COMES THE CATASTROPHE OF MAXEN.
November 6th-8th, Daun had gone to Meissen Country: fairly ebbing
homeward; Henri following, with Hulsen joined,--not vehemently attacking
the rhinoceros, but judiciously pricking him forward. Daun goes at his
slowest step: in many divisions, covering a wide circuit; sticking
to all the strong posts, till his own time for quitting them: slow,
sullenly cautious; like a man descending dangerous precipices back
foremost, and will not be hurried. So it had lasted about a week; Daun
for the last four days sitting restive, obstinate, but Henri pricking
into him more and more, till the rhinoceros seemed actually about
lifting himself,--when Friedrich in person arrived in his Brother's
Camp. [Tempelhof, iii. 301-305.]
At the Schloss of Herschstein, a mile or two behind Lommatsch, which
is Henri's head-quarter (still to westward of Meissen; Daun hanging on,
seven or eight miles to southeastward ahead; loath to go, but actually
obliged),--it was there, Tuesday, November 13th, that the King met his
Brother again. A King free of his gout; in joyful spirits; and high of
humor,--like a man risen indignant, once more got to his feet, after
three months' oppressions and miseries from the unworthy. "Too high,"
mourns Retzow, in a gloomy tone, as others do in perhaps a more
indulgent one. Beyond doubt, Friedrich's farther procedures in this
grave and weighty Daun business were more or less imprudent; of a too
rapid and rash nature; and turned out bitterly unlucky to him. "Had
he left the management to Henri!" sighed everybody, after the unlucky
event.
Friedrich had not arrived above four-and-twenty hours, when news came
in: "The Austrians in movement again; actually rolling off Dresden-ward
again." "Haha, do they smell me already!" laughed he: "Well, I will send
Daun to the Devil,"--not adding, "if I can." And instantly ordered sharp
pursuit,--and sheer stabbing with the ox-goad, not soft and delicate
pricking, as Henri's lately. [Retzow, ii. 168; Tempelhof, iii. 306.]
Friedrich, in fact; was in a fiery condition against Daun: "You
trampled on me, you heavy buffalo, these three months; but that is over
now!"--and took personally the vanguard in this pursuit. And had a bit
of hot fighting in the Village of Korbitz (scene of that Finck-Haddick
"Action," 21st September last, and of poor Haddick's ruin, and
retirement to the Waters);--where the Austrians now prove very fierce
and obstinate; and will not go, till well slashed into, and torn out by
sheer beating:--which was visibly a kind of comfort to the King's humor.
"Our Prussians do still fight, then, much as formerly! And it was all
a hideous Nightmare, all that, and Daylight and Fact are come, and
Friedrich is himself again!"
They say Prince Henri took the liberty of counselling him, even of
entreating him: "Leave well alone; why run risks?" said Henri. Daun,
it was pretty apparent, had no outlook at the present but that of
sauntering home to Bohmen; leaving Dresden to be an easy prey again, and
his whole Campaign to fall futile, as the last had. Under Henri's gentle
driving he would have gone slower; but how salutary, if he only went!
These were Henri's views: but Friedrich was not in the slow humor;
impatient to be in Dresden; "will be quartered there in a week," writes
he, "and more at leisure than now." ["Wilsdruf, 17th November, 1759,"
and still more "19th November," Friedrich to Voltaire in high spirits
that way (_OEuvres de Frederic,_ xxiii. 66).] He is thinking of Leuthen,
of Rossbach, of Campaign 1757, so gloriously restored after ruin; and,
in the fire of his soul, is hoping to do something similar a second
time. That is Retzow's notion: who knows but there may be truth in it? A
proud Friedrich, got on his feet again after such usage;--nay, who knows
whether it was quite so unwise to be impressive on the slow rhinoceros,
and try to fix some thorn in his snout, or say (figuratively), to hobble
his hind-feet; which, I am told, would have been beautifully ruinous;
and, though riskish, was not impossible? [Tempelhof, iii. 311, &c.] Ill
it indisputably turned out; and we have, with brevity, to say how, and
leave readers to their judgment of it.
