ST. BARTHOLOMEW'S DAY.
That was a night that saw few in Nuremberg sleep soundly. Under the
moon the great city lay waiting; watching and fasting through the
short summer night. Hour by hour the solemn voices of sentinels,
tramping the walls and towers, told the tale of time; to men, who,
hearing it, muttered a prayer, and, turning on the other side, slept
again; to women, who lay, trembling and sleepless, their every breath
a prayer. For who would see the next night? Who that went out would
come in? How many, parting at dawn, would meet again? The howling of
the dogs that, wild as wolves, roved round the camp and scratched in
the shallow graveyards, made dreary answer. Many there were, even then
I remember, who thought the King foolhardy, and preached patience; and
would have had him still sit quiet and play the game of starvation
against his enemy, even to the bitter end. But these were of the
harder sort--men who, with brain, might have been Wallensteins. And
few of them knew the real state of things. I say nothing of the city.
Who died there in those months, in holes and corners and dark places,
the magistrates may have known, no others. But in the camp, for many
days before the King marched out, a hundred men died of plague and
want every day; so that in the sum, twenty thousand men entered his
lines who never left them. Moderate men set the loss of the city at
ten thousand more. Add to these items that the plague was increasing,
that all stores of food were nearly exhausted, that if the issue were
longer delayed the cavalry would have no horses on which to advance or
retreat, and it will be clear, I think, that the King, whose judgment
had never yet deceived him, was right in this also. Or, if he erred,
it was on the side of mercy.
At dawn all the northern walls and battlements were covered with
white-faced women, come together to see the army leave the camp, in
which it had lain so many weeks. I went up with my lady to the Burg,
whence we could command, not only the city with its necklace of walls
and towers, but the camp encircling it like another and greater city,
encompassed in its turn with gates and ramparts and bastions. And,
beyond this, we had an incomparable view of the country; of our own
stream, the Pegnitz, gliding away through the level plain, to fall
presently into the Rednitz; of the Rednitz, a low line of willows,
running athwart the western meadows; and beyond this, a league and a
half away, of the frowning heights of the Alta Veste, where
Wallenstein hung, vulture-like, waiting to pounce on the city.
As the sun rose behind us, the shadow of the Burg on which we stood
fell almost to the foot of the distant heights, and covered, as with a
pall, the departing army, which was beginning to pass out of the camp
by the northern and western gates. At the same time the level beams
shone on the dark brow of the Alta Veste, and caught there the flash
of lurking steel. I think that the hearts of many among us sank at the
omen.
If so, it was not for long, for the sun rose swiftly in the summer sky
and, as it overtopped our little eminence, showed us an innumerable
host pressing out of the camp in long lines, like ants from a hill.
While we gazed, they began to swarm on the plain between the city and
the Rednitz. The colours of a thousand waving pennons, the sheen of a
forest of lances, the duller gleam of cannon crawling slowly along the
roads, caught the sun and the eye; but between them moved other and
darker masses--the regiments of East and West Gothland, the Smaeland
horse, Stalhanske's Finns, the Yellow and Blue regiments, the sombre,
steady veterans of the Swedish force, marching with a neatness and
wheeling with a precision, noticeable even at that distance.
Doubtless it was a grand and splendid sight, this marching out of a
hundred thousand men--for the army fell little short of that
prodigious number--under the first captain of the age, to fight before
the walls of the richest city in the world. And I have often taken
blame to myself and regretted that I did not regard it with closer
attention, and imprint it more carefully on my memory. But at the time
I was anxious. Somewhere in that great host rode the Waldgrave and
Count Leuchtenstein; and I looked for them, though I had no hope of
finding them. Then little things continually diverted the mind. A
single waggon, which broke down at the gate below us, and could not
for a time be removed, swelled into a matter that obstructed my view
of the whole army; an officer, whose horse ran away in an orchard at
our feet, became, for a moment, more important than a hundred banners.
When I had done with these trifles, the sun had climbed halfway up the
sky, and the foremost troops were already crossing the Rednitz by
Furth, with a sound of trumpets and the flashing of corselets.
