striking a blow, while Anhalt drew back with his troops to the
White-mountain close by Prague. He had barely entrenched his camp, when
news arrived that the Duke Maximilian was approaching with his
division, and that Boucquoi was following with the remainder of the
Imperialists, Anhalt summoned a council of war. Mathias Thurn advised
that they should attack the Duke immediately on his approach, before
the wearied troops should have time to refresh themselves, and before
he could unite himself with Boucquoi. John Bubna, Schlick, Styrum and
others supported his proposal, and the Commander-in-chief Prince Anhalt
seemed already won over to this view, when Hohenlohe pronounced himself
violently against any offensive operation. "We must," he opined, "try
and avoid any open battle with a superior force under the command of
illustrious generals: the result of battles is uncertain, and a crown
is not to be lightly hazarded. We have a strong impregnable position on
the heights and the enemy will not venture to assault us." Hohenlohe's
plan was adopted, and Mathias Thurn left the council in a state of the
highest indignation.--So dawned the morning of the 8th of November, a
day destined to have a decisive influence for centuries to come.
Encouraged by Frederick's example who did not allow himself to be the
least disturbed in his wonted pleasures and amusements, the people in
Prague did not give way to fear, and even in camp on the White-mountain
they believed themselves so secure and so little expected an attack,
that on that very day--it happed to be Sunday--many of the officers and
common soldiers had gone into Prague to see their families.
Gabriel had passed the eight days since his nocturnal visit to Blume in
a state of feverish excitement. He greeted the morning of this day, the
anniversary of his betrothal, with singular feelings. But one short
space of time divided him from the long looked for moment of revenge!
It was forenoon, he was sitting in his room in Reb Schlome Sachs' house
sunk in deep thought, and gazing earnestly before him. Feelings most
various and violent were preying upon him. He permitted, as he was
often wont to do for his own torment, his gaze to hover over his past
life. He saw himself a boy, full of peace and faith in the house of his
grandfather, in the house of his mother. He saw himself a youth by the
side of his grandfather in the presence of his exquisitely lovely bride
all glowing with becoming modesty he called to remembrance the golden
dreams of his youth, how in blissful hope he purposed to obtain a
rapturous world to come by a life dedicated to virtue and faith.... And
then how that was all suddenly, oh how suddenly, changed--his dying
mother--that feast of atonement when he stood in despair before Blume.
And now, now, he was about to take vengeance, fearful vengeance!... He
knew that it would be impossible to inflict a more painful wound on
Blume, that chaste pure woman, that he could not more deeply degrade
her--and yet he did not doubt that the noble faithful woman would make
a sacrifice of her honour, her soul's peace to her husband. Sometimes
it seemed to him as if the minutes that separated him from midnight
were rolling on too quickly, too hurriedly, as if he would enjoy the
expectation of the near approaching moment of revenge, more than the
moment itself? Generally, however, each second seemed infinitely long,
and he could not control his impatience. The thought of his father too,
as it always did when he was violently excited, had associated itself
with all these recollections, with all these unwonted emotions. Swiftly
succeeding feelings of alternate love and hate towards him, the natural
desire to learn to know him, perhaps that too which we call the voice
of nature, all this together had constantly aroused in his heart an
indescribable strange desire. At this instant he doubted whether he
would ever find him. One thing that he had striven after for years, he
believed that he had attained: but it was impossible that Blume should
escape him, he had always been sure, though perhaps years might be
consumed in the search, that he must sooner or later discover her. But
his father? Of him he knew absolutely nothing, he had not the smallest
ground to go upon, not the faintest shadow of a conjecture dawned on
him.--Where could he seek him; where could he find _him_?
The hurried opening of the door roused Gabriel suddenly out of the
confused chaos of his thoughts, he turned round. Before him stood the
boy, the ordinary messenger of the armourer in the Platnergasse.--
"Gracious Sir!" cried the boy, "Captain Schlemmersdorf, is
waiting for you at home, he is urgently desirous to speak with you
speedily"--Gabriel hesitated.
"Say, you could not find me, young one," he replied after a short
reflection: "I wish to remain undisturbed till to-morrow."
"Gracious Sir! It must be about some most weighty matters. The captain
was beside himself at not finding you at home, he wished to follow me.
I was to tell you, that life, honour, everything was at stake."
