XVIII

The battalion was commencing to descend the hill, opposite Leipzig, to

rejoin our division, when we saw a staff-officer crossing the plain

below, and coming at full gallop toward us. In two minutes he was with

us; Colonel Lorain had spurred forward to meet him; they exchanged a

few words, and the officer returned. Hundreds of others were rushing

over the plain in the same manner, bearing orders.

"Head of column to the right!" shouted the colonel.

We took the direction of a wood, which skirts the Duben road some half

a league. It was a beech forest, but in it were birches and oaks.

Once at its borders, we were ordered to re-prime our guns, and the

battalion was deployed through the wood as skirmishers. We advanced

twenty-five paces apart, and each of us kept his eyes well opened, as

may be imagined. Every minute Sergeant Pinto would cry out:

"Get under cover!"

But he did not need to warn us: each one hastened to take his post

behind a stout tree, to reconnoitre well before proceeding to another.

To what dangers must peaceable people be exposed! We kept on in this

manner some ten minutes, and, as we saw nothing, began to grow

confident, when suddenly, one, two, three shots rang out. Then they

came from all sides, and rattled from end to end of our line. At the

same instant I saw my comrade on the left fall, trying, as he sank to

the earth, to support himself by the trunk of the tree behind which he

was standing. This roused me. I looked to the right and saw, fifty or

sixty paces off, an old Prussian soldier, with his long red mustaches

covering the lock of his piece; he was aiming deliberately at me. I

fell at once to the ground, and at the same moment heard the report.

It was a close escape, for the comb, brush, and handkerchief in my

shako were broken and torn by the bullet. A cold shiver ran through me.

"Well done! a miss is as good as a mile!" cried the old sergeant,

starting forward at a run, and I, who had no wish to remain longer in

such a place, followed with right good-will.

Lieutenant Bretonville, waving his sabre, cried, "Forward!" while, to

the right, the firing still continued. We soon arrived at a clearing,

where lay five or six trunks of felled trees, and a little lake full of

high grass, but not a tree standing, that might serve us for a cover.

Nevertheless, five or six of our men advanced boldly, when the sergeant

called out:

"Halt! The Prussians are in ambush around us. Look sharp!"

Scarcely had he spoken, when a dozen bullets whistled through the

branches, and at the same time, a number of Prussians rose, and plunged

deeper into the forest opposite.

"There they go! Forward!" cried Pinto.

But the bullet in my shako had rendered me cautious; it seemed as if I

could almost see through the trees, and, as the sergeant started forth

into the clearing, I held his arm, pointing out to him the muzzle of a

musket peeping out from a bush, not a hundred paces before us. The

others, clustering around, saw it too, and Pinto whispered:

"Stay, Bertha; remain here and do not lose sight of him, while we turn

the position."

They set off, to the right and left, and I, behind my tree, my piece at

my shoulder, waited like a hunter for his game. At the end of two or

three minutes, the Prussian, hearing nothing, rose slowly. He was

quite a boy, with little blonde mustaches, and a tall, slight, but

well-knit figure. I could have killed him as he stood, but the thought

of thus slaying a defenceless man froze my blood. Suddenly he saw me,

and bounded aside. Then I fired, and breathed more freely as I saw him

running, like a stag, toward the wood.

At the same moment, five or six reports rang out to the right and left;

the sergeant Zebede, Klipfel, and the rest appeared, and a hundred

paces farther on we found the young Prussian upon the ground blood

gushing from his mouth. He gazed at us with a scared expression,

raising his arms, as if to parry bayonet-thrusts, but the sergeant

called gleefully to him:

"Fear nothing! Your account is settled."

No one offered to injure him further; but Klipfel took a beautiful

pipe, which was hanging out of his pocket, saying:

"For a long time I have wanted a pipe, and here is a fine one."

"Fusileer Klipfel!" cried Pinto, indignantly, "will you be good enough

to put back that pipe? Leave it to the Cossacks to rob the wounded! A

French soldier knows only honor!"

Klipfel threw down the pipe and we departed, not one caring to look

back at the wounded Prussian. We arrived at the edge of the forest,

outside which, among tufted bushes, the Prussians we pursued had taken

refuge. We saw them rise to fire upon us, but they immediately lay

down again. We might have remained there tranquilly, since we had

orders to occupy the wood, and the shots of the Prussians could not

hurt us, protected as we were by the trees. On the other side of the

slope we heard a terrific battle going on; the thunder of cannon was

increasing, it filled the air with one continuous roar. But our

officers held a council, and decided that the bushes were a part of the

forest, and that the Prussians must be driven from them. This

determination cost many a life.

