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"Every thing is going on satisfactorily," said Count Puckler, on coming to the governor of the fortress, General Thile, on the morning of the 30th of December. "We shall hold out till the Prince von Pless, who has lately been appointed by the king governor-general of Silesia, arrives with his troops to succor us and to raise the siege of Breslau."
The governor shrugged his shoulders. "There will be no succor for us, and every thing will turn out wrong," he said.
"But the soldiers are faithful, and the citizens do not waver as yet."
The governor looked almost compa.s.sionately at the count. "You see none but the faithful, and hear none but the undaunted," he said. "I will show you the reverse of your bright medal!" He took a paper from his desk and beckoned the count to approach. "Just look at this; it is the morning report. Do you want to know how many soldiers deserted last night? Over a hundred, and in order to put a stop to further desertions, the countersign had to be changed three times."
"The deserters are the perfidious, treacherous Poles!" exclaimed Puckler, angrily.
"Yes, the Poles were the first to desert, and, unfortunately, more than half the garrison consists of Poles. They are the old soldiers who were organized in accordance with your proposition, my dear count. They are yearning for home, and long to obtain, in place of the scanty rations they receive here, the fleshpots which the Emperor Napoleon has promised to happy Poland."
"But they need not starve here; they are provided with sufficient food,"
exclaimed Puckler. "Only yesterday I saw a subscription-paper circulating among the citizens for the purpose of raising money to furnish the men on duty on the ramparts with meat, whiskey, and hot beer."
"How many had signed it?"
"More than a hundred, general."
"Well, I will show you another subscription-paper," said the governor, taking it from his desk. "A deputation of the citizens were here last night and presented this to me. It contains a request to give them, amidst so many sufferings, the hope of speedy succor, lest they be driven to despair. Over two hundred signed this paper. I could not hold out any hopes, and had to dismiss them without any consolation whatever."
"But succor will come," exclaimed Puckler.
"It will not come," said the governor, shrugging his shoulders.
At that moment the door opened, and an orderly entered. "Lieutenant Schorlemmer, in command of the forces at the Schweidnitz Gate, sent me here," he said. "He instructed me to inform the governor that the firing of field and siege artillery was to be heard, and the village of Durgoy was burning!"
"The enemy is manoeuvring, and, no doubt, set the village unintentionally on fire. Tell Lieutenant Schorlemmer that is my reply."
No sooner had the orderly withdrawn than the officer in command of the engineers entered the room. "Your excellency," he exclaimed, hastily, "I have just come from the Ohlau Gate. The enemy is hurrying with his field-pieces and many troops from the trenches toward the Schweidnitz road, and the firing that began an hour ago is gradually approaching the fortress."
"The succoring troops are drawing near," exclaimed Count Puckler, joyfully. "The Prince von Pless at the head of his regiments has attacked the enemy!"
The governor cast an angry glance on the rash speaker. "It is true you know all these things a great deal better than old, experienced soldiers" he said; "you will permit me, however, to be guided by my own opinion. Now, I think that the enemy is only manoeuvring for the purpose of decoying the garrison from the city. We shall not be so foolish, however, as to be caught in such a manner. But I will go and satisfy myself about this matter. Come, Mr. Chief-Engineer, and accompany me to the Ohlau Gate. And you, Count Puckler, go to General Lindener to ascertain his opinion. He has good eyes and ears, and if he view the matter in the same light as I do, I shall be convinced that we are right."
Count Puckler hastened away, and while the governor, with the chief-engineer, was walking very leisurely to the Ohlau Gate, Puckler rushed into the house of General Lindener, determined to make the utmost efforts to induce the governor to order a sally of the garrison. But General Lindener had already left his palace and gone to the Taschen bastion for the purpose of making his observations. Count Puckler followed him; he could make but slow headway, for the streets were densely crowded; every one was inquiring why the enemy had suddenly ceased sh.e.l.ling the city.
Count Puckler rushed forward toward the Taschen bastion, and the constantly increasing mult.i.tude followed him. General Lindener stood amidst the superior officers on the rampart of the Taschenberg. He was scanning the horizon with scrutinizing glances. The officers now looked at him in great suspense, and now at the open field extending in front of them. Count Puckler approached, while the people, who had almost forcibly obtained admission, advanced to the brink and surveyed the enemy's position. The crowd, however, did not consist of vagabond idlers, but of respectable citizens--merchants and mechanics--who wished for the consolation the governor had refused them--the hope of succor!
Gradually their care-worn faces lighted up. They saw distinctly that the enemy had left the trenches. Here and there they descried straggling French soldiers running in the direction of the fight in front of the fortress. They heard the booming of artillery and the rattling of musketry, and they beheld the sh.e.l.ls exchanged between the opposing troops, exploding in the air. Keen eyes discovered Prussian cavalry in the neighborhood of the Jewish burial-ground, near the Schweidnitz suburb, and at this sight tremendous cheers burst from the citizens.
"Succor has come!" they shouted. "The Prince von Pless is coming to deliver us!"
All now looked to the general, expecting he would utter the decisive word, and order the garrison to make a sortie. But this order was not given.
General Lindener turned with the utmost composure to his officers. "I have no doubt," he said, "that the enemy Is merely manoeuvring for the purpose of drawing us out of the fortress. It is an ambush in which we should not allow ourselves to be caught."
"Your excellency," exclaimed Puckler, in dismay, "it is impossible that you can be in earnest. That is no manoeuvre; it is a combat. The long-hoped-for succor has come at last, and we must profit by it!"
"Ah," said the general, shrugging his shoulders, "you think because his majesty permitted you to partic.i.p.ate in organizing the defence of the city, and to confer with the commander in regard to it, you ought to advise everywhere and to decide every thing!"
"No; I only think that the time for action has come," exclaimed Puckler.
"Opinions and suppositions are out of the question here, for we can distinctly see what is going on in the front of Breslau. I beg the other officers to state whether they do not share my opinion--whether it is not a regular cannonade that we hear, and a real fight between hostile troops that we behold?"
"Yes," said one of the officers, loudly and emphatically--"yes, I am of the same opinion as Count Puckler; there is a combat going on; the Prince von Pless is approaching in order to raise the siege."
"That is my opinion too!" exclaimed each of the officers, in succession; "the succoring troops have come; the enemy has left the trenches in order to attack them."
"And as such is the case," exclaimed Count Puckler, joyfully, "we must make a sortie; prudence not only justifies, but commands it."
"Yes, we must do so!" exclaimed the officers. The citizens standing at some distance from them heard their words, and shouted joyously: "A sortie, a sortie! Succor has come! Breslau is saved!"
General Lindener glanced angrily at the officers. "Who dares advise the commanding general without being asked?" he said, sharply. "None of you must meddle with these matters; they concern myself alone, and I am possessed of sufficient judgment not to need any one's advice, but to make my own decisions!" With a last angry glance at Count Puckler, he left the bastion to return to his palace. Governor Thile was awaiting him there, and the two ascended to the roof of the building to survey the environs. The fog, which had covered the whole landscape until now, had risen a little, and even the dim eyes of the general and of the governor could not deny the truth any more. A combat was really going on. The smoke rising from the ground, and the flashes of powder from field-pieces, were distinctly to be seen. It was a fact: succor was at hand: a Prussian corps was approaching the city. The two generals left the roof, arm-in-arm, in silence, absorbed in their reflections, and descended to the ground-floor, where a luncheon had been served up for them. An hour later, they a.s.sembled the garrison, in order to make an attack, "in case the enemy should be defeated!"
But it seemed as if the enemy had not been defeated. The firing in front gradually died away; the sally did not take place, and in the evening the French recommenced throwing red-hot shot into the city.
"We have been betrayed," murmured the citizens, as they despondingly returned to their homes.
"The general did not want to make a sortie--he had no intention to save Breslau," groaned Count Puckler, when he was alone in his room. "All is lost, all is in vain! The wish of the timid sacrifices our honor and our lives! Oh, my unhappy country, my beloved Prussia, thou wilt irretrievably perish, for thy own sons are betraying thee! Thy independence and ancient glory are gone; conquered and chained, thou wilt prostrate thyself at the feet of the victor, and with scorn he will place his foot upon thy neck, and trample thy crown in the dust! I shall not live to see that disgrace! I will fulfil my oath, and, not being able to save my country, I must die with it! But not yet! I will wait patiently, for there is a faint glimmer of hope left. The Prince von Pless may make another attempt to raise the siege, and the citizens and soldiers may compel General Lindener to order an attack, and not to surrender. That is my last hope."
CHAPTER XXI.
THE PATRIOT'S DEATH.
Great excitement reigned in the streets of Breslau on the following day.
The people were standing in dense groups, and each of them was addressed by speakers, who recapitulated the sufferings that had already been undergone, and the agony in store for them if the city should persist in its resistance.
"Who will dare to resist the Emperor Napoleon and his army?" exclaimed one. "We were audacious enough to do so, and what has become of us! Our houses have been demolished--our money is gone--our sons, brothers, and fathers, have been crippled or killed! When Napoleon once stretches out his hand toward a country, and says, 'I will have it!' it is useless to resist him, for he always accomplishes what he intends. G.o.d or the devil has given him the power to do so!"
"Why torment ourselves by further efforts?" cried another. "We shall have to submit. Heaven itself is against us. See the ice-crust on the Oder. This cold weather is a fresh ally of the French! So soon as the Oder and the ditches are firmly frozen over, they will cross, and take the city by a.s.sault. Of course, we shall be required again to risk our lives in breaking the ice amid bullets and sh.e.l.ls. The only question is, whether you will do so."
"No! no!" shouted the crowd. "We have suffered enough! We will neither break the ice in the Oder, nor extinguish the numerous fires. Too many of our countrymen have fallen already; it is time for us to think of saving the lives that remain!"
"No!" cried a powerful voice--"no! it is time for you to think of saving your honor!"
"Count Puckler!" murmured the people, looking at the tall, imperious man, who had mounted the curb-stone at the corner of the market-place, and cast angry glances on the crowd.
"Will you listen to me?" asked the count, almost imploringly.
"Yes, yes," exclaimed a hundred voices, "we will listen to you!" And all approached and encircled him.
"Now speak, count," said one of the men, standing closest to him. "We know that you are a good patriot, and a n.o.ble friend of the people. Tell us what we ought to do. Tell us whether you think that there is hope for us!"
"There is," replied Count Puckler. "There is hope of succor."
"Ah, succor will not come," cried the people, scornfully, "and though it should, the generals would act again as if they could not see any thing, keep the gates shut, and fail to make a sortie. Speak of other hopes that you think are still left to us, count!"