Gabriel now rose hastily but with a dissatisfied air and obvious
reluctance. Shortly afterwards he had arrived in the manner now
well-known to us, at his house in the Marienplatz, where Schlemmersdorf
was waiting for him with terrible impatience.
"Where have you been staying so long General?" he cried out to him as
he entered, "quick, make haste, take your arms, to horse, to horse.--I
pray you haste!"
"What has happened?" enquired Gabriel.
"Nothing pleasant, at least not for the present.... Early this morning
the advanced guard of the Bavarian column was seen at the further end
of the street. The Prince once again summons the few officers present
in camp, to advise whether now at any rate it would not be prudent to
receive the advancing troops with an attack: but Hohenlohe absolutely
refuses to quit the secure position upon the heights, and whilst he is
saying all he can in favour of his view, it is announced that Tilly
with his Bavarians has crossed the river by a small bridge without
hindrance.--The propitious moment for an attack is lost to us. Duke
Maximilian is deploying in the centre his whole well-formed array;
Boucquoi, who must have followed close upon the Duke, is taking up a
position on the right wing, and we have the entire main-body of the
enemy opposed to us.--The Prince, who is expecting every moment to be
attacked by the Imperialists, is endeavouring in the greatest haste to
range his troops in order of battle. He has despatched Habernfield to
the king with a request that he will adjourn the ill-timed banquet that
he gives to the English ambassadors, and come to the camp, in order to
cheer the low spirits of the troops. Styrum is looking for Mathias
Thurn and I have hastened to you--but General! don your armour at once.
Why tarry you?"
The General had listened to Schlemmersdorf in silence and in spite of
his urgency without the least movement.
"What should I do in camp?" he now enquired.
"A strange question, Sir General," replied Schlemmersdorf excitedly,
"as far as one could hastily gather in the camp," he added hurriedly
resuming, "you were to take charge of the Hungarian cavalry on the
left, instead of Bornemissa, who is lying sick."
"Never, never, Sir Captain," cried the General indignantly, "I will
never undertake the command of a detachment unaccustomed to discipline,
whose language I do not even know, to whom I could not make my orders
intelligible. I am obliged to the Prince for the honour and glory,
which might have been obtained with the command.--However, Sir Captain,
I cannot be of much use in the camp. I am unacquainted with the state
of the army that is drawn up here, I am informed neither as to the
strength of the divisions, nor the capacity of their officers; I am
entirely ignorant of the plan of proceedings.... Sir Captain, you must
yourself allow, it would be an unparalleled event in the history of
military operations, if I resolved to accept a command under such
circumstances."
Schlemmersdorf could not contest the justice of these observations, he
was silent.
"I can therefore render no service outside there," continued Gabriel,
"except with my sword, like any other common trooper.... but as
the Prince did not choose to invite me to the council, though all the
other superior officers here present took part in it, I think he will
do very well without an individual officer of Mannsfield's in the
battle-field.... Make then my excuses to the Prince, if I stay here,
where, precisely to-day urgent business, that admits of no
postponement, detains me."
"There is no more urgent duty than honour," burst forth Schlemmersdorf.
"I know, General, that you have been badly treated," he added, in a
conciliatory tone, "badly treated in many ways, it was wrong of the
Prince.... but now you are needed, the Prince summons you, after a
victory you shall have full satisfaction...."
Gabriel paced the chamber unquietly in deep emotion; a strange horror
that he had never before had a presentiment of, thrilled through
him.... that he should that very day be summoned to the battlefield!
that very day on the anniversary of his betrothal to Blume, that very
day, when he desired to take vengeance, to accomplish his long matured
plan!...
Schlemmersdorf was in despair, he was willing to make any concession to
gain his object. "General," he said at length stepping close up to
Gabriel, "time presses, resolve quickly whilst we are here idly
babbling away the time, the Imperialists are perhaps assaulting our
lines. This day may decide the fate of Frederick's crown, of Bohemia.
Consider; it would be an eternal ineffaceable blot upon your name, if
you withdrew at the commencement of a battle.--What would your own age,
what would even your friend Mannsfield say?"
