The city of Leipsic, engirdled by numerous villages, lies in a low plain watered by the Parthe, Pleisse, and Elster, the last of which to the westward has several arms, with swampy banks. Across these runs the highway to Frankfort, elevated on a dike, and spanning the deep, central stream of the Elster by a single bridge. Eastward by Connewitz the land is higher, there being considerable swells, and even hills, to the south and southeast. This rolling country was that chosen by Napoleon for the main battle against Schwarzenberg; Marmont was stationed north of the city, near Möckern, to observe Blücher; Bernadotte, the cautious, was still at Oppin with his Swedes. On the evening of the fifteenth, his dispositions being complete, Napoleon made the tour of all his posts. At dusk three white rockets were seen to rise in the southern sky; they were promptly answered by four red ones in the north. These were probably signals between Schwarzenberg and Blücher. Napoleon's watch-fire was kindled behind the old guard, between Reudnitz and Crottendorf.
The battle began early next morning. Napoleon waited until nine, and then advanced at the head of his guards to Liebertwolkwitz, near Wachau, on the right bank of the Pleisse, where the decisive struggle was sure to occur, since the mass of the enemy, under Barclay, with Wittgenstein as second in command, had attacked in four columns at that point. Between the Pleisse and the Elster, near Connewitz, stood Poniatowski, opposed to Schwarzenberg and Meerveldt; westward of the Elster, near Lindenau, stood Bertrand, covering the single line of retreat, the Frankfort highway, and his antagonist was Gyulay. Thus there were four divisions in the mighty conflict, which began by an onset of the allies along the entire front. The main engagement was stubborn and bloody, the allies attacking with little skill, but great bravery. Until near midday Napoleon more than held his own. Victor at Wachau, and Lauriston at Liebertwolkwitz, had each successfully resisted six desperate assaults; between them were massed the artillery, a hundred and fifty guns, under Drouot, and behind, all the cavalry except that of Sebastiani. The great artillery captain was about to give the last splendid exhibition of what his arm can do under favorable circumstances—that is, when strongly posted in the right position and powerfully supported by cavalry. He intended, with an awful shock and swift pursuit, to break through the enemy's center at Güldengossa and surround his right. So great was his genius for combinations that while the allies were that moment using three hundred and twenty-five thousand effective men all told to his two hundred and fourteen thousand, yet in the decisive spot he had actually concentrated a hundred and fifteen thousand to their hundred and fourteen thousand. This was because Schwarzenberg, having attempted to outflank the French, was floundering to no avail in the swampy meadows between the Pleisse and the Elster, and was no longer a factor in the contest.
When, at midday, all was in readiness and the order was given, the artillery fire was so rapid that the successive shots were heard, not separately, but in a long, sullen note. By two, Victor and Oudinot on the right, with Mortier and Macdonald on the left, were well forward of Güldengossa, but the place itself still held out. At three the cavalry, under Murat, Latour-Maubourg, and Kellermann, were sped direct upon it. With awful effort they broke through, and the bells of Leipsic began to ring in triumph—prematurely. The Czar had peremptorily summoned from Schwarzenberg's command the Austro-Russian reserve, and at four these, with the Cossack guard, charged the French cavalry, hurling them back to Markkleeberg. Nightfall found Victor again at Wachau, and Macdonald holding Liebertwolkwitz. Simultaneously with the great charge of the allies Meerveldt had dashed out from Connewitz toward Dölitz, but his force was nearly annihilated, and he himself was captured. At Möckern, Marmont, after gallant work with inferior numbers, had been beaten on his left, and then compelled for safety to draw in his right. While he still held Gohlis and Eutritzsch, the mass of his army had been thrown back into Leipsic. Throughout the day Bertrand made a gallant and successful resistance to superior numbers, and drove that portion of the allied forces opposed to him away from Lindenau as far as Plagwitz. At nightfall three blank shots announced the cessation of hostilities all around.
