After Hulsen's fine explosion on the Durrenberg, August 20th, on the
incompetent Reichs Generals, there had followed nothing eminent; new
futilities, attemptings and desistings, advancings and recoilings, on
the part of the Reich; Hulsen solidly maintaining himself, in defence of
his Torgau Magazine and Saxon interests in those regions, against such
overwhelming odds, till relief and reinforcement for them and him
should arrive; and gaining time, which was all he could aim at in such
circumstances. Had the Torgau Magazine been bigger, perhaps Hulsen might
have sat there to the end. But having solidly eaten out said Magazine,
what could Hulsen do but again move rearward? [_Hogbericht von dem
Ruckzug des General-Lieutenants von Hulsen aus dem Lager bey Torgau _
(in Seyfarth, _Beylagen,_ ii. 755-784).] Above all, on the alarm from
Berlin, which called him off double-quick, things had to go their old
road in that quarter. Weak Torgau was taken, weak Wittenberg besieged.
Leipzig, Torgau, Wittenberg, all that Country, by the time the Russians
left Berlin, was again the Reich's. Eugen and Hulsen, hastening for
relief of Wittenberg, the instant Berlin was free, found Wittenberg a
heap of ruins, out of which the Prussian garrison, very hunger urging,
had issued the day before, as prisoners of war. Nothing more to be done
by Eugen, but take post, within reach of Magdeburg and victual, and wait
new Order from the King.
The King is very unquestionably coming on; leaves Lubben thitherward
October 20th. [Rodenbeck, ii. 35: in _Anonymous of Hamburg_ (iv.
241-245) Friedrich's Two Marches, towards and from Berlin (7th-17th
October, to Lubben; thence, 20th October-3d November, to Torgau).] With
full fixity of purpose as usual; but with as gloomy an outlook as ever
before. Daun, we said, is now arrived in those parts: Daun and the
Reich together are near 100,000; Daun some 60,000,--Loudon having stayed
behind, and gone southward, for a stroke on Kosel (if Goltz will permit,
which he won't at all!),--and the Reich 35,000. Saxony is all theirs;
cannot they maintain Saxony? Not a Town or a Magazine now belongs
to Friedrich there, and he is in number as 1 to 2. "Maintain Saxony;
indisputably you can!" that is the express Vienna Order, as Friedrich
happens to know. The Russians themselves have taken Camp again, and
wait visibly, about Landsberg and the Warta Country, till they see Daun
certain of executing said Order; upon which they intend, they also, to
winter in those Elbe-Prussian parts, and conjointly to crush Friedrich
into great confinement indeed. Friedrich is aware of this Vienna Order;
which is a kind of comfort in the circumstances. The intentions of the
hungry Russians, too, are legible to Friedrich; and he is much resolved
that said Order shall be impossible to Daun. "Were it to be possible, we
are landless. Where are our recruits, our magazines, our resources for
a new Campaign? We may as well die, as suffer that to be possible!" Such
is Friedrich's fixed view. He says to D'Argens:--
"You, as a follower of Epicurus, put a value on life; as for me, I
regard death from the Stoic point of view. Never shall I see the moment
that forces me to make a disadvantageous Peace; no persuasion, no
eloquence, shall ever induce me to sign my dishonor. Either I will bury
myself under the ruins of my Country, or if that consolation appears too
sweet to the Destiny that persecutes me, I shall know how to put an end
to my misfortunes when it is impossible to bear them any longer. I
have acted, and continue to act, according to that interior voice of
conscience and of honor which directs all my steps: my conduct shall be,
in every time, conformable to those principles. After having sacrificed
my youth to my Father, my ripe years to my Country, I think I have
acquired the right to dispose of my old age. I have told you, and I
repeat it, Never shall my hand sign a humiliating Peace. Finish this
Campaign I certainly will, resolved to dare all, and to try the most
desperate things either to succeed or to find a glorious end (FIN
GLORIEUSE)." [_OEuvres de Frederic,_ xix. 202 ("Kemberg, 28th October,
1760," a week and a day before Torgau).]
Friedrich had marched from Lubben, after three days, settling of
affairs, OCTOBER 20th; arrived at Jessen, on the Elbe, within wind of
Wittenberg, in two days more. "He formed a small magazine at Duben,"
says Archenholtz; "and was of a velocity, a sharpness,"--like lightning,
in a manner! Friedrich is uncommonly dangerous when crushed into a
corner, in this way; and Daun knows that he is. Friedrich's manoeuvrings
upon Daun--all readers can anticipate the general type of them. The
studious military reader, if England boasts any such, will find punctual
detail of them in TEMPELHOF and the German Books. For our poor objects,
here is a Summary which may suffice:--
From Lubben, having winded up these bad businesses,--and reinforced
Goltz, at Glogau, to a 20,000 for Silesia's sake, to look towards Kosel
and Loudon's attempts there,--Friedrich gathered himself into proper
concentration; and with all the strength now left to him pushed forward
(20th October) towards Wittenberg, and recovery of those lost Saxon
Countries. To Wittenberg from Lubben is some 60 miles;--can be done,
nearly, in a couple of days. With the King, after Goltz is furnished,
there are about 30,000; Eugen and Hulsen, not idle for their own part,
wait in those far Western or Ultra-Wittenberg regions (in and beyond
Dessau Country), to join him with their 14,000, when they get signal.
Joined with these, he will be 44,000; he will then cross Elbe somewhere,
probably not where Daun and the Reich imagine, and be in contact with
his Problem; with what a pitch of willingness nobody need be told! Daun,
in Torgau Country, has one of the best positions; nor is Daun a man for
getting flurried.
The poor Reichs Army, though it once flattered itself with intending to
dispute Friedrich's passage of the Elbe, and did make some detachings
and manoeuvrings that way, on his approach to Wittenberg (October
22d-23d),--took a safer view, on his actual arrival there, on his
re-seizure of that ruined place, and dangerous attitude on the right
bank below and above. Safer view, on salutary second thoughts;--and fell
back Leipzig-way, southward to Duben, 30 or 40 miles. Whence rapidly to
Leipzig itself, 30 or 40 more, on his actually putting down his bridges
over Elbe. Friedrich's crossing-place was Schanzhaus, in Dessau Country,
between Roslau and Klikau, 12 or 15 miles below Wittenberg; about midway
between Wittenberg and the inflow of the Mulda into Elbe. He crossed
OCTOBER 26th, no enemy within wind at all; Daun at Torgau in his
inexpugnable Camp, Reichsfolk at Duben, making towards Leipzig at their
best pace. And is now wholly between Elbe and Mulda; nothing but Mulda
and the Anhall Countries and the Halle Country now to rear of him.
At Jonitz, next march southward, he finds the Eugen-Hulsen people ready.
We said they had not been idle while waiting signal: of which here
is one pretty instance. Eugen's Brother, supreme Reigning Duke of
Wurtemberg,--whom we parted with at Fulda, last Winter, on sore
terms; but who again, zealous creature, heads his own little Army in
French-Austrian service, in still more eclipsed circumstances ("No
subsidy at all, this Year, say your august Majesties? Well, I must do
without: a volunteer; and shall need only what I can make by forced
contributions!" which of course he is diligent to levy wherever
possible),--has latterly taken Halle Country in hand, very busy raising
contributions there: and Eugen hears, not without interest, that certain
regiments or detachments of his, pushed out, are lying here, there,
superintending that salutary work,--within clutch, perhaps, of Kleist
the Hussar! Eugen despatches Kleist upon him; who pounces with his usual
fierce felicity upon these people. To such alarm of his poor Serenity
and poor Army, that Serenity flies off homeward at once, and out of
these Wars altogether; where he never had other than the reverse of
business to be, and where he has played such a farce-tragedy for four
years back. Eugen has been heard to speak,--theoretically, and in
excited moments,--of "running such a fellow through the body," were one
near him:: but it is actually Eugen in person that sends him home
from these Wars: which may be counted a not unfraternal or unpatriotic
procedure; being of indisputable benefit to the poor Sovereign man
himself, and to everybody concerned with him.
Hearing that Friedrich was across, Daun came westward that same day
(October 26th), and planted himself at Eilenburg; concluding that the
Reichsfolk would now be in jeopardy first of all. Which was partly the
fact; and indeed this Daun movement rather accelerated the completion
of it. Without this the Reichs Army might have lived another day. It had
quitted Duben, and gone in all haste for Leipzig, at 1 in the morning
(not by Eilenburg, of which or of Daun's arrival there it knows
nothing),--"at 1 in the morning of the 27th," or in fact, so soon as
news could reach it at the gallop, That Friedrich was across. And now
Friedrich, seeing Daun out in this manner, judged that a junction was
contemplated; and that one could not be too swift in preventing it.
