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Fifteen minutes afterward, General Blucher entered with Gneisenau
the small chamber called his headquarters; all the other rooms were
filled with the wounded prior to the general's arrival at
Brechtelshof. Pains had been taken to render this chamber as cosy
and comfortable as possible, and, when Blucher entered, he was
gratified in seeing a straw mattress near the wall, and on the table
(beside a flickering tallow-candle placed in a bottle) a flask of
wine, with a few glasses, and near it a large inkstand and several
sheets of paper.

"Well," cried Blucher, cheerfully, "let us divide fraternally,
Gneisenau; I will take the wine, and you the ink. But, first, I will
give you a glass, and in return you will afterward let me have a
drop of ink." Sitting down on one of the wooden stools, he quickly
filled two glasses to the brim. "Gneisenau," he said, solemnly, "let
us drink this in honor of those who are lying on the battle-field,
and who hare died like brave men! May God bid them welcome, and be a
merciful Judge to them! Let us drink also in commemoration of Queen
Louisa and Scharnhorst, who both doubtless looked down upon us from
heaven to-day, and assisted us in achieving a victory. To them I am
indebted for all I am. But for the angelic face of the queen the
calamity of the accursed year 1807 would have driven me to despair
and death: and but for Scharnhorst I should never have been
appointed general-in-chief. Why, they all considered me a bombastic
old dotard of big words and small deeds; but Scharnhorst defended me
before the king and the emperor, and what I am now I am through him,
because he, the noblest of men, believed in me. And I will not give
the lie to his faith, I will still accomplish glorious things--to-
day's work is only a beginning."

"But what you have done to-day is something glorious, your
excellency," said Gneisenau. "That we have gained the battle, thanks
to your generalship and the enthusiasm of the troops, is not the
greatest advantage. A more important one is, that the Silesian army
has been able to prove what it is, and what a chieftain is at its
head. Now, all those will be silenced who constantly mistrusted and
suspected us; who tried to sow the seeds of discord between the
Silesian army and the headquarters of the allies; and who were
intent on preventing your excellency from entering upon an
independent and energetic course of action."

"It is true, they call me a mad hussar," said Blucher, shrugging his
shoulders; "and Bonaparte, as I read somewhere the other day, calls
me even a drunken hussar. Well, no matter! let them say what they
please. And, moreover, they are all, to some extent, justified in
making such assertions; for I cannot deny that the years of waiting,
during which I was obliged to swallow my grief, really made me a
little mad, and with sobriety I never intend to meet Bonaparte; but,
for all that, it is unnecessary for me to be drunk with wine. I am
still intoxicated with joy that we have at length been allowed to
attack the French, and God grant that I may never awaken from this
intoxication! Well, Gneisenau, now let us go to work!--you with the
ink, and I with the wine! Draw up the necessary instructions for the
pursuit of the enemy, and, in the mean time, I will consider what I
have to write."

Gneisenau took the pen, and wrote; Blucher the glass, and drank.
Half an hour passed in silence; Gneisenau then laid down his pen,
for he had finished the instructions; and Blucher pushed the glass
aside, for the bottle was empty.

"I beg leave now to read the instructions to your excellency," said
Gneisenau.

"No," said Blucher, "not now! I have myself gathered some thoughts,
and if I defer writing them down, they will fly away like young
swallows. Such ideas, that are to be written down, are not
accustomed to have their nest in my head, and for this reason I will
let them out immediately. I will write to the king and to the city
of Breslau, informing him that we have gained the battle, and the
city of Breslau that it ought to do something for my wounded. Give
me the pen; I shall not be long about it." With extraordinary
rapidity he wrote words of such a size that it would have been easy
even for a short-sighted person to read them at a distance; and,
although they were drawn across the paper very irregularly, the
general always took pains to have broad intervals between the lines,
that there might be no probability of leaving them illegible. A
sheet was soon filled; Blucher fixed his signature, and contemplated
the paper for a moment. Half an hour afterward two other sheets,
filled with strange and uncouth characters, lay before the old
general, and he cast the pen aside with a sigh. "It is abominable
work to write letters," he said; "I cannot comprehend why you,
Gneisenau, who are so good a soldier, at the same time know so well
how to wield the pen. It is not my forte, although I had a notion
once to be a savant, and really become a sort of writer. In those
calamitous days, subsequent to 1807, despair and ennui sought for
some relief to my mind, and made me write a book, and I believe a
good one."

"A book?" asked Gueisenau, in amazement. "And you had it printed,
your excellency?"