It was in the Village of Krogis, about six miles forward, on the
Meissen-Freyberg road, a mile or two on from Korbitz, and directly after
the fierce little tussle in that Village,--that Friedrich, his blood
still up, gave the Order for Maxen, which proved so unlucky to him.
Wunsch had been shot off in pursuit of the beaten Austrians; but they
ran too fast; and Wunsch came back without farther result, still early
in the day. Back as far as Krogis, where the next head-quarter is to
be;--and finds the King still in a fulminant condition; none the milder,
it is likely, by Wunsch's returning without result. "Go straight to
General Finck; bid him march at once!" orders the King; and rapidly
gives Wunsch the instructions Finck is to follow. Finck and his Corps
are near Nossen, some ten miles ahead of Krogis, some twenty west from
Dresden. There, since yesterday, stands Finck, infesting the left or
western flank of the Austrians,--what was their left, and will be again,
when they call halt and face round on us:--Let Finck now march at once,
quite round that western flank; by Freyberg, Dippoldiswalde, thence east
to Maxen; plant himself at Maxen (a dozen miles south of Dresden, among
the rocky hills), and stick diligently in the rear of those Austrians,
cutting off, or threatening to cut off, their communications with
Bohemia, and block the Pirna Country for them.
Friedrich calculates that, if Daun is for retreating by Pirna Country,
this will, at lowest, be a method to quicken him in that movement; or
perhaps it may prove a method to cut off such retreat altogether, and
force Daun to go circling by the Lausitz Hills and Wildernesses, exposed
to tribulations which may go nigh to ruin him. That is Friedrich's proud
thought: "an unfortunate Campaign; winding up, nevertheless, as 1757
did, in blazes of success!" And truly, if Friedrich could have made
himself into Two; and, while flashing and charging in Daun's front, have
been in command at Maxen in Daun's rear,--Friedrich could have made
a pretty thing of this waxen Enterprise; and might in good part have
realized his proud program. But there is no getting two Friedrichs.
Finck, a General of approved quality, he is the nearest approach we can
make to a second Friedrich;--and he, ill-luck too super-adding itself,
proves tragically inadequate. And sets all the world, and Opposition
Retzow, exclaiming, "See: Pride goes before a fall!"--
At 3 in the afternoon, Friedrich, intensely surveying from the heights
of Krogis the new Austrian movements and positions, is astonished, not
agreeably ("What, still only here, Herr General!"), by a personal visit
from Finck. Finck finds the Maxen business intricate, precarious; wishes
farther instructions, brings forward this objection and that. Friedrich
at last answers, impatiently: "You know I can't stand making of
difficulties (ER WEISS DASS ICH DIE DIFFICULTATEN NICHT LEIDEN KANN;
MACHE DASS ER FORT KOMMT); contrive to get it done!" With which
poor comfort Finck has to ride back to Nossen; and scheme out his
dispositions overnight.
Next morning, Thursday, 15th, Finck gets on march; drives the Reichsfolk
out of Freyberg; reaches Dippoldiswalde:--"Freyberg is to be my
Magazine," considers Finck; "Dippoldiswalde my half-way house; Four
Battalions of my poor Eighteen shall stand there, and secure the
meal-carts." Friday, 16th, Finck has his Vanguard, Wunsch leading it, in
possession of Maxen and the Heights; and on Saturday gets there himself,
with all his people and equipments. I should think about 12,000 men: in
a most intersected, intertwisted Hill Country; full of gullets, dells
and winding brooks;--it is forecourt of the Pirna rocks, our celebrated
Camp of Gahmig lies visible to north, Dohna and the Rothwasser
bounding us to east;--in grim November weather, some snow falling, or
snow-powder, alternating with sleet and glazing frosts: by no means a
beautiful enterprise to Finck. Nor one of his own choosing, had one a
choice in such cases.