Schlemmersdorf had touched Gabriel's weak point. His honour as a
soldier and Mannsfield's esteem were his highest possessions. Regard
for his honour, and a wild thirst for battle drew him into the field,
and yet he on the other hand felt himself chained fast to Prague by
brazen bonds.--He had looked death in the face unmoved a thousand
times, but to-day, just to-day, so near the goal.... to perish to-day
on the battle-field, perhaps to die unavenged, perhaps to die without
having retaliated the unspeakable woe that had stricken him, perhaps to
die without having achieved one single aim.... that was a thought that
filled him with fearful unutterable dismay. It seemed to him as if he
must strain every nerve to preserve his life for his revenge, for this
night--a discord full of torment rent his heart. For a moment he
remained undecided, but when Schlemmersdorf wrapped his cloak about him
and without a word of farewell turned his back contemptuously upon him
and stepped towards the door, he made a sudden resolution, "I go with
you, Schlemmersdorf!" he exclaimed, "go with you ... but I will not
fall to-day!"--Schlemmersdorf looked in Gabriel's face with surprise.
He knew that it was no expression of mere cowardice that escaped him;
but time was too precious for further enquiries, he urged him to make
all haste, and shortly afterwards the two were spurring at full speed
through the Strahower gate towards the camp. Outside the town they
encountered Styrum who had gone in vain quest for Mathias Thurn.
_Mathias Thurn was not to be found that day_.
* * *
The two hosts were drawn up opposite one another. The Imperial-Bavarian
army, over 30,000 strong, was in good order and eager for battle. The
Bohemian, scarcely numbering 20,000, was surprised, and in spite of the
favourable ground which it occupied was drawn up in a great hurry by
Anhalt without any fixed principle. The Prince had brought up all
the artillery that he had on to the heights that covered his right
wing.--This therefore, commanded by the young Prince Anhalt, was ranged
in the line of its own fire, the trajectory of which would pass over
its head. Hohenlohe commanded the centre under Anhalt, Bornemissa who
had had himself carried to the field in spite of his illness, the
left.--The Duke himself commanded the Imperial army in chief, under him
Lichtenstein the centre, Tilly the left, Boucquoi, who in spite of the
wound that he had received at Rakonitz was again on horse, the right
wing.
It was a beautiful fresh winter's day. The Imperialists seemed for some
time to be in doubt whether they should advance. At length, between
twelve and one o'clock in the afternoon, the two lines of which the
extreme wings were made up, set themselves in motion, and pushed
forward with drums rolling and loud shouting. Anhalt at once commenced
a cannonade from all his guns, but they were pointed too high, and the
balls passed far over the heads of the Imperialists without killing
even a single man. The right wing of the Bohemians was now impetuously
attacked and thrown back: but young Anhalt, supported by Bubna and
young Thurn, broke suddenly (according to the enemies' own account)
like thunder and lightning in amongst the Imperial cavalry, and his
extraordinarily fierce onset in spite of the most obstinate, heroic
resistance forced it slowly to give ground. The Imperialists lost three
standards, and Captain Preuner was taken prisoner. Victory seemed
inclining towards Frederick's side. But at this decisive moment
reinforcements arrived for the hard pressed Imperialists. Godfrey of
Pappenheim came up with his cuirassiers just in time to prevent young
Anhalt's further advance. At sight of the youthful sparkling hero the
Imperialists again stood firm, and a terrible hand to hand contest
ensued. For a quarter of an hour the fate of the battle in this portion
of the field was in suspense.--At that moment the three young men,
Gabriel, Schlemmersdorf and Styrum reached the White-mountain. Gabriel
had only one personal friend, John Bubna, upon the field. He was on the
right wing and thither Gabriel turned his fiery steed. His discontent
vanished at sight of the battle-field. The hot fight, the blast of the
trumpets, the rattle of musketry, the thunder of cannon, all this made
him for a moment forgetful of his resolution. Thus had he often stood
at Mannsfield's side. On the battle-plain he had won for himself a new
name, respected and terrible. His lust of combat was kindled to a wild
heat, he drew his sword, spurred his horse to a mad gallop, and flew
swift as an arrow over the level ground that separated him from the
field of battle.
"Ah, thou here, young friend!" cried the elder Bubna who had withdrawn
for a moment from the thickest pressure, to staunch the blood that was
flowing from a flesh-wound.--"That's right of you to come, the sight of
you has a wonderfully strengthening effect upon me. How fares it with
the other wing?"
"I do not know, Bubna," replied Bitter.... "I am but just
arrived.--You hold out bravely against a superior force...."