"Not I; I was no such fool as to do that. The critics and newspaper
editors, who talk about every thing, and know nothing, would have
pounced upon my book, and severely censured it. No, my dear
Gneisenau, one must not cast pearls before swine. I keep my book in
my desk, and show it only to those whom I particularly esteem. When
we return home from the campaign I will let you read it; I know it
will please you, and you will learn something. My work is called
'Observations on the Instruction and Tactics of Cavalry.' A splendid
title, is it not? Well, you may believe me, there is a great deal in
it, and many a one would be glad of having written it. [Footnote:
Blucher was proud of this work, the only one he ever wrote, and
always referred to it in terms of great satisfaction.--Vide
Varnhagen von Ense, "Life of Prince Blucher of Wahlstatt," p. 530.]
Let us say no more about it. Here are my two dispatches; there is
the letter to the king, and here is my letter to the city of
Breslau, and--you must do me a favor, Gneisenau. You must read what
I have written, and if I have made any blunders in orthography or
grammar, be so kind as to correct them."

"But, your excellency," said Gneisenau, "no one can express himself
so vigorously as you, and no one knows how to put the right word in
the right place as quickly as you do."

"Yes, as to the words, yon are right. But the grammar! there's the
rub. Men are so foolish as to refuse speaking as they please, but
render life even more burdensome by all sorts of grammatical rules.
I have never in my whole life paid any attention to them, but have
spoken my mind freely and fearlessly. But as people really do
consider him a blockhead who does not talk as they do, let us humor
them, and please correct my mistakes; but, pray, do so in such a
manner that it will not be found out." He handed Gneisenau the pen,
and pushed the two letters toward him. "Correct what I have
written," he said; "in the mean time I will read what you have
written."

"And pray be so kind as to correct it, too, your excellency," begged
Gneisenau, "for possibly I may have made mistakes weighing heavier
than mere infractions of grammatical rules, and I may not have
succeeded in rendering your instructions in words as concise and
distinct as you gave them to me."

"Well, we shall see," exclaimed Blucher, smiling, and taking up the
paper.

"Very good," he said, after reading it through, "every thing is done
just as I wished it, and if all our commanders act in accordance
with these instructions, we shall give the enemy no time for taking
a position anywhere, but completely disperse his forces without
being compelled to fight another battle."

"And when the city of Breslau reads this noble and affecting plea
for your wounded," said Gneisenau, "they will be nursed in the most
careful manner, and our able-bodied soldiers will receive wagon-
loads of food and refreshments. And when the king reads this
dispatch, announcing our victory in language so modest and
unassuming, his heart will feel satisfaction, and he will rejoice
equally over the victory and the general to whom he is indebted for
it."

"Have you corrected the grammatical blunders?"

"I have, your excellency; I have erased them so cautiously that no
one can see that any thing has been corrected."

"Well, then, be so kind as to dispatch a courier."

"But, your excellency," said Gneisenau, "shall the courier take only
these two dispatches? Have you forgotten that you promised Madame
von Blucher to write to her after every battle, whether victorious
or not, and that I solemnly pledged her my word to remind your
excellency of it?"

"Well, it is unnecessary to remind me," cried Blucher, taking up the
letter he had first written. "Here is my letter to Amelia. She is a
faithful wife, and I surely owed it to her to tell her first that
the Lord has been kind and gracious enough toward me to let me gain
the battle. But you need not correct it. My Amelia will not blame me
for my grammatical blunders, and to her I freely speak my mind."

"Did you inform your wife, too, that you drew your sword yourself,
and rushed into the thickest of the fray?"

"I shall take good care not to tell her any thing of the kind,"
exclaimed Blucher. "As far as that is concerned, I did not speak my
mind to her. It is true I had promised my dear wife to be what she
calls sensible, and only to command and play the distinguished
general who merely looks on while others do the fighting. But it
would not do--you must admit, Gneisenau, it would not do; I could
not stand still like a scarecrow, while my old adjutant, Katzeler,
was charging with the hussars; I had to go with them, if it cost my
life. You will do me the favor, however, not to betray it to
Amelia."

"Even though I should be silent, your excellency, your wife would
hear of it."

"You believe Hennemann will tell her?" asked Blucher, almost in
dismay. "Yes, it is true, she has ordered the pipe-master not to
lose sight of me in battle, and always to remain near me with the
pipe. Well, the fellow has kept his word; but he will now also
fulfil what he promised my wife, and tell her every thing. Yes, the
pipe-master will tell her that I was in the charge of the light
cavalry."