October 29th, with one diligent march, Friedrich posted himself at
Duben; there, in a sort now between Daun and the Reichsfolk, detached
Hulsen with a considerable force to visit these latter in Leipzig
itself; and began with all diligence forming "a small Magazine in
Duben," Magdeburg and the current of the Elbe being hitherto his only
resource in that kind. By the time of Hulsen's return, this little
operation will be well forward, and Daun will have declared himself a
little.
Hulsen, evening of October 30th, found Leipzig in considerable emotion,
the Reichsfolk taking refuge in it: not the least inclined to stand
a push, when Hulsen presented himself. Night of 30th-31st, there was
summoning and menacing; Reich endeavoring to answer in firm style;
but all the while industriously packing up to go. By 5 in the morning,
things had come to extremity;---morning, happily for some of us, was
dark mist. But about 5 o'clock, Hulsen (or Hulsen's Second) coming on
with menace of fire and sword upon these poor Reichspeople, found the
Reichspeople wholly vanished in the mist. Gone bodily; in full march for
the spurs of the Metal-Mountain Range again;--concluding, for the fourth
time, an extremely contemptible Campaign. Daun, with the King ahead
of him, made not the least attempt to help them in their Leipzig
difficulty; but retired to his strong Camp at Torgau; feels his work to
lie THERE,--as Friedrich perceives of him, with some interest.
Hulsen left a little garrison in Leipzig (friend Quintus a part of it);
[Tempelhof, iv. 290.] and returned to the King; whose small Magazine
at Duben, and other small affairs there,--Magdeburg with boats, and
the King with wagons, having been so diligent in carrying grain
thither,--are now about completed. From Daun's returning to Torgau,
Friedrich infers that the cautious man has got Order from Court to
maintain Torgau at all costs,--to risk a battle rather than go. "Good:
he shall have one!" thinks Friedrich. And, NOVEMBER 2d, in four columns,
marches towards Torgau; to Schilda, that night, which is some seven
miles on the southward side of Torgau. The King, himself in the vanguard
as usual, has watched with eager questioning eye the courses of Daun's
advanced parties, and by what routes they retreat; discerns for certain
that Daun has no views upon Duben or our little Magazine; and that the
tug of wrestle for Torgau, which is to crown this Campaign into conquest
of Saxony, or shatter it into zero like its foregoers on the Austrian
part, and will be of death-or-life nature on the Prussian part, ought to
ensue to-morrow. Forward, then!
This Camp of Torgau is not a new place to Daun. It was Prince Henri's
Camp last Autumn; where Daun tried all his efforts to no purpose; and
though hugely outnumbering the Prince, could make absolutely nothing of
it. Nothing, or less; and was flowing back to Dresden and the Bohemian
Frontier, uncheered by anything, till that comfortable Maxen Incident
turned up. Daun well knows the strength of this position. Torgau and the
Block of Hill to West, called Hill of Siptitz:--Hulsen, too, stood here
this Summer; not to mention Finck and Wunsch, and their beating the
Reichspeople here. A Hill and Post of great strength; not unfamiliar to
many Prussians, nor to Friedrich's studious considerations, though his
knowledge of it was not personal on all points;--as To-morrow taught
him, somewhat to his cost.
"Tourists, from Weimar and the Thuringian Countries," says a Note-book,
sometimes useful to us, "have most likely omitted Rossbach in their
screaming railway flight eastward; and done little in Leipzig but
endeavor to eat dinner, and, still more vainly, to snatch a little
sleep in the inhuman dormitories of the Country. Next morning, screaming
Dresden-ward, they might, especially if military, pause at Oschatz, a
stage or two before Meissen, where again are objects of interest. You
can look at Hubertsburg, if given that way,--a Royal Schloss, memorable
on several grounds;--at Hubertsburg, and at other features, in the
neighborhood of Oschatz. This done, or this left not done, you strike
off leftward, that is northward, in some open vehicle, for survey of
Torgau and its vicinities and environs. Not above fifteen miles for you;
a drive singular and pleasant; time enough to return and be in Dresden
for dinner.
"Torgau is a fine solid old Town; Prussian military now abundant in it.
In ancient Heathen times, I suppose, it meant the GAU, or District,
of THOR; Capital of that Gau,--part of which, now under Christian or
quasi-Christian circumstances, you have just been traversing, with Elbe
on your right hand. Innocent rural aspects of Humanity, Boor's life,
Gentry's life, all the way, not in any holiday equipment; on the
contrary, somewhat unkempt and scraggy, but all the more honest
and inoffensive. There is sky, earth, air, and freedom for your own
reflections: a really agreeable kind of Gau; pleasant, though in part
ugly. Large tracts of it are pine-wood, with pleasant Villages and fine
arable expanses interspersed. Schilda and many Villages you leave to
right and left. Old-fashioned Villages, with their village industries
visible around; laboring each in its kind,--not too fast; probably with
extinct tobacco-pipe hanging over its chin (KALT-RAUCHEND, 'smoking
COLD,' as they phrase it).
"Schilda has an absurd celebrity among the Germans: it is the Gotham of
Teutschland; a fountain of old broad-grins and homely and hearty
rustic banter; welling up from the serious extinct Ages to our own day;
'SCHILTburger' (Inhabitant of SCHILDA) meaning still, among all the
Teutsch populations, a man of calmly obstinate whims and delusions,
of notions altogether contrary to fact, and agreeable to himself
only; resolutely pushing his way through life on those terms:
amid horse-laughter, naturally, and general wagging of beards from
surrounding mankind. Extinct mirth, not to be growled at or despised, in
Ages running to the shallow, which have lost their mirth, and become all
one snigger of mock-mirth. For it is observable, the more solemn is your
background of DARK, the brighter is the play of all human genialities
and coruscations on it,--of genial mirth especially, in the hour for
mirth. Who the DOCTOR BORDEL of Schilda was, I do not know: but they
have had their Bordel, as Gotham had;--probably various Bordels;
industrious to pick up those Spiritual fruits of the earth. For the
records are still abundant and current; fully more alive than those of
Gotham here are.--And yonder, then, is actually Schilda of the absurd
fame. A small, cheerful-looking human Village, in its Island among the
Woods; you see it lying to the right:--a clean brick-slate
congeries, with faint smoke-canopy hanging over it, indicating frugal
dinner-kettles on the simmer;--and you remember kindly those good old
grinnings, over good SCHILTBURGER, good WISE MEN OF GOTHAM, and
their learned Chroniclers, and unlearned Peasant Producers, who have
contributed a wrinkle of human Fun to the earnest face of Life.
"After Schilda, and before, you traverse long tracts of Pine Forest, all
under forest management; with long straight stretches of sandy road (one
of which is your own), straight like red tape-strings, intersecting the
wide solitudes: dangerous to your topographies,--for the finger-posts
are not always there, and human advice you can get none. Nothing but the
stripe of blue sky overhead, and the brown one of tape (or sand) under
your feet: the trees poor and mean for most part, but so innumerable,
and all so silent, watching you all like mute witnesses, mutely
whispering together; no voice but their combined whisper or big forest
SOUGH audible to you in the world:--on the whole, your solitary ride
there proves, unexpectedly, a singular deliverance from the mad railway,
and its iron bedlamisms and shrieking discords and precipitances; and
is soothing, and pensively welcome, though sad enough, and in outward
features ugly enough. No wild boars are now in these woods, no chance of
a wolf:"--what concerns us more is, that Friedrich's columns, on the 3d
of November, had to march up through these long lanes, or tape-stripes
of the Torgau Forest; and that one important column, one or more,
took the wrong turn at some point, and was dangerously wanting at the
expected moment!--
"Torgau itself stands near Elbe; on the shoulder, eastern or Elbe-ward
shoulder, of a big mass of Knoll, or broad Height, called of Siptitz,
the main Eminence of the Gau. Shoulder, I called it, of this Height of
Siptitz; but more properly it is on a continuation, or lower ulterior
height dipping into Elbe itself, that Torgau stands. Siptitz Height,
nearly a mile from Elbe, drops down into a straggle of ponds; after
which, on a second or final rise, comes Torgau dipping into Elbe. Not
a shoulder strictly, but rather a CHEEK, with NECK intervening;--neck
GOITRY for that matter, or quaggy with ponds! The old Town stands high
enough, but is enlaced on the western and southern side by a set of
lakes and quagmires, some of which are still extensive and undrained.
The course of the waters hereabouts; and of Elbe itself, has had its
intricacies: close to northwest, Torgau is bordered, in a straggling
way, by what they call OLD ELBE; which is not now a fluent entity, but
a stagnant congeries of dirty waters and morasses. The Hill of Siptitz
abuts in that aqueous or quaggy manner; its forefeet being, as it were,
at or in Elbe River, and its sides, to the South and to the North
for some distance each way, considerably enveloped in ponds and boggy
difficulties.