"We had just got the upper hand, when this Pappenheim came up with his
cuirassiers, and made the issue of the fight again doubtful.... Do you
see him there with raised visor on a grey horse how he is animating his
troopers? he seems to stamp on the ground and call up ever fresh masses
of death-defying cuirassiers--but forward, friend!"
Gabriel on his black horse pressed irresistibly forward. The troop of
horsemen, that followed his waving plume, advanced deepest into the
fray. His gigantic form, overtopping all about him, and the unwearied
strength of his arm, that scattered his enemies like stubble, attracted
Pappenheim's attention. He had hitherto encouraged his Walloons by the
brandishing of his glittering sabre, and the thunder of his voice, that
was perfectly audible over the roar of battle; but at sight of the bold
onward movement of this enemy's officer he suddenly resolved, like a
Grecian hero of antiquity, once more to assay the oft-proved might of
his sword. His afterwards world-renowned youthful rashness carried him
where the throng was densest, and Mannsfield's out-lawed General was
soon confronted by Count Pappenheim, the most zealous servant of his
Emperor, the most ardent champion of his faith.--Both men were of
gigantic stature, both felt, that by one well-aimed stroke a loss might
be inflicted on the opposite party which would with difficulty be
repaired. Gabriel heeded not his fixed intention, nor Pappenheim the
duty of a leader; forgetful of every other consideration it seemed as
if each of them desired but to achieve the object immediately before
him or die.--A life and death combat ensued between the two officers, a
combat such as most rarely occurs in modern warfare. Each gazed for a
second motionlessly in the other's face. Pappenheim observed with
astonishment a bright streak of purple, like a sacrificial flame, on
the forehead of his antagonist, while Gabriel stared at the crossed
swords on Pappenheim's brow.--That was the Pappenheim, that was the
mark, of which the student, nine days ago at the dinner-table of his
landlord, Reb Schlome Sachs' had spoken, the same student who had
reminded him of his father and mother.--All the past, the immediate
future, passed with the infinite-swiftness of thought before his mental
vision. He desired to live, to live for his revenge. The mournful
presentiment, that to-day, so near the longed for goal, he must die
without having attained it, the mournful presentiment, with which he
had once before on this day been imbued, sprung up with redoubled
violence in his breast. That an adverse destiny should have led him
to-day, this very day, against the doughtiest champion of the Imperial
army!... He would gladly have retreated, but again he had gone too far,
it was no longer possible to withdraw. Pappenheim stormed against him
with all the mad audacity of youthful ardour, a terrible combat began.
Both were unusually powerful men, both were accomplished swordsmen.
Pappenheim had expected to encounter an opponent skilful as himself,
but he found his master. The foreboding of death which had passed over
Gabriel, had not dispirited but had made him cautious, he had acted for
some time on a system of defence, but suddenly spied a weak point in
his adversary's too impetuous attack and, raising himself suddenly in
saddle, planted a masterly thrust which his knightly foe could not
parry with sufficient rapidity.... Pappenheim dropped lifeless from his
horse.... Gabriel drew a deep breath, and the Bohemian cavalry pressed
bravely forward, while the cuirassiers discouraged by the presumed
death of their leader began to give ground. Suddenly, however, a rumour
flies through the ranks. That young Anhalt has been thrown from his
horse wounded, and has fallen into the hands of the Imperialists.
Gabriel heard it, and shortly afterwards orders ring out in Bubna's
sonorous voice, who had succeeded to the command in place of young
Anhalt--Still there is hope of victory: but the whole aspect of affairs
is speedily changed.
Simultaneously with the attack upon the Bohemian right wing the Duke
upon his own right had made a feigned false attack of Poles and
Cossacks against the Hungarian cavalry drawn up opposite to them, an
attack however soon repelled and dissipated by the resistance it
encountered. The Hungarians, whose chief Bornemissa was unable to sit
on horseback, allowed themselves to be deceived by this stratagem; they
pursued the fugitives and looking upon themselves as already masters of
the field, broke their serried ranks to seek for plunder. Duke
Maximilian and Lichtenstein, who had been watching for this favourable
moment, advanced with fresh choice troops against the Hungarians.
