"Think you there was ever before such a battle?" he asked. "No, it
cannot be. It is impossible."
It was indeed a battle of giants. From ten in the morning until seven
in the evening, we had held our own against three hundred and sixty
thousand men, without, at night, having lost an inch: and,
nevertheless, we were but a hundred and thirty thousand. God keep me
from speaking ill of the Germans. They were fighting for the
independence of their country. But they might do better than celebrate
the anniversary of the battle of Leipzig every year. There is not much
to boast of in fighting an enemy three to one.
Approaching Rendnitz, we marched over heaps of dead. At every step we
encountered dismounted cannon, broken caissons, and trees cut down by
shot. There a division of the Young Guard and the mounted grenadiers,
led by Napoleon himself, had repulsed the Swedes who were advancing
into the breach made by the treachery of the Saxons. Two or three
burning houses lit up the scene. The mounted grenadiers were yet at
Rendnitz, but crowds of disbanded troops were passing up and down the
street. No rations had been distributed, and all were seeking
something to eat and drink.
As we defiled by a large house, we saw behind the wall of a court two
_cantinieres_, who were giving the soldiers drink from their wagons.
There were there chasseurs, cuirassiers, lancers, hussars, infantry of
the line and of the guard, all mingled together, with torn uniforms,
broken shakos, and plumeless helmets, and all seemingly famished.
Two or three dragoons stood on the wall near a pot of burning pitch,
their arms crossed on their long white cloaks, covered from head to
foot with blood, like butchers.
Zebede, without speaking, pushed me with his elbow, and we entered the
court, while the others pursued their way. It took us full a quarter
of an hour to reach one of the wagons. I held up a crown of six
livres, and the _cantiniere_, kneeling behind her cask, handed me a
large glass of brandy and a piece of white bread, at the same time
taking my money. I drank and passed the glass to Zebede, who emptied
it. We had as much difficulty in getting out of the crowd as in
entering. Hard, famished faces and cavernous eyes were on all sides of
us. No one moved willingly. Each thought only of himself, and cared
not for his neighbor. They had escaped a thousand deaths to-day only
to dare a thousand more to-morrow. Well might they mutter, "Every one
for himself, and God for us all."