A cannon shot, and then another, and then long rolling thunder from
the heights, over which a pillar of smoke began to gather. My lady
sighed. Below us, in the streets, on the walls, on the towers, women
and men fell on their knees and prayed aloud. Across the plain
horsemen galloped this way or that, hurrying the laggards through the
dust. The great battle was beginning.
And then on a sudden the firing ceased; the pillar of smoke on the
heights melted away; the rear-guard and the cloud of dust in which it
moved, rolled farther and farther towards the Rednitz and Furth--and
still the guns remained silent. It was noon by this time; soon it was
afternoon. But the suspense was so great that no one went away to eat;
and still the silence prevailed.
Towards two o'clock I persuaded the Countess to go to her lodgings to
eat; but within the hour she was back again. An officer on the Burg,
who had a perspective glass, reported that Wallenstein was moving;
that cannon and troops could be seen passing through the trees on the
Alta Veste, as if he were descending to meet the King; and for a time
our excitement rose to the highest pitch. But before sunset, news came
that he was quiet; that the King was forming a new camp beyond the
Rednitz, and almost under the enemy's guns; and that the battle would
take place on the morrow.
The morrow! It seemed to some of us, it was always the morrow. Yet I
think that we slept better that night. Earliest dawn saw us again on
the Burg, staring and straining our eyes westwards. But minutes
passed, hours passed, the sun rose and declined, and still no sound of
battle reached us. Women, with pinched faces, clutched babies to their
breasts; men, pale and stern, gazed into the distance. Those who had
murmured that the King was too hasty, murmured now that he dallied;
for every day the grip of famine grew tighter, its signs more marked.
This evening all my lady's horses were requisitioned and carried off,
to mount the King's staff, it was said, of whom some were going afoot.
A third day rose on the anxious city, and yet a fourth, and still the
armies stood inactive. Communication with the new camp was easy, but
as each day, and all day, a battle was expected, such news as we heard
rather heightened than relieved our fears. On this fourth morning, I
received a message from the Waldgrave, asking me to come to him in the
camp; that he had something to say to me, and could not leave.
I was not unwilling to see for myself how things stood there; and I
determined to go. I did not tell the Countess, however, nor Marie,
thinking it useless to alarm them; but I left Steve in charge, and,
bidding him be on his guard, promised to be back by noon at the
latest. As I had no horse, I had to do the journey on foot, and soon
was down in the plain myself, threading the orchards and plodding
along the trampled roads, where so many thousands had preceded me. The
ground in some spots was actually ploughed up; dust covered
everything; the trees were bruised, the fences broken down. Old
boots and shattered pike-staves marked the route, and here and
there--saddest sight of all--dead horses, fast breeding the plague.
The sky, for the first time for days, was clouded, and making the most
of the coolness I gained the river bank by nine o'clock, and crossing
found myself close to the new camp.
The army had just marched out, yet the lines seemed full. The King had
strictly forbidden all women and camp-followers to cross the Rednitz;
but an army in these days needs so many drivers and sutlers that I
found myself one among thousands. I asked for the Waldgrave, and got
as many answers as there were men within hearing. One said that he was
with his regiment of horse on the left flank; another, that he was
with Duke Bernard's staff; a third, that he was not with the army at
all. Despairing of hearing anything in the confusion, I was in two
minds about turning back; but in the end I took heart of grace and
determined to seek him in the field.
Fortunately, the last regiments had barely cleared the lines, and a
few minutes' rapid walking set me abreast of the rearmost, which
was hastening into position. Here also at the first glance I saw
nothing but confusion; but a second resolved the mass into two
parts, and then I saw that the King's army lay in two long lines
facing the heights. An interval of about three hundred paces
divided the lines, but behind each was a small reserve. In the
first were most of the German regiments, the second being composed
of Finns, Swedes, and Northerners. The cavalry were grouped on the
flanks, and seemed stronger on the left flank. In the rear of all,
as well as in gaps left between the pikes and musketmen, were the
King's ordnance--drakes, serpents, falcons, and cartows, with the
light two- and four-pounders for which he was famous.