"Plenty of water all about, but I suppose mostly of bad quality; at
least Torgau has declined drinking it, and been at the trouble to lay
a pipe, or ROHRGRABEN, several miles long, to bring its culinary water
from the western neighborhoods of Siptitz Height. Along the southern
side of Siptitz Height goes leisurely an uncomfortable kind of Brook,
called the 'ROHRGRABEN (Pipe-Ditch);' the meaning of which unexpected
name you find to be, That there is a SERVICE-PIPE laid cunningly at the
bottom of this Brook; lifting the Brook at its pure upper springs, and
sending it along, in secret tubular quasi-bottled condition; leaving the
fouler drippings from the neighborhood to make what 'brook' they still
can, over its head, and keep it out of harm's way till Torgau get it.
This is called the ROHRGRABEN, this which comes running through Siptitz
Village, all along by the southern base of Siptitz Hill; to the idle
eye, a dirtyish Brook, ending in certain notable Ponds eastward: but
to the eye of the inquiring mind, which has pierced deeper, a Tube of
rational Water, running into the throats of Torgau, while the so-called
Brook disembogues at discretion into the ENTEFANG (Duck-trap), and what
Ponds or reedy Puddles there are,"--of which, in poor Wunsch's fine bit
of fighting, last Year, we heard mention. Let readers keep mind of them.
The Hill Siptitz, with this ROHRGRABEN at the southern basis of it,
makes a very main figure in the Battle now imminent. Siptitz Height
is, in fact, Daun's Camp; where he stands intrenched to the utmost,
repeatedly changing his position, the better to sustain Friedrich's
expected attacks. It is a blunt broad-backed Elevation, mostly in
vineyard, perhaps on the average 200 feet above the general level, and
of five or six square miles in area: length, east to west, from Grosswig
neighborhood to the environs of Torgau, may be about three miles;
breadth, south to north, from the Siptitz to the Zinna neighborhoods,
above half that distance. The Height is steepish on the southern side,
all along to the southwest angle (which was Daun's left flank in the
great Action coming), but swells up with easier ascent on the west,
earth and other sides. Let the reader try for some conception of its
environment and it, as the floor or arena of a great transaction this
day.
Daun stands fronting southward along these Siptitz Heights, looking
towards Schilda and his dangerous neighbor; heights, woods, ponds and
inaccessibilities environing his Position and him. One of the strongest
positions imaginable; which, under Prince Henri, proved inexpugnable
enough to some of us. A position not to be attacked on that southern
front, nor on either of its flanks:--where can it be attacked?
Impregnable, under Prince Henri in far inferior force: how will you take
it from Daun in decidedly superior? A position not to be attacked at
all, most military men would say;--though One military man, in his
extreme necessity, must and will find a way into it.
One fault, the unique military man, intensely pondering, discovers that
it has: it is too small for Daun; not area enough for manoeuvring 65,000
men in it; who will get into confusion if properly dealt with. A most
comfortable light-flash, the EUREKA of this terrible problem. "We will
attack it on rear and on front simultaneously; that is the way to handle
it!" Yes; simultaneously, though that is difficult, say military judges;
perhaps to Prussians it may be possible. It is the opinion of military
judges who have studied the matter, that Friedrich's plan, could it have
been perfectly executed, might have got not only victory from Daun,
but was capable to fling his big Army and him pell-mell upon the Elbe
Bridge, that is to say, in such circumstances, into Elbe River, and
swallow him bodily at a frightful rate! That fate was spared poor Daun.
MONDAY, 3d NOVEMBER, 1760, at half-past 6 in the morning Friedrich is
on march for this great enterprise. The march goes northward, in Three
Columns, with a Fourth of Baggage; through the woods, on four different
roads; roads, or combinations of those intricate sandy avenues already
noticed. Northward all of it at first; but at a certain point ahead (at
crossing of the Eilenburg-Torgau Road, namely), the March is to divide
itself in two. Half of the force is to strike off rightward there with
Ziethen, and to issue on the south side of Siptitz Hill; other half,
under Friedrich himself, to continue northward, long miles farther,
and then at last bending round, issue--simultaneously with Ziethen, if
possible--upon Siptitz Hill from the north side. We are about 44,000
strong, against Daun, who is 65,000.
Simultaneously with Ziethen, so far as humanly possible: that is the
essential point! Friedrich has taken every pains that it shall be
correct, in this and all points; and to take double assurance of hiding
it from Daun, he yesternight, in dictating his Orders on the other heads
of method, kept entirely to himself this most important Ziethen portion
of the Business. And now, at starting, he has taken Ziethen in his
carriage with him a few miles, to explain the thing by word of mouth.
At the Eilenburg road, or before it, Ziethen thinks he is clear as to
everything; dismounts; takes in hand the mass intrusted to him;
and strikes off by that rightward course: "Rightward, Herr Ziethen;
rightward till you get to Klitschen, your first considerable island
in this sea of wood; at Klitschen strike to the left into the woods
again,--your road is called the Butter-Strasse (BUTTER-STREET); goes
by the northwest side of Siptitz Height; reach Siptitz by the
Butter-Street, and then do your endeavor!"
With the other Half of his Army, specially with the First Column of it,
Friedrich proceeds northward on his own part of the adventure. Three
Columns he has, besides the Baggage one: in number about equal to
Ziethen's; if perhaps otherwise, rather the chosen Half; about 8,000
grenadier and footguard people, with Kleist's Hussars, are Friedrich's
own Column. Friedrich's Column marches nearest the Daun positions; the
Baggage-column farthest; and that latter is to halt, under escort,
quite away to left or westward of the disturbance coming; the other
Two Columns, Hulsen's of foot, Holstein's mostly of horse, go through
intermediate tracks of wood, by roads more or less parallel; and are
all, Friedrich's own Column, still more the others, to leave Siptitz
several miles to right, and to end, not AT Siptitz Height, but several
miles past it, and then wheeling round, begin business from the
northward or rearward side of Daun, while Ziethen attacks or menaces his
front,--simultaneously, if possible. Friedrich's march, hidden all by
woods, is more than twice as far as Ziethen's,--some 14 or 15 miles in
all; going straight northward 10 miles; thence bending eastward, then
southward through woods; to emerge about Neiden, there to cross a Brook
(Striebach), and strike home on the north side of Daun. The track of
march is in the shape somewhat of a shepherd's crook; the long HANDLE of
it, well away from Siptitz, reaches up to Neiden, this is the straight
or wooden part of said crook; after which comes the bent, catching, or
iron part,--intended for Daun and his fierce flock. Ziethen has hardly
above six miles; and ought to be deliberate in his woodlands, till the
King's party have time to get round.
The morning, I find, is wet; fourteen miles of march: fancy such a
Promenade through the dripping Woods; heavy, toilsome, and with such
errand ahead! The delays were considerable; some of them accidental.
Vigilant Daun has Detachments watching in these Woods:--a General Ried,
who fires cannon and gets off: then a General St. Ignon and the St.
Ignon Regiment of Dragoons; who, being BETWEEN Column First and Column
Second, cannot get away; but, after some industry by Kleist and those
of Column Two, are caught and pocketed, St. Ignon himself prisoner among
the rest. This delay may perhaps be considered profitable: but there
were other delays absolutely without profit. For example, that of having
difficulties with your artillery-wagons in the wet miry lanes; that of
missing your road, at some turn in the solitary woods; which latter was
the sad chance of Column Third, fatally delaying it for many hours.
Daun, learning by those returned parties from the Woods what the Royal
intentions on him are, hastily whirls himself round, so as to front
north, and there receive Friedrich: best line northward for Friedrich's
behoof; rear line or second-best will now receive Ziethen or what may
come. Daun's arrangements are admitted to be prompt and excellent. Lacy,
with his 20,000,--who lay, while Friedrich's attack was expected from
south, at Loswig, as advanced guard, east side of the GROSSE TEICH
(supreme pond of all, which is a continuation of the Duck-trap,
ENTEFANG, and hangs like a chief goitre on the goitry neck of
Torgau),--Lacy is now to draw himself north and westward, and looking
into the Entefang over his left shoulder (so to speak), be rear-guard
against any Ziethen or Prussian party that may come. Daun's baggage
is all across the Elbe, all in wagons since yesterday; three Bridges
hanging for Daun and it, in case of adverse accident. Daun likewise
brings all or nearly all his cannon to the new front, for Friedrich's
behoof: 200 new pieces hither; Archenholtz says 400 in whole; certainly
such a weight of artillery as never appeared in Battle before. Unless
Friedrich's arrangements prove punctual, and his stroke be emphatic,
Friedrich may happen to fare badly. On the latter point, of emphasis,
there is no dubiety for Friedrich: but on the former,--things
are already past doubt, the wrong way! For the last hour or so of
Friedrich's march there has been continual storm of cannonade and
musketry audible from Ziethen's side:--"Ziethen engaged!" thinks
everybody; and quickens step here, under this marching music from the
distance. Which is but a wrong reading or mistake, nothing more; the
real phenomenon being as follows: Ziethen punctually got to Klitschen
at the due hour; struck into the BUTTER-STRASSE, calculating his paces;
but, on the edge of the Wood found a small Austrian party, like those in
Friedrich's route; and, pushing into it, the Austrian party replied with
cannon before running. Whereupon Ziethen, not knowing how inconsiderable
it was, drew out in battle-order; gave it a salvo or two; drove it back
on Lacy, in the Duck-trap direction,--a long way east of Butter-Street,
and Ziethen's real place;--unlucky that he followed it so far! Ziethen
followed it; and got into some languid dispute with Lacy: dispute quite
distant, languid, on both sides, and consisting mainly of cannon; but
lasting in this way many precious hours. This is the phenomenon which
friends, in the distance read to be, "Ziethen engaged!" Engaged, yes,
and alas with what? What Ziethen's degree of blame was, I do not know.
