You may easily conceive the sensations of the inhabitants of the upper town when we beheld the black clouds of smoke rising from the lower, while the incessant fire of the artillery rendered it impossible for us to repair thither, to obtain information or to afford assistance. Here, as every where else, the fears of the inhabitants were wound up to the highest pitch. A cry was raised that several streets were already in flames, and every one now hastened to his own house, that he might be at hand in case a similar accident should happen there. It became more and more dangerous to remain in the upper stories, which the inhabitants accordingly quitted, and betook themselves to the kitchens and cellars. If such were the terrors of the inmates, old and young, the fears and anxiety of the French who chanced to be in the houses surpassed all description. Many of them were seen weeping like children, and starting convulsively at every report of the cannon. In the midst of this hideous uproar I made another attempt to learn what was passing in the suburbs. In the streets I found inexpressible confusion, people running in all directions, officers driving their men to the gates. Cries and shouts resounded from all quarters, though very few of the persons from whom they proceeded knew what they would be at. At this time cartouch-boxes and muskets were to be seen thrown away here and there in the streets. The Saxon grenadier guards were drawn out with wonderful composure and grounded arms, before the royal residence. Every unarmed person anxiously sought to gain the nearest house, but commonly found it shut against him. Several had already lost their lives or been severely wounded by the balls which fell in all directions. Napoleon was still in the city; he was at this moment with our king, with whom he had an animated conversation, which lasted near an hour. Soon afterwards I saw him, accompanied by the king of Naples, proceeding on horseback toward the Ranstaedt gate. I had meanwhile taken the opportunity of slipping into a house which overlooks that street, and now for the first time beheld a French retreat in the height of its confusion. Not a vestige of regularity was any where observable. The horse and foot guards poured along in mingled disorder. They would probably have marched in quicker time, had they been permitted by the waggons and cannon, which were locked in one another, and obstructed the way. Between these they were obliged to pass singly, and I really thought that it would be at least six hours before they could all have effected their passage. Immense droves of cattle were cooped up among the crowd. These seemed to be objects of particular concern to the French. They sought out a space, however narrow, along the town-ditch, by which they might drive forward their horned favourites. Whoever was bold enough, and had any hopes of being able to conduct these animals into his own habitation, had now an opportunity of making an advantageous bargain. A few pieces of silver might be carried off with much greater facility than a huge clumsy ox. Notwithstanding all the efforts to preserve this valuable booty from the general wreck, it was absolutely impossible to save the whole of it. Many horned cattle and horses were left behind, and now innocently sought a scanty repast by the city-walls. That, amidst all this "confusion worse confounded," there was no want of shouting and blustering, you may easily imagine, though nobody got forward any faster for all this noise. On a sudden we saw at a distance the emperor himself, with not a numerous retinue, advancing on horseback into the midst of this chaos. He got through better than I expected. I afterwards learned that he took a by-road through a garden to the outer Ranstaedt gate. Prince Poniatowsky attempted, higher up, to ford the Elster. The banks on each side are of considerable height, soft and swampy; the current itself narrow, but in this part uncommonly deep and muddy. How so expert a rider should have lost the management of his horse, I cannot imagine. According to report, the animal plunged headlong into the water with him, so that he could not possibly recover himself. He fell a victim to his temerity, and was drowned. His body was found several days afterwards, and interred with all the military honours due to his rank[5].

As the commander-in-chief had so precipitately quitted the city, we could no longer doubt the proximity of the enemy to our walls. The fire of the artillery and musketry in the place, which gradually approached nearer, was a much more convincing proof of this than we desired. The men already began to cut away the traces, in order to save the horses. The bustle among the soldiers augmented; a weak rearguard had taken post in Reichel's garden, to keep the allies in check, in case they should penetrate into the high road. We thought them still at a considerable distance, when a confused cry suddenly proclaimed that the Russians had stormed the outer Peter's gate, and were coming round from the Rossplatz. The French were evidently alarmed. The Russian jaegers came upon them all at once, at full speed, with tremendous huzzas and fixed bayonets, and discharged their pieces singly, without stopping. I now thought it advisable to quit my dangerous post, and hasten home with all possible expedition. I was informed by the way that the Prussians had that moment stormed the Grimma gate, and would be in the city in a few minutes. On all sides was heard the firing of small arms, intermixed at times with the reports of the artillery, already playing upon the waggon-train in the suburbs. Musket-balls, passing over the city wall, likewise whizzed through the streets; and, when I ventured to put my head out of the window, I observed with horror, not far from my house, two Prussian jaegers pursuing and firing at some Frenchmen who were running away. Behind them I heard the storm-march, and huzzas and shouts of Long live Frederic William! from thousands of voices. A company of Baden jaegers was charged with the defence of the inner Peter's gate. These troops immediately abandoned their post, and ran as fast as their legs would carry them to the market-place, where they halted, and, like the Saxon grenadier guards, fired not a single shot.

Thus the so long feared and yet wished-for hour was at length arrived. What we should never have expected after the 2nd of May, namely, to see a single Prussian again at Leipzig, was nevertheless come to pass. They had then left us as friends, and, by their exemplary conduct, had acquired our highest respect. We bore them, as well as the Russians, in the most honourable remembrance. They now appeared as enemies, whose duty had imposed on them the task of storming the city. Our sons and brothers had fought against them. What might not be our fate? We had not forgotten that which befell Luebeck, seven years before, under similar circumstances. But they were the warriors of Alexander, Francis, Frederic William, and Charles John; terrible as destroying angels to the foe, kind and generous to the defenceless citizen. As far as the author's knowledge extends, not a man was guilty of the smallest excess within our walls. They even paid in specie for bread, tobacco, and brandy. The suburbs, indeed, fared not quite so well. There many an inhabitant suffered severely; but how was it possible for the commanders to be present every where, and to prevent all irregularities, after a conflict which had raged in every corner of the city? Would you compare the victors, upon the whole, with our late friends and protectors, go through all Saxony, and then judge in whose favour the parallel must be drawn.

It was half past one o'clock when the allies penetrated into the city. The artillery had been but little used on this occasion, and in the interior of the place not at all. Had not the allies shewn so much tenderness for the town, they might have spared the sacrifice of some hundreds of their brave soldiers. They employed infantry in the assault, that the city might not be utterly destroyed. The grand work was now nearly accomplished. Obstinately as the French in general defended themselves, they were, nevertheless, unable to withstand the iron masses of their assailants. They were overthrown in all quarters, and driven out of the place. The streets, especially in the suburbs, were strewed with dead. The writer often counted eight in a very small space. In about an hour you might venture abroad without danger in all parts of the town. But what sights now met the eye! Leipzig, including the suburbs, cannot occupy an area of much less than one (German) square mile. In this extent there was scarcely a spot not covered with houses but bore evidence of the sanguinary conflict. The ground was covered with carcasses, and the horses were particularly numerous. The nearer you approached to the Ranstaedt gate, the thicker lay the dead bodies. The Ranstaedt causeway, which is crossed by what is called the Muehlgraben (mill-dam), exhibited a spectacle peculiarly horrid. Men and horses were every where to be seen; driven into the water, they had found their grave in it, and projected in hideous groups above its surface. Here the storming columns from all the gates, guided by the fleeing foe, had for the most part united, and had found a sure mark for every shot in the closely crowded masses of the enemy. But the most dreadful sight of all was that which presented itself in the beautiful Richter's garden, once the ornament of the city, on that side where it joins the Elster. There the cavalry must have been engaged; at least I there saw a great number of French cuirasses lying about. All along the bank, heads, arms, and feet, appeared above the water. Numbers, in attempting to ford the treacherous river, had here perished. People were just then engaged in collecting the arms that had been thrown away by the fugitives, and they had already formed a pile of them far exceeding the height of a man.