Such an array--so many thousand men, gay with steel, and a thousand
pennons--seemed to the eye to be invincible; and I looked for the
enemy. He was not to be seen, but fronting the lines at a distance of
three or four hundred paces rose the Alta Veste--a steep, rugged hill,
scarred and seamed, and planted thickly with pines and jagged stumps
and undergrowth. Here and there among the trees great rocks peeped
out, or dark holes yawned. The dry beds of two torrents furrowed this
natural glacis; and opposite these I noticed that our strongest
regiments were placed. But of the enemy I could see nothing, except
here and there a sparkle of steel among the trees; I could hear
nothing, except now and then the fall of a stone, that, slipping under
an unseen foot, fell from ledge to ledge until it reached the plain.
Everywhere the hush of expectation stirred the heart; for in the
presence of that great host silence seemed a thing supernatural. As
the regiment I had joined, the last to arrive, wheeled into position
in the middle of the right wing, I asked one of the officers, who
stood near me, if the enemy had retired.
'Wait!' he said grimly--he spoke with a foreign accent--'and you will
see. But to what regiment do you belong, comrade?'
'To none here,' I said.
He looked astonished, and asked me what I was doing there, then.
I had my lips apart to answer him, when a trumpet sounded, and in an
instant, all along the line, the Swedish cannon began to fire, shaking
the earth and filling the air round us with smoke, that in a twinkling
hid everything. This lasted for two or three minutes with a deafening
noise; but as far as I could hear, the enemy were still silent. I was
wondering what would happen next, and hoping that they had given up
the position, when my new friend touched my arm and pointed to the
front. I peered through the smoke, and saw dimly that the regiment
before us, a German brigade about eight hundred strong, was moving on
at a run and making for the hill. A minute elapsed, the smoke rolled
between. I listened, trembling. Afterwards I learned that at the same
moment two other parties sprang forward and dashed to the assault.
Then, at last, with an ear-splitting roar that seemed to silence our
guns, the enemy spoke. The hill in front, hidden the second before by
smoke, became in a moment visible, lit up by a thousand darting
flames. Dark masses seemed to topple down, rocks hung midway in air,
and involuntarily I stepped back and uttered a cry of horror. Out of
that hell of fire came an answering wail of shrieks and curses--the
feeble voice of man!
'Ach Gott!' I said, trembling. My hair stood on end.
'Steady, comrade, steady!' muttered the man who had before spoken to
me. 'Presently it will be our turn.'
He had scarcely spoken, when a man came riding along the front with
his hat in his hand. He rode a white horse, and wore no back or
breast, nor, as far as I could see, any armour.
'Steady, Swedes, steady!' he cried in a loud voice--he was a big,
stout man with a fine presence. 'Your time will come by-and-by. Then
remember Breitenfeld!'
It was the King of Sweden. In a moment he was gone, passing along the
lines; and I drew breath again, wondering what would happen next. I
had not long to wait. Men came straggling back across our front, some
wounded, some helping their comrades along, all with faces ghastly
under the powder-stains. And then like magic a new regiment stood
before us, where the other had stood. Again the King's guns pealed
along the line, again I heard the hoarse cry 'Vorwaerts!' waited a
minute, and once more the hill seemed to be rent by the explosion.
From every cave and ledge guns flashed forth, lighting up the smoke.
The roar died away again--slowly, from west to east--in cries and
shrieks; and presently a few men, scores where there had been
hundreds, came wandering back like ghosts through the reek.
'This looks ill!' I muttered. I was no longer scared. The gunpowder
was getting into my head.
'Pooh!' my friend answered. 'This is only the beginning. It will take
men to fill that gap. Wait till our turn comes.'
By this time the Waldgrave and my errand were forgotten, and I thought
only of the battle. I watched two more assaults, saw two more
regiments hurl themselves vainly against the fiery breast of the hill;
then came a diversion. As the scattered fragments of the last came
reeling back, a sudden roar of many voices startled me. The ground
seemed to shake, and right across our front came a charge of
horse--out of the smoke and into the smoke! In an instant our
stragglers were trodden down, cut up, and swept away, before our eyes
and within shot of us.
The men round me uttered shouts of rage. The line swayed, there was an
instant's confusion. Then a harsh voice cried above the tumult,
'Steady, Gothlanders, steady! Pikes forward! Blow your matches!