Friedrich thought it considerable:--"Stupid, stupid, MEIN LIEBER!"
which Ziethen never would admit;--and, beyond question, it was of high
detriment to Friedrich this day. Such accidents, say military men, are
inherent, not to be avoided, in that double form of attack: which may be
true, only that Friedrich had no choice left of forms just now.
About noon Friedrich's Vanguard (Kleist and Hussars), about 1 o'clock
Friedrich himself, 7 or 8,000 Grenadiers, emerged from the Woods
about Neiden. This Column, which consists of choice troops, is to
be Front-line of the Attack. But there is yet no Second Column under
Hulsen, still less any Third under Holstein, come in sight: and
Ziethen's cannonade is but too audible. Friedrich halts; sends Adjutants
to hurry on these Columns;--and rides out reconnoitring, questioning
peasants; earnestly surveying Daun's ground and his own. Daun's now
right wing well eastward about Zinna had been Friedrich's intended point
of attack; but the ground, out there, proves broken by boggy brooks and
remnant stagnancies of the Old Elbe: Friedrich finds he must return into
the Wood again; and attack Daun's left. Daun's left is carefully drawn
down EN POTENCE, or gallows-shape there; and has, within the Wood,
carefully built by Prince Henri last year, an extensive Abatis, or
complete western wall,--only the north part of which is perhaps now
passable, the Austrians having in the cold time used a good deal of it
as firewood lately. There, on the northwest corner of Daun, across that
weak part of the Abatis, must Friedrich's attack lie. But Friedrich's
Columns are still fatally behind,--Holstein, with all the Cavalry we
have, so precious at present, is wandering by wrong paths; took the
wrong turn at some point, and the Adjutant can hardly find him at all,
with his precept of "Haste, Haste!"
We may figure Friedrich's humor under these ill omens. Ziethen's
cannonade becomes louder and louder; which Friedrich naturally fancies
to be death or life to him,--not to mean almost nothing, as it did.
"MEIN GOTT, Ziethen is in action, and I have not my Infantry up!"
[Tempelhof, iv. 303.] cried he. And at length decided to attack as he
was: Grenadiers in front, the chosen of his Infantry; Ramin's Brigade
for second line; and, except about 800 of Kleist, no Cavalry at all.
His battalions march out from Neiden hand, through difficult brooks,
Striebach and the like, by bridges of Austrian build, which the
Austrians are obliged to quit in hurry. The Prussians are as yet
perpendicular to Daun, but will wheel rightward, into the Domitsch Wood
again; and then form,--parallel to Daun's northwest shoulder; and to
Prince Henri's Abatis, which will be their first obstacle in charging.
Their obstacles in forming were many and intricate; ground so difficult,
for artillery especially: seldom was seen such expertness, such
willingness of mind. And seldom lay ahead of men such obstacles AFTER
forming! Think only of one fact: Daun, on sight of their intention,
has opened 400 pieces of Artillery on them, and these go raging and
thundering into the hem of the Wood, and to whatever issues from it,
now and for hours to come, at a rate of deafening uproar and of sheer
deadliness, which no observer can find words for.
Archenholtz, a very young officer of fifteen, who came into it perhaps
an hour hence, describes it as a thing surpassable only by Doomsday:
clangorous rage of noise risen to the infinite; the boughs of the trees
raining down on you, with horrid crash; the Forest, with its echoes,
bellowing far and near, and reverberating in universal death-peal;
comparable to the Trump of Doom. Friedrich himself, who is an old hand,
said to those about him: "What an infernal fire (HOLLISCHES FEUER)! Did
you ever hear such a cannonade before? I never." [Tempelhof, iv.
304; Archenholtz, ii. 164.] Friedrich is between the Two Lines of his
Grenadiers, which is his place during the attack: the first Line of
Grenadiers, behind Prince Henri's Abatis, is within 800 yards of Daun;
Ramin's Brigade is to rear of the Second Line, as a Reserve. Horse they
have none, except the 800 Kleist Hussars; who stand to the left, outside
the Wood, fronted by Austrian Horse in hopeless multitude. Artillery
they have, in effect, none: their Batteries, hardly to be got across
these last woody difficulties of trees growing and trees felled, did
rank outside the Wood, on their left; but could do absolutely nothing
(gun-carriages and gunners, officers and men, being alike blown away);
and when Tempelhof saw them afterwards, they never had been fired at
all. The Grenadiers have their muskets, and their hearts and their
right-hands.
With amazing intrepidity, they, being at length all ready in rank
within 800 yards, rush into the throat of this Fire-volcano; in the
way commanded,--which is the alone way: such a problem as human bravery
seldom had. The Grenadiers plunge forward upon the throat of Daun; but
it is into the throat of his iron engines and his tearing billows of
cannon-shot that most of them go. Shorn down by the company, by the
regiment, in those terrible 800 yards,--then and afterwards. Regiment
STUTTERHEIM was nearly all killed and wounded, say the Books. You would
fancy it was the fewest of them that ever got to the length of selling
their lives to Daun, instead of giving them away to his 400 cannon. But
it is not so. The Grenadiers, both Lines of them, still in quantity, did
get into contact with Daun. And sold him their lives, hand to hand, at a
rate beyond example in such circumstances;--Daun having to hurry up new
force in streams upon them; resolute to purchase, though the price, for
a long while, rose higher and higher.
At last the 6,000 Grenadiers, being now reduced to the tenth man, had to
fall back. Upon which certain Austrian Battalions rushed dawn in chase,
counting it Victory come: but were severely admonished of that mistake;
and driven back by Ramin's people, who accompanied them into their ranks
and again gave Daun a great deal of trouble before he could overpower
them. This is Attack First, issuing in failure first: one of the
stiffest bits of fighting ever known. Began about 2 in the afternoon;
ended, I should guess, rather after 3. Daun, by this time, is in
considerable disorder of line; though his 400 fire-throats continue
belching ruin, and deafening the world, without abatement. Daun himself
had got wounded in the foot or leg during this Attack, but had no time
to mind it: a most busy, strong and resolute Daun; doing his very best.
Friedrich, too, was wounded,--nobody will tell me in which of these
attacks;--but I think not now, at least will not speak of it now. What
his feelings were, as this Grenadier Attack went on,--a struggle so
unequal, but not to be helped, from the delays that had risen,--nobody,
himself least of all, records for us: only by this little symptom: Two
Grandsons of the Old Dessauer's are Adjutants of his Majesty, and
well loved by him; one of them now at his hand, the other heading his
regiment in this charge of Grenadiers. Word comes to Friedrich that this
latter one is shot dead. On which Friedrich, turning to the Brother, and
not hiding his emotion, as was usual in such moments, said: "All goes
ill to-day; my friends are quitting me. I have just heard that your
Brother is killed (TOUT VA MAL AUJOURD'HUI; MES AMIS ME QUITTENT. ON
VIENT DE M'ANNONCER LA MORT DE VOTRE FRERE)!" [Preuss, ii. 226.] Words
which the Anhalt kindred, and the Prussian military public, treasured up
with a reverence strange to us. Of Anhalt perhaps some word by and by,
at a fitter season.
Shortly after 3, as I reckon the time, Hulsen's Column did arrive:
choice troops these too, the Pomeranian MANTEUFFEL, one regiment of
them;--young Archenholtz of FORCADE (first Battalion here, second and
third are with Ziethen, making vain noise) was in this Column; came,
with the others, winding to the Wood's edge, in such circuits, poor
young soul; rain pouring, if that had been worth notice; cannon-balls
plunging, boughs crashing, such a TODES-POSAUNE, or Doomsday-Thunder,
broken loose:--they did emerge steadily, nevertheless, he says, "like
sea-billows or flow of tide, under the smoky hurricane." Pretty men are
here too, Manteuffel Pommerners; no hearts stouter. With these, and the
indignant Remnants which waited for them, a new assault upon Daun is set
about. And bursts out, on that same northwest corner of him; say
about half-past 3. The rain is now done, "blown away by the tremendous
artillery," thinks Archenholtz, if that were any matter.
