AT JENA
When old Hans left Bettina and the women he followed the highway until
he came to a path leading to a red-roofed farm house belonging to his
cousin.
Seeing Herr Schmelze standing in the doorway, the old man went in.
"Good-day," called the cousin. "Himmel, Hans, but the firing is awful!"
Certainly the roar, always steady and loud, seemed to increase to a
noise like thunder. Towards Jena they saw a cloud of blue smoke rising
always thicker and higher. The air, usually so fresh with the breath of
the pines, choked their throats with its taste of powder. The din was
awful, shrieks, shots, and the cannon roar uniting. Before Hans could
even answer, the flying feet of the first fugitives were heard on the
road, men and frightened women, furniture on their backs, children in
their arms, hands holding what they could; on they came as if fiends
were at their heels, a great horror pursuing them.
The cousin's wife, seeing Hans, came out to greet him. Her fingers were
held fast to her ears and she kept crying on God to help them.
"Be quiet, Lotte," commanded her husband, "and bring Hans some
breakfast."
She ran back into the house, and Herr Schmelze led the way to a rustic
table beneath an elm.
"It is cold," said he, shivering at the dampness, "but out here it is
better, is it not? We can see all that is happening."
Frau Schmelze returned with black bread, sausage, hard-boiled eggs, and
beer.
Arranging them on the table, she bowed her head most piously.
"Bless the mealtime," she said, jumping an "Amen" as the cannon
thundered a sudden volley.
"Mealtime," answered the men, German fashion, and fell to eating.
"Eat while you can, friends," and Frau Schmelze smoothed her clean black
apron over her short skirt of blue. "The soldiers will soon get
everything."
Germans seem always able to eat, so, though the cannon roared and the
fugitives passed by dozens in the road, Hans and the cousin partook of
the meal in large mouthfuls, exchanging news as they drank their beer.
"I came from Weimar to-day," said Herr Schmelze, in his slow, deliberate
way. "The Queen of Prussia has been with our Duchess, but this morning
she left."
"I saw her on the road," said Hans, and told of the adventure at the
inn. "And I saw Napoleon," he added, and while he related again the
story, the roaring grew fiercer and fiercer. Suddenly Frau Schmelze ran
from the house.
"Ach Gott! Ach Gott! Ach Gott!" she screamed. "Conrad, Hans, look!
look!"
And she pointed to the highroad.
Flying, galloping, running as if demons were at their heels, they saw
soldiers on foot, soldiers on horseback, hussars, dragoons, heard
pistols exploding, saw swords flashing, heard voices screaming madly. It
was horrible.
A quick shot sounded. A soldier fell like a stone at the gate.
Hans and Conrad reached him as if by magic.
"Dead," said the cousin, as they drew the body to the grass. "And a
Prussian."
There was a stream of blood in the road, men were falling, riding over
each other, dropping to death everywhere. On they came, faster and more
furious.
"Save us! Save us from Napoleon!"
Hans flung open the gate, and in rushed two wild-eyed women caught in
their flight by the hussars, who seeing them out of their way, rushed on
after higher game.
"Vive l'Empereur! Vive l'Empereur!" The cry rose even above the cannon
roar. Hans and Conrad looked each other in the eyes.
"The Prussians, cousin," began Hans.
"Were first," said Herr Schmelze.
The shoulders of the brave old soldier of Frederick the Great drooped
with shame, the fat old farmer coloured.
It was the first time Hans had seen a Prussian soldier turn his back on
an enemy, and a tear stole down his cheek.
"Come," said Herr Schmelze, "let us go to the height and look down on
the battle. Ulrich," he called to his son, as he passed the house, "stay
here and take care of your mother."
Then he led the way to a spot from where they could see the battle. The
sight was one never to be forgotten, and as the hours passed the hearts
of the two Germans grew sick within them. They saw the Duke of Brunswick
borne from the field of dead and wounded, and then began a panic worse
than all else we can read of in history. Over the field flew the
Prussians, whole companies taking flight as if children. Horses, freed
from their riders, dashed where they would, galloping over the dead,
crushing with their hoofs the dying; swords flashed against sabres; men
fled as if mad; gunners deserted cannon; and still, through all the
havoc and confusion, steadily, unswervingly, the cannon of Napoleon
roared on. Towards late afternoon the Prussians were turning their backs
in all directions, crossing each other's paths, blockading, hampering,
as they struggled to escape to Erfurt, to Kolleda, to Sommerda.
The sun dropped in the west, and, as the afterglow rose like a mist of
gold, the light fell on a field of such horror as blood-stained old
Europe rarely has seen. The cries of the wounded, the dying, the
pursued, and the victorious rent the air, and the Prussians who remained
were in a confusion most awful. Only the soldiers of the Duke of Weimar
fought with steadiness, and, presently, they began to retreat in order
towards Erfurt.
