, then, after you have placed him in
this predicament, what will be the consequence? Have the allied
sovereigns reflected? You think only of repairing, by a single
stroke, the calamities of twenty years; and, carried away by this
idea, you never perceive the changes which time has made around you,
and that for Austria to gain now, at the expense of France, is to
lose. Tell your sovereign to take that into consideration, Count
Meerfeldt; it is neither Austria, nor France, nor Prussia, singly,
that will be able to arrest on the Vistula the inundation of a half-
nomadic people essentially conquering, and whose dominions extend to
China. I comprehend, however, that in order to make peace, I must
make sacrifices and I am ready to do so. [Footnote: Napoleon's
words.--Fain, "Manuscrit de 1813," vol. i., pp. 412, 414.] For the
very purpose of stating this to the Emperor Francis, I set you at
liberty, provided you give me your parole to serve no longer in this
campaign against France."
"Sire, to fight against France has been so painful a duty that I
joyfully give my word to serve no longer unless permitted to do so
for France--that is to say, for your majesty."
"You may go, then, and lay my proposals before the Emperor Francis.
You will tell him this: I offer to evacuate all fortresses in
Germany to the Rhine, and consent to the dissolution of the
Confederation of the Rhine. I am ready to restore Illyria and Spain
to their former sovereigns. I further consent to the independence of
Italy and Holland. If England refuses to grant peace on the seas, we
will try to negotiate it, and Austria is to be the mediator."
[Footnote: Ibid]
"Sire, these are such satisfactory promises," cried Count Meerfeldt,
"that I am afraid my mere word will be insufficient to convince my
master that you really intend to grant so much."
"I will give you a letter to the Emperor Francis, in which I shall
make these proposals," said Napoleon, quickly. "Yes, I will write
once more to the emperor. Our political alliance is broken, but
between your master and me there is another bond, which is
indissoluble. That is what I invoke, for I always place confidence
in the regard of my father-in-law."
He went to his desk, and penned a few lines with a hasty hand,
folded, sealed, and directed the letter. "Here," he said,
approaching the count, "is my letter to my father-in-law. You will
immediately repair to him, and deliver it into his hands. The
emperor will communicate it to the other sovereigns, and they will
take their resolutions accordingly. Tell him that I shall not attack
to-morrow, but discontinue further hostilities until I have received
his answer; and that I shall certainly expect him to return an
answer by to-morrow. Adieu, general! When on my behalf you speak to
the two emperors of an armistice, I doubt not the voice which
strikes their ears will be eloquent indeed in recollections."
[Footnote: Napoleon's words.--Vide Beitzke, vol. ii., p. 592.]
"It is my last effort," murmured the emperor to himself, when Count
Meerfeldt had left; "if it fail, nothing but a struggle of life and
death remains to me, and, by Heaven, I will certainly fight it out!
The crisis is at hand, and I cannot evade it. I will meet it with my
eyes open. The laurels of Marengo and Austerlitz are not yet
withered. To-morrow there will be a cessation of hostilities, and on
the day after to-morrow peace, or war to the last!"
On the 17th of October no hostilities took place. Napoleon awaited
the reply of his father-in-law. But it did not come; it was deemed
unnecessary to observe the forms of courtesy toward him before whom,
only a year ago, they had prostrated themselves so often in the
dust.
The battle recommenced on the 18th of October. The booming of a
thousand cannon was the answer of the allies. Napoleon, with only
three hundred cannon, replied that he understood this answer to his
peace propositions. Upward of three hundred thousand soldiers of the
allies filled the plains around Leipsic. Napoleon had scarcely one
hundred and twenty thousand to oppose to them, and his men were
exhausted and discouraged. But he appeared on this day along the
whole line, encouraging his troops by his cheerful countenance and
his brief addresses. He seemed to infuse fresh courage and
enthusiasm into the hearts of the French. They arose with the
heroism of former days, and plunged into the thickest of the fight;
the earth trembled beneath the thunder of cannon, the cheers of the
victors, and the imprecations of the vanquished. The French did not
yield an inch; they stood like a wall, broken here and there, but
the gaps filled up again in a moment, and those who had taken the
places of the fallen exhibited the same devoted heroism, for
Napoleon was there.
And Blucher was also there. He halted opposite the enemy with his
Silesian army (one-half of which he had placed under the crown
prince of Sweden), composed of Russians and Prussians. Blucher, too,
fired the hearts of his men by energetic words, and they fought with
matchless bravery, for they fought before the eyes of their general.
He shared with them every fatigue and danger; he drank with them,
when he was thirsty, from one bottle; lighted his pipe from their
pipes, and spoke to them, not in the condescending tone of a master,
but in their own unreserved and cordial manner. Rushing onward with
shouts of victory, they attacked the enemy with irresistible
impetuosity, forcing the French to fall back, step by step.
"Every thing is going on right, Gneisenau!" exclaimed Blucher.