We received orders, then, to drive the enemy's tirailleurs, and as they

fired as we came on, we started at a run, so as to be upon them before

they could reload. Our officers ran, also full of ardor. We thought

the bushes ended at the top of the hill, and that we could sweep off

the Prussians by dozens. But scarcely had we arrived, out of breath,

upon the ridge, when old Pinto cried:

"Hussars!"

I looked up, and saw the _Colbacks_ rushing down upon us like a

tempest. Scarcely had I seen them, when I began to spring down the

hill, going, I verily believe, in spite of weariness and my knapsack,

fifteen feet at a bound. I saw before me, Pinto, Zebede, and the

others, making their best speed. Behind, on came the hussars, their

officers shouting orders in German, their scabbards clanking and horses

neighing. The earth shook beneath them.

I took the shortest road to the wood, and had almost reached it, when I

came upon one of the trenches where the peasants were in the habit of

digging clay for their houses. It was more than twenty feet wide, and

forty or fifty long, and the rain had made the sides very slippery; but

as I heard the very breathing of the horses behind me, while my hair

rose on my head, without thinking of aught else, I sprang forward, and

fell upon my face: another fusileer of my company was already there.

We rose as soon as we could, and at the same instant two hussars glided

down the slippery side of the trench. The first, cursing like a fiend,

aimed a sabre-stroke at my poor comrade's head, but as he rose in his

stirrups to give force to the blow I buried my bayonet in his side,

while the other brought down his blade upon my shoulder with such

force, that, were it not for my epaulette, I believe that I had been

wellnigh cloven in two. Then he lunged, but as the point of his sabre

touched my breast, a bullet from above crashed through his skull. I

looked around, and saw one of our men, up to his knees in the clay. He

had heard the oaths of the hussars and the neighing of the horses, and

had come to the edge of the trench to see what was going on.

"Well, comrade," said he, laughing, "it was about time."

I had not strength to reply, but stood trembling like an aspen leaf.

He unfixed his bayonet, and stretched the muzzle of his piece to me to

help me out. Then I squeezed his hand, saying:

"You saved my life! What is your name?"

He told me that his name was Jean Pierre Vincent. I have often since

thought that I should be only too happy to render that man any service

in my power; but two days after, the second battle of Leipzig took

place; then the retreat from Hanau began, and I never saw him again.

Sergeant Pinto and Zebede came up a moment after. Zebede said:

"We have escaped once more, Joseph, and now we are the only Phalsbourg

men in the battalion. Klipfel was sabred by the hussars."

"Did you see him?" I cried.

"Yes; he received over twenty wounds, and kept calling to me for aid."

Then, after a moment's pause, he added, "O Joseph! it is terrible to

hear the companion of your childhood calling for help, and not be able

to give it! But they were too many. They surrounded him on all sides."

The thoughts of home rushed upon both our minds. I thought I could see

grandmother Klipfel when she would learn the news, and this made me

think too of Catharine.

From the time of the charge of the hussars until night, the battalion

remained in the same position, skirmishing with the Prussians. We kept

them from occupying the wood; but they prevented us from ascending to

the ridge. The next day we knew why. The hill commanded the entire

course of the Partha, and the fierce cannonade we heard came from

Dombrowski's division, which was attacking the Prussian left wing, in

order to aid General Marmont at Mockern, where twenty thousand French,

posted in a ravine, were holding eighty thousand of Bluecher's troops in

check; while toward Wachau a hundred and fifteen thousand French were

engaged with two hundred thousand Austrians and Russians. More than

fifteen hundred cannon were thundering at once. Our poor little

fusillade was like the humming of a bee in a storm, and we sometimes

ceased firing, on both sides, to listen. It seemed as if some

supernatural, infernal battle were going on; the air was filled with

smoke; the earth trembled beneath our feet: our soldiers like Pinto

declared they had never seen anything like it.

About six o'clock, a staff-officer brought orders to Colonel Lorain,

and immediately after a retreat was sounded. The battalion had lost

sixty men by the charge of Russian hussars and the musketry.