The glorious army of Frederick the Great had disappeared like a bubble.
Napoleon had but touched it with his finger of might and its
many-coloured glory had vanished into nothing.
For hours, old Hans and his cousin watched the fight, and lower and
lower sank the head of the old man. That he, a soldier of Frederick the
Great, should see the downfall of the army!
"Ach Gott! Ach Gott! Ach Gott!" he said to the cousin.
But Herr Schmelze caught his arm, his face suddenly glowing with
excitement.
"Look, cousin, look!" he cried and with a fat hand he pointed towards
the field. "Look, I say, look, Hans! What courage! That Prussian is
only a boy, and there are four, no, five, six, seven Frenchmen in
pursuit. See him run! Bravo! Ach Himmel! Hans, at last, some courage!"
What Hans saw was a Prussian, slender, alert, quite boy-like in figure,
fly before pursuing Frenchmen. To save himself he darted sideways, then
rushed between two wagons close together and deserted by the Prussians.
Sheltered, he fired.
A Frenchman dropped.
He dodged the answer and fired again.
"Vive l'Empereur!" called the hussars, responding, but the boy, turning
suddenly, leaped the wagon to the left; then, as the Frenchmen started
to follow, he turned on his heel, dived behind the rear of his barricade
and, turning, fled, gaining time as he ran.
"Bravo! Bravo!" called the cousin, and Hans brightened at even this
slight show of Prussian courage. With shots pursuing, unharmed, the boy
fled on, the French behind, until dusk wrapped in its dimness both
pursued and pursuers.
Hans and Herr Schmelze strained their eyes to see the end of the unequal
combat, but the battlefield and flying soldiers faded alike in the
gloom.
"I must go home," said Herr Schmelze, suddenly remembering his Lotte,
"and you, Hans?"
"I'm off to Jena."
The cousin eyed him curiously.
"Hans," he said, "is it wise to leave Annchen alone with the children?
The house is lonely and will be in the path of the soldiers, if they
should break through the forest."
The old man's mind was full only of the battle.
"Nein, nein, Conrad," he said. "I sent Anna a message by Minna
Schneiderwint. She was to take the children and go at once to her
husband's father. She is there now, that is certain."
The cousin looked less anxious. He was easy going and usually minded his
own affairs.
"So, so," he said, "then she will certainly be safe. You are sure she
obeyed? Otherwise----"
Hans nodded with conviction.
"Of course she obeyed; why not? I told Minna to command her."
"Very well, then," and Herr Schmelze started home. "Auf wiedersehen,
Hans, and you might bring us the news as you come back from Jena."
"Ja wohl," and the old soldier of Frederick the Great strode away in the
gloaming.
Jena was a scene of horror. Its streets were noisy with the yells of
drunken soldiers; screaming women were rushing in or out of houses; in
the streets lay the dead and dying, and, above the noise, steady, never
stopping, roared on the cannon of Napoleon.
About ten at night a sound of drums silenced the screams. With
triumphant flags and victorious music, in rode Napoleon, erect on his
white horse as ever.
"The scoundrel, the upstart!" said a voice near Hans.
The speaker wore the dress of a professor of the University of Jena, and
he stiffened his head as the conqueror approached. "I will not bow to
him," he muttered, "I will not."
But Napoleon suddenly gazing at him, the professor hesitated, then, a
strange look on his face, bowed as if in spite of himself.
"It is Professor Hegel, the philosopher," said a man near Hans. "He has
been writing here in Jena and did not even hear the cannon. A moment ago
the postmaster told him the news and he is like one broken-hearted."
But Hans had not time for gossip. Jena men whom he knew were on the road
to the field to bring in the wounded and they hailed him.
"Well met, Hans," they cried. "Come! We need men. Come, and help us."
"Ja wohl," and Hans turned and joined them. "I am too old to fight,
alas, comrades," he grieved, "but God be thanked, I can do this for the
army." And he marched off with the group.
Why not?
Annchen and the children were quite safe with Kasper's father. Anna knew
his ways and would not worry. It had been different when he had had
Bettina. Her concern had been for the child and not for an old soldier
such as he was. Why not, then?
And so he followed to the field where the horses still were racing, the
Prussian soldiers fleeing, the thieves prowling to rob the dead and the
dying, and where, above the havoc, still roared without ceasing the
cannon of Napoleon.
Towards Weimar the sky was crimson, tongues of flame darting up and
suddenly lighting the heavens.
There was but one cry: "Vive l'Empereur! Vive Napoleon!" and, as Hans,
with the gentleness of a woman, lifted man after man from the ground, he
knew that the soldiers of Frederick had had their good-morning, and the
country of that famous old soldier lay conquered in the dust.