"Yes," exclaimed Gneisenau, smiling, "he will betray to your wife
and to history that Blucher fought and charged at the battle of the
Katzbach like a young man of twenty. But for the pipe-master history
might not know it at all."

"Gneisenau, you are decidedly too sharp," cried Blucher, stroking
his mustache. "Well, please forward the dispatches, and then let us
try to sleep a little. We must invigorate ourselves, for we shall
have plenty to do to-morrow. 'Forward, always forward!' until
Bonaparte is hurled from his throne; and hurled from it he will be!
Yes, as sure as there is a God in heaven!"

CHAPTER XXXVII.

THE REVOLT OF THE GENERALS.

On the morning of the 10th of October, Napoleon took leave of the
King and Queen of Saxony, after delivering at Eilenburg, whither he
had repaired with the royal family of Saxony, a solemn and
enthusiastic address to the corps which his faithful ally, King
Frederick Augustus, had added to his army, and which was to fight
jointly with the French against his enemies. He then entered the
carriage and rode to Duben, followed by his staff, the whole park of
artillery, and all the equipages. Gloomy and taciturn, the emperor,
on his arrival at the palace of Duben, retired into his apartments
and spread out the maps, on which colored pins marked the various
positions of the allies and his own army. "They are three to one
against me," he murmured, bending over the maps and contemplating
the pins. "Were none but determined and energetic generals, like
Blucher, at their head, my defeat would be certain. They would then
hem me in, bring on a decisive battle, and their overwhelming masses
would crush me and my army. Fortunately, there is no real harmony
among the allies; they will scatter their forces, post them here and
there, and in the mean time I shall march to Berlin, take the city,
repose there, and, with renewed strength, attack them one after
another. Ah, I shall succeed in defeating them, I--"

There was a low knock at the door, and Constant, his valet de
chambre, entered the room. "Sire," he said, "Marshal Marmont and the
gentlemen of the staff are in the reception-room, and request your
majesty graciously to grant them an audience."

An expression of surprise overspread the emperor's face, and for an
instant he seemed to hesitate; but gently nodding he said, calmly:
"Open the door. I grant them the audience."

Constant opened the folding-doors, and in the reception-room were
seen the marshals and generals assembled. Their faces were pale and
gloomy, and there was something solemn and constrained in their
whole bearing. When Napoleon appeared on the threshold, the groups
dispersed, and the gentlemen placed themselves in line, silent and
noiseless, along the wall opposite the emperor, seemingly at a loss
whether they or the emperor should utter the first word. Napoleon
advanced a few steps. For the first time his generals, the
companions of so many years and so many battles, seemed unable to
bear the emperor's glance. Napoleon saw this, and a bitter smile
flitted over his face. "Marmont," he exclaimed, in his ringing
voice, "what do you all want? Speak!"

"Sire," said the marshal, "we wish to take the liberty of addressing
a question and a request to your majesty."

"First, the question, then!"

"Sire, we take the liberty of asking whether your majesty really
intends to cross the Elbe with the army, and to resume the struggle
on the right bank?"

"You ask very abruptly and bluntly," said Napoleon, haughtily. "I
need not listen to you, but I will do so, nevertheless. I will reply
to your question, not because I must, but because I choose to do so.
Yes, gentlemen, I intend to transfer the whole army to the right
bank of the Elbe in order to occupy Brandenburg and Berlin, then
face about to the river, and make Magdeburg the support of my
further operations. [Footnote: Beitzke, vol. ii., p. 491.] This is
my plan, and you, according to your duty, will assist me in carrying
it into execution. I have replied to your question. Now let me hear
your request."

"Sire," said Marmont, after a brief silence, "now that we have heard
your gracious reply, I dare to give expression to our request, which
is not only ours, but that of all the officers of the army of
France. Sire, we implore you, give up this bold plan of operations;
do not vainly shed the blood of thousands! The odds are too great,
not only in numbers, but in warlike ardor. The enemy is struggling
against us with the fanaticism of hatred, and his threefold
superiority seems to secure victory to him. Our army, on the
contrary, is exhausted and tired of war, and the consciousness of
being engaged in a struggle that apparently holds out no prospects
of ultimate success, is paralyzing both its physical and moral
strength. Sire, we implore you, in the name of France, make peace!
Let us return to the Rhine! Let us at last rest from this prolonged
war! Oh, sire, give us peace!"

"Oh, sire, give us peace!" echoed the generals, in solemn chorus.