The smoking ruins of whole villages and towns, or extensive tracts laid waste by inundations, exhibit a melancholy spectacle; but a field of battle is assuredly the most shocking sight that eye can ever behold. Here all kinds of horrors are united; here Death reaps his richest harvest, and revels amid a thousand different forms of human suffering. The whole area has of itself a peculiar and repulsive physiognomy, resulting from such a variety of heterogeneous objects as are no where else found together. The relics of torches, the littered and trampled straw, the bones and flesh of slaughtered animals, fragments of plates, a thousand articles of leather, tattered cartouch-boxes, old rags, clothes thrown away, all kinds of harness, broken muskets, shattered waggons and carts, weapons of all sorts, thousands of dead and dying, horribly mangled bodies of men and horses,—and all these intermingled!—I shudder whenever I recall to memory this scene, which, for the world, I would not again behold. Such, however, was the spectacle that presented itself in all directions; so that a person, who had before seen the beautiful environs of Leipzig, would not have known them again in their present state. Barriers, gardens, parks, hedges, and walks, were alike destroyed and swept away. These devastations were not the consequence of this day's engagement, but of the previous bivouacking of the French, who are now so habituated to conduct themselves in such a manner that their bivouacs never fail to exhibit the most deplorable attestations of their presence, as to admit no hopes of a change. The appearance of Richter's garden was a fair specimen of the aspect of all the others. Among these the beautiful one of Loehr was particularly remarkable. Here French artillery had been stationed towards Goehlis; and here both horses and men had suffered most severely. The magnificent buildings, in the Grecian style, seemed mournfully to overlook their late agreeable, now devastated, groves, enlivened in spring by the warbling of hundreds of nightingales, but where now nothing was to be heard, save the loud groans of the dying. The dark alleys, summer-houses, and arbours, so often resorted to for recreation, social pleasures, or silent meditation, were now the haunts of death, the abode of agony and despair. The gardens, so late a paradise, were transformed into the seat of corruption and pestilential putridity. A similar spectacle was exhibited by Grosbosch's, Reichel's, and all the other spacious gardens round the city, which the allies had been obliged to storm.—The buildings which had suffered most were those at the outer gates of the city. These were the habitations of the excise and other officers stationed at the gates. Most of them were so perforated as rather to resemble large cages, which you may see through, than solid walls. All this, however, though more than a thousand balls must have been fired at the city, bore no comparison to the mischiefs which might have ensued, and which we had every reason to apprehend. We now look forward to a happier futurity; the commerce of Leipzig will revive; and the activity, industry, and good taste of its inhabitants, will, doubtless, ere long, call forth from these ruins a new and more beautiful creation.

I now summon your attention from these scenes of horror to others of a different kind, the delineation of which is absolutely necessary to complete the picture. Those hosts which had so long been the scourge of Germany and Europe, and had left us this last hideous monument of their presence, perhaps never to return, were now in precipitate flight, as though hurried away by an impetuous torrent. The terrors of the Most High had descended upon them. The conqueror had appeared to them at Leipzig in the most terrific form, and with uplifted arm followed close at their heels. About a league beyond the city the ardour of the pursuit somewhat abated; at Markranstaedt the routed army first stopped to take breath, and to form itself in some measure into a connected whole. The booty taken by the allies was immense. The suburbs were crowded with waggons and artillery, which the enemy had been obliged to abandon. It was impossible for the most experienced eye to form any kind of estimate of their numbers. The captors left them all just as they were, and merely examined here and there the contents of the waggons. Many of them were laden with rice, which was partly given away, especially by the Prussians. Many a Frenchman probably missed the usual supply of it for his scanty supper. All the streets were thronged with the allied troops, who had fought dispersed, and now met to congratulate one another on the important victory. Soon after the city was taken, their sovereigns made their entry. The people pressed in crowds to behold their august and so long wished-for deliverers. They appeared without any pomp in the simplest officers' uniforms, attended by those heroes, a Bluecher, Buelow, Platow, Barklay de Tolly, Schwarzenberg, Repnin, Sanders, &c. &c., whom we had so long admired. The acclamations of the people were unbounded. Tens of thousands of voices greeted them with Huzzas and Vivats; and white handkerchiefs,—symbols of peace,—waved from every window. Some few indeed were too unhappy to take part in the general joy on this memorable day. It was the only punishment, but truly a severe one, for the abject wretches who have not German hearts in their bosoms. Never did acclamations so sincere greet the ears of emperors and kings as those which welcomed Alexander, Francis, Frederic William, and Charles John. They were followed by long files of troops, who had so gloriously sustained the arduous contest under their victorious banners. In the midst of Cossacks, Prussian, Russian, Austrian, and Swedish hussars, appeared also our gallant Saxon cavalry, resolved henceforward to fight for the liberty of Germany, and the genuine interests of their native land.

A great number of regiments immediately continued their march without halting, and took some the road to Pegau, and others that to Merseburg, in order to pursue the enemy in his left flank and in his rear. Bluecher's army had the preceding day advanced to the neighbourhood of Merseburg, where it was now posted in the right flank of the retreating force. Leipzig had nothing more to fear. French officers and soldiers were every where seen intermixed with their conquerors. It was only here and there that they were collected together and conveyed away. Of the greater part but little notice was taken in the first bustle, as all the gates were well guarded, and it was scarcely possible for one of them to escape. Numbers had fled during the assault from their quarters into the suburbs. Many seemed to have left behind valuable effects and money, as I should conjecture from various expressions used by some, who offered, several Napoleon-d'ors to any person who could assist them to reach their lodgings. For this, however, it was now too late. Strict orders were issued against the secreting or entertaining of Frenchmen, and they were therefore obliged to seek, for the moment, a refuge in the hospitals.

Only a small part of the combined troops had gone in pursuit of the French. By far the greatest portion reposed in countless ranks round the town from the fatigues of the long and sanguinary conflict. Part of the army equipage entered, and all the streets were soon crowded to such excess that you could scarcely stir but at the risk of your life. The allied monarchs alighted in the market-place, where the concourse of guards and equipages was consequently immense. Here I saw the late French commandant of the city coming on foot with a numerous retinue of officers and commissaries, and advancing towards the Russian generals. The fate of general Bertrand was certainly most to be pitied; he was a truly honest man, who had no share in those inexpressible miseries in which we had been for the last six months involved. I felt so much the less for the commissaries, whom I have ever considered as the Pandora's box of the French army, whence such numberless calamities have spread over every country in which they have set foot. At the residence of our sovereign I observed no other alteration than that a great number of Saxon generals and officers were collected about it. The life grenadier-guards were on duty as before, and a battalion of Russian grenadiers was parading in front of the windows. No interview, that I know of, took place between the king of Saxony the allied sovereigns. The king of Prussia remained here longest in conversation with the prince-royal. The emperors of Austria and Russia, as well as the crown-prince of Sweden, returned early to the army. After the departure of the Prussian monarch, our king set out under a strong escort of Cossacks for Berlin, or, as some asserted, for Schwedt.

The French hospitals which we had constantly had here since the beginning of the year, and which, since the battle of Luetzen and the denunciation of the armistice, had increased to such a degree as to contain upwards of 20,000 sick and wounded, may be considered as a malignant cancer, that keeps eating farther and farther, and consuming the vital juices. It was these that introduced among us a dreadfully destructive nervous fever, which had increased the mortality of the inhabitants to near double its usual amount. Regarded in this point of view alone, they were one of the most terrible scourges of the city; but they proved a still more serious evil, inasmuch as the whole expense of them fell upon the circle. The French never inquired whence the prodigious funds requisite for their maintenance were to be derived, nor ever thought of making the smallest compensation. If we reckon, for six months, 10,000 sick upon an average, and for each of them 12 groschen per day (and, including all necessaries, they could scarcely be kept at that rate), the amount for each day is 5000, and, for the six months, the enormous sum of 900,000 dollars, which the exhausted coffers were obliged to pay in specie. This calculation, however, is so far below the truth, that it ought rather to be greatly augmented. A tolerable aggregate must have been formed by proportionable contributions from all our country towns, and this was for the service of the hospitals alone: judge then of the rest.