To Daun nothing could be more unwelcome than this news of Finck,
embattled there at Maxen in the inextricable Hill Country, direct on
the road of Daun's meal-carts and Bohemian communications. And truly
withal,--what Daun does not yet hear, but can guess,--there is gone, in
supplement or as auxiliary to Finck, a fierce Hussar party, under GRUNE
Kleist, their fiercest Hussar since Mayer died; who this very day, at
Aussig, burns Daun's first considerable Magazine; and has others in view
for the same fate. [Friedrich's second Letter to Voltaire, Wilsdruf,
"19th November, 1759."] An evident thing to Daun, that Finck being
there, meal has ceased.
On the instant, Daun falls back on Dresden; Saturday, 17th, takes post
in the Dell of Plauen (PLAUEN'SCHE GRUND); an impassable Chasm, with
sheer steeps on both sides, stretching southward from Dresden in front
of the Hill Country: thither Daun marches, there to consider what is
to be done with Finck. Amply safe this position is; none better in the
world: a Village, Plauen, and a Brook, Weistritz, in the bottom of this
exquisite Chasm; sheer rock-walls on each side,--high especially on the
Daun, or south side;--head-quarters can be in Dresden itself; room for
your cavalry on the plain ground between Dresden and the Chasm. A post
both safe and comfortable; only you must not loiter in making up your
mind as to Finck; for Friedrich has followed on the instant. Friedrich's
head-quarter is already Wilsdruf, which an hour or two ago was Daun's:
at Kesselsdorf vigilant Ziethen is vanguard. So that Friedrich looks
over on you from the northern brow of your Chasm; delays are not good
near such a neighbor.
Daun--urged on by Lacy, they say--is not long in deciding that, in this
strait, the short way out will be to attack Finck in the Hills. Daun is
in the Hills, as well as Finck (this Plauen Chasm is the boundary-ditch
of the Hills): Daun with 27,000 horse and foot, moving on from this
western part; 3,000 light people (one Sincere the leader of them)
moving simultaneously from Dresden itself, that is, from northward or
northwestward; 12,000 Reichsfolk, horse and foot, part of them already
to southeastward of Finck, other part stealing on by the Elbe bank
thitherward: here, from three different points of the compass, are
42,000. These simultaneously dashing in, from west, north, south, upon
Finck, may surely give account of his 12,000 and him! If only we can
keep Friedrich dark upon it; which surely our Pandours will contrive to
do.
Finck, directly on arriving at Maxen, had reported himself to the King;
and got answer before next morning: "Very well; but draw in those Four
Battalions you have left in Dippoldiswalde; hit with the whole of your
strength, when a chance offers." Which order Finck, literally and not
too willingly, obeys; leaves only some light remnant in Dippoldiswalde,
and reinforcement to linger within reach, till a certain Bread-convoy
come to him, which will be due next morning (Monday, 19th); and which
does then safely get home, though under annoyances from cannonading in
the distance.
SUNDAY, 18th, Finck fails not to reconnoitre from the highest Hill-top;
to inquire by every method: he finds, for certain, that the enemy are
coming in upon him. With his own eyes he sees Reichsfolk marching, in
quantity, southeastward by the Elbe shore: "Intending towards Dohna, as
is like?"--and despatched Wunsch, who, accordingly, drove them out of
Dohna. Of all this Finck, at once, sent word to Friedrich. Who probably
enough received the message; but who would get no new knowledge from
it,--vigilant Ziethen having, by Austrian deserters and otherwise,
discovered this of the Reichsfolk; and furthermore that Sincere with
3,000 was in motion, from the north, upon Finck. Sunday evening,
Friedrich despatches Ziethen's Report; which punctually came to Finck's
hand; but was the last thing he received from Friedrich, or Friedrich
from him. The intervening Pandours picked up all the rest. The Ziethen
REPORT, of two or three lines, most succinct but sufficient, like a
cutting of hard iron, is to be read in many Books: we may as well give
the Letter and it:--
FRIEDRICH'S LETTER (WILSDRUF, 18th NOVEMBER, 1759). "My dear
General-Lieutenant von Finck,--I send you the enclosed Report from
General Ziethen, showing what is the lie of matters as seen from this
side; and leave the whole to your disposition and necessary measures. I
am your well-affectioned King,--F." The Enclosure is as follows:--
GENERAL ZIETHEN'S REPORT (KESSELSDORF, 18th NOVEMBER, 1759). "To your
Royal Majesty, send [no pronoun "I" allowed] herewith a Corporal, who
has deserted from the Austrians. He says, Sincere with the Reserve did
march with the Reichs Army; but a league behind it, and turned towards
Dippoldiswalde. General Brentano [Wehla's old comrade, luckier than
Wehla], as this Deserter heard last night in Daun's head-quarter,--which
is in the southern Suburb of Dresden, in the Countess Moschinska's
Garden,--was yesterday to have been in Dohlen [looking into our outposts
from the hither side of their Plauen Dell], but was not there any
longer," as our Deserter passed, "and it was said that he had gone to
Maxen at three in the afternoon." [Tempelhof, iii. 309.]