The emperor's eyes were fixed in succession upon the faces of the
bold men who dared thus to address him, and who, at this hour,
confronted him in a sort of open revolt. An expression of anger
flushed his face for an instant, and his features resumed their
impenetrable, stony look. "You have come to hold a council of war
with me," he said. "To be sure, I have not summoned you, but no
matter. It is your unanimous opinion that we should return to the
Rhine, and thence to France, avoid further battles, and make peace?"

"Sire, we pray your majesty this time to repress your military
genius under the mantle of your imperial dignity," cried the
marshal. "As soon as the general is silent, the emperor will
perceive that his people and his country need repose and peace.
France has given her wealth, her vigor, and her blood, for twenty
years of victories, and she has joyfully done so; but now her wealth
is exhausted, her strength and her youth are gone, for there are in
France no more young men, only the aged, invalids, and children; the
fighting-men lie on the battle-fields. Boys have been enrolled, and
are forming the young army of your majesty. Sire, it is the last
blood that France has to sacrifice: spare it! The enemy is thrice as
strong as we are, and even the military genius of your majesty will
be unable to achieve victories in so unequal a struggle. Listen,
therefore, to reason, to necessity, and to our prayer; make peace.
Sire, let us return to France!"

Another flush suffused Napoleon's face, but he controlled his anger.
"You believe, then, that it depends on me only to make peace?" he
asked, in a calm voice. "You think we would find no obstacles in our
way if we endeavored now to return to France?--that the enemy would
leave the roads open to us, and be content with our evacuating
Germany? This is a great mistake, gentlemen. I cannot make peace,
for the allies would not accept it. They know their strength, and
are intent on having war. You say their armies are thrice as strong
as mine, and that is the reason why we could not conquer? I might
reply to you what the great Conde replied to his generals, when he
was about to attack the superior Spanish army, 'Great battles are
gained with small armies.' And on the following day he gained the
battle of Lons. Yes, gentlemen, the victor of Rocroy and Lons was
right; great battles are gained with small armies; only we must make
our dispositions correctly, and scatter the forces of our
adversaries, instead of giving them an opportunity to concentrate
upon one point. It is, therefore, of vital importance for me to hold
the line of the Elbe, for with it I possess all the strong points of
Bohemia; and, besides, the fortresses of Custrin, Stettin, and
Glogau, are close to it. If I have to abandon that river, I abandon
all Germany to the Rhine, with all the fortresses, and the vast
materiel stored there. That would be to weaken us and strengthen the
enemy, now on the left bank. I will, therefore, cross to the right
bank of the Elbe, for thence I am able to deploy my whole army
without hinderance, and connect my line with Davoust at Hamburg, and
St. Cyr at Dresden. We shall easily take Berlin, raise the sieges of
Glogau, Stettin, and Custrin, and become masters of the situation.
Prussia, the hot-bed of this fermentation and revolution, will be
subjugated and crushed. That will discourage the others, and they
will fall back as they have so often, their plans will be
disorganized, and then I shall have gained my cause; for the
strength of the allies consists chiefly in the fact that they are
temporarily in harmony. Let us disorganize their plans, foster their
separate interests, and we gain every thing. When the Prussians see
their country threatened, they will hasten to its assistance; the
Russians, Swedes, and Austrians, will refuse to change and
reorganize their plans of operations for the sake of Prussia, and
discord will prevent them from acting. If Germany had been united,
and acted with one will, I could not have taken from her a single
village or fortress. Fortunately, however, the people do not act
unanimously; wherever ten Germans are assembled, there are also ten
separate interests at war among them, and this fact has delivered
the country into my hands. Let us, therefore, profit by this
national peculiarity; let us stir up their separate interests, and
that will be as advantageous as though we gained a battle. We shall,
then, cross over to the right bank of the Elbe, make Berlin our
centre, support our left on Dresden, our right on Magdeburg, and
face toward the west. At all events, this will bring about an entire
change of position, and it will then be my task to force my plans of
operation upon the allies." [Footnote: Beitzke, vol. ii., p. 492.]
"A task that would be easily accomplished by the genius of your
majesty, which is so superior to that of all the generals of the
allies," said the marshal; "but still this whole plan, how admirable
soever it may be, is altogether too bold. If we pass over to the
right bank of the Elbe, we would give up all connection with France;
the allies, it would be believed, had, by skilful manoeuvres, cut us
off--hurled us into inevitable destruction. Moreover--your majesty
will pardon me for this observation--we can no longer count upon the
assistance of our German auxiliaries. They will abandon us at the
very moment when we need them most. Even Bavaria is no longer a
reliable ally, for, notwithstanding the benefits your majesty has
conferred on her, she is about to ally herself with Austria. Sire,
you said a few minutes ago that you counted upon the discord of the
Germans, but this exists no more, or rather it exists only among the
princes; but we have no longer to fight the latter alone--we have to
struggle against the genius of Germany, which has risen against us,
and for the first time the whole nation is united in hatred and
wrath. Sire, this national spirit is more powerful than all princes
and all armies, for it overcomes the princes, and makes new armies
spring as if from the ground to defend the sacred soil of the
fatherland. Those armies we shall be unable to conquer: for one-half
of ours is composed of soldiers exhausted by continued wars, and
longing for peace; and the other half of young, ignorant conscripts,
who will yield to unwonted privations. Therefore, sire, I dare renew
my prayer, and implore your majesty to give up your plan against
Berlin! Let us not pass over to the right bank of the Elbe, but
march toward the Rhine!"