Previously to the battle of Leipzig the state of the inmates of these pestilential dens, these abodes of misery, was deplorable enough, as they were continually becoming more crowded and enlarged. Many of the persons attached to them, and in particular many a valuable and experienced medical man, carried from them the seeds of death into the bosom of his family. With their want of accommodations, cleanliness was a point which could not be attained, and it was impossible to pass them without extreme disgust. As Leipzig was for a considerable time cut off from the rest of the world by the vast circle of armies, like the mariner cast upon a desert island, the wants of these hospitals became from day to day more urgent. Provisions also at length began to fail. The distress had arrived at its highest pitch, when the thousands from the field of battle applied there for relief. Not even bread could any longer be dispensed to these unfortunates. Many wandered about without any kind of shelter. Then did we witness scenes which would have thrilled the most obdurate cannibals with horror. No eye could have beheld a sight more hideous at Smolensk, on the Berezyna, or on the road to Wilna—there at least Death more speedily dispatched his victims. Thousands of ghastly figures staggered along the streets, begging at every window and at every door; and seldom indeed had Compassion the power to give. These, however, were ordinary, familiar spectacles. Neither was it rare to see one of these emaciated wretches picking up the dirtiest bones, and eagerly gnawing them; nay, even the smallest crumb of bread which had chanced to be thrown into the street, as well as apple-parings and cabbage-stalks, were voraciously devoured. But hunger did not confine itself within these disgusting limits. More than twenty eye-witnesses can attest that wounded French soldiers crawled to the already putrid carcasses of horses, with some blunt knife or other contrived with their feeble hands to cut the flesh from the haunches, and greedily regaled themselves with the carrion. They were glad to appease their hunger with what the raven and the kite never feed on but in cases of necessity. They even tore the flesh from human limbs, and broiled it to satisfy the cravings of appetite; nay, what is almost incredible, the very dunghills were searched for undigested fragments to devour. You know me, and must certainly believe that I would not relate as facts things which would be liable to be contradicted by the whole city. Thus the hospitals became a hot-bed of pestilence, from which the senses of hearing, smell, and sight, turned with disgust, and one of the most fatal of those vampyres which had so profusely drained our vitals, and now dispensed destruction to those who had fed them and to the sick themselves.

The great church-yard exhibited a spectacle of peculiar horror. The peaceful dead and their monuments had been spared no more than any other corner of the city. Here also the king of terrors had reaped a rich harvest. The slight walls had been converted into one great fort, and loop-holes formed in them. Troops had long before bivouacked in this spot, and the Prussian, Russian, and Austrian prisoners, were here confined, frequently for several successive days, in the most tempestuous weather and violent rain, without food, straw, or shelter. These poor fellows had nevertheless spared the many handsome monuments of the deceased, and only sought a refuge from the wet, or a lodging for the night, in such vaults as they found open. This spacious ground, which rather resembled a superbly embellished garden than a burial-place, now fell under the all-desolating hands of the French. It soon bore not the smallest resemblance to itself; what Art had, in the space of a century, employed a thousand hands to produce, was in a short time, and by very few, defaced and destroyed. The strongest iron doors to the vaults were broken open, the walls stripped of their decorations and emblems of mourning, the last tributes of grief and affection annihilated, and every atom of wood thrown into the watch-fire; so that the living could no longer know where to look for the remains of the deceased objects of their love. The elegant rails, with which the generality of the graves were encompassed, for the most part disappeared, and the only vestiges of them to be found were their ashes, or the relics of the reeking brands of the watch-fire. On the 19th this wretched bulwark also was stormed, and thrown down as easily as a fowler's net. The carcasses of horses now replaced upon the graves the monuments of mourning for the peaceful dead. After the battle part of the French prisoners were confined in this place. The church of St. John, which stands in it, had, as early as the month of May, been converted into an hospital, which, ever since the beginning of October, was crowded with sick. It could hold no more; the sick and prisoners were therefore intermingled, and lay down pell-mell among the graves. What had hitherto been spared was now completely destroyed. In this case, indeed, dire necessity pleaded a sufficient excuse. Who could find fault with Distress and Despair if they resorted to the only means that could afford them the slightest alleviation? Who could grudge them a shelter in the cold autumnal nights, even though they sought it in the dreary abode of mouldering corpses? Every vault which it was possible for them to open was converted into a chamber and dwelling-place, which at least was preferable to a couch between hillocks soaked with rain or covered with hoar frost. They descended into the deepest graves, broke open the coffins, and ejected their tenants, to procure fire-wood to warm their frozen limbs. I myself saw a French soldier who had fallen among a heap of coffins piled up to the height of more than twelve feet; and, unable to clamber up again, had probably lain there several days, and been added by Death to the number of his former victims. The appearance of the skulls, before so carefully concealed from the view of the living, now thrown out of the coffins into the graves, was truly ghastly.

In spite of all the exertion of the new authorities, appointed by the allies to alleviate the general misery, it was utterly impossible for any human power to restore order in the horrid chaos which the French had left behind them. A severe want of all necessaries was felt in the city; the circumjacent villages, far and wide, were plundered and laid waste. From them, of course, no supply could be obtained. More than thirty hospitals were not capable of receiving all the sick and wounded who applied for admission. Where were to be found buildings sufficiently spacious, mattresses, bedding, utensils, provisions, and the prodigious number of medical attendants, whose services were so urgently required by these poor creatures? Every edifice at all adapted to the purpose had long been occupied; and so completely had every thing been drained by requisitions, that the hospital committee had for some time been unable to collect even the necessary quantity of lint. Almost every barber's apprentice was obliged to exercise his unskilful hands in the service of the hospitals. It would have been impossible to procure any thing with money, had it been ever so plentiful; and this resource, moreover, was already completely exhausted. The most acute understanding and the most invincible presence of mind were inadequate to the providing of a remedy for these evils. No where was there to be seen either beginning or end. The city was covered with carcasses, and the rivers obstructed with dead bodies. Thousands of hands were necessary to remove and bury these disgusting objects before any attention could be paid to the clearing of the field of battle about Leipzig. As all sought relief, there was of course none to afford it. It was difficult to decide whether first to build, to slaughter, to brew, to bake, to bury the dead, or to assist the wounded, as all these points demanded equally prompt attention.

In the city lay many thousands of newly-arrived troops, who came from the fight, and were both hungry and thirsty. Notwithstanding their moderation, some of these could obtain nothing, and others but a very scanty supply. Gladly would every citizen have entertained them in the best manner; but not even a glass of the worst beer or brandy was now to be had. Many of them naturally ascribed this to ill will, and even observed that every thing was denied them because they were not Frenchmen. How little did they know of our real situation! In the house where I live six of the Prussian foot-guards were quartered. They complained when nothing was set before them but dry potatoes; but listened with calmness to the excuses that were offered. Without making any reply, four of them took up their arms, and departed. In about an hour they returned, bringing with them two cows, which they had taken from the French. These they presented to their host, and immediately fell to work and killed then. In two hours the family was abundantly supplied with meat, so that it could assist others; and, as great part was pickled, it was supplied for a considerable time. Frenchmen would certainly not have acted thus.