Thus curtly is Finck authorized to judge for himself in the new
circumstances. Marginally is added, in Friedrich's own hand: "ER WIRD
ENTWEDER MIT DEN REICHERN ODER MIT SICEREN EINEN GANG HABEN,--Either
with the Reichers or with Sincere you will have a bout, I suppose."
MAP FACING PAGE 350, BOOK XIX GOES HERE----
Finck, from his own Hill-top, on Sunday and Monday, sees all this of
Ziethen, and much more. Sees the vanguard of Daun himself approaching
Dippoldiswalde, cannonading his meal-carts as they issue there; on all
sides his enemies encompassing him like bees;--and has a sphinx-riddle
on his mind, such as soldier seldom had. Shall he manoeuvre himself out,
and march away, bread-carts, baggages and all entire? There is still
time, and perfect possibility, by Dippoldiswalde there, or by other
routes and methods. But again, did not his Majesty expect, do not these
words "a bout" still seem to expect, a bit of fighting with somebody or
other? Finck was an able soldier, and his skill and courage well known;
but probably another kind of courage was wanted this day, of which Finck
had not enough. Finck was not king of this matter; Finck was under a
King who perhaps misjudged the matter. If Finck saw no method of doing
other than hurt and bad service to his King by staying here, Finck
should have had the courage to come away, and front the King's
unreasonable anger, expecting redress one day, or never any redress.
That was Finck's duty: but everybody sees how hard it was for flesh and
blood.
Finck, truer to the letter than to the spirit, determined to remain.
Did, all that Monday, his best to prepare himself; called in his
outposts ("Was not I ordered?" thinks Finck, too literally); and sees
his multitudes of enemies settle round him;--Daun alone has 27,000 men,
who take camp at Dippoldiswalde; and in sum-total they are as 4 to 1 of
Finck:--a Finck still resolute of face, though internally his thoughts
may be haggard enough. Doubtless he hopes, too, that Friedrich will do
something:--unaware that none of his messages reach Friedrich. As for
Daun, having seen his people safely encamped here, he returns to Dresden
for the night, to see that Friedrich is quiet. Friedrich is quiet
enough: Daun, at seven next morning (TUESDAY, 20th), appeared on the
ground again; and from all sides Finck is assaulted,--from Daun's side
nearest and soonest, with Daun's best vigor.
Dippoldiswalde is some seven miles from Maxen. Difficult hill-road
all the way: but the steepest, straitest and worst place is
at Reinhartsgrimma, the very first Hamlet after you are out of
Dippoldiswalde. There is a narrow gullet there, overhung with heights
all round. The roads are slippery, glazed with sleet and frost; Cavalry,
unroughened, make sad sliding and sprawling; hardly the Infantry
are secure on their feet: a terrible business getting masses of
artillery-wagons, horse and man, through such a Pass! It is thought, had
Finck garnished this Pass of Reinhartsgrimma, with the proper batteries,
the proper musketries, Daun never would have got through. Finck had not
a gun or a man in it: "Had not I order?" said he,--again too literally.
As it was, Daun, sliding and sprawling in the narrow steeps, had
difficulties almost too great; and, they say, would have given it up,
had it not been that a certain Major urged, "Can be done, Excellenz, and
shall!" and that the temper of his soldiers was everywhere excellent.