In the face of superior numbers, the French had not lost a single important position, and whatever military science had been displayed was all theirs; Blücher made the solitary advance move of the allies, the seizure of Möckern by York's corps; Schwarzenberg had been literally mired in his attempt to outflank his enemy, and but for Alexander's peremptory recall of the reserves destined for the same task, the day would have been one of irretrievable disaster to the coalition. Yet Napoleon knew that he was lost unless he could retreat. Clearly he had expected a triumph, for in the city nothing was ready, and over the Elster was but one crossing, the solitary bridge on the Frankfort road. The seventeenth was the first day of the week; both sides were exhausted, and the Emperor of the French seems to have felt that at all hazards he must gain time. During the previous night long consultations had been held, and the French divisions to the south had been slightly compacted. In the morning Meerveldt, the captured Austrian general, the same man who after Austerlitz had solicited and obtained on the part of Francis an interview from Napoleon, was paroled, and sent into his own lines to ask an armistice, together with the intervention of Francis on the terms of Prague: renunciation of Poland and Illyria by Napoleon, the absolute independence of Holland, of the Hanse towns, of Spain, and of a united Italy. When we remember that England was paymaster to the coalition, and was fighting for her influence in Holland, and that Austria's ambition was for predominance in a disunited Italy, we feel that apparently Napoleon wanted time rather than hoped for a successful plea to his father-in-law.
This would be the inevitable conclusion except for the fact that he withdrew quietly to his tent and there remained; the resourceful general was completely apathetic, being either over-confident in his diplomatic mission or stunned by calamity. The day passed without incident except a momentary attack on Marmont, and the arrival of Bernadotte, who had been spurred to movement by a hint from Gneisenau concerning the terms on which Great Britain was to pay her subsidies. It was asserted at the time that Napoleon gave orders early in the morning for building numerous bridges over the western streams. If so, they were not executed, only a single flimsy structure being built, and that on the road leading from the town, not on the lines westward from his positions in the suburbs. His subordinates should have acted in so serious a matter even without orders; but, like the drivers of trains which run at lightning speed, they had, after years of high-pressure service, lost their nerve. Marmont asserts that even Napoleon was nerveless. "We were occupied," he wrote, "in restoring order among our troops; we should either have commenced our retreat, or at least have prepared the means to commence it at nightfall. But a certain carelessness on the part of Napoleon, which it is impossible to explain and difficult to describe, filled the cup of our sorrows." Considering who wrote these words, they must be taken with allowance; but they indicate a truth, that in his decadence this hitherto many-sided man could not be both general and emperor. No answer from Francis was received; the allies agreed on this course, and determined, according to their agreement with England, not to cease fighting till the last French soldier was over the Rhine. It was midnight when Napoleon finally drew in his posts and gave preliminary orders to dispose his troops in readiness either to fight or to retreat.
When day dawned on October eighteenth the French army occupied an entirely new position: the right wing, under Murat, lying between Connewitz and Dölitz; the center at Probstheida in a salient angle; the left, under Ney, with front toward the north between Paunsdorf and Gohlis. Within this arc, and close about the city, stood all the well-tried corps, infantry, artillery, and cavalry, under their various leaders of renown—Poniatowski, Augereau, Victor, Drouot, Kellermann, Oudinot, Latour-Maubourg, Macdonald, Marmont, Reynier, and Souham; Napoleon was on a hillock at Thonberg, with the old guard in reserve. His chief concern was the line of retreat, which was still open when, at seven, the fighting began. Schwarzenberg, with the left, could get no farther than Connewitz. Bennigsen, with the right, started to feel Bernadotte and complete the investment. Neither was entirely successful, but Marmont withdrew from before Blücher, and Ney from before Bernadotte and Bennigsen, in order to avoid being surrounded; so that the two French armies were united before nightfall on the western outskirts of the town, where Bertrand had routed Gyulay, and had kept open the all-important line of retreat, over which, since noon, trains of wagons had been passing. But magnificent as was the work of all these doughty champions on both sides, it was far surpassed in the center, where during the entire day, under Napoleon's eye, advance and resistance had been desperate. Men fell like grass before the scythe, and surging lines of their comrades moved on from behind. Such were the numbers and such the carnage that men have compared the conflict to that of the nations at Armageddon.
At Victor's stand, near Probstheida, the fighting was fiercer than the fiercest. The allied troops charged with fixed bayonets, rank after rank, column following on column; cannon roared while grape-shot and shells sped to meet the assailants; men said the air was full of human limbs; ten times Russians and Prussians came on, only to be ten times driven back. The very soil on which the assailants trod was human flesh. Hour after hour the slaughter continued. Occasionally the French attempted a rally, but only to be thrown back by musket fire and cavalry charge. It was the same at Stötteritz, where no one seemed to pause for breath. Woe to him who fell in fatigue: he was soon but another corpse in the piles over which new reinforcements came on to the assault or countercharge. At last there was scarcely a semblance of order; in hand-to-hand conflict men shouted, struggled, wrestled, thrust, advanced, and withdrew, and in neither combatants nor onlookers was there any sense of reality. By dusk the heated cannon were almost useless, the muskets entirely so, and, as darkness came down, the survivors fell asleep where they stood, riders in their saddles, horses in their tracks. Napoleon learned that thirty-five thousand Saxons on the left had gone over to the enemy, and some one of his staff handing him a wooden chair, he dropped into it and sank into a stupor almost as he touched it. For half an hour he sat in oblivion, while in the thickening darkness the marshals and generals gathered about the watch-fires, and stood with sullen mien to abide his awakening. The moon came slowly up, Napoleon awoke, orders were given to complete the dispositions for retreat already taken, and, there being nothing left to do, the Emperor, with inscrutable emotions, passed inside the walls of Leipsic to take shelter in an inn on the creaking sign-board of which were depicted the arms of Prussia!