"Bonaparte cannot hold out; he must at length retreat. He is
contracting the circle of his troops more and more, and advancing
toward Leipsic. Ah, I understand, M. Bonaparte; you want to march
through Leipsic and keep open the passage across the Saale! But it
won't do--it won't do! For Blucher is here, and his eyes are yet
good.--A courier! Come here! Ride to General York! He is to set out
this very night and occupy the banks of the Saale, and impede as
much as possible the retreat of the enemy, who intends to fall back
across the Saale.--Another courier! Ride to General Langeron! He is
to return to-night to the right bank of the Partha, support General
Sacken, and, as soon as the enemy begins to retreat, pursue him with
the utmost energy."
"But, general," said Gneisenau, when the courier galloped off, "as
yet Napoleon does not seem to think of retreating. He maintains his
position and offers a bold front."
"He will not do so to-morrow," said Blucher, laconically. "If we do
to-day what we can. he is annihilated. God grant that our victory
may be followed up, and that they may not grow soft-hearted again at
headquarters! The Emperor of Austria never forgets that Bonaparte is
his son-in-law; nor the crown prince of Sweden that he is a native
of France, and he would like to spare his countrymen further
bloodshed; nor the Emperor of Russia, that at Erfurt he plighted
eternal fidelity to Napoleon, and kissed him as his brother. But our
king, I believe, will always remember that Bonaparte humiliated and
oppressed us, and that Queen Louisa died of grief and despair. He
will not suffer the others to make peace too early, and cause us to
shed our blood and spend our strength for nothing. We must be
indemnified, and it is by no means enough for us merely to gain a
victory over Bonaparte. He must surrender all that he has taken from
us. Germany must have satisfaction, and I must have mine, too; for
the anger I have felt for years has almost killed me. I want to be
even with him, and shall not rest before he is hurled from his
throne.--What is going on there? Why are they cheering yonder? Look,
Gneisenau, one of the enemy's columns is advancing upon us. Do you
hear the music? What does it mean?"
"It means, general," shouted an orderly, who galloped up, "that the
Saxons are coming over to us. With thirty-two field-pieces, and
drums beating, they have left the lines of the French, and, when
these tried to prevent them, they turned their bayonets against
their former comrades."
Blucher's eye lit up. "Well," he said, "now they will no longer
extol Bonaparte's extraordinary luck. To-day at least he has none.
The Saxons have felt at last that they are Germans, and wish to
purge themselves of their disgrace. I say, Gneisenau, Bonaparte must
retreat to-morrow." And what Blucher said here to Gneisenau was what
Berthier said to Napoleon: "The battle is lost! We must retreat."
Night came. It is true, the French remained on the field; they did
not flee, but they had no strength to continue the battle; their
ammunition was exhausted, for they had discharged on this day an
incredible amount of cannon-shot. Napoleon felt that he had
certainly to retreat, and submit to what was inevitable. At the
camp-fire, near the turf-mill, sat the emperor; his generals
surrounded him, and listened in silence to his words, falling from
his lips slowly and sadly. He ordered dispositions to be made for a
retreat, and Berthier repeated the orders to his two adjutants, who
were kneeling on the other side of the camp-fire, and writing them
down. Suddenly, in the middle of a sentence, Napoleon paused, and
his head dropped on his breast. The emperor had fallen asleep!
His generals, respecting this respite from sorrow and misfortune,
preserved silence. The fire shed a blood-red lustre over the group;
at times the flames flickered up higher, and illuminated the form of
the emperor, who, with his head on his breast, his arms hanging down
on both sides of the camp-stool, his body gently moving to and fro,
was still wrapped in slumber. At times, when the fire blazed up, and
shed a flood of light on the plain, shadows were seen emerging from
the gloom, and a long line moved past. It was a portion of the
imperial army already retreating toward Leipsic.
A quarter of an hour thus elapsed when Napoleon gave a slight start,
and, raising his head, cast a long look of astonishment on the
persons surrounding him. His sleep had made him for an instant
forget his troubles, but the sombre glances of his generals and the
noise of the troops filing by, reminded him of what had happened.
His eye resumed its calm expression, and, in a firm, sonorous voice
he recommenced giving his orders. Suddenly a whizzing sound was in
the air above him--a grenade fell to the ground close to the
emperor, burrowed into the earth, and scattered the camp-fire.
"It is a cold night," said the emperor, composedly; "make up the
fire again, and add fresh fuel!"
The adjutants ran to collect the firebrands, and the generals
themselves hastened to pile on the fuel. But another whizzing sound
rent the air, and another grenade fell into the fire, which had just
blazed up again; it almost extinguished the flames, and remained in
the midst of the coals.
Napoleon gazed musingly on the ball, and strange thoughts probably
filled his soul at the sight of this messenger at his feet.
[Footnote: Beitzke, vol. ii., p. 615.] "It is enough," he said
calmly; "no more fire may be kindled! My horse! To Leipsic! I will
spend the night there." The horses were brought; attended by
Berthier, Caulaincourt, and a few orderlies, the emperor rode to
Leipsic, and took up his quarters at the Hotel de Prusse.