when he found many hundreds of his fellow-sufferers
moaning with anguish on the wet stones, without straw
to lie upon, without shelter of any kind, without medical
or surgical attendance, nay, even without a drop of
water, for which they so often and so earnestly petitioned;—when
he was peremptorily refused admittance at the door,
and he too had no other resource than to seek a couch
like the rest upon the hard pavement, which his wounds
very often were unable to endure. No more attention
was here paid to him than the stones on which he gave
vent to his anguish. Many hobbled farther in
quest of something to appease the cravings of hunger
and thirst. But who could give it them?
Extreme want had long prevailed in the city; the very
inhabitants had great trouble and difficulty to obtain
for money sufficient to make a scanty meal for themselves
and their families. The fainting soldier might
think himself fortunate if his solicitations procured
him a crust of bread or an apple. Thousands were
not so lucky.—Such was the state of things
at the magazine; such was the spectacle exhibited
in all the streets, and especially in the market-place,
where every corner provided with a shelter was converted
into an hospital. The consequences were inevitable.
Many; as might naturally be expected, perished, in
the night, of hunger, agony, and cold. Their
lot was enviable—they no longer needed any
human assistance. What heart would not have bled
at such scenes of horror!—and yet it was
the very countrymen of these unfortunate wretches
who seemed to care the least about them, and passed
by with the most frigid indifference, probably because
they are so familiarized with such spectacles.
O ye mothers, ye fathers, ye sisters of France, had
ye here beheld your agonized sons and brothers, the
sight, like a hideous phantom, would surely have haunted
you to the last moment of your lives. The laurels
acquired by your nation have indeed been purchased
at a most exorbitant price.
I have forgotten to mention a circumstance worthy
of notice in the history of this day. It is this;
that in the midst of the cannonade all round Leipzig—when
the whole city shook with the thunders of the artillery,
and the general engagement had, strictly speaking,
but just commenced—all the bells of the
churches were rung by French command, to celebrate
the victory won in the forenoon. Such an instance
was certainly never afforded by any battle which had
scarcely begun, and terminated in the total and decisive
overthrow of him who had already fancied himself mounted
in triumph upon the car of victory. This day,
however, the engagement still remained undecided, according
to the reports of those who returned from different
points of the field of battle. The French had
stood as if rooted to the spot—the allies,
like rocks of granite. The former had fought
like men, the latter like lions. Both parties,
inspired with mutual respect, desisted from hostilities
during the night.