Anhalt saw the danger that threatened his left, and sent reinforcements
from Hohenlohe's cavalry in the centre to the aid of the hard-pressed
troops. But Lichtenstein received them with a well-directed fire of
cannon and musketry, the front ranks fell, and Hohenlohe's cavalry took
to sudden flight without having struck a blow. A panic terror seized
the Hungarians, they followed the bad example that had been given them,
turned their backs upon the enemy and burst through the ranks of their
own infantry. Every effort to stop the flight of the Hungarians, was
vain, they threw themselves into the valley near Motol, and endeavoured
to cross the Moldau by swimming; but the river was swollen, and most of
them found their grave under its waves. The infantry, thrown into
disorder, deserted by the cavalry and without artillery, was itself
also now obliged to make up its mind for a speedy retreat.--The left
wing and centre of the Bohemian army was beaten, Lichtenstein and
Boucquoi had no longer an enemy before them. The Duke also made a sweep
round with his right wing and main-body to the left and occupied the
heights, on which Anhalt had planted the whole of his artillery, and
from which his troops had advanced too far. In a short time it was in
the hands of the Duke, and Frederick's soldiers were exposed to the
fire of their own cannon. This happened exactly at the moment when
Pappenheim had fallen, Anhalt had been taken prisoner by the
Imperialists and Bubna had succeeded to the command.--Bubna ordered a
retreat to be sounded. The troops, in rear exposed to the fire of the
artillery, in front to the terrible onset of the Imperial cavalry,
now as their services were no longer needed elsewhere united in one
body,--retired in as good order as the unfavourable circumstances would
admit of.--A bit of high ground to which they had fought their way
between two fires revealed to them the comfortless aspect of the field
of battle.... Corpses and arms that had been cast away strewed the
plain. The centre and left wing was discovered in full flight. A
determination had to be quickly taken. It was necessary to separate.
Bubna decided that he would endeavour to conduct the horse back to
Prague, so as at least to preserve the remnant of his cavalry for
Frederick. Schlick and his Moravian infantry is firmly resolved to die
rather than fly, and while Bubna accompanied by Gabriel turns in the
direction of Prague, the Moravian regiments in serried ranks press
through the victorious Imperial army, and fighting their way reach the
wood of Stern, where they again make a stand, but soon succumb
valiantly resisting to the last....
The victory of the Imperialists was complete, and achieved in less than
an hour.--Four thousand Bohemians, among them one Count and several
noblemen, had fallen. Young Anhalt, young Schlick and other superior
officers were prisoners, all the artillery and camp had fallen into the
enemy's hands. The loss of the Imperial-Bavarian army had been
proportionally small. Count Meggau, Rechberg, and fourteen other
officers had remained dead on the field, Godfrey of Pappenheim was
afterwards found, alive but badly wounded, under a heap of slain.
Considering the complete overthrow of the Bohemian army, the Duke had
held all pursuit of the fugitives unnecessary, and close to Prague, on
the highroad, several battalions of infantry that Schlemmersdorf was
leading back to Prague united themselves to Bubna's orderly masses of
horse.--Schlemmersdorf held out his hand sadly to Bubna and Gabriel:
all three rode in silence through the Strahower Gate. As they entered
the city they saw the Palatine. He was clad, as for a feast, in satin.
Habernfield had not succeeded in persuading him to come to the
battle-field, he would not ride out fasting, had purposed that very day
to give an entertainment, and would not betake himself to camp till the
cloth was drawn. Tidings of the complete overthrow of his troops
interrupted the ill-timed banquet, he hurried to the gates, where his
Generals, Prince Anhalt and Count Hohenlohe were already coming to meet
him. The first was without a helmet and terribly excited.
"Gracious Sire. You have lost the battle, and I my only son on the
field!" he cried to him with the agitated grief of an inconsolable
father: "all is lost!"
Frederick was for a moment unable to answer, violent emotion deprived
him of the power of speech.--"I now know what I am," he said at length,
"there are virtues which only misfortune can teach us, and we Princes
discover in adversity alone, what manner of men we are."
"Gracious Sire!" now said Schlemmersdorf, who at that moment rode
through the gate, in a tone of mournful reproach. "You were sitting
joyously and cheerfully at table, while your army let itself be shot
down before the gates in your cause."
"And you have made a fruitless sacrifice of yourselves," said Frederick
sorrowfully, and a tear filled his eyes: "I am undone!"