Steady! steady!' and in a twinkling, with a crash, such as the ninth
wave makes when it falls on a pebbly beach, the horse were on us. I
had a glimpse through the smoke of rearing breasts, and floating
manes, and grinning teeth, and of men's faces grim and white, held low
behind the steel; and I struck out blindly with my half-pike. Still
they came on, and something hit me on the chest and I fell: but
instantly a clash of long pikes met over my body, and I scrambled to
my feet unhurt! Then a dozen spurts of flame leapt out round me, and
the horsemen seemed to melt away.
Into the smoke; but before I had time to know that they were gone,
they had wheeled and were back again like the wind, led by a man on a
black horse, who came on so gallantly to the very pike-points, that I
thought it must be Pappenheim himself. He wore the black breastplate
and helmet of Pappenheim's cuirassiers; and it was only when his horse
reared up on end within a pike's length of me, and he fired his pistol
among us, wounding two men, that I espied under the helmet the stern
face and flashing eyes of Tzerclas. He recognised me at the same
moment, and hurling his empty pistol in my face, tried to spur his
horse over me. But the long pikes meeting before me kept him off, his
men vanished, some falling, some flying, and in a moment he stood
almost alone.
Even then his courage did not fail him. Scornfully eyeing our line
from end to end, he hurled a bitter taunt at us, and wheeling his
horse coolly, prepared to ride off. I think that we should have let
him go, in pure admiration of his courage. But a wounded man on whom
he trod houghed the horse with his sword. In a moment he was down, and
two men running out of the line, fixed him to the earth with their
pikes.
I confess, for myself, I would have spared him for his courage; and I
ran to him to see if he was dead. He was not quite gone. He recognised
me, and tried to speak. Forgetting the dangers round me, the uproar
and tumult, the dim figures of men and horses flying through the
smoke, I knelt down by him.
'What is it?' I said. After all, he was my lady's cousin.
'Tell him--tell him--the child! He will never get it!' he breathed.
With each word the blood-stained froth rose to his lips, and he
clutched my hand in a cold grip.
He strove to say something more, and raised himself with a last effort
on his elbow. 'Tell her,' he gasped, his dark face distorted--'tell
her--I--I----'
No more. His eyes turned, his head fell back. He was dead. What he
would have said of my lady, whether he would have sent her a message
or what, no man will know here. But I fancied it like the man, who
might have been great had he ever given a thought to others, that his
last word was--"I."
His head was scarcely down before I had to run back within the pikes.
A fresh charge of horse swept over him, we received them with a
volley; they broke, and a Swedish regiment, the West Gothland horse,
rode them down. Meanwhile our man[oe]uvres had brought us insensibly
into the first line. I found that we were close under the hill, and I
was not surprised when a handful of horse whirled up to us out of the
_melee_, and one, disengaging himself from the others, rode along our
front. It was the King. His face was stained with powder, his horse
was bleeding, a ball had ripped up his boot; it was said that he had
been placing and pointing cannon with his own hands. But as the
regiment greeted him with a hoarse cheer, he smiled as if he had been
in a ball-room.
He raised his hand for silence; such silence as could be obtained
where every moment men shot off a cannon, and at no great distance a
mortal combat was in progress.
'Men of Gothland!' he cried, in a clear, ringing voice, 'it is your
turn now! You are My children. Take me this hill! Be steady, strike
home, flinch not! Show these Germans what you can do! The word is, God
with us. Remember St. Bartholomew's, and Forward! Forward! Forward!'
My heart beat furiously; but there was no retreat. Rather than be left
standing on the ground, I would have died there. In a moment we were
moving on elbow to elbow, with a stern, heavy step. Some one struck up
a Swedish psalm, and to the thunder of its rhythm we strode on--on to
the very foot of the hill; on, until we reached the rough shale, and
the rugged steep stood above us. With a gallant shout an officer flung
his hat on to the slope, a score of Ritt-Meisters sprang forward
together; and then for a moment we and all things seemed to stand
still. The wood above us belched fire, the eyes were blinded, the ears
stunned, rocks and stones rolled down, all creation seemed to be
falling on us in fearful ruin. Men were hurled this way and that, or
fell in their places, or, reeling to and fro, clutched one another.
For an instant, I say, we stood still.