The Attack, supported by a few more Horse (though Column Three still
fatally lingers), and, I should hope, by some practicable weight of
Field-batteries, is spurred by a grimmer kind of indignation, and is of
fiercer spirit than ever. Think how Manteuffel of Foot will blaze out;
and what is the humor of those once overwhelmed Remnants, now getting
air again! Daun's line is actually broken in this point, his artillery
surmounted and become useless; Daun's potence and north front are
reeling backwards, Prussians in possession of their ground. "The field
to be ours!" thinks Friedrich, for some time. If indeed Ziethen had
been seriously busy on the southern side of things, instead of vaguely
cannonading in that manner! But resolute Daun, with promptitude, calls
in his Reserve from Grosswig, calls in whatsoever of disposable force he
can gather; Daun rallies, rushes again on the Prussians in overpowering
number; and, in spite of their most desperate resistance, drives them
back, ever back; and recovers his ground.
A very desperate bout, this Second one; probably the toughest of the
Battle: but the result again is Daun's; the Prussians palpably
obliged to draw back. Friedrich himself got wounded here;--poor young
Archenholtz too, ONLY wounded, not killed, as so many were:--Friedrich's
wound was a contusion on the breast; came of some spent bit of
case-shot, deadened farther by a famed pelisse he wore,--"which saved my
life," he said afterwards to Henri. The King himself little regarded
it (mentioning it only to Brother Henri, on inquiry and solicitation),
during the few weeks it still hung about him. The Books intimate that
it struck him to the earth, void of consciousness for some time, to
the terror of those about him; and that he started up, disregarding
it altogether in this press of business, and almost as if ashamed of
himself, which imposed silence on people's tongues. In military circles
there is still, on this latter point, an Anecdote; which I cannot
confirm or deny, but will give for the sake of Berenhorst and his famed
Book on the ART OF WAR. Berenhorst--a natural son of the Old Dessauer's,
and evidently enough a chip of the old block, only gone into the
articulate-speaking or intellectual form--was, for the present, an
Adjutant or Aide-de-camp of Friedrich's; and at this juncture was seen
bending over the swooned Friedrich, perhaps with an over-pathos or
elaborate something in his expression of countenance: when Friedrich
reopened his indignant eyes: "WAS MACHT ER HIER?" cried Friedrich: "ER
SAMMLE FUYARDS! What have you to do here? Go and gather runaways" (be
of some real use, can't you)!--which unkind cut struck deep into
Berenhorst, they say; and could never after be eradicated from his
gloomy heart. It is certain he became Prince Henri's Adjutant soon
after, and that in his KRIEGSKUNST, amidst the clearest orthodox
admiration, he manifests, by little touches up and down, a feeling
of very fell and pallid quality against the King; and belongs, in a
peculiarly virulent though taciturn way, to the Opposition Party. His
Book, next to English Lloyd's (or perhaps superior, for Berenhorst is
of much the more cultivated intellect, highly condensed too, though so
discursive and far-read, were it not for the vice of perverse diabolic
temper), seemed, to a humble outsider like myself, greatly the
strongest-headed, most penetrating and humanly illuminative I had had to
study on that subject. Who the weakest-headed was (perhaps JOMINI, among
the widely circulating kind?), I will not attempt to decide, so great is
the crush in that bad direction. To return.
This Second Attack is again a repulse to the indignant Friedrich; though
he still persists in fierce effort to recover himself: and indeed Daun's
interior, too, it appears, is all in a whirl of confusion; his losses
too having been enormous:--when, see, here at length, about half-past 4,
Sun now down, is the tardy Holstein, with his Cavalry, emerging from
the Woods. Comes wending on yonder, half a mile to north of us; straight
eastward or Elbe-ward (according to the order of last night), leaving
us and our death-struggles unregarded, as a thing that is not on his
tablets, and is no concern of Holstein's. Friedrich halts him, not
quite too late; organizes a new and third Attack. Simultaneous universal
effort of foot and horse upon Daun's Front; Holstein himself, who is
almost at Zinna by this time, to go upon Daun's right wing. This is
Attack Third; and is of sporadic intermittent nature, in the thickening
dusk and darkness: part of it successful, none of it beaten, but
nowhere the success complete. Thus, in the extreme west or leftmost of
Friedrich's attack, SPAEN Dragoons,--one of the last Horse Regiments
of Holstein's Column,--SPAEN Dragoons, under their Lieutenant-Colonel
Dalwig (a beautiful manoeuvrer, who has stormed through many fields,
from Mollwitz onwards), cut in, with an admired impetuosity, with an
audacious skill, upon, the Austrian Infantry Regiments there; broke
them to pieces, took two of them in the lump prisoners; bearded whole
torrents of Austrian cavalry rushing up to the rescue,--and brought off
their mass of prisoner regiments and six cannon;--the Austrian rescuers
being charged by some new Prussian party, and hunted home again.
[Tempelhof, iv. 305.] "Had these Prussian Horse been on their ground at
2 o'clock, and done as now, it is very evident," says Tempelhof, "what
the Battle of Torgau had by this time been!"
Near by, too, farther rightwards, if in the bewildering indistinctness
I might guess where (but the where is not so important to us), Baireuth
Dragoons, they of the 67 standards at Striegau long since, plunged into
the Austrian Battalions at an unsurpassable rate; tumbled four regiments
of them (Regiment KAISER, Regiment NEIPPERG,--nobody now cares which
four) heels over head, and in few minutes took the most of them
prisoners; bringing them home too, like Dalwig, through crowds of
rescuers. Eastward, again, or Elbe-ward, Holstein has found such
intricacies of ground, such boggy depths and rough steeps, his
Cavalry could come to no decisive sabring with the Austrian; but stood
exchanging shot;--nothing to be done on that right wing of Daun.
Daun's left flank, however, does appear, after Three such Attacks, to be
at last pretty well ruined: Tempelhof says, "Daun's whole Front Line was
tumbled to pieces; disorder had, sympathetically, gone rearward, even
in those eastern parts; and on the western and northwestern the Prussian
Horse Regiments were now standing in its place." But, indeed, such
charging and recharging, pulsing and repulsing, has there been
hereabouts for hours past, the rival Hosts have got completely
interpenetrated; Austrian parties, or whole regiments, are to rear of
those Prussians who stand ranked here, and in victorious posture, as the
Night sinks. Night is now sinking on this murderous day: "Nothing more
to be made of it; try it again to-morrow!" thinks the King; gives Hulsen
charge of bivouacking and re-arranging these scattered people; and rides
with escort northwestward to Elsnig, north of Neiden, well to rear of
this bloody arena,--in a mood of mind which may be figured as gloomy
enough.
Daun, too, is home to Torgau,--1 think, a little earlier,--to have his
wound dressed, now that the day seems to him secure. Buccow, Daun's
second, is killed; Daun's third is an Irish Graf O'Donnell, memorable
only on this one occasion; to this O'Donnell, and to Lacy, who is firm
on his ground yonder, untouched all day, the charge of matters is left.
Which cannot be a difficult one, hopes Daun. Daun, while his wound is
dressing, speeds off a courier to Vienna. Courier did enter duly there,
with glorious trumpeting postilions, and universal Hep-hep-hurrah;
kindling that ardently loyal City into infinite triumph and
illumination,--for the space of certain hours following.
Hulsen meanwhile has been doing his best to get into proper bivouac for
the morrow; has drawn back those eastward horse regiments, drawn forward
the infantry battalions; forward, I think, and well rightward, where,
in the daytime, Daun's left flank was. On the whole, it is northwestward
that the general Prussian Bivouac for this night is; the extremest
SOUTHwestern-most portion of it is Infantry, under General Lestwitz;
a gallant useful man, who little dreams of becoming famous this dreary
uncertain night.
It is 6 o'clock. Damp dusk has thickened down into utter darkness, on
these terms:--when, lo, cannonade and musketade from the south,
audible in the Lestwitz-Hulsen quarters: seriously loud; red glow
of conflagration visible withal,--some unfortunate Village going up
("Village of Siptitz, think you?"); and need of Hulsen at his fastest!
Hulsen, with some readiest Foot Regiments, circling round, makes
thitherward; Lestwitz in the van. Let us precede him thither, and
explain a little what it was.