It was night when we left the forest, and on the banks of the

Partha--among caissons, wagons, retreating divisions, ambulances filled

with wounded, all defiling over the two bridges--we had to wait more

than two hours for our turn to cross. The heavens were black; the

artillery still growled afar off, but the three battles were ended. We

heard that we had beaten the Austrians and the Russians at Wachau, on

the other side of Leipzig; but our men returning from Mockern were

downcast and gloomy; not a voice cried _Vive l'Empereur!_ as after a

victory.

Once on the other side of the river, the battalion proceeded down the

Partha a good half-league, as far as the village of Schoenfeld; the

night was damp; we marched along heavily, our muskets on our shoulders,

our heads bent down, and our eyes closing for want of sleep.

Behind us the great column of cannon, caissons, baggage-wagons and

troops retreating from Mockern filled the air with a hoarse murmur, and

from time to time the cries of the artillerymen and teamsters, shouting

to make room, arose above the tumult. But these noises insensibly grew

less, and we at length reached a burial-ground, where we were ordered

to stack arms and break ranks.

By this time the sky had cleared, and I recognized Schoenfeld in the

moonlight. How often had I eaten bread and drank white wine with

Zimmer there at the Golden Sheaf, when the sun shone brightly and the

leaves were green around! But those times had passed!

Sentries were posted, and a few men went to the village for wood and

provisions. I sat against the cemetery wall, and at length fell

asleep. About three o'clock in the morning, I was awoke.

It was Zebede. "Joseph," said he, "come to the fire. If you remain

here, you run the risk of catching the fever."

I arose, sick with fatigue and suffering. A fine rain filled the air.

My comrade drew me toward the fire, which smoked in the drizzling

atmosphere; it seemed to give out no heat; but Zebede having made me

drink a draught of brandy I felt at least less cold, and gazed at the

bivouac fires on the other side of the Partha.

"The Prussians are warming themselves in our wood," said Zebede.

"Yes," I replied; "and poor Klipfel is there too, but he no longer

feels the cold."

My teeth chattered. These words saddened us both. A few moments after

Zebede resumed:

"Do you remember, Joseph, the black ribbon he wore the day of the

conscription, and how he cried, 'we are all condemned to death, like

those gone to Russia? I want a black ribbon. We must wear our own

mourning!' And his little brother said: 'No, no, Jacob, I do not want

it!' and wept! but Klipfel put on the black ribbon notwithstanding; he

saw the hussars in his dreams."

As Zebede spoke, I recalled those things, and I saw too that wretch

Pinacle on the Town Hall Square, calling me and shaking a black ribbon

over his head: "Ha, cripple! you must have a fine ribbon; the ribbon of

those who win!"

This remembrance, together with the cold, which seemed to freeze the

very marrow in our bones, made me shudder. I thought Pinacle was

right; that I had seen the last of home. I thought of Catharine, of

Aunt Gredel, of good Monsieur Goulden, and I cursed those who had

forced me from them.

At daybreak, wagons arrived with food and brandy for us; the rain had

ceased; we made soup, but nothing could warm me; I had caught the

fever; within I was cold while my body burned. I was not the only one

in the battalion in that condition; three-fourths of the men were

suffering from it: and, for a month before, those who could no longer

march had lain down by the roadside weeping and calling upon their

mothers like little children. Hunger, forced marches, the rain, and

grief had done their work, and happy was it for the parents that they

could not see their cherished sons perishing along the road; it would

be too fearful; many would think there was no mercy in earth or heaven.

As the light increased, we saw to the left, on the other side of the

river--and of a great ravine filled with willows and aspens--burnt

villages, heaps of dead, abandoned wagons, broken caissons, dismounted

cannon and ravaged fields stretched as far as the eye could reach on

the Halle, Lindenthal and Doelitch roads. It was worse than at Lutzen.

We saw the Prussians deploy, and advance their thousands over the

battle-field. They were to join with the Russians and Austrians and

close the great circle around us, and we could not prevent them,

especially as Bernadotte and the Russian General Beningsen had come up

with twenty thousand fresh troops. Thus, after fighting three battles

in one day, were we, only one hundred and thirty thousand strong,

seemingly about to be entrapped in the midst of three hundred thousand

bayonets, not to speak of fifty thousand horse and twelve hundred

cannon.