Unfortunate Finck had no artillery to bear on Daun's transit through the
Pass. Nothing but some weak body of hussars and infantry stood looking
into it, from the Hill of Hausdorf: even these might have given him
some slight hindrance; but these were played upon by endless Pandours,
"issuing from a wood near by," with musketries, and at length with
cannon batteries, one and another;--and had to fall back, or to be
called back, to Maxen Hill, where the main force is.
In the course of yesterday, by continual reconnoitring, by Austrian
deserters, and intense comparison of symptoms, Finck had completely
ascertained where the Enemy's Three Attacks were to be,--"on Maxen,
from Dippoldiswalde, Trohnitz, Dohna, simultaneously three attacks,"
it appears;--and had with all his skill arranged himself on the Maxen
summits to meet these. He stands now elaborately divided into Three
groups against those Three simultaneities; forming (sadly wide apart,
one would say, for such a force as Finck's) a very obtuse-angled
triangle:--the obtuse vertex of which (if readers care to look on their
Map) is Trohnitz, the road Brentano and Sincere are coming. On the
base-angles, Maxen and Dohna, Finck expects Daun and the Reich. From
Trohnitz to Maxen is near two miles; from Maxen to Dohna above four. At
Dohna stands Wunsch against the Reich; Finck himself at Maxen, expecting
Daun, as the pith of the whole affair. In this triangular way stands
Finck at the topmost heights of the country,--"Maxen highest, but
Hausdorf only a little lower,"--and has not thought of disputing the
climb upwards. Too literal an eye to his orders: alas, he was not
himself king, but only king's deputy!
The result is, about 11 A.M., as I obscurely gather, Daun has conquered
the climb; Daun's musketries begin to glitter on the top of Hausdorf;
and 26 or 32 heavy cannon open their throats there; and the Three
Attacks break loose. Finck's Maxen batteries (scarcely higher than
Daun's, and far inferior in weight) respond with all diligence, the poor
regimental fieldpieces helping what they can. Mutual cannonade, very
loud for an hour and half; terrific, but doing little mischief; after
which Daun's musketries (the ground now sufficiently clear to Daun),
which are the practical thing, begin opening, first from one point, then
from another: and there ensues, for five hours coming, at Maxen and at
the other two points of Finck's triangle, such a series of explosive
chargings, wheelings, worryings and intricate death-wrestlings, as it
would provoke every reader to attempt describing to him. Except indeed
he were a soldier, bound to know the defence of posts; in which case
I could fairly promise him that there are means of understanding the
affair, and that he might find benefit in it. [Tempelhof, iii. 307-317.
JOURNAL UND NACHRICHT VON DER GEFANGENNEHMUNG DES FINCK'SCHEN CORPS BEY
MAXEN, IM JAHRE 1759 (Seyfarth, _Beylagen,_ ii. 637-654).]
Daun's Grenadiers, and Infantry generally, are in triumphant spirits;
confident of victory, as they may reasonably be. Finck's people, too,
behave well, some of them conspicuously well, though in gloomier mood;
and make stubborn fight, successful here and there, but, as a whole, not
capable of succeeding. By 3 in the afternoon, the Austrians have forced
the Maxen Post; they "enter Maxen with great shoutings;" extrude the
obstinate Prussian remnants; and, before long, have the poor Village "on
fire in every part." Finck retreating northward to Schmorsdorf, towards
the obtuse angle of his triangle, if haply there may be help in that
quarter for him. Daun does not push him much; has Maxen safely burning
in every part.
From Schmorsdorf Finck pushes out a Cavalry charge on Brentano. "Could
we but repulse Brentano yonder," thinks he, "I might have those Four
Battalions to hand, and try again!" But Brentano makes such cannonading,
the Cavalry swerve to a Hollow on their right; then find they have not
ground, and retire quite fruitless. Finck's Cavalry, and the Cavalry
generally, with their horses all sliding on the frosty mountain-gnarls,
appear to be good for little this day. Brentano, victorious over the
Cavalry, comes on with such storm, he sweeps through the obtuse
angle, home upon Finck; and sweeps him out of Schmorsdorf Village to
Schmorsdorf Hill, there to take refuge, as the night sinks,--and to see
himself, if his wild heart will permit him to be candid, a ruined man.
