Monday morning, 2d May, 1757, the Vanguard, or advanced troops of
Friedrich's Column, had appeared upon the Weissenberg, northwest corner
of Prag (ground known to them in 1744, and to the poor Winter-King in
1620): Vanguard in the morning; followed shortly by Friedrich himself;
and, hour after hour, by all the others, marching in. So that, before
sunset, the whole force lay posted there; and had the romantic City
of Prag full in view at their feet. A most romantic, high-piled,
many-towered, most unlevel old City; its skylights and gilt
steeple-cocks glittering in the western sun,--Austrian Camp very visible
close beyond it, spread out miles in extent on the Ziscaberg Heights, or
eastern side;--Prag, no doubt, and the Austrian Garrison of Prag, taking
intense survey of this Prussian phenomenon, with commentaries, with
emotions, hidden now in eternal silence, as is fit enough. One thing we
know, "Head-quarter was in Welleslawin:" there, in that small Hamlet,
nearly to north, lodged Friedrich, the then busiest man of Europe; whom
Posterity is still striving for a view of, as something memorable.
Prince Karl, our old friend, is now in chief command yonder; Browne also
is there, who was in chief command; their scheme of Campaign gone all
awry. And to Friedrich, last night, at his quarters "in the Monastery of
Tuchomirsitz," where these two Gentlemen had lodged the night before,
it was reported that they had been heard in violent altercation;
[_Helden-Geschichte, _ iv. 11 (exact "Diary of the march" given
there).]--both of them, naturally, in ill-humor at the surprising turn
things had taken; and Feldmarschall Browne firing up, belike, at
some platitude past or coming, at some advice of his rejected, some
imputation cast on him, or we know not what. Prince Karl is now chief;
and indignant Browne, as may well be the case, dissents a good deal,--as
he has often had to do. Patience, my friend, it is near ending now!
Prince Karl means to lie quiet on the Ziscaberg, and hold Prag; does not
think of molesting Friedrich in his solitary state; and will undertake
nothing, "till Konigseck, from Jung-Bunzlau, come in," victorious or
not; or till perhaps even Daun arrive (who is, rather slowly, gathering
reinforcement in Maren): "What can the enemy attempt on us, in a Post of
this strength?" thinks Prince Karl. And Browne, whatever his insight or
convictions be, has to keep silence.
"Weissenberg," let readers be reminded, "is on the hither or western
side of Prag: the Hradschin [pronounce RadSHEEN, with accent on the last
syllable, as in "SchwerIN" and other such cases], the Hradschin, which
is the topmost summit of the City and of the Fashionable Quarter,--old
Bohemian Palace, still occasionally habitable as such, and in constant
use as a DOWNING STREET,--lies on the slope or shoulder of the
Weissenberg, a good way from the top; and has a web of streets rushing
down from it, steepest streets in the world; till they reach the Bridge,
and broad-flowing Moldau (broad as Thames at half-flood, but nothing
like so deep); after which the streets become level, and spread out in
intricate plenty to right and to left, and ahead eastward, across the
River, till the Ziscaberg, with frowning precipitous brow, suddenly
puts a stop to them in that particular direction. From Ziscaberg top to
Weissenberg top may be about five English miles; from the Hradschin
to the foot of Ziscaberg, northwest to southeast, will be half that
distance, the greatest length of Prag City. Which is rather rhomboidal
in shape, its longer diagonal this that we mention. The shorter
diagonal, from northmost base of Ziscaberg to southmost of Hradschin, is
perhaps a couple of miles. Prag stands nestled in the lap of mountains;
and is not in itself a strong place in war: but the country round
it, Moldau ploughing his rugged chasm of a passage through the piled
table-land, is difficult to manoeuvre in.
"Moldau Valley comes straight from the south, crosses Prag; and--making,
on its outgate at the northern end of Prag (end of 'shortest diagonal'
just spoken of), one big loop, or bend and counter-bend, of horse-shoe
shape," which will be notable to us anon--"again proceeds straight
northward and Elbe-ward. It is narrow everywhere, especially when once
got fairly north of Prag; and runs along like a Quasi-Highland Strath,
amid rocks and hills. Big Hill-ranges, not to be called barren, yet with
rock enough on each hand, and fine side valleys opening here and there:
the bottom of your Strath, which is green and fertile, with pleasant
busy Villages (much intent on water-power and cotton-spinning in our
time), is generally of few furlongs in breadth. And so it lasts, this
pleasant Moldau Valley, mile after mile, on the northern or Lower
Moldau, generally straight north, though with one big bend eastward just
before ending; and not till near Melnick, or the mouth of Moldau, do
we emerge on that grand Elbe Valley,--glanced at once already, from
Pascopol or other Height, in the Lobositz times."
Friedrich's first problem is the junction with Schwerin: junction not
to be accomplished south of Ziscaberg in the present circumstances; and
which Friedrich knows to be a ticklish operation, with those Austrians
looking on from the high grounds there. Tuesday, 3d May, in the way
of reconnoitring, and decisively on Wednesday, 4th, Friedrich is off
northward, along the western heights of Lower Moldau, proper force
following him, to seek a fit place for the pontoons, and get across in
that northern quarter. "How dangerous that Schwerin is a day too late!"
murmurs he; but hopes the Austrians will undertake nothing. Keith,
with 30,000, he has left on the Weissenberg, to straiten Prag and the
Austrian Garrison on that side: our wagon-trains arrive from Leitmeritz
on that side, Elbe-boats bring them up to Leitmeritz; very indispensable
to guard that side of Prag. Friedrich's fixed purpose also is to beat
the Austrians, on the other side of it, and send them packing; but for
that, there are steps needful!
Up so far as Lissoley, the first day, Friedrich has found no fit place;
but on the morrow, Thursday, 5th, farther up, at a place called Seltz,
Friedrich finds his side of the Strath to be "a little higher than the
other,"--proper, therefore, for cannonading the other, if need be;--and
orders his pontoons to be built together there. He knows accurately of
the Schwerin Column, of the comfortable Bevern Victory at Reichenberg,
and how they have got the Jung-Bunzlau Magazine, and are across the
Elbe, their bridges all secured, though with delay of one day; and do
now wait only for the word,--for the three cannon-shot, in fact, which
are to signify that Friedrich is actually crossing to their side of
Lower Moldau.
Friedrich's Bridge is speedily built (trained human hands can be no
speedier), his batteries planted, his precautions taken: the three
cannon-shot go off, audible to Schwerin; and Friedrich's troops stream
speedily across, hardly a Pandour to meddle with them. Nay, before the
passage was complete--what light-horse squadrons are these? Hussars,
seen to be Seidlitz's (missioned by Schwerin), appear on the outskirts:
a meeting worthy of three cheers, surely