But for an instant only. Then with a shout of rage the Swedes
sprang forward, and grasping boughs, stumps, rocks, swung themselves
up, doing such things in their fury as no cool man could do.
A row of jagged stakes barred the way; men set their naked breasts
against them, and others climbed over on their shoulders. Bleeding,
wounded, singed, torn by splinters, all who lived climbed. To get
up--up--up--higher, in face of the storm of shot and iron; up, over
the bursting mines and through the smoke; up, to where they stood and
butchered us, was the only instinct left.
And we did get up--to a bastion, jutting from the hillside, where a
company of picked men with pikes and three cannons waited for us
behind a breastwork. They thought to stop us, and stood firm; our men
were mad. Flinging themselves against the mouths of the cannon, they
scaled the work in a moment, and left not one defender alive!
God with us!
Stern and high the shout rang out; but breath was everything, and the
scarp still rose above us and the shot still tore our ranks! On! Up a
torrent bed now, round one corner and another, to where we were a
little out of the line of fire, and an overhanging shoulder covered
us. Here we had room to take breath; and for the first time, some
hope of life, of ultimate escape, entered my breast. The officer
who led us--I learned afterwards that he was the great General
Torstensohn--cried, 'Well done, Swedes!' and with the confidence of
giants we were once more breasting the ascent, when a withering
volley, poured in at short range, checked the head of the column.
Before we could recover way, a body of pikes rushed to meet us, and in
an instant, having the vantage of the ground, rolled us, still
fighting desperately, down the steep. The general was swept away, the
Ritt-Meisters were down. Once we rallied, but ineffectually. The enemy
were reinforced, and in a moment the rout was complete.
At the moment the tide turned and our men fell back, I happened to be
against the rock-wall, in something of a niche; and the stream passed
me by. I had two slight wounds, and I stood an instant, giddy and
confused, taking breath. The instant showed me my comrades in the act
of being slaughtered one by one, and a great horror seized me. I found
no hope anywhere. Below were the cruel pikes, in a moment their savage
bearers would be reascending; above were the enemy. But above, if I
climbed on, I might live a little while; and in that desperate hope I
scrambled out of the torrent bed and up the sheer hill on the right.
Two or three saw me from the torrent bed, and fired at me; and others
shouted, and began to follow. But I only pressed on, right up the
scarp, which was there like the side of a house.
A dozen times I all but fell back; still in a fever of dread I kept
on. The sweat poured down me; I had no hope or aim, I thought only of
the pikes behind. Presently I came to a jutting shoulder that all but
overhung me; to pass it seemed to be impossible. But in my frenzy I
did the impossible. I swung myself from root to root; where one stone
gave, I clutched another, and yet another; I hung on with tooth and
nail. I flattened myself against the rock. I heard the pursuers rail
and curse, heard the bullets strike the earth round me, and then in a
moment I was up.
Up; but only to come instantly on a wall crossing the steep and
barring my way, and to find a dozen pikes levelled at my breast.
Desperate, giving up hope at last--I had long dropped my weapon--I
cried mechanically, 'God with us!' and threw up my arms.
I nearly fell backwards--for what did it matter? But the men were
quick. In a moment one had me by the collar. 'And God! They were
friends! They were friends, and I was saved.
One of the first faces that I saw, as I leaned breathless against the
wall, unable for the time to answer the questions that poured upon me,
was the Waldgrave's--the Waldgrave's, with the light of battle in his
eyes, a laugh of triumph on his lips. He was wounded, bandaged,
blackened, his fair hair singed; but he was happy. Presently I
understood why; and why I was safe and among friends.
'A little earlier,' he said--he seemed in his exaltation not a whit
surprised to see me--'and you would have had a different reception,
Martin. We only turned them out of this an hour ago!'
All his superior officers had fallen, and his had been the voice that
had cheered on the forlorn, to which he was attached--acting from the
right flank--and heartened them, just when all seemed lost, to make
one more effort, ending in the capture of this sconce. Joined to the
mass of the hill only by a narrow neck, it commanded the enemy's
position.
'We only want cannon!' he said, and in a moment I was as one of the
garrison. 'Three guns, and the day is ours. When will they come? When
will they come?'