Of the Three Attacks, Two have completely succeeded on him; only Wunsch,
at Dohna, stands victorious; he has held back the Reich all day,
and even chased it home to its posts on the Rothwasser (RED WATER),
multitudinous as it was.
Finck's mood, as the November shadows gathered on him,--the equal heart
may at least pity poor Finck! His resolution is fixed: "Cut ourselves
through, this night: Dohna is ours: other side that Red Water there are
roads;--perish or get through!" And the Generals (who are rallied now
"on the Heights of Falkenhain and Bloschwitz," midway between Maxen and
Dohna) get that Order from him. And proceed to arrange for executing
it,--though with outlook more and more desperate, as their scouts
report that every pass and post on the Red Water is beset by Reichsfolk.
"Wunsch, with the Cavalry, he at least may thread his way out, under
cloud of night, by the opposite or Daun side," calculates Finck. And
Wunsch sets out accordingly: a very questionable, winding, subterranean
march; difficult in the extreme,--the wearied SLIPshod horses going at
a snail's pace; and, in the difficult passes, needing to be dragged
through with bridle and even to be left altogether:--in which, withal,
it will prove of no use for Wunsch to succeed! Finck's Generals
endeavoring to rank and rearrange through the night, find that their
very cartridges are nearly spent, and that of men, such wounding, such
deserting has there been, they have, at this time, by precise count,
2,836 rank and file. Evidently desperate.
At daylight, Daun's cannon beginning again from the Maxen side, Finck
sends to capitulate. "Absolute surrender," answers Daun: "prisoners of
war, and you shall keep your private baggage. General Wunsch with the
Cavalry, he too must turn back and surrender!" Finck pleaded hard, on
this last score: "General Wunsch, as head of the Cavalry, is not under
me; is himself chief in that department." But it was of no use: Wunsch
had to return (not quite got through Daun's Lines, after such a night),
and to surrender, like everybody else. Like Eight other Generals; like
Wolfersdorf of Torgau, and many a brave Officer and man. Wednesday
morning, 21st November, 1769: it is Finck's fourth day on Maxen; his
last in the Prussian Service.
That same Wednesday Afternoon there were ranked in the GROSSE GARTEN at
Dresden, of dejected Prussian Prisoners from Maxen, what exact number
was never known: the Austrians said 15,000; but nobody well believed
them; their last certain instalment being only, in correct numbers,
2,836. Besides the killed, wounded and already captured, many had
deserted, many had glided clear off. It is judged that Friedrich
lost, by all these causes, about 12,000 men. Gone wholly,--with their
equipments and appurtenances wholly, which are not worth counting
in comparison. Finck and the other Generals, 8 of them, and 529
Officers,--Finck, Wunsch, Wolfersdorf, Mosel (of the Olmutz Convoy),
not to mention others of known worth, this is itself a sore loss to
Friedrich, and in present circumstances an irreparable. [Seyfarth, ii.
576; in _Helden-Geschichte,_ (v. 1115), the Vienna Account.]
The outburst and paroxysm of Gazetteer rumor, which arose in Europe
over this, must be left to the imagination; still more the whirlwind of
astonishment, grief, remorse and indignation that raged in the heart of
Friedrich on first hearing of it. "The Caudine Forks;" "Scene of Pirna
over again, in reverse form;" "Is not your King at last over with it?"
said and sang multifariously the Gazetteers. As counter-chorus to which,
in a certain Royal Heart: "That miserable purblind Finck, unequal to his
task;--that overhasty I, who drove him upon it! This disgrace, loss nigh
ruinous; in fine, this infernal Campaign (CETTE CAMPAGNE INFEMALE)!"
The Anecdote-Books abound in details of Friedrich's behavior at Wilsdruf
that day; mythical all, or in good part, but symbolizing a case that is
conceivable to everybody. Or would readers care to glance into the very
fact with their own eyes? As happens to be possible.