From Schoenfeld, the battalion started to rejoin the division at

Kohlgarten. All the roads were lined with slow-moving ambulances,

filled with wounded; all the wagons of the country around had been

impressed for this service; and, in the intervals between them, marched

hundreds of poor fellows with their arms in slings, or their heads

bandaged--pale, crestfallen, half dead. All who could drag themselves

along kept out of the ambulances, but tried nevertheless to reach a

hospital. We made our way, with a thousand difficulties, through this

mass, when, near Kohlgarten, twenty hussars, galloping at full speed,

and with levelled pistols, drove back the crowd, right and left, into

the fields, shouting, as they pressed on:

"The Emperor! the Emperor!"

The battalion drew up, and presented arms; and a few moments after, the

mounted grenadiers of the guard--veritable giants, with their great

boots, their immense bear-skin hats, descending to their shoulders and

only allowing their mustaches, nose, and eyes to remain visible--passed

at a gallop. Our men looked joyfully at them, glad that such robust

warriors were on our side.

Scarcely had they passed, when the staff tore after. Imagine a hundred

and fifty to two hundred marshals, generals, and other superior

officers, mounted on magnificent steeds, and so covered with embroidery

that the color of their uniforms was scarcely visible; some tall, thin,

and haughty; others short, thick-set, and red-faced; others again young

and handsome, sitting like statues in their saddles; all with eager

look and flashing eyes. It was a magnificent and terrible sight.

But the most striking figure among those captains, who for twenty years

had made Europe tremble, was Napoleon himself, with his old hat and

gray overcoat; his large, determined chin and neck buried between his

shoulders. All shouted "_Vive l'Empereur!_" but he heard nothing of

it. He paid no more attention to us than to the drizzling rain which

filled the air, but gazed with contracted brows at the Prussian army

stretching along the Partha to join the Austrians. So I saw him on

that day and so he remains in my memory. The battalion had been on the

march for a quarter of an hour, when at length Zebede said:

"Did you see him, Joseph?"

"I did," I replied; "I saw him well, and I will remember the sight all

my life."

"It is strange," said my comrade; "he does not seem to be pleased. At

Wurschen, the day after the battle, he seemed rejoiced to hear our

'_Vive l'Empereur!_' and the generals all wore merry faces too. To-day

they seem savage, and nevertheless the captain said that we bore off

the victory on the other side of Leipzig."

Others thought the same thing without speaking of it, but there was a

growing uneasiness among all.

We found the regiment bivouacked near Kohlgarten. In every direction

camp-fires were rolling their smoke to the sky. A drizzling rain

continued to fall, and the men, seated on their knapsacks around the

fires, seemed depressed and gloomy. The officers formed groups of

their own. On all sides it was whispered that such a war had never

before been seen; it was one of extermination; that it did not help us

to defeat the enemy, for they only desired to kill us off, knowing that

they had four or five times our number of men, and would finally remain

masters.

They said, too, that the Emperor had won the battle at Wachau, against

the Austrians and Russians; but that the victory was useless, because

they did not retreat, but stood awaiting masses of reinforcements. On

the side of Mockern we knew that we had lost, in spite of Marmont's

splendid defence; the enemy had crushed us beneath the weight of their

numbers. We only had one real advantage that day on our side; that was

keeping our line of retreat on Erfurt: for Giulay had not been able to

seize the bridges of the Elster and Pleisse. All the army, from the

simple soldier to the marshal, thought that we would have to retreat as

soon as possible, and that our position was of the worst; unfortunately

the Emperor thought otherwise, and we had to remain.

All day on the seventeenth we lay in our position without firing a

shot. A few spoke of the arrival of General Regnier with sixteen

thousand Saxons; but the defection of the Bavarians taught us what

confidence we could put in our allies.

Toward evening of the next day, we discovered the army of the north on

the plateau of Breitenfeld. This was sixty thousand more men for the

enemy. I can yet hear the maledictions levelled at Bernadotte--the

cries of indignation of those who knew him as a simple officer in the

army of the Republic, who cried out that he owed us all--that we made

him a king with our blood, and that he now came to give us the

finishing blow.

That night, a general movement rearward was made; our lines drew closer

and closer around Leipzig; then all became quiet. But this did not

prevent our reflecting; on the contrary, every one thought, in the

silence:

"What will to-morrow bring forth? Shall I at this hour see the moon

rising among the clouds as I now see her? Will the stars yet shine for

me to see?"

And when, in the dim night, we gazed at the circle of fire which for

nearly six leagues stretched around us, we cried within ourselves:

"Now indeed the world is against us; all nations demand our

extermination; they want no more of our glory!"

But we remembered that we had the honor of bearing the name of

Frenchmen, and must conquer or die.