Ziethen, who had stood all day making idle noises,--of what a fatal
quality we know, if Ziethen did not,--waiting for the King's appearance,
must have been considerably displeased with himself at nightfall, when
the King's fire gradually died out farther and farther north, giving
rise to the saddest surmises. Ziethen's Generals, Saldern and the
Leuthen Mollendorf, are full of gloomy impatience, urgent on him to try
something. "Push westward, nearer the King? Some stroke at the enemy on
their south or southwestern side, where we have not molested them all
day? No getting across the Rohrgraben on them, says your Excellenz?
Siptitz Village, and their Battery there, is on our side of the
Rohrgraben:--UM GOTTES WILLEN, something, Herr General!" Ziethen does
finally assent: draws leftward, westward; unbuckles Saldern's people
upon Siptitz; who go like sharp hounds from the slip; fasten on Siptitz
and the Austrians there, with a will; wrench these out, force them to
abandon their Battery, and to set Siptitz on fire, while they run out
of it. Comfortable bit of success, so far,--were not Siptitz burning,
so that we cannot get through. "Through, no: and were we through, is not
there the Rohrgraben?" thinks Ziethen, not seeing his way.
How lucky that, at this moment, Mollendorf comes in, with a discovery
to westward; discovery of our old friend "the Butter-Street,"--it is
nothing more,--where Ziethen should have marched this morning: there
would he have found a solid road across the Rohrgraben, free passage
by a bridge between two bits of ponds, at the SCHAFEREI (Sheep-Farm) of
Siptitz yonder. "There still," reports Mollendorf, "the solid road
is; unbeset hitherto, except by me Mollendorf!" Thitherward all do
now hasten, Austrians, Prussians: but the Prussians are beforehand;
Mollendorf is master of the Pass, deploying himself on the other side
of it, and Ziethen and everybody hastening through to support him there,
and the Austrians making fierce fight in vain. The sound of which has
reached Hulsen, and set Lestwitz and him in motion thither.
For the thing is vital, if we knew it. Close ahead of Mollendorf, when
he is through this Pass, close on Mollendorf's left, as he wheels round
on the attacking Austrians, is the southwest corner of Siptitz Height.
Southwest corner, highest point of it; summit and key of all that Battle
area; rules it all, if you get cannon thither. It hangs steepish on the
southern side, over the Rohrgraben, where this Mollendorf-Austrian fight
begins; but it is beautifully accessible, if you bear round to the west
side,--a fine saddle-shaped bit of clear ground there, in shape like the
outside or seat of a saddle; Domitsch Wood the crupper part; summit of
this Height the pommel, only nothing like so steep:--it is here (on the
southern saddle-flap, so to speak), gradually mounting westward to the
crupper-and-pommel part, that the agony now is.
And here, in utter darkness, illuminated only by the musketry and cannon
blazes, there ensued two hours of stiff wrestling in its kind: not
the fiercest spasm of all, but the final which decided all. Lestwitz,
Hulsen, come sweeping on, led by the sound and the fire; "beating the
Prussian march, they," sharply on all their drums,--Prussian march,
rat-tat-tan, sharply through the gloom of Chaos in that manner; and join
themselves, with no mistake made, to Mollendorf's, to Ziethen's left
and the saddle-flap there, and fall on. The night is pitch-dark,
says Archenholtz; you cannot see your hand before you. Old Hulsen's
bridle-horses were all shot away, when he heard this alarm, far off: no
horse left; and he is old, and has his own bruises. He seated himself
on a cannon; and so rides, and arrives; right welcome the sight of him,
doubt not! And the fight rages still for an hour or more.
To an observant Mollendorf, watching about all day, the importance and
all-importance of Siptitz Summit, if it can be got, is probably known;
to Daun it is alarmingly well known, when he hears of it. Daun is
zealously urgent on Lacy, on O'Donnell; who do try what they can; send
reinforcements, and the like; but nothing that proves useful. O'Donnell
is not the man for such a crisis: Lacy, too, it is remarked, has always
been more expert in ducking out of Friedrich's way than in fighting
anybody. [Archenholtz's sour remark.] In fine, such is the total
darkness, the difficulty, the uncertainty, most or all of the
reinforcements sent halted short, in the belly of the Night, uncertain
where; and their poor friends got altogether beaten and driven away.
MAP FACING PAGE 527, BOOK XX----
About 9 at night, all the Austrians are rolling off, eastward, eastward.
Prussians goading them forward what they could (firing not quite done
till 10); and that all-important pommel of the saddle is indisputably
won. The Austrians settled themselves, in a kind of half-moon shape,
close on the suburbs of Torgau; the Prussians in a parallel half-moon
posture, some furlongs behind them. The Austrians sat but a short time;
not a moment longer than was indispensable. Daun perceives that the
key of his ground is gone from him; that he will have to send a second
Courier to Vienna. And, above all things, that he must forthwith get
across the Elbe and away. Lucky for him that he has Three Bridges (or
Four, including the Town Bridge), and that his Baggage is already all
across and standing on wheels. With excellent despatch and order Daun
winds himself across,--all of him that is still coherent; and indeed, in
the distant parts of the Battle-field, wandering Austrian parties were
admonished hitherward by the River's voice in the great darkness,--and
Daun's loss in prisoners, though great, was less than could have been
expected: 8,000 in all.
Till towards one in the morning, the Prussians, in their half-moon, had
not learned what he was doing. About one they pushed into Torgau, and
across the Town Bridge; found 26 pontoons,--all the rest packed off
except these 26;--and did not follow farther. Lacy retreated by the
other or left bank of the River, to guard against attempts from that
side. Next day there was pursuit of Lacy; some prisoners and furnitures
got from him, but nothing of moment: Daun and Lacy joined at Dresden;
took post, as usual, behind their inaccessible Plauen Chasms. Sat there,
in view of the chasing Prussians, without farther loss than this of
Torgau, and of a Campaign gone to water again. What an issue, for the
third time! [Tempelhof, iv. 291-318,; Archenholtz, ii. 159-174; Retzow,
ii. 299 et seq.; UMSTANDLICHE BESCHREIBUNG DES &C, (in Seyfarth,
_Beylagen,_ ii. 823-848): in _Helden-Geschichte,_ or in _Anonymous of
Hamburg_ (iv. 245-300), the Daun DESPATCHES, the Lists, &c.]--
On Torgau-field, behind that final Prussian half-moon, there reigned,
all night, a confusion which no tongue can express. Poor wounded men by
the hundred and the thousand, weltering in their blood, on the cold wet
ground; not surgeons or nurses, but merciless predatory sutlers, equal
to murder if necessary, waiting on them and on the happier that were
dead. "Unutterable!" says Archenholtz; who, though wounded, had crawled
or got carried to some village near. The living wandered about in gloom
and uncertainty; lucky he whose haversack was still his, and a crust of
bread in it: water was a priceless luxury, almost nowhere discoverable.
Prussian Generals roved about with their Staff-Officers, seeking to
re-form their Battalions; to little purpose. They had grown indignant,
in some instances, and were vociferously imperative and minatory; but in
the dark who needed mind them?--they went raving elsewhere, and, for the
first time, Prussian word-of-command saw itself futile. Pitch darkness,
bitter cold, ground trampled into mire. On Siptitz Hill there is nothing
that will burn: farther back, in the Domitsch Woods, are numerous fine
fires, to which Austrians and Prussians alike gather: "Peace and truce
between us; to-morrow morning we will see which are prisoners, which are
captors." So pass the wild hours, all hearts longing for the dawn, and
what decision it will bring.
Friedrich, at Elsnig, found every hut full of wounded, and their
surgeries, and miseries silent or loud. He himself took shelter in the
little Church; passed the night there. Busy about many things;--"using
the altar," it seems, "by way of writing-table [self or secretaries
kneeling, shall we fancy, on those new terms?], and the stairs of it as
seat." Of the final Ziethen-Lestwitz effort he would scarcely hear the
musketry or cannonade, being so far away from it. At what hour, or from
whom first, he learned that the Battle of Torgau had become Victory
in the night-time, I know not: the Anecdote-Books send him out in his
cloak, wandering up and down before daybreak; standing by the soldiers'
fires; and at length, among the Woods, in the faint incipiency of dawn,
meeting a Shadow which proves to be Ziethen himself in the body, with
embraces and congratulations:--evidently mythical, though dramatic.
Reach him the news soon did; and surely none could be welcomer.
Head-quarters change from the altar-steps in Elsnig Church to secular
rooms in Torgau. Ziethen has already sped forth on the skirts of Lacy;
whole Army follows next day; and, on the War-theatre it is, on the
sudden, a total change of scene. Conceivable to readers without the
details.
Hopes there were of getting back Dresden itself; but that, on closer
view, proved unattemptable. Daun kept his Plauen Chasm, his few
square miles of ground beyond; the rest of Saxony was Friedrich's, as
heretofore. Loudon had tried hard on Kosel for a week; storming once,
and a second time, very fiercely, Goltz being now near; but could make
nothing of it; and, on wind of Goltz, went his way. [HOFBERICHT VON
DER BELAGERUNG VON KOSEL, IM OCTOBER 1760 (Seyfarth, _Beylagen,_ ii.