Among the thousands of facts which might be adduced to prove that it was absolutely impossible for any thing whatever to be left in the town, that its resources were completely exhausted, and that extreme want could not but prevail, let one instance suffice. There were in the city two granaries, one of which, in the palace of Pleissenburg, had been filled at the king's cost, and the other, called the corn-magazine, at the expense of the magistrates. The former had long been put in requisition by French commissaries, and had been chiefly applied to the provisioning of the French garrisons of Wittenberg and Torgau. As this was the king's property, it was perhaps but right to demand it for the fortresses which were to defend the country. The stores possessed by the magistrates were purchased in those years when a scarcity of corn prevailed in Saxony. To afford some relief the government had imported great quantities from Russia, by way of the Baltic and the Elbe. The magistrates of Leipzig had bought a considerable part of it, that they might be able to relieve the wants of the citizens in case a similar calamity should again occur. It was ground and put into casks, each containing 450 pounds. They had in their magazine 4000 such casks, which had been left untouched even in the year 1806, and were carefully preserved, to be used only in cases of extreme necessity. This was certainly a wise and truly paternal precaution. So valuable a store would have been sufficient to protect the city from hunger for a considerable time. As the French army behaved all over Saxony as though it had been in an enemy's country, and consumed every thing far and near, the most urgent want was the inevitable consequence. They forgot the common maxim, that the bread of which you deprive the citizen and the husbandman is in fact taken from yourself, and that the soldier can have nothing where those who feed him have lost their all. The country round Dresden was already exhausted. Soldiers and travellers coming from that quarter could scarcely find terms to describe the distress. They unanimously declared that the country from Oschatz to Leipzig was a real paradise, in comparison with Lusatia and the circle of Misnia, as far as the Elbe. Of this we soon had convincing proofs. It was necessary to pick out a great number of horses from all the regiments, and to send back numerous troops of soldiers to the depots. Don Quixote's Rosinante was a superb animal compared with those which returned to Dresden. Most of them had previously perished by the way. Here they covered all the streets. The men sold them out of hand, partly for a few groschen. A great number were publicly put up to auction by the French commissaries; and you may form some idea what sorry beasts they must have been, when you know that a lot of 26 was sold for 20 dollars. After some time the whole of the horse-guards arrived here. They were computed at 5000 men, all of whom were unfit for service. How changed! how lost was their once imposing appearance! Scarcely could troops ever make so ludicrous, so grotesque, and so miserable a figure. Gigantic grenadiers, with caps of prodigious height, and heavy-armed cuirassiers, were seen riding upon lean cows, which certainly did not cut many capers. It was wonderful that the animals shewed no disposition to decline the singular honour. Their knapsacks were fastened to the horns, so that you were puzzled to make out what kind of a monstrous creature was approaching. Carbineers, with cuirasses and helmets polished like mirrors, lay without boots and stockings in wheelbarrows, to which a peasant had harnessed himself with his dog, and thus transported the heroes. Few of the horses were yet able to carry the knapsack, and much less the rider. The men were therefore obliged to drag the jaded beasts by the bridle through the deepest morasses, and thought themselves fortunate when at last the animals dropped to rise no more. Compared with these endless caravans, a band of strolling players might be considered as the triumphant procession of a Roman emperor. All these men were proceeding to Erfurt and Mentz.

These, and similar scenes which we had daily witnessed, were a natural consequence of the French system of supply, and the prodigious bodies of troops, which bore no proportion to the resources of a small tract of country. Attempts had been made, but without success, to find other provinces abounding in grain and forage. The fertile fields of Silesia and Bohemia were beyond their reach. The angel with the fiery sword vigilantly guarded the avenues to them against the fallen children of Adam. It was now absolutely necessary to devise some expedient; and to the French all means were alike. Some rice had been procured by way of the Elbe and the Rhine. The stocks in the warehouses of the tradesmen of Leipzig were now put in requisition, and sent off to the army; and I shrewdly suspect that no part of them was paid for. These, however, were but small privations; to relieve the general want required no less a miracle than that by which 4000 men were fed with five small loaves. The valuable stores in the city magazine had not yet been discovered. But where is the door, however strong, through which their eagle eyes would not at last penetrate? The flour was soon spied out, and forthwith destined for the hungry stomachs of the French. The barrels were rolled away with incredible expedition, and conveyed to the bakehouses. Each baker was supplied with two a day, which he was obliged to make up with all possible dispatch into bread, and to carry to the Cloth-hall. Here the loaves were piled up in immense rows, and sent off to the famishing army. From morning till night nothing was to be seen but waggons loading and setting out. Not a morsel, however, was given to the soldiers quartered upon the citizens; their superiors well knew that the patient landlord had yet a penny left in his pocket to help himself out with. Thus the fine magazine was stripped; and its valuable contents, which would have kept twenty years longer without spoiling, and had been preserved with such care, were dissipated in a moment. You may easily conceive how severe a misfortune this loss proved to the city, and how keenly it was felt, when you know that we were in a manner besieged for several weeks, and that not a handful of flour was to be had even at the mills themselves.

If you now take into the account the state of the city in a financial point of view, you may judge how dreadful its condition in general must have been. In no town is a better provision made for the indigent than in Leipzig. Here were poor-houses, under most judicious regulations, where food, fire, and lodging, were afforded. These buildings were converted into hospitals, their inmates were obliged to turn out, and at length the necessitous were deprived of their scanty allowance—the funds were exhausted, and no fresh supplies received. The citizen sunk under the weight of his burdens; it was impossible to lay any new ones upon him. Among the different sources of income enjoyed by the city, the author knows of one which at each of the two principal fairs commonly produced 4000 dollars; whereas the receipts from it at the late Michaelmas fair fell short of 100 dollars. All the other branches of revenue, whether belonging to the king or to the city, fared no better.

Such was the state of a city, which a few years since might justly be numbered among the most opulent in Germany, and whose resources appeared inexhaustible. It may be considered as the heart of all Saxony, on account of the manifold channels for trade, manufactures, and industry, which here meet as in one common centre. Hence the commerce of Saxony extends to every part of the globe. With the credit of Leipzig, that of all Saxony could not fail to be in a great measure destroyed. Had this state of things continued a little longer, absolute ruin would probably have ensued, as the total suspension of trade would certainly have occasioned the removal of all the yet remaining monied men. So low, however, the city was not destined to fall. The fatal blow already impended over Leipzig, which was on the point of being reduced to a heap of ashes. Black storm-clouds gathered thick around it; but they passed off; and a new sun, the cheering hope of better times, burst forth. Large bodies of troops are yet within our walls; and they are a heavy burden to the impoverished inhabitants, under their present circumstances. We shall, however, be relieved of some part of it, on the reduction of the fortresses upon the Elbe, which the enemy may yet defend for some time, though without any other prospect than that of final surrender, and of wielding for the last time his desolating arms on the shores of that river. Symptoms of reviving trade and commerce begin at least to appear. The gates are no longer beset with the Argus eyes of French inspectors. The patient indeed, brought as he has been to the very gates of death, is yet extremely weak, and requires the aid of crutches. Long will it be before he is free from pain, but his recovery is sure: he has quitted the close sick room, and is now consigned to better care, to the hands of Prudence and Philanthropy, who are acquainted with his condition, and will infallibly restore him to his former health and vigour.

The confederation of the Rhine and the Continental system,—terms synonymous with all the evils which have brought Germany and Europe to the brink of destruction,—will in future have no other signification in the vocabularies of the writers on political economy than that interval of severe probation when Germany seemed to be annihilated, but yet rose from her ruins with renewed energies, and, united more firmly than ever, by new ties, with the other states of Europe, resumed her ancient rights. The battle of Leipzig was the watch-word for this great revolution. History, therefore, when partiality and passion shall have long been silent, will not fail to class it among the most important events recorded in her annals.

Here permit me to conclude my letters respecting those eventful days of October, which must ever be so deeply impressed upon the memories of us all. What may be called the military part of my narrative may be imperfect; the names of the generals who commanded, the positions of particular corps, and other circumstances of minor importance, may perhaps be incorrect; yet the circumstantial details which I have given will enable you to form to yourself in some measure a complete picture of that memorable conflict.

FOOTNOTES:

[2] The 14th of October is the anniversary of the battles of Ulm and of Jena.

[3] What is yet called the Kohlgaerten was formerly gardeners' ground for the supply of the city, and is now converted into a fashionable village, consisting chiefly of the country-houses of merchants; and where is also a public garden for the recreation of the citizens.

[4] The following fact will serve to shew how completely the king of Saxony was duped by the imperial plunderer:—The king was standing with one of his ministers at a window of his palace in Dresden at the moment when a drove of remarkably fine cattle, intended for the French army, passed by. His majesty took occasion to praise the paternal care which the emperor manifested for his troops, in procuring them such abundant supplies of provisions. "But," replied the minister, "your majesty is surely not aware that it is at the expense of your poor subjects, as Napoleon pays for nothing."—"Impossible!" exclaimed the king with evident indignation. While they were yet in conversation, intelligence was brought from his domain of Pillnitz, which is well known to be the most beautiful in Saxony, that the French had taken away by force all his fine cattle, and just driven them through the city. These were the very same beasts which he had seen passing, and now for the first time he became sensible at what price Bonaparte obtained provisions from his faithful ally.

