The natural ardour of my mind was peculiarly stimulated on this occasion. Never having witnessed before any scene of a corresponding nature, I could not (and indeed sought not to) repress a sensation of awe: I felt my breathing short or protracted as the character of the scene varied. An old soldier would no doubt have laughed at the excess of my emotion—particularly as the affair, although sharp, was not of a very extensive nature. It was said that the Prussians, &c. amounted to thirty thousand. If so, they were on the left, out of my sight. The French certainly were not so numerous. I guessed twenty thousand. There were no English. But there were of Brunswickers, I think, some regiments in scarlet. I at the time took them for English. There was no charge of cavalry, that I saw: but great bodies were in motion on the plain of Grenelle and the road.
One observation was forcibly impressed on me; namely, that both the firing and manœuvring of the French were a great deal more rapid than those of the Prussians. When a change of position was made, the Prussians marched—the French ran: their advance was quicker—their retreat less regular: but their rallying seemed to me most extraordinary: dispersed detachments of the French reassociated with the rapidity of lightning, and advanced again as if they had never separated.
The combats within the hotel of Bellevue and the courts behind were of course concealed: but if I might judge from the constant firing within—the echoes—the loud crash of doors and casements—the sudden rushes from the house—the storming at the entrance, and the battles on the lawn and in the hall,—there must have been great carnage. In my simplicity, I only wondered how any body could escape.
The battle now extended to, and quite filled the village of Issy, which was taken and retaken many times. Neither party could keep possession of it—scouting in and out as fortune wavered; then storming again; then retiring in disorder; and again, in narrow columns, forcing back into the streets. At length, probably from the actual exhaustion of the men, the fire of musketry slackened, but the cannon still rolled at intervals around Sevres. In the wood of Sevres the firing was incessant; and a Prussian shell fell into the celebrated manufactory of that place, while several cannon-shot penetrated the handsome hotel which stands on an eminence above Sevres, and killed fourteen or fifteen Prussian officers, who were in a group taking refreshment.[[49]]
I now began to feel weary of gazing on the boisterous monotony of the fight, which, so far as any advantage appeared to be gained on either side, might be interminable. A man actually engaged in battle can see but little and think less; but a secure and contemplative spectator has open to him a field of inexhaustible reflection; and my faculties were fast becoming abstracted from the scene of strife, when a loud and uncommon noise announced some singular event, and once more excited me. We could not perceive whence it came; but guessed, and truly, that it proceeded from the demolition of the bridge of St. Cloud, which the French had blown up. A considerable number of French troops now appeared withdrawing from the battle, and passing to our side of the river, many on rafts, far above the bridge, which was just under our feet. We could not tell the cause of this movement, but it was reported by a man who came into the field that the English army at St. Denis was seen in motion, and that some attack on our side of the city itself might be expected. I knew not the fact, and I scarcely believed this: yet the retreat of a part of the French troops tended not to discourage the idea; and as the national guards were heard beating to arms in all directions of the city, I thought it most advisable to return, which I immediately did before the firing had ceased, and in the same cabriolet. Immense bodies of the national guards were collecting in companies; but I believe did not form into any columns.
[49]. I visited the spot a few days subsequently, and found that noble hall, which had been totally lined by the finest mirrors, without one remaining. I never saw such useless and wanton devastation as had been committed. I learned that it was the Cossacks who broke all the mirrors, looking for money behind them.
On my return, judge of my astonishment at finding the very same assemblage in the very same place on the boulevard as when I left it; nor did a single being, except my own family, express the slightest curiosity upon hearing whence I had come.
The English army, as it turned out, did not move. The firing, after awhile, totally ceased; and the French cavalry (which I did not see engaged) with some infantry marched into the Champ de Mars, to take up their night’s position.