Part 46 (1/2)
CHAPTER x.x.xI.
AFTER THE BATTLE OF BAUTZEN.
For two days the battle had been raging, and even now, in the afternoon of the 22d of May, the struggle was undecided. Blucher, who, with his Prussians, occupied the heights of Kreckwitz, near Bautzen, still hoped to achieve a victory. For two days the Prussians and Russians fought like lions along the extended line of battle; they engaged the hostile legions with undaunted courage and joyful enthusiasm, regardless of the scorching heat, hunger, thirst, and exhaustion. During these days Blucher was constantly in the midst of his troops. Where the shower of bullets was thickest, where the danger was most imminent, his voice was heard inciting the soldiers; where the enemy approached with his most formidable columns, Blucher stood with his faithful companion Gneisenau at the head of his Prussians, brandis.h.i.+ng his sword, advancing with exulting cheers upon the enemy, and causing him to retreat.
The heights of Kreckwitz had to be held till General Barclay de Tolly, with his Russians, would arrive, and Generals York and Kleist, with their Prussians, to cover Blucher's left flank, which was threatened by Marshal Ney. The booming of cannon was incessant.
The Russians stood like a wall, and when the front ranks were swept down, others took their places; the living stepped over the dying, undaunted, and remembering only one thing--that they had to take revenge for the lost battle of Lutzen. [Footnote: Fought May 2, 1813. The French call this battle that of Lutzen; the Germans generally that of Gross-Gorschen. Both sides claimed a victory. But the latest German historians, especially Beitzke, admit that the Germans were defeated.]
”Boys,” shouted Blucher to his soldiers, just as the b.a.l.l.s of the enemy struck down whole ranks, ”boys, remember that we have resolved to sabre the French. They have exhausted the soil of Germany, we must fertilize it with French corpses. Remember Gross-Gorschen, where they wounded our General Scharnhorst. We must chastise them for that, and capture a few French generals. [Footnote: General Scharnhorst was wounded at the battle of Gross-Gorschen by Blucher's side. He believed his wound was not dangerous, but he left the headquarters to be cured. He went at first to Altenburg, and then to Prague, to attend the peace congress. His wound reopened, and he died at Prague on the 20th of June, 1813.] We must get at least four of their marshals in return for General Scharnhorst, for the fellows are light, and four of them do not weigh as much as one Scharnhorst.
Now, tell me, shall we get those four French marshals?”
”Yes, Father Blucher, yes!” shouted the Prussians, jubilantly. ”Long live Father Blucher!”
”Only a little longer, and the day is ours!” cried Gneisenau, in a ringing voice. ”The legions of Marshal Ney are charging again, but General Barclay, with his Russians, has occupied the Windmill-knoll, near Gleime, and will repulse him as we shall Napoleon's columns.
The heights of Kreckwitz are the Thermopylae of the Prussians, and we will fall to a man rather than surrender!”
”Yes, that we will do!” cried the officers, enthusiastically, and the soldiers echoed their shouts.
At this moment a terrific cannonade resounded on the right wing of the Prussian troops. ”There are the French!” exclaimed Blucher.
”Boys, now bring in those marshals!” The cannon roared, the muskets rattled, and, as though heaven desired to partic.i.p.ate in this struggle of the nations, the thunder rolled, and flashes of lightning darted into the clouds of battle-smoke.
But who was galloping up suddenly on a charger covered with foam, his hair fluttering in the breeze, and his face pale and terrified?
It was a Prussian colonel, and still he does not join in the exultation of his countrymen. He approached Generals Blucher and Gneisenau.
”Halloo! Lieutenant-Colonel von m.u.f.fling,” shouted Blucher, ”are you back? Do you bring us greetings from Barclay de Tolly? Has he finished the French? Well, we are just about to recommence our work here--the last work for to-day.”
”General,” cried m.u.f.fling, anxiously, ”the French will soon have finished Barclay de Tolly, and defeated us! For he is unable to hold out. He has only fifty thousand men, and Ney is attacking him with a much larger force. Barclay sends me for reenforcements, and if we do not strengthen his line, he cannot maintain himself on the Windmill- knoll. In a quarter of an hour it will be in Ney's hands.”
”No; in a quarter of an hour Ney will be in our hands,” shouted Blucher, confidently. ”Ney is a marshal, and we must have him!
Boys,” he cried, drawing himself up in his stirrups, and looking back toward his troops--”boys, we must have Marshal Ney, must we not?”
”Yes, Father Blucher, we must have Marshal Ney!”
Heaven responded with a loud clap of thunder, the earth was shaken by the booming of the cannon, the air was rent by the cheers of the living, and the groans and imprecations of the wounded and dying.
Blucher still stood with his Prussians on the heights of Krockwitz, his face radiant with enthusiasm, his eye flas.h.i.+ng with courage; but a warning adviser stood by his side.
”General,” whispered m.u.f.fling, ”we are lost if we remain here longer. We must retreat.”
”Retreat!” cried Blucher, in an angry voice, and a clap of thunder burst at that moment.
m.u.f.fling pointed silently down into the plain, and over to the Windmill-knoll. ”Look yonder! Napoleon is advancing directly upon our front, the Windmill-knoll is evacuated, Barclay has gone, and the Russians are routed!”
”But we still stand,” cried Blucher, triumphantly, ”and we shall stand in spite of Napoleon and the devil! And, then, we are not without support. The Russian artillery attached to our corps is thundering against the enemy, and York and Kleist are covering our left wing.”
”But, general, listen! The Russian artillery is firing less rapidly; General Kleist is no longer able to cover our left wing, for the sovereigns have sent him to Bairuth to cover Barclay's flank; and as for York, he was unable to prevent the enemy from placing a battery near Basantwitz. I saw it when I rode hither. We are, therefore, in a triple cross-fire.” And, as though the enemy intended to confirm these warning words, the cannon flashed from three sides, and hurled their b.a.l.l.s into the ranks of the Prussians.
The flush of hoped-for victory paled in Blucher's face; Gneisenau grew grave and gloomy. The staff came nearer to their chieftain, and tried to read his thoughts in his eyes. The jubilant shouts of the soldiers were hushed; heaven was still thundering, and in the distance burning villages, like gigantic torches, lit up the landscape, and shed a blood-red l.u.s.tre over the gray sky. Blucher looked around in silence; his lip quivered, his eyebrows contracted, and large drops of cold perspiration stood on his forehead.
Gneisenau was by his side, gloomy and taciturn, like his chieftain.