[5] Prince Joseph Poniatowsky was nephew to Stanislaus Augustus, the last king of Poland, and there is no doubt that he was cajoled into a subservience to the views of the French emperor by the flattering prospect of the restoration of his country to its former rank among the nations of Europe. The circumstances attending his death, as related by his aid-de-camp, are as follow:—On the 19th of October, when the French army began to retreat, the prince was charged by Napoleon with the defence of that part of the suburbs of Leipzig which lies nearest to the Borna road. For this service he had only 2000 Polish infantry assigned him. Perceiving the French columns on his left flank in full retreat, and the bridge completely choked up with their artillery and carriages, so that there was no possibility of getting over it, he drew his sabre, and, turning to the officers who were about him, "Gentlemen," said he, "it is better to fall with honour." With these words he rushed, at the head of a few Polish cuirassiers and the officers surrounding him, upon the advancing columns of the allies. He had been previously wounded on the 14th and 16th, and on this occasion also received a musket-ball in his left arm. He nevertheless pushed forward, but found the suburbs full of the allied troops, who hastened up to take him prisoner. He cut his way through them, received another wound through his cross, threw himself into the Pleisse, and with the assistance of his officers reached the opposite bank in safety, leaving his horse behind in the river. Though much exhausted he mounted another, and proceeded to the Elster, which was already lined by Saxon and Prussian riflemen. Seeing them coming upon him on all sides, he plunged into the river, and instantly sunk, together with his horse. Several officers, who threw themselves in after him, were likewise drowned; and others were taken on the bank or in the water. The body of the prince was found on the fifth day (Oct. 24), and taken out of the water by a fisherman. He was dressed in his gala uniform, the epaulets of which were studded with diamonds. His fingers were covered with rings set with brilliants; and his pockets contained snuff-boxes of great value and other trinkets. Many of those articles were eagerly purchased by the Polish officers who were made prisoners, evidently for the purpose of being transmitted to his family; so that the whole produced the fisherman a very considerable sum.



CONCLUDING REMARKS.

In the battle of Leipzig the reflecting observer discovers something grand; but there is also much that puzzles one who is not a soldier, and is accustomed to find in all Napoleon's campaigns a consistency of plan which he here looks for in vain. If in his earlier combinations he did not in every instance take all possibilities into the account, but overlooked some, this must be ascribed not so much to the want of military penetration, as to his firm confidence in his good fortune, and in his ability to turn unforeseen accidents to his own advantage, or at least to render them harmless. Rarely has a general been so highly favoured by fortune for a long series of years as he. It is no wonder then that this confidence at length increased to such a degree as frequently to become the height of temerity. In Russia, Napoleon met with many circumstances which he had not taken into his calculation; but he nevertheless penetrated to Moscow. Here he for the first time experienced such a reverse as no general ever yet sustained. His immense army was entirely annihilated. His stern decree created a new one, to all outward appearance equally formidable. From the haste with which its component parts were collected, it could not but be deficient in intrinsic energy, and it was impossible to doubt that this would be shewn in time. In this respect his antagonists had a decided advantage, as must have been obvious to him after the battles of Luetzen and Bautzen. Had he not been so vastly superior in number to the Russian and Prussian army in the first engagement, he would indisputably have been defeated on that occasion.—The political relations of Europe had moreover undergone an extraordinary change. He could not for a thousand reasons be a moment doubtful of the choice of Austria. If with a strong and well-appointed army she could not by negotiation bring about a peace upon the basis of a future balance of power among the principal states of Europe, in which Prussia and Russia were willing to acquiesce, there could be no question that for the sake of her own existence she would espouse the cause of those two powers. This Napoleon seems to have considered as impossible, or the advantages already obtained must have inspired him with the confidence that even the accession of Austria to the alliance could not prevent the prosecution of his victorious career to the Vistula. Could he have expected to encounter the whole Austrian army in Silesia, or to reduce the fortresses of Upper Silesia, with such rapidity as to be able a third time to menace Vienna, and to compel the force assembled on the Bohemian frontiers to return with precipitation to cover the capital? This would have been too presumptuous an idea. He probably fancied himself strong enough, with 400,000 men, led on by himself and the ablest generals of the age, to cope, if even Austria should declare against him, with all three powers; especially if he presumed that he should be able to force all the combined armies united to a general engagement, and to annihilate them with a single blow. The proposals for peace were rejected: not the slightest disposition was shewn to treat, and the armistice of two months answered no other purpose than to convince Austria of the absolute necessity of joining the cause of the allies, and exerting all her energies to conquer that peace by the sword, which there was not the least hope of accomplishing by negotiation. By the accession of Austria the grand alliance had now gained a manifest superiority, as well in regard to the number of troops as to the geographical advantages of the theatre of war and resources. After the renewal of hostilities Napoleon still seemed determined to pursue his plan of advancing beyond the Oder. The allies were not to be deceived by these demonstrations, but unexpectedly took post with their main force in Bohemia, along the Saxon frontier, leaving in Silesia and Brandenburg, where the crown-prince of Sweden had by this time arrived with his gallant troops, armies strong enough to keep him in check by a vigorous defensive system. The great Bohemian army was destined for offensive operations. This plan was equally grand and judicious. Silesia, and all Saxony, to the Elbe, could not fail, in consequence, to be lost to Napoleon. That river, while he had only Prussia and Russia to encounter, was a sure support in his rear; but no sooner had Austria declared herself than it was no longer of any military consequence. Dresden was the central point for the French army. There were organized all the military bureaus, and all the branches of administration for the economy of the army. The allies opened the campaign with a hasty advance upon that important city. If the enterprise proved successful, its consequences would be incalculable; if it miscarried, nothing would be lost for the grand object; and at any rate the expedition would be a diversion, which would immediately draw the French out of Silesia. Napoleon now saw how egregiously he was deceived in his reckoning. He hastened precipitately to save the Saxon capital. The army arrived breathless. The allies were already assaulting the suburbs; and, had Napoleon come one hour later, Dresden would have been in their power. Owing to the unexpected appearance of so prodigious a force, and still more to physical accidents, the grand enterprise of the allies miscarried. The battle of Dresden terminated to their disadvantage, but their primary object was attained. Napoleon's force was divided into three great armies. Should any of them sustain a defeat, all Saxony to the right of the Elbe would be lost to him. The engagements of Jauer, Grossbeeren, and Dennewitz, proved disastrous to the French generals, and Lusatia and the right bank of the Elbe were soon in the hands of the allies. All the attempts to penetrate to Prague and Berlin ended in the discomfiture and annihilation of whole French corps. Oudinot, Ney, Regnier, Bertrand, and the terrible Vandamme, were in succession so totally defeated, that it was not possible even for the French reporters, with all their address, to cloak their disasters. The allies every where acted offensively. Saxony, surrounded by Silesia, Bohemia, and Brandenburg, was now, from its situation, likely to become, earlier or later, the grave of the French armies: the allies had every where the choice of their operations; they were neither to be turned nor broken through. It was evident that the long and obstinate continuance of Napoleon at Dresden could not fail to prove ruinous to him. Of what service could the Elbe be to him, when Bohemia, the key to that river, was in the hands of his opponents? These had it in their power to turn his flank as far as the Saale, without hazard or any great impediment, as the event actually proved. Napoleon was cooped up in a narrow space, where in time, even without being defeated, he would have been in danger of starving with his army. Dresden was to him, in some respects, what Wilna had been in 1812. Leipzig, an open place, was now of far greater importance to him than Minsk was then. How easily might he have lost it, as the allies were advancing in considerable force upon that place! It was not lost, to be sure; but the communication between Dresden and Leipzig, and Leipzig and Erfurt, was, if not cut off, at least interrupted; his supplies became more and more precarious, and a large garrison, which it was deemed necessary to reinforce with strong detachments from the main army, was locked up in Leipzig.