Throughout the night French troops streamed over the stone bridge across the Elster; in the early morning the enemy began to advance, and ever-increasing numbers hurried away to gain the single avenue of retreat. Until midday Napoleon wandered aimlessly about the inner town, giving unimportant commands to stem the ever-growing confusion and disorder. Haggard, and with his clothing in disarray, he was not recognized by his own men, being sometimes rudely jostled. After an affecting farewell to the King of Saxony, in which his unhappy ally was instructed to make the best terms he could for himself, the Emperor finally fell into the throng and moved with it toward Lindenau. Halting near the Elster, a French general began to seek information from the roughly clad onlooker who, without a suite or even a single attendant, stood apparently indifferent, softly whistling, "Malbrook s'en va t'en guerre." Of course the officer started as he recognized the Emperor, but the conquered sovereign took no notice. Bystanders thought his heart was turned to stone. Still the rush of retreat went on, successfully also, in spite of some confusion, until at two some one blundered. By the incredible mistake of a French subaltern, as is now proven, the permanent Elster bridge was blown up, and the temporary one had long since fallen. Almost simultaneously with this irreparable disaster the allies had stormed the city, and the French rear-guard came thundering on, hoping to find safety in flight. Plunging into the deep stream, many, like Poniatowski, were drowned; some, like the wounded Macdonald, swam safely across. The scene was heartrending as horses, riders, and footmen rolled senseless in the dark flood, while others scrambled over their writhing forms in mad despair. Reynier and Lauriston, with twenty thousand men, were captured, the King of Saxony was sent a prisoner to Berlin, and Stein prepared to govern his domains by commission from the allies. By ten in the evening Bertrand was in possession of Weissenfels; Oudinot wheeled at Lindenau, and held the unready pursuers in check.
Next morning, the twentieth, Napoleon was alert and active; retreat began again, but only in tolerable order. Although he could not control the great attendant rabble of camp-followers and stragglers, he had nevertheless about a hundred and twenty thousand men under his standards; as many more, and those his finest veterans, were besieged and held in the fortresses of the Elbe, Oder, and Vistula by local militia. These places, he knew, would no longer be tenable; in fact, they began to surrender almost immediately, and the survivors of Leipsic were soon in a desperate plight from hunger and fatigue. Yet the commander gave no sign of sensibility. "'T was thus he left Russia," said the surly men in the ranks. Hunger-typhus appeared, and spread with awful rapidity; the country swarmed with partizans; the columns of the allies were behind and on each flank; fifty-six thousand Bavarians were approaching from Ansbach, under Wrede; at Erfurt all the Saxons and Bavarians still remaining under the French eagles marched away. The only foreign troops who kept true were those who had no country and no refuge, the unhappy Poles, who, though disappointed in their hopes, were yet faithful to him whom they wrongly believed to have been their sincere friend. Though stricken by all his woes, the Emperor was undaunted; the retreat from Germany was indeed perilous, but it was marked by splendid courage and unsurpassed skill. At Kösen and at Eisenach the allies were outwitted, and at Hanau, on the twenty-ninth, the Bavarians were overwhelmed in a pitched fight by an exhibition of personal pluck and calmness on Napoleon's part paralleled only by his similar conduct at Krasnoi in the previous year. At the head of less than six thousand men, he held in check nearly fifty thousand until the rest of his columns came up, when he fell with the old fire upon a hostile line posted with the river Kinzig in its rear, and not only disorganized it utterly, but inflicted on it a loss of ten thousand men, more than double the number which fell in his own ranks. But in spite of this brilliant success, the ravages of disease continued, and only seventy thousand men of the imperial army crossed the Rhine to Mainz. Soon the houses of that city were packed, and the streets were strewn with victims of the terrible hunger-typhus. They died by hundreds, and corpses lay for days unburied; before the plague was stayed thousands found an inglorious grave.