'You have sent for them?'
'I have sent a dozen times.'
And he sent as many times more; while we, a mere handful, tired and
worn and famished, but every man with a hero's thoughts, leaned
against the breastwork, and gazed down into the plain, where, under
the smoke, pigmy troops rushed to and fro, and Nuremberg's fate hung
in the balance. In an hour it would be night. And still no
reinforcements came, no cannon.
Thrice the enemy tried to drive us out. But the neck was narrow,
and, pressed along their front by three assaults, they came on
half-heartedly and fell back lightly; and we held it. In the mean
time, it became more and more clear that elsewhere the day was going
against us. Until night fell, and through long hours of darkness,
forlorn after forlorn was flung against the heights--in vain. Regiment
after regiment, the core of the Swedish army, came on undaunted, only
to be repulsed with awful loss; with the single exception of the
Waldgrave's little sconce not a foot of the hill was captured.
About nine o'clock reinforcements reached us, and some food, but no
guns. Two hours later the King drew sullenly back into his lines, and
the attack ceased. Even then we looked to see the fight resumed with
the dawn; we looked still for victory and revenge. We could not
believe that all was over. But towards three o'clock in the morning
rain fell, rendering the slopes slippery and impassable; and with the
first flush of sunrise came an order from Prince Bernard directing us
to withdraw.
Perhaps the defeat fell as lightly on the Waldgrave as on any man,
though to him it was a huge disappointment. For he alone of all had
made his footing good. I thought that it was that which made him look
so cheerful; but while the rank and file were falling in, he came to
me.
'Well, Martin,' he said. 'We are both veterans now.'
I laughed. The rain had ceased. The sun was getting up, and the air
was fresh. Far off in the plain the city sparkled with a thousand
gems. I thought of Marie, I thought of life, and I thanked God that I
was alive.
'I have an errand for you,' he continued, a laugh in his eyes. 'Come
and see what we took yesterday, besides this sconce.'
At the back of the work were two low huts, that had perhaps been
guardrooms or officers' quarters. He led the way into one, bending his
head as he passed under the low lintel.
'An odd place,' he said.
'Yes, my lord.'
'Yes, but I mean--an odd place for what I found here,' he rejoined.
'Look, man.'
There were two low bunks in the hut, and on these and on the floor lay
a medley of soldiers' cloaks, pouches, weapons, and ammunition. There
was blood on the one wall and the door was shattered, and in a corner,
thrown one on another, were two corpses. The Waldgrave took no heed of
these, but stepped to the corner bunk and drew away a cloak that lay
on it. Something--the sound in that place scared me as a cannon-shot
would not have--began to wail. On the bed, staring at us between tears
and wonder, lay a child.
'So!' I said, and stared at it.
'Do you know it?' the Waldgrave asked.
'Know it? No,' I answered.
'Are you sure?' he replied, smiling. 'Look again.'
'Not I!' I said. 'How did it come here? A child! A baby! It is
horrible.'
He shrugged his shoulders. 'We found it in this hut; in that bed. A
man to whom we gave quarter said it was----'
'No!' I shouted.
'Yes,' he answered, nodding.
'Tzerclas' child! Count Leuchtenstein's child! Do you mean it?' I
cried.
He nodded. 'Tzerclas' child, the man said. The other's child, I guess.
Nay, I am certain. It knows your girl's name.'
'Marie's?'
The Waldgrave nodded. 'Take it up,' he said. 'And take charge of it.'
But I only stared at it. The thing seemed too wonderful to be true. I
told the Waldgrave of Tzerclas' death, and of what he had muttered
about the child.
'Yes, he was a clever man,' the Waldgrave answered. 'But, you see, God
has proved too clever for him. Come, take it, man.'
I took it. 'I had better carry it straight to the Count's quarters?' I
said.
The Waldgrave paused, looked away, then looked at me. 'No,' he said at
last, and slowly, 'take it to Lady Rotha. Let her give it to him.'
I understood him, I guessed all he meant; but I made no answer, and we
went out together. The rain was still in the air, but the sky was
blue, the distance clear. The spire of the distant city shone like my
lady's amethysts. Below us the dead lay in thousands. But we were
alive.