1. BEFORE MAXEN: FRIEDRICH TO D'ARGENS AND OTHERS.
TO D'ARGENS (Krogis, 15th November, order for Maxen just given).
"Yesterday I joined the Army [day before yesterday, but took the field
yesterday], and Daun decamped. I have followed him thus far, and will
continue it to the frontiers of Bohemia. Our measures are so taken
[Finck, to wit], that he will not get out of Saxony without considerable
losses. Yesterday cost him 500 men taken at Korgis here. Every movement
he makes will cost him as many." [_OEuvres de Frederic,_ xix. 101.]
TO VOLTAIRE (Wilsdruf, 17th November). "We are verging on the end of our
Campaign: and I will write to you in eight days from Dresden, with more
composure and coherency than now." [Ib. xxiii. 66.]
TO THE SAME (Wilsdruf, 19th November). "The Austrians are packing off
to Bohemia,--where, in reprisal for the incendiary operations they have
done in my countries, I have burnt them two big magazines. I render the
beatified Hero's retreat as difficult as possible; and I hope he
will come upon some bad adventures within a few days." [_OEuvres de
Frederic,_ xxiii. 66.]
SAME DAY AND PLACE, TO D'ARGENS. A volley of most rough-paced off-hand
Rhyming, direct from the heart; "Ode [as he afterwards terms it, or
irrepressible extempore LILT] TO FORTUNE:"
"MARQUIS, QUEL CHANGEMENT, what a change! I, a poor heretic creature,
never blessed by the Holy Father; indeed, little frequenting Church, nor
serving either Baal or the God of Israel; held down these many months,
and reported by more than one shaven scoundrel [priest-pamphleteer at
Vienna] to be quite extinct, and gone vagabond over the world,--see
how capricious Fortune, after all her hundred preferences of my rivals,
lifts me with helpful hand from the deep, and packs this Hero of the Hat
and Sword,--whom Popes have blessed what they could, and who has walked
in Pilgrimage before now [to Marienzell once, I believe, publicly at
Vienna],--out of Saxony; panting, harassed goes he, like a stranger
dog from some kitchen where the cook had flogged him out!" [Ib. xix.
103-106.]... (A very exultant Lilt, and with a good deal more of the
chanticleer in it than we are used to in this King!)
2. AFTER MAXEN.
TO D'ARGENS (Wilsdruf, 22d November). "Do with that [some small piece
of business] whatever you like, my dear Marquis. I am so stupefied
(E'TOURDI) with the misfortune which has befallen General Finck, that
I cannot recover from my astonishment. It deranges all my measures;
it cuts me to the quick. Ill-luck, which persecutes my old age, has
followed me from the Mark [Kunersdorf, in the Mark of Brandenburg]
to Saxony. I will still strive what I can. The little ODE I sent you,
addressed TO FORTUNE, had been written too soon! One should not sing
victory till the battle is over. I am so crushed down by these incessant
reverses and disasters, that I wish a thousand times I were dead;
and from day to day I grow wearier of dwelling in a body worn out and
condemned to suffer. I am writing to you in the first moment of my
grief. Astonishment, sorrow, indignation, scorn, all blended together,
lacerate my soul. Let us get to the end, then, of this execrable
Campaign; I will then write to you what is to become of me; and we will
arrange the rest. Pity me;--ad make no noise about me; bad news go fast
enough of themselves. Adieu, dear Marquis." [_OEuvres de Frederic, _
xix. 107.]
All this, of course, under such pressing call of actualities, had
very soon to transform itself into silence; into new resolution, and
determinate despatch of business. But the King retained a bitter memory
of it all his days. To Finck he was inexorable:--ordered him, the first
thing on his return from Austrian Captivity, Trial by Court-Martial;
which (Ziethen presiding, June, 1763) censured Finck in various
points, and gave him, in supplement to the Austrian detention, a
Year's Imprisonment in Spandau. No ray of pity visible for him, then
or afterwards, in the Royal mind. So that the poor man had to beg
his dismissal; get it, and go to Denmark for new promotion and
appreciation.--"Far too severe!" grumbled the Opposition voices, with
secret counter-severity. And truly it would have been more beautiful to
everybody, for the moment, to have made matters soft to poor Finck,--had
Friedrich ever gone on that score with his Generals and Delegates;
which, though the reverse of a cruel man, he never did. And truly, as
we often observe, the Laws of Fact are still severer than Friedrich
was:--so that, in the long-run, perhaps it is beautifulest of all for a
King, who is just, to be rhadamanthine in important cases.