When in August Austria declared herself decidedly in favour of Russia and Prussia, it was natural to expect that Napoleon would have totally relinquished the useless defence of Saxony, and have adopted a new plan of operations, in order to cover and preserve the other states of the confederation of the Rhine. That he would infallibly be compelled to evacuate Saxony, was evident from the slightest inspection of the map. In this beautiful province he could expect no other glory than that of plunging it, by his inflexible obstinacy, into the most abject misery. The combined monarchs had nothing to fear for their own dominions; they needed to do no more than to carry on for some time a mere war of observation, and to recruit their forces. They might quietly await the moment when Napoleon should leave Dresden, and, on his arrival, force him to a general engagement in any situation which they should deem most advantageous. Too late did Napoleon resolve upon retreat. He was obliged to commence it in the midst of an immense quadrangle which the allies formed about him, and to direct his course towards Leipzig. He could not, however, yet determine to give up Dresden, but left there a considerable army, thus weakening himself, and sacrificing it, as well as the garrisons of the fortresses on the Elbe and Oder, to no purpose whatever, in case he should lose a battle. At length, near Leipzig, he was forced, into the arduous conflict. Since the latter half of August, the talents which he had heretofore displayed for comprehensive and profound combinations seemed to have totally deserted him. All his measures and plans appeared imperfect, and betrayed a vacillation which he had never yet manifested. He seems to have been as uncertain respecting the strength of his antagonists as in regard to their grand plan of deciding the fate of the campaign with a single blow.

In the battle of Leipzig we perceive none of that forethought which characterizes his other engagements. The possibility of losing it seems never to have entered into his calculations; otherwise he would scarcely have endeavoured to prevail upon the king of Saxony to repair to Leipzig to witness his defeat. In the most favourable event he had a right to anticipate no other result than an unmolested retreat: the allies however, were producing a very different one from what he expected. Of this he might have convinced himself so early as the 16th, when he encountered the strongest resistance at all points which he had probably deemed the weakest. From that day all his measures were calculated only for the moment. He boasted of victory when the battle was scarcely begun. He every where strove to check the impetuous advance of his foes at the expense of those means which were so necessary for his own retreat. It could not be difficult for Napoleon to foresee, on the 16th, that, in case he should be defeated, he had no other route left than to retreat westward, in the direction of Luetzen and Merseburg. He nevertheless caused all the bridges over the numerous muddy streams on that side to be destroyed, instead of diligently providing temporary ones in addition. He was acquainted with the situation of the city, through the centre of which he would be obliged to pass. He knew the position of his army, which might, indeed, enter it by three spacious roads, from north, east, and south; but had only one outlet, and this the very narrowest of all, for itself and its train, many miles in length. Let the reader figure to himself a routed army, and that a French army, in which all order is so easily lost, converging in three columns to one common centre. The passage at the outermost gate towards Luetzen is so narrow as to admit only one single waggon at a time. When we consider that at the Kuhthurm again the road is but just wide enough for one carriage; that, on the west side of the city, the Elster, the Pleisse, and their different branches, intersect with their thousand meanders the marshy plains covered with wood, which are scarcely passable for the pedestrian; when we farther consider the incessant stoppages of the whole train at every little obstacle, and figure to ourselves all the three columns united in a road, the two principal passes of which are scarcely 30 feet in breadth; we shall rather be astonished that the whole French army was not annihilated than surprised at the prodigious quantity of waggons and artillery which it was obliged to abandon. Even in the night between the 18th and 19th, when Napoleon must have been perfectly aware of his situation, there would still have been time to throw bridges across the different streams, so that the army might have marched in five or six columns to Lindenau, and been again collected at this place, from which several convenient roads branch off. Such dispositions as circumstances required might then have been made, and the retreat might have been effected with inconsiderable loss. Such a precaution was the more necessary, as he could not be ignorant that Bluecher's troops had already gained a march upon him, and was waiting for him at the Saale. Thus the want of a few paltry wooden bridges proved as ruinous to the French army as the battle itself. It lost, solely because it was unprovided with them, great part of its yet remaining artillery, several thousands of dead, who were mostly drowned, and a great number of prisoners. It was evident that such a retreat, conducted without order and without plan, was likely to be attended with the total destruction of the remnant of the army before it could reach the Rhine. By the actions on the Unstrut and Saale, at Eisenach and Hanau, this force was actually so reduced, that, on its arrival at the Rhine, it must probably have entirely lost its military consequence. How infinitely inferior is Napoleon in this branch of the military art to the immortal Moreau, to whom he would have owed everlasting obligations, had he, at his glorious death, bequeathed to him the transcendent art of converting retreats into victories!

In regard to boldness, Napoleon certainly belongs to the generals of the first rank. He has undertaken and executed the rashest enterprises. But, if the true hero shines with the greatest lustre in misfortune, like Hannibal and Frederic the Great, Napoleon must be classed far below them. He abandoned his army in Russia when it had most need of his assistance; and the reason assigned for this desertion—that circumstances rendered his presence necessary in France—is by no means satisfactory to the rigid inquirer. During the seven-years' war, the more dangerous the situation of the Prussian army, the more Frederic felt himself bound to continue with it, and to assist it with his eminent military genius. The campaign of 1813 has clearly proved that the secret of Napoleon's most decisive victories has consisted in the art of assailing his opponents with a superior force. Napoleon would be incapable of attacking with 30,000 men an army of 90,000, posted in an advantageous position, and defeating it, as Frederic did at Leuthen. Napoleon, like the Prussian monarch, attempted to penetrate into Bohemia, a country so dangerous for an army; but what a wretched business did he make of it, in comparison with the latter! Frederic waged war that he might conquer peace; Napoleon never wished for peace, often as he has made a show of desiring it. Frederic knew how to stop his victorious career in time, for History had taught him that it is as difficult to retain as to acquire glory. Napoleon imagined that his fame was susceptible of increase alone, and lost it all in the fields of Leipzig. The hardly-earned laurels of France faded along with it. With what feelings must he direct his views beyond the Rhine, where the eyes of so many thousands are now opened? He too has lived to witness days which are far from agreeable to him. He, who represented it to the countries which he forced into his alliance as a supreme felicity to have their sons led forth to fight foreign battles, and to have many thousands of them sacrificed every year upon the altar of his ambition, now sees them all abandon him, and become his bitterest enemies. The Great Empire is now an idle dream. Already is he nearly confined within that ancient France, which has lost through him the flower of her population. Long has discontent lurked there in every bosom; long have her people beheld with indignation their youth driven across the Rhine, into foreign lands, where they were swept away by cold, famine, and the sword, so that few of them revisited their paternal homes. Will the nation again be ready to bathe foreign plains with the blood of half a million of fresh victims? Scarcely can it be so infatuated. The French too are now roused from their torpor: like the Germans, they will confine their exertions to the defence of their own frontiers against those mighty armies of Europe, which, crowned with laurels, wield the sword in one hand, and bear the olive of peace in the other.



SUPPLEMENT.

The following letter, which cannot but be considered as most honourable to the writer, contains so many minute, but, at the same time, highly characteristic traits, that it cannot fail to prove extremely interesting to every reader. No other apology is necessary for its introduction here by way of Supplement.

Leipzig, Nov. 3, 1813.

DEAREST FRIEND,

You here see how ready I am to gratify your desire of knowing every thing that passed in my neighbourhood and that befell myself in the eventful days of October. I proceed to the point without farther preamble.

Ever since the arrival of marshal Marmont I have constantly resided at the beautiful country-house of my employer at R***, where I imagined that I might be of some service during the impending events. The general of brigade Chamois, an honest man, but a severe officer, was at first quartered there.

On the 14th of October every body expected a general engagement near Leipzig. On that day several French corps had arrived in the neighbourhood. The near thunders of the artillery, which began to roll, and the repeated assurances of the French officers that the anniversary of the battles of Ulm and Jena would not be suffered to pass uncelebrated, seemed to confirm this expectation. The king of Saxony entered by the palisadoed gates of the outer city, and Napoleon also soon arrived. The latter came from Dueben, and took possession of a bivouac in the open field, not far from the gallows, close to a great watch-fire. I was one of those who hastened to the spot, to obtain a sight of the extraordinary man, little suspecting that a still greater honour awaited me, namely, that of sleeping under the same roof, nay, even of being admitted to a personal interview of some length with him. The state of things at my country-house did not permit me to be long absent. I hastened back, therefore, with all possible expedition. I arrived nearly at the same moment with a French marechal de logis du palais, to whom I was obliged to shew every apartment in the house, and who, to my no small dismay, announced "that the emperor would probably lodge there that night." The man, having despatched his errand in great haste, immediately departed. I communicated the unexpected intelligence to the aid-de-camp of general Pajol, but expressly observed that I had great doubts about it, as the marechal de logis himself had not spoken positively. The aid-de-camp appeared very uneasy; and, though I strove to convince him that it must be some time before our distinguished guest could arrive, he immediately packed up, and, notwithstanding all my earnest endeavours to detain him, he was gone with his servant in a few minutes. Seldom have I witnessed such an extraordinary degree of anxiety as this man shewed while preparing for his departure.

