Field-Marshal von Mullendorf, who was to accompany the troops, after being lifted on the left side of his charger, fell down on the other.]

CHAPTER LXII.

BEFORE THE BATTLE.

It was long after nightfall. A cold and dismal night. The mountains of the forests of Thuringia bordered the horizon with their snow-clad summits, and a piercing wind was howling over the heights and through the valleys.

The Prussian army seemed at length to have reached its destination, and here, on the hills and in the valleys of Jena and Auerstadt, the great conflict was to be decided, for the Prussian army was now confronting the legions of Napoleon.

The princ.i.p.al army, with the commander-in-chief, the Duke of Brunswick, the king, and the staff, was encamped at Auerstadt.

The second army, commanded by the Prince von Hohenlohe, was in the immediate neighborhood of Jena.

It was still firmly believed that Prussia would accomplish her great purpose, and defeat Napoleon. The disastrous skirmish of Saalfeld, and the death of Prince Louis Ferdinand, had made a bad impression, but not shaken the general confidence.

It is true, the Prussians were cold, for they had no cloaks; it is true, they were hungry, for, owing to the sudden lack of bread, they had received only half rations for the last few days; but their hearts were still undismayed, and they longed only for one thing--for the decisive struggle. The decision, at all events, could not but put an end to their hunger, either by death or by a victory, which would open to them large army magazines and supplies.

The Prussian troops encamped at Jena stood quietly before their tents and chatted about the hopes of the next day; they told each other that Bonaparte with his French, as soon as he had heard that the Prussians were already at Jena, had hastily left Weimar again and retreated toward Gera.

"Then it will be still longer before we get hold of the French,"

exclaimed several soldiers. "We thought we had got him sure at last, and that he could not escape any more, and when he scented us, he again found a mouse-hole through which he might get away."

"But we will close this mouse-hole for him, so that he cannot get out of it," said a powerful voice behind them, and when the soldiers turned anxiously around, they beheld their general, the Prince von Hohenlohe, who, walking with his adjutants through the camp, just reached their tents.

The soldiers faced about and respectfully saluted the general, who kindly nodded to them.

"You would be glad then to meet the French soon?" he asked the soldiers, whose conversation he had overheard.

"Yes, we should be glad," they exclaimed; "it would be a holiday for us."

"Well, it may happen very soon," said the prince, smiling, and continued his walk.

"Long live the Prince von Hohenlohe!" shouted the soldiers. The prince walked on, everywhere greeting the soldiers and receiving their salutations; everywhere filling the men with exultation by promising them that they would soon have a battle and defeat the French.

Now he stopped in front of the grenadiers, who were drawn up in line before him.

"Boys," he said, loudly and joyously, "you will have to perform the heaviest part of the work. If need be, you must make a bayonet charge, and I know you will rout the enemy wherever you meet with him. I am sure you will do so!"

"Yes, we will!" shouted the grenadiers; "most a.s.suredly we will! Would we had already got hold of the French!"

"We will soon enough," exclaimed the prince; and when he then walked along the ranks, he asked a tall, broad-shouldered grenadier. "Well, how many French soldiers will you take?"

"Five," said the grenadier.

"And you?" said the prince, to another grenadier.

"Three," he replied.

"I shall not take less than seven!" shouted another.

"I shall not take less than ten!" said still another.

The prince laughed and pa.s.sed on.

When the night had further advanced, he rode with his staff to a hill near Kapellendorf, where he had established his headquarters.

From this hill he closely scanned the position of the enemy, whose camp was marked only by a few lights and bivouac-fires.

"We shall have nothing to do to-morrow," said the prince, turning to his officers. "It seems the princ.i.p.al army of the French is moving toward Leipsic and Naumburg. At the best, we shall have a few skirmishes of no consequence to-morrow. We may, therefore, calmly go to bed, and so may our soldiers. Good-night, gentlemen."

And the prince rode with his adjutants down to his headquarters at Kapellendorf, to go to bed and sleep. An hour later, profound silence reigned in the Prussian camp near Jena. The soldiers were sleeping, and so was their general.

And profound silence reigned also in the Prussian camp at Auerstadt. The king had held a council of war late in the evening, and conferred with the Duke of Brunswick, Field-Marshal von Mullendorf, and the other generals about the operations of the following day. The result of this consultation had been that n.o.body believed in the possibility of a battle on the following day; and hence, it had been decided that the army was quietly to advance, follow the enemy, who seemed to retreat, and prevent him from crossing the Saale.

The council of war had then adjourned, and the Duke of Brunswick hastened to his quarters, in order, like the Prince von Hohenlohe, to go to bed and sleep.

An hour lafer, profound silence reigned also in the Prussian camp at Auerstadt. The Duke of Brunswick slept, and so did his soldiers.

The king alone was awake.

With a heavy heart and a gloomy face, he was walking up and down in his tent. He felt indescribably lonesome, for his wife was no longer with him. Yielding, with bitter tears, to the supplications of her husband, she had left the camp to-day and gone toward Naumburg.

The king had implored her to go, but his heart was heavy; and when he at last, late at night, repaired to his couch, slumber kept aloof from his eyes.

At the same time, while the Prussian army and its generals were sleeping, a wondrous scene took place not far from them, and a singular procession moved across the fields at no great distance from Jena.

Silence, darkness, and fog reigned all around. But suddenly the fog parted, and two torch-bearers, with grave faces, appeared accompanying a man clad in a green overcoat, with white facings, with a small three-cornered hat on his head, and mounted on a white horse. The blaze of the torches illuminated his pale face; his eyes were as keen as those of an eagle, and seemed to command the fog to disappear, so that he might see what it was concealing from him. At his side, whenever the torches blazed up, two other hors.e.m.e.n, in brilliant uniforms, were to be seen; but their eyes did not try to pierce the fog, but to fathom the face of the proud man at their side; their eyes were fixed on him, on his pale face, on which, even at this hour of the night, the sun of Austerlitz was shedding his golden rays.

While the Prussian army and its generals were sleeping, Napoleon was awake and was arranging the plans for the impending battle. The postmaster of Jena and General Denzel were his torch-bearers; Marshal Lannes and Marshal Soult were his companions.

The Emperor Napoleon was reconnoitering, in the dead of night, the ground on which he was to gain a battle over the Prussians on the morrow, as he had recently gained a battle over the Austrians.

Austria had had her Austerlitz; Prussia was to have her Auerstadt and Jena.

Napoleon had fixed his plan; to-morrow was the day when he would take revenge on the King of Prussia for the treaty of Potsdam and the alliance with Russia.

Arriving at the foot of the hill of Jena, the emperor stopped and alighted, in order to ascend it on foot. When he reached the summit, he stood for a long while absorbed in his reflections. The two torch-bearers were at his side; the two marshals stood a little behind them. The emperor's eyes were fixed on the mountains, especially on the Dornberg which he had previously pa.s.sed.

The mountain lay dark and silent before him--a lonely, sleeping giant.

The emperor raised his arm and pointed at the Dornberg. "The Prussians have left the heights," he said, turning slowly to Marshal Lannes; "they were probably afraid of the cold night-air, and have descended into the valley to sleep. They believe we shall not take advantage of their slumber. But they will be dreadfully mistaken, those old wigs! [Napoleon said: "Ils se tromperent formidablement ces vieux perruques."] As soon as the fog has descended a little post your sharpshooters on the heights of the Dornberg, that they may bid the Prussians good-morning when they want to march up again!"

He turned his eyes again to the gorge; suddenly his eyes flashed fire and seemed to pierce the darkness.

"What is going on in the gorge below?" he asked, hastily.