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 Lübeck, 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 Ranstädt gate, the thicker lay the dead bodies. The Ranstädt causeway, which is crossed by what is called the Mühlgraben (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 Löhr was particularly remarkable. Here French artillery had been stationed towards Göhlis; 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 Markranstädt 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 Blücher, Bülow, 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. Blücher'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 Lützen 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.