The marechal de logis soon returned, and again inspected all the apartments, and even the smallest closets, more minutely than before. He announced that sa majeste would certainly take up his head-quarters here, and asked for a piece of chalk, to mark each room with the names of the distinguished personages by whom they were to be occupied. When he had shewn me the apartment destined for the emperor, he desired that a fire might be immediately lighted in it, as his majesty was very fond of warmth. The bustle soon began; the guards appeared, and occupied the house and all the avenues. Many officers of rank, with numerous attendants, arrived; and six of the emperor's cooks were soon busily engaged in the kitchen. Thus I was soon surrounded on all sides with imperial splendour, and might consider myself for the moment as its centre. I might possibly have felt no small degree of vanity on the occasion, had I not been every instant reminded that the part which I should have to act would be that of obedience alone. I heard the beating of drums at a distance, which, as I presently learned, announced that I was shortly to descend into a very subordinate station. It proclaimed the arrival of the emperor, who came on horseback in a grey surtout. Behind him rode the duke of Vicenza (Caulincourt), who, since the death of marshal Duroc, has succeeded to his office. When they had come up to the house, the master of the horse sprung from his steed with a lightness and agility which I should not have expected in such a raw-boned, stiff-looking gentleman, and immediately held that of the emperor.

His majesty had scarcely reached his apartments when I was hastily sought and called for. You may easily conceive my astonishment and perturbation when I was told that the emperor desired to speak with me immediately. Now, in such a state of things, I had not once thought for several days of putting on my Sunday clothes; but, to say nothing of this, my mind was still less prepared for an interview with a hero, the mere sight of whom was enough to bow me down to the very ground. In this emergency courage alone could be of any service, and I rallied my spirits as well as the short notice would permit. I had done nothing amiss—at least that I knew of—and had performed my duty as maitre d'hotel to the best of my ability. After a general had taken charge of me, I mustered my whole stock of rhetorical flourishes, best calculated to win the favour of a mighty emperor. The general conducted me through a crowd of aid-de-camps and officers of all ranks. They took but little notice of such an insignificant being, and indeed scarcely deigned to bestow a look upon me. My conductor opened the door, and I entered with a heart throbbing violently. The emperor had pulled off his surtout, and had nobody with him. On the long table was spread a map of prodigious size. Rustan, the Mameluke, who has so long been falsely reported to be dead, was, as I afterwards learned, in the next room.—My presence of mind was all gone again when I came to be introduced to the emperor, and he must certainly have perceived by my looks that I was not a little confused. I was just going to begin the harangue which I had studied with such pains, and to stammer out something or other about the high and unexpected felicity of being presented to the most powerful, the most celebrated, and the most sincerely beloved monarch in the world, when he relieved me at once from my dilemma. He addressed me in French, speaking very quick, but distinctly, to the following effect:—

Nap. Are you the master of this house?

I. No, please your majesty, only a servant.

N. Where is the owner?

I. He is in the city. He is advanced in years; and under the present circumstances has quitted his house leaving me to take care of it as well as I can.

N. What is your master?

I. He is in business, sire.

N. In what line?

I. He is a banker.

N. (Laughing.) Oho! then he is worth a plum, (un millionaire,) I suppose?

I. Begging your majesty's pardon, indeed he is not.

N. Well then, perhaps he may be worth two?

I. Would to God I could answer your majesty in the affirmative.

N. You lend money, I presume?

I. Formerly we did, sire; but now we are glad to borrow.

N. Yes, yes, I dare say you do a little in that way yet. What interest do you charge?

I. We used to charge from 4 to 5 per cent.; now we would willingly give from 8 to 10.

N. To whom were you used to lend money?

I. To inferior tradesmen and manufacturers.

N. You discount bills too, I suppose?

I. Formerly, sire, we did; now we can neither discount nor get any discounted.

N. How is business with you?

I. At present, your majesty, there is none doing

N. How so?

I. Because all trade is totally at a stand.

N. But have you not your fair just now?

I. Yes, but it is so only in name.

N. Why?

I. As all communication has for a considerable time been suspended, and the roads are unsafe for goods, neither sellers nor buyers will run the risk of coming; and, besides, the greatest scarcity of money prevails in this country.

N. (Taking much snuff) So, so! What is the name of your employer?

I mentioned his name.

N. Is he married?

I. Yes, sire.

N. Has he any children.

I. He has, and they are married too.

N. In what capacity are you employed by him?

I. As a clerk.

N. Then you have a cashier too, I suppose?

I. Yes, sire, at your service.

N. What wages do you receive?

I mentioned a sum that I thought fit.

He now motioned with his hand, and I retired with a low bow. During the whole conversation the emperor was in very good humour, laughed frequently, and took a great deal of snuff. After the interview, on coming out of the room, I appeared a totally different and highly important person to all those who a quarter of an hour before had not deigned to take the slightest notice of me. Both officers and domestics now shewed me the greatest respect. The emperor lodged in the first floor; his favourite Mameluke, an uncommonly handsome man, was constantly about his person. The second floor was occupied by the prince of Neufchatel, who had a very sickly appearance, and the duke of Bassano, the emperor's secretary. On the ground floor a front room was converted into a sallon au service. Here were marshals Oudinot, Mortier, Ney, Reynier, with a great number of generals, aid-de-camps, and other officers in waiting, who lay at night upon straw, crowded as close as herrings in a barrel. In the left wing lodged the duke of Vicenza, master of the horse; and above him the physician to the emperor, whose name, I think, was M. Yvan. The right wing was occupied by the officiers du palais. The smallest room was turned into the bed-chamber of a general; and every corner was so filled, that the servants and other attendants were obliged to sleep on the kitchen floor. Upon my remonstrance to the valet of the marechal du palais I was allowed to keep a small apartment for my own use, and thought to guard myself against unwelcome intruders by inscribing with chalk my high rank—maitre de la maison—in large letters upon the door. At first the new-comers passed respectfully before my little cell, and durst scarcely venture to peep in at the door; but it was not long before French curiosity overleaped this written barrier. For sometime this place served my people and several neighbours in the village as a protecting asylum at night.

The keys of the hay-loft and barns I was commanded to deliver to the emperor's piqueur.—I earnestly entreated him to be as sparing of our stores as possible, supporting this request with a bottle of wine,—which, under the present circumstance, was no contemptible present. He knew how to appreciate it, and immediately gave me a proof of his gratitude. He took me aside, and whispered in my ear, "As long as the emperor is here you are safe; but the moment he is gone—and nobody can tell how soon that may be—you will be completely stripped by the guards; the officers themselves will then shew no mercy. You had best endeavour to obtain a safeguard, for which you must apply to the duke of Vicenza."

This advice was not thrown away upon me: I immediately begged to speak with the grand ecuyer. I explained my business as delicately as possible, and be with great good humour promised to comply with my request. Determined to strike while the iron was hot, I soon, afterwards repeated my application in writing.

After the emperor's arrival there was no such thing as a moment's rest for me. Gladly would I have exchanged my high function, which placed me upon an equal footing with the first officers of the French court, for a night's tranquil slumber. M. maitre de la maison was every moment called for. As for shaving, changing linen, brushing clothes—that was quite out of the question. His guests had remarked his good will, and they imagined that his ability was capable of keeping pace with it. Luckily it never came into my head, whilst invested with my high dignity, to look into a glass, otherwise I should certainly not have known myself again, and Diogenes would have appeared a beau in comparison. As to danger of life, or personal ill-treatment, I was under no apprehension; for who would have presumed to lay hands on so important a personage, who was every moment wanted, and whose place it would have been absolutely impossible to supply?—I was much less concerned about all this than about the means of saving the property of my employer, as far as lay in my power. The danger of having every thing destroyed was very great.

The French guards had kindled a large fire at a small distance from the house. The wind, being high, drove not only sparks but great flakes of fire towards it. The whole court-yard was covered with straw, which was liable every moment to set us all in flames. I represented this circumstance to an officer of high rank, and observed that the emperor himself would be exposed to very great risk; on which he ordered a grenadier belonging to the guards to go and direct it to be put out immediately. This man, an excessively grim fellow, refused without ceremony to carry the order. "They are my comrades," said he: "it is cold—they must have a fire, and dare not go too far off—I cannot desire them to put it out."—What was to be done? I bethought myself of the duke of Vicenza, and applied directly to him. My representations produced the desired effect. He gave orders, and in a quarter of an hour the fire was out. I was equally fortunate in saving a building situated near the house. It had been but lately constructed and fitted up. The young guard were on the point of pulling it down, with the intention of carrying the wood to their bivouacs. Their design was instantly prevented, and one single piece of timber only was destroyed. A guard was sent to the place, to defend it from all farther attacks. It had been burned down only last summer, through the carelessness of some French dragoons.

Late at night the king of Naples came with his retinue from Stoetteritz. He was attended by a black Othello, who seems to serve him in the same capacity as Rustan does his brother-in-law Napoleon.

By day-break the emperor started with all his retinue, and took the road to Wolkwitz. The king of Naples had already set out for the same place. All was quiet during the day, and towards night the emperor returned. Several French officers had asserted, the preceding night, that a general engagement would certainly take place on the 15th. How imperfectly they were acquainted with the state of things, I could perceive from many of their expressions. In their opinion the armies of the allies were already as good as annihilated. By the emperor's masterly manoeuvres, the Russians and Swedes—the latter, by the bye, had not yet come up—were according to them completely cut off from the Austrians. A courier de l'empereur was honest enough to tell me plumply that they had done nothing all day but look at one another, but that there would be so much the warmer work on the morrow.

Very early indeed on the morning of the 16th, I remarked preparations for the final departure of the emperor. The maitre d'hotel desired a bill of the provisions furnished him. I had already made out one, but that would not do. It was necessary that the articles should be arranged under particular heads, and a distinct account of each given in. I ran short of time, patience, and paper. All excuses were unavailing, and there was no time to be lost. I readily perceived that all the elegance required in a merchant's counting-house would not be expected here, and accordingly dispensed with many little formalities. I wrote upon the first paper that came to hand, and my bills were the most miserable scraps that ever were seen. The amount was immediately paid. Finding that the maitre d'hotel had not the least notion that it would be but reasonable to make some remuneration to the servants, who had been so assiduous in their attendance, I was uncivil enough to remind him of it. He then desired me to give him a receipt for 200 francs, which I immediately divided among the domestics; though he remarked that I ought to give each but three or four, at most. I also made out a distinct account for the forage, but this was not paid.

At length arrived the long wished-for sauvegarde. It consisted of three gens d'armes d'elite, who had a written order from the baron de Lennep, ecuyer to the emperor, by virtue of which they were to defend my house and property from all depredations. I immediately took a copy of this important protection, and nailed it upon the door. The house was gradually evacuated; I was soon left alone with my guards, and sincerely rejoiced that Heaven had sent me such honest fellows. It was impossible, indeed, to be quite easy; the thunders of the cannon rolled more and more awfully, and I had frequent visits from soldiers. My brave gens d'armes, however, drove them all away, and I never applied in vain when I besought them to assist a neighbour in distress. I shewed my gratitude as far as lay in my power, and at least took care that they wanted for nothing.

One of these three men went into the city, and returned in haste, bringing the news of a great victory. "Vive l'empereur!" cried he; "la bataille est gagnee." When I inquired the particulars, he related, in the most confident manner, that an Austrian prince had been taken, with 30,000 men, and that they were already singing Te Deum in the city. This story seemed extremely improbable to me, as the cannonade was at that moment rather approaching than receding from us. I expressed my doubts of the fact, and told him that the battle could not possibly be yet decided. The man, however, would not give up the point, but insisted that the intelligence was official. When I asked him if he had seen the captive prince and the 30,000 Austrians, as they must certainly have been brought into the city, he frankly replied that he had not. Several persons from the town had seen no more of them than he, so that I could give a shrewd guess what degree of credit was due to the story.

In the afternoon of the 17th marshal Ney suddenly appeared at the door with a numerous retinue, and without ceremony took up his quarters in the house. I saw nothing of the emperor all that day, nor did any circumstance worthy of notice occur. On the 18th, at three in the morning, Napoleon came quite unexpectedly in a carriage. He went immediately to marshal Ney, with whom he remained in conversation about an hour. He then hastened away again, and was soon followed by the marshal, whose servants staid behind. His post must have been a very warm one; for before noon he sent for two fresh horses, and a third was fetched in the afternoon. The cannonade grow more violent, and gradually approached nearer. I became more and more convinced that the pompous story of the victory the day before was a mere gasconade. So early as twelve o'clock things seemed to be taking a very disastrous turn for the French. About this time they began to fall back very fast upon the city. Shouts of Vice l'empereur! suddenly resounded from thousands of voices, and at this cry I saw the weary soldiers turn about and advance. Appearances nevertheless became still more alarming. The balls from the cannon of the allies already fell very near us. One of them indeed was rude enough to kill a cow scarcely five paces from me, and to wound a Pole.

The French all this time could talk of nothing but victories, with which Fortune had, most unfortunately, rendered them but too familiar. One messenger of victory followed upon the heels of another. "General Thielemann," cried an aid-de-camp, "has just been taken, with 6000 men; and the emperor ordered him to be instantly shot on the field of battle."—The most violent abuse was poured forth upon the Saxons, and I now learned that great part of them had gone over to the allies in the midst of the engagement. Heartily as I rejoiced at the circumstance, I nevertheless joined the French officers in their execrations. The concourse kept increasing; the wounded arrived in troops. Towards evening every thing attested that the French were very closely pressed. A servant came at full gallop to inform us that marshal Ney might shortly be expected, and that he was wounded. The whole house was instantly in an uproar. Mon Dieu, mon Dieu!—cried one to another—le prince est blesse—quel malheur! Soon after the marshal himself arrived; he was on foot, and supported by an aid-de-camp. Vinegar was hastily called for. The marshal had been wounded in the arm by a cannon-ball, and the pain was so acute that he could not bear the motion of riding.

The houses in the village were every where plundered, and the inhabitants kept coming in to solicit assistance. I represented their distress to an aid-de-camp, who only shrugged his shoulders, and gave the miserable consolation that it was now impossible for him to put a stop to the evil.

At length, early on the 19th, we appeared likely to get rid in good earnest of the monster by which we had been so dreadfully tormented. All the French hurried in disorder to the city, and our sauvegarde also made preparations to depart. Already did I again behold in imagination the pikes of the Cossacks. All the subsequent events followed in rapid succession. My gens d'armes were scarcely gone when a very brisk fire of sharp-shooters commenced in our neighbourhood. In a few moments Pomeranian infantry poured from behind through the garden into the house. They immediately proceeded, without stopping, to the city. It was only for a few minutes that I could observe with a glass the confused retreat of the French. Joy at the long wished-for arrival of our countrymen and deliverers soon called me away. The galling yoke was now shaken off, probably for ever. I bade a hearty welcome to the brave soldiers; and, as I saw several wounded brought in, I hastened to afford them all the assistance in my power. I may ascribe to my unwearied assiduity the preservation of the life of lieutenant M**, a Swedish officer, who was dangerously wounded; and by means of it I had likewise the satisfaction to save the arm of the Prussian captain Von B***, which, but for that, would certainly have required amputation. On the other hand, all my exertions in behalf of the Swedish major Von Doebeln proved unavailing; I had the mortification to see him expire.