"Is that your opinion, too, gentlemen?" asked Napoleon, turning
toward the generals. "Do you, though I have condescended to explain
to you at length my plan, and the motives that have caused me to
adopt it, still persist in your belief that it would be better not
to pass to the right bank of the Elbe, but to return to the Rhine?"

"Yes," cried the generals, unanimously, "we persist in our opinion."

Napoleon drew back a step, and a pallor overspread his face; but
apparently he remained as cold and calm as ever. "My plan has been
deeply calculated," he said, after a pause; "I have admitted into
it, as a probable contingency, the defection of Bavaria. I am
convinced that the plan of marching on Berlin is good. A retrograde
movement, in the circumstances in which we are placed, is
disastrous; and those who oppose my projects have undertaken a
serious responsibility. However, I will think of it, and inform you
of my final decision." [Footnote: Napoleon's words.--Vide Fain,
"Manuscrit de 1813," vol. i.] He saluted the generals with a
careless nod and retired again into his cabinet.

The generals looked with anxious faces at one another when the door
closed. "What shall we do now?" they inquired. "Wait, and not
yield!" murmured the most resolute among them, and all agreed to do
so.

With gloomy glances did Napoleon, after his return to his cabinet,
look at the door that separated him from his mutinous generals. He
felt that now a new power had taken the field against him that might
become more dangerous than all the others, and that was the revolt
of his generals. He heard distinctly their last words. They had not
said, "We persist in our opinion, and would like to return," but,
"We must return to France." His generals, then, dared to have a will
of their own, and opposed to that of their emperor. They knew it,
and it did not deter them!

"Ah, the wretches," he murmured to himself, "they are blind! They
will not see that we are hastening to destruction. They compel me to
return as Alexander's generals compelled him to return! Woe to us!
We are lost!" He sank down on the sofa; and now, when none could see
him, the veil dropped from his face, the imperial mantle fell from
his cowering form, and he was but a weak, grief-stricken man, who,
with a pale and quivering face, was uncertain what to do. Hour after
hour elapsed. He was still sitting in the corner of the sofa, rigid
and motionless; only the sighs which heaved his breast from time to
time, and the quiver of his eyelids, betrayed the life that was
still animating him.

The court-marshal entered and announced dinner. The emperor waved
his hand to him that he might withdraw, and his marshals and
generals vainly awaited him. They looked at each other inquiringly
and murmured, "He is reflecting! We can wait, but we cannot yield!"

At the stated hour in the afternoon, the two topographers of the
emperor, Colonel Bacler d'Alba, and Colonel Duclay, entered the
emperor's cabinet. As usual, they rolled the table, covered with
maps and plans, before the emperor, and then took seats at the other
table standing in the corner, which was also covered in like manner.
They waited for the emperor, as was his habit, to speak and discuss
his movements with them. But he was silent; he took up, however, a
large sheet of white paper, and pen, and began to write. What did he
write? The topographers were unable to see it; they sat pen in hand,
and waited. But Napoleon was still silent. Hour after hour passed;
not a sound of the triumphant, joyous, and proud life which used to
surround the victorious emperor was to be heard in the dreary palace
of Duben. The anterooms were deserted; the generals remained all day
in the audience-room, and gazed with sullen faces upon the door of
the imperial cabinet. But this door did not open. In the cabinet the
emperor was still on his sofa, now leaning back in meditation, and
now bending over the map-table, and writing slowly. Opposite him sat
the two topographers, mournfully waiting for him to speak to them.
[Footnote: Odeleben, "The Campaign in Saxony in 1813."] But Napoleon
wrote, gazed into the air, sank back on the sofa, groaned, raised
himself again, and wrote on.