798-804): began "October 21st;" ended "at daybreak, October 27th."]
The Russians, on sound of Torgau, shouldered arms, and made for Poland.
Daun, for his own share, went to Vienna this Winter; in need of surgery,
and other things. The population there is rather disposed to be
grumbly on its once heroic Fabius; wishes the Fabius were a little less
cunctatory. But Imperial Majesty herself, one is proud to relate,
drove out, in Old Roman spirit, some miles, to meet him, her defeated
ever-honored Daun, and to inquire graciously about his health, which is
so important to the State. [Archenholtz, ii. 179.]
Torgau was Daun's last Battle: Daun's last battle; and, what is more to
the joy of readers and their Editor here, was Friedrich's last,--so
that the remaining Two Campaigns may fairly be condensed to an extreme
degree; and a few Chapters more will deliver us altogether from this
painful element!--
Daun lost at Torgau, by his own account, "about 11,000 men,"--should
have said, according to Tempelhof, and even to neutral persons, "above
12,000 killed and wounded, PLUS 8,000 prisoners, 45 cannon, 29 flags, 1
standard (or horse-flag)," [Tempelhof, iv. 213; Kausler, p. 726.] which
brings him to at least 20,000 minus;--the Prussian loss, heavy enough
too, being, by Tempelhof's admission, "between 13 and 14,000, of whom
4,000 prisoners." The sore loss, not so computable in arithmetic,--but
less sore to Daun, perhaps, than to most people,--is that of being
beaten, and having one's Campaign reduced to water again. No Conquest
of Saxony, any more than of Silesia, possible to Daun, this Year. In
Silesia, thanks to Loudon, small thanks to Loudon's Chief, they have got
Glatz: Kosel they could not get; fiery Loudon himself stormed and blazed
to no purpose there, and had to hurry home on sight of Goltz and relief.
Glatz is the net sum-total. Daun knows all this; but in a stoical
arithmetical manner, and refuses to be flurried by it.
Friedrich, as we said, had hoped something might be done in Saxony on
the defeated Daun;--perhaps Dresden itself be got back from him, and
his Army altogether sent to winter in Bohemia again? But it proved
otherwise. Daun showed not the least disposition to quit his Plauen
Chasm, or fall into discouragement: and after some weeks of diligent
trial, on Friedrich's part, and much running about in those central and
Hill-ward parts, Friedrich found he would have to be content with his
former allotment of Saxon territory, and to leave the Austrians quiet
in theirs. Took winter-quarters accordingly, and let the Enemy take.
Cantoned himself, in that Meissen-Freyberg Country, in front of the
Austrians and their impassable Plauens and Chasms:--pretty much as in
the past Year, only that the Two Armies lay at a greater distance, and
were more peaceable, as if by mutual consent.
Head-quarter of the King is Leipzig; where the King did not arrive till
December 8th,--such adjusting and arranging has he had, and incessant
running to and fro. He lived in the "Apel House, NEW Neumarkt, No. 16;"
[Rodenbeck, ii. 65.] the same he had occupied in 1757, in the Rossbach
time. "ACH! how lean your Majesty has grown!" said the Mistress of it,
at sight of him again (mythically, I should fancy, though it is in the
Anecdote-Books). "Lean, JA WOHL," answered he: "and what wonder, with
Three Women [Theresa, Czarina, Pompadour] hanging on the throat of me
all this while!" But we propose to look in upon him ourselves, in this
Apel House, on more authentic terms, by and by. Read, meanwhile, these
Two bits of Autograph, thrown off incidentally, at different places, in
the previous busy journeyings over Meissen-Freyberg country:--
1. FRIEDRICH TO MARQUIS D'ARGENS (at Berlin).
"MEISSEN, 10th November, 1760.
... "I drove the enemy to the Gates of Dresden; they occupy their Camp
of last Year; all my skill is not enough to dislodge them,"--[Chasm of
Plauen, "a place impregnable, were it garrisoned by chimney-sweeps,"
says the King once]. "We have saved our reputation by the Day of Torgau:
but don't imagine our enemies are so disheartened as to desire Peace.
Duke Ferdinand's affairs are not in a good way [missed Wesel, of which
presently;--and, alas also, George II. died, this day gone a fortnight,
which is far worse for us, if we knew it!]--I fear the French will
preserve through Winter the advantages they gained during the Campaign.
"In a word, I see all black, as if I were at the bottom of a tomb.
Have some compassion on the situation I am in; conceive that I
disguise nothing from you, and yet that I do not detail to you all my
embarrassments, my apprehensions and troubles. Adieu, dear Marquis;
write to me sometimes,--don't forget a poor devil, who curses ten times
a day his fatal existence, and could wish he already were in those
Silent Countries from which nobody returns with news." [_OEuvres de
Frederic,_ xix. 204, 205.]
2. The Second, of different complexion, is a still more interesting
little Autograph, date elsewhere, farther on, in those wanderings. Madam
Camas, Widow of the Colonel Camas whom we knew twenty years ago, is
"Queen's OBER-HOFMEISTERINN (Lady in Chief),"--to whom the King's
Letters are always pretty:--
FREIDRICH TO MADAM CAMAS (at Magdeburg, with the Queen's Majesty).
"NEUSTADT, 18th November, 1760.
"I am exact in answering, and eager to satisfy you [in that matter
of the porcelain] you shall have a breakfast-set, my good Mamma; six
coffee-cups, very pretty, well diapered, and tricked out with all the
little embellishments which increase their value. On account of some
pieces which they are adding to the set, you will have to wait a
few days; but I flatter myself this delay will contribute to your
satisfaction, and produce for you a toy that will give you pleasure, and
make you remember your old Adorer. It is curious how old people's habits
agree. For four years past I have given up suppers, as incompatible
with the Trade I am obliged to follow; and in marching days, my dinner
consists of a cup of chocolate.
"We hurried off, like fools, quite inflated with our Victory, to try if
we could not chase the Austrians out of Dresden: they made a mockery
of us from the tops of their mountains. So I have withdrawn, like a bad
little boy, to conceal myself, out of spite, in one of the wretchedest
villages in Saxony. And here the first thing will be to drive the
Circle gentlemen, [Reichs Army] out of Freyberg into Chemnitz, and get
ourselves room to quarter and something to live upon. It is, I swear to
you, a dog of a life [or even a she-dog, CHIENNE DE VIE], the like of
which nobody but Don Quixote ever led before me. All this tumbling and
toiling, and bother and confusion that never ceases, has made me so old,
that you would scarcely know me again. On the right side of my head
the hair is all gray; my teeth break and fall out; I have got my
face wrinkled like the falbalas of a petticoat; my back bent like a
fiddle-bow; and spirit sad and downcast like a monk of La Trappe. I
forewarn you of all this, lest, in case we should meet again in
flesh and bone, you might feel yourself too violently shocked by my
appearance. There remains to me nothing but the heart,--which has
undergone no change, and which will preserve, so long as I breathe, its
feelings of esteem and of tender friendship for my good Mamma. Adieu."
[_OEuvres de Frederic,_ XVIII. 144.]--To which add only this on Duke
Ferdinand, "whose affairs," we just heard, "are not in a good way:"--
FIGHT OF KLOSTER KAMPEN (Night of October 15th-16th); WESEL NOT TO BE
HAD BY DUKE FERDINAND.
After WARBURG (July 31st, while Friedrich was on the eve of crossing
Elbe on new adventures, Dresden Siege having failed him), Duke Ferdinand
made no figure to the Gazetteers; fought no Battle farther; and has
had a Campaign, which is honorable only to judges of a higher than the
Gazetteer sort.
By Warburg Ferdinand had got the Diemel; on the north bank of which
he spread himself out, impassable to Broglio, who lay trying on the
opposite bank:--"No Hanover by this road." Broglio thereupon drew back
a little; pushed out circuitously from his right wing, which reaches far
eastward of Ferdinand, a considerable Brigade,--circuitously, round by
the Weser-Fulda Country, and beyond the embouchure of Diemel,--to try it
by that method. Got actually a few miles into Hanoverian territory, by
that method; laid hold of Gottingen, also of Munden, which secures a
road thither: and at Gottingen there, "ever since August 4th," Broglio
has been throwing up works, and shooting out hussar-parties to a good
distance; intending, it would seem, to maintain himself, and to be
mischievous, in that post. Would, in fact, fain entice Ferdinand across
the Weser, to help Gottingen. "Across Weser, yes;--and so leave Broglio
free to take Lippstadt from me, as he might after a short siege,"
thinks Ferdinand always; "which would beautifully shorten Broglio's
communication [quite direct then, and without interruption, all the way
to Wesel], and make Hanover itself, Hanover and Brunswick, the central
Seat of War!" Which Ferdinand, grieved as he is for Gottingen, will by
no means consent to.