Exulting Daun, instead of Bohemia for winter-quarters, pushes out now
for the prize of Saxony itself. Daun orders Beck to attack suddenly
another Outpost of Friedrich's, which stands rearward of him at Meissen,
under a General Dierecke,--the same whom, as Colonel Dierecke, we
saw march out of flamy Zittau, summer gone two years. Beck goes in
accordingly, 3d December; attacks Dierecke, not by surprise, but with
overwhelming superiority; no reinforcement possible: Dierecke is on
the wrong side of the Elbe, no retreat or reinforcement for him; has to
fight fiercely all day, Meissen Bridge being in a broken state; then, at
night, to ship his people across in Elbe boats, which are much delayed
by the floating ice, so that daylight found 1,500 of them still on that
northern side; all of whom, with General Dierecke himself, were made
prisoners by Beck. [Tempelhof, iii. 321: "3d-4th December, 1759."] A
comfortable supplement to Maxen, though not of the same magnificence.
After which, Daun himself issued minatory from the Plauen Chasm;
expecting, as all the world did, that Friedrich, who is 36,000 of
Unfortunate against, say, 72,000 of Triumphant, will, under penalty,
take himself away. But it proved otherwise. "If you beat us, Excellency
Feldmarschall, yes; but till then--!" Friedrich draws out in battalia;
Leo in wild ragged state and temper, VERSUS Bos in the reverse: "Come
on; then!" Rhinoceros Bos, though in a high frame of mind, dare not, on
cool survey; but retires behind the Plauen Chasm again. Will at least
protect Dresden from recapture; and wait here, in the interim; carting
his provision out of Bohemia,--which is a rough business, with Elbe
frozen, and the passes in such a choked wintry state. Upon whom
Friedrich, too, has to wait under arms, in grim neighborhood, for six
weeks to come: such a time as poor young Archenholtz never had before
or after. [Archenholtz, ii. 11-13.] It was well beyond New-year's day
before Friedrich could report of himself, and then only in a sense, as
will be seen: "We retired to this poor cottage [cottage still standing,
in the little Town of Freyberg]; Daun did the like; and this unfortunate
Campaign, as all things do, came actually to an end."
Daun holds Dresden and the Dell of Plauen; but Saxony, to the world's
amazement, he is as far as ever from holding. "Daun's front is a small
arc of a circle, bending round from Dresden to Dippoldiswalde; Friedrich
is at Freyberg in a bigger concave arc, concentric to Daun, well
overlapping Daun on that southward or landward side, and ready for him,
should he stir out; Kesselsdorf is his nearest post to Daun; and the
Plauen Chasm for boundary, which was not overpassed by either." In
Dresden, and the patch of hill-country to the southeastward of it by
Elbe side, which is instep or glacis of the Pirna rock-country, seventy
square miles or so, there rules Daun; and this--with its heights of
Gahmig, valuable as a defence for Dresden against Austria, but not
otherwise of considerable value--was all that Daun this year, or pretty
much in any coming year, could realize of conquest in Saxony.
Fabius Cunctator has not succeeded, as the public expected. In fact,
ever since that of Hochkirch and the Papal Hat, he has been a waning
man, more and more questionable to the undiscerning public. Maxen was
his last gleam upwards; a round of applause rose again on Maxen, feeble
in comparison with Hochkirch, but still arguing hope,--which, after
this, more and more died out; so that in two years more, poor Madam
Daun, going to Imperial Levee, "had her state-carriage half filled
with nightcaps, thrown into it by the Vienna people, in token of her
husband's great talent for sleep." [Archenholtz (Anno 1762, "last Siege
of Schweidnitz").]