Ferdinand, strong only as one to two, cannot hinder Broglio, though he
tries variously; and is much at a loss, seeing Broglio irrepressibly
busy this way, all through August and on into September;--has heard,
however, from Wesel, through secret partisans there, that Wesel,
considered altogether out of risk, is left in a very weak condition;
weak in garrison, weak even in gunners. Reflecting upon which, in his
difficulties, Ferdinand asks himself, "A sudden stroke at Wesel, 200
miles away, might it not astonish Broglio, who is so busy on us just
here?"--and, September 22d, despatches the Hereditary Prince on that
errand. A man likely for it, if there be one in the world:--unable to do
it, however, as the issue told. Here is what I find noted.
"SEPTEMBER 22d, the Erbprinz, with a chosen Corps of 15,000, mostly
English, left these Diemel regions towards Wesel, at his speediest.
September 29th, Erbprinz and vanguard, Corps rapidly following, are got
to Dorsten, within 20 miles of Wesel. A most swift Erbprinz; likely
for such work. And it is thought by judges, Had he had either
siege-artillery or scaling apparatus, he might really have attacked
Wesel with good chance upon it. But he has not even a ladder ready,
much less a siege-gun. Siege-guns are at Bielefeld [come from Bremen, I
suppose, by English boating, up the Weser so far]; but that is six score
miles of wheel-carriage; roads bad, and threatening to be worse, as it
is equinoctial weather. There is nothing for it but to wait for those
guns.
"The Erbprinz, hopefully waiting, does his endeavor in the interim;
throws a bridge over the Rhine, pounces upon Cleve garrison (prisoners,
with their furnitures), pounces upon this and that; 'spreads terror'
on the French thereabouts 'up to Dusseldorf and Koln,--and on Broglio
himself, so far off, the due astonishment. 'Wesel to be snatched,--ye
Heavens! Our Netherlands road cut off: Dusseldorf, Koln, our Rhine
Magazines, all and sundry, fallen to the hawks,--who, the lighter-winged
of them, might pay visits in France itself!' Broglio has to suspend
his Gottingen operations, and detach Marquis de Castries with (say
ultimately, for Castries is to grow and gather by the road) 35,000,
to relieve Wesel. Castries marches double-quick; weather very
rainy;--arrives in those parts OCTOBER 13th;--hardly a gun from
Bielefeld come to hand yet, Erbprinz merely filling men with terror. And
so,
"OCTOBER 14th, after two weeks and a day, the Hereditary Prince sees,
not guns from Bielefeld, but Castries pushing into Wesel a 7,000 of
additional garrison,--and the Enterprise on Wesel grown impossible.
Impossible, and probably far more; Castries in a condition to devour
us, if he prove sharp. It behooves the Hereditary Prince to be himself
sharp;--which he undoubtedly was, in this sharp crisis. Next day, our
Erbprinz, taking survey of Castries in his strong ground of Kloster
Kampen, decides, like a gallant fellow, to attack HIM;--and straightway
does it. Breaks, that same night (October 15th-16th, 1760), stealthily,
through woods and with precautions, into Castries's Post;--intending
surprisal, and mere ruin to Castries. And there ensued, not the
SURPRISAL as it turned out, but the BATTLE OF KLOSTER KAMPEN; which
again proved unsuccessful, or only half-successful, to the Hereditary
Prince. A many-winged, intricate Night-Battle; to be read of in Books.
This is where the Chevalier d'Assas, he or Somebody, gave the alarm to
the Castries people at the expense of his life. 'A MOI, AUVERGNE, Ho,
Auvergne!' shouted D'Assas (if it was D'Assas at all), when the stealthy
English came upon him; who was at once cut down. [Preuss (ii. 270 n.)
asserts it to be proved, in _"Miscellen aus den neuesten auslandischen
Litteratur_ (1824, No. 3, p. 409)," a Book which none of us ever saw,
"That the real hero [equal to a Roman Decius or more] was not Captain
d'Assas, of the Regiment Auvergne, but a poor Private Soldier of it,
called Dubois"!--Is not this a strange turn, after such be-PENSIONING,
be-painting, singing and celebrating, as rose upon poor D'Assas, or the
Family of D'Assas, twenty years afterwards (1777-1790)!--Both Dubois and
D'Assas, I conclude, lay among the slain at Kloster Kampen, silent they
forever:--and a painful doubt does rise, As to the miraculous operation
of Posthumous Rumor and Wonder; and Whether there was any "miracle
of heroism," or other miracle at all, and not rather a poor nocturnal
accident,--poor sentry in the edge of the wood, shrieking out, on
apparition of the stealthy English, "Ho, Auvergne, help!" probably
firing withal; and getting killed in consequence? NON NOSTRUM EST.] It
is certain, Auvergne gave fire; awoke Castries bodily; and saved him
from what was otherwise inevitable. Surprise now there was none farther;
but a complex Fight, managed in the darkness with uncommon obstinacy;
ending in withdrawal of the Erbprinz, as from a thing that could not
be done. His loss in killed, wounded and prisoners, was 1,638; that
of Castries, by his own counting, 2,036: but Kloster Kampen, in the
wide-awake state, could not be won.
"During the Fight, the Erbprinz's Rhine-Bridge had burst in two: his
ammunition was running short;--and, it would seem, there is no retreat,
either! The Erbprinz put a bold face on the matter, stood to Castries in
a threatening attitude; manoeuvred skilfully for two days longer,
face still to Castries, till the Bridge was got mended; then, night of
October 18th-19th, crossed to his own side; gathered up his goods; and
at a deliberate pace marched home, on those terms;--doing some useful
fighting by the road." [Mauvillon, ii. 120-129: Tempelhof, ii. 325-332.]
Had lost nothing, say his admirers, "but one cannon, which burst." One
burst cannon left on the field of Kloster Kampen;--but also, as we see,
his errand along with it; and 1,600 good fighters lost and burst: which
was more important! Criticisms there were on it in England, perhaps
of the unwise sort generally; sorrow in the highest quarter. "An
unaccountable expedition," Walpole calls it, "on which Prince Ferdinand
suddenly despatched his Nephew, at the head of a considerable
force, towards the frontiers of Holland,"--merely to see the country
there?--"which occasioned much solicitude in England, as the Main Army,
already unequal to that of France, was thus rendered much weaker. King
George felt it with much anxiety." [Walpole's _George Second,_ iii.
299.] An unaccountable Enterprise, my poor Gazetteer friends,--very
evidently an unsuccessful one, so far as Wesel went. Many English
fallen in it, too: "the English showed here again a GANZ AUSNEHMENDE
TAPFERKEIT," says Mauvillon; and probably their share of the loss was
proportionate.
Clearly enough there is no Wesel to be had. Neither could Broglio,
though disturbed in his Gottingen fortifyings and operations, be ejected
out of Gottingen. Ferdinand, on failure of Wesel, himself marched to
Gottingen, and tried for some days; but found he could not, in such
weather, tear out that firmly rooted French Post, but must be content to
"mask it," for the present; and, this done, withdrew (December 13th)
to his winter-quarters near by, as did Broglio to his,--about the time
Friedrich and Daun had finally settled in theirs.
Ferdinand's Campaigns henceforth, which turn all on the defence of
Hanover, are highly recommended to professional readers; but to the laic
sort do not prove interesting in proportion to the trouble. In fact, the
huge War henceforth begins everywhere, or everywhere except in Pitt's
department of it, to burn lower, like a lamp with the oil getting done;
and has less of brilliancy than formerly. "Let us try for Hanover,"
the Belleisles, Choiseuls and wise French heads had said to themselves:
"Canada, India, everything is lost; but were dear Hanover well in
our clutch, Hanover would be a remedy for many things!" Through the
remaining Campaigns, as in this now done, that is their fixed plan.
Ferdinand, by unwearied effort, succeeded in defending Hanover,--nothing
of it but that inconsiderable slice or skirt round Gottingen, which they
kept long, could ever be got by the French. Ferdinand defended Hanover;
and wore out annually the big French Armies which were missioned
thither, as in the spasm of an expiring last effort by this poor
hag-ridden France,--at an expense to her, say, of 50,000 men per year.
Which was good service on Ferdinand's part; but done less and less in
the shining or universally notable way.
So that with him too we are henceforth, thank Heaven, permitted and
even bound to be brief. Hardly above two Battles more from him, if even
two:--and mostly the wearied Reader's imagination left to conceive
for itself those intricate strategies, and endless manoeuvrings on the
Diemel and the Dill, on the Ohm River and the Schwalm and the Lippe, or
wherever they may be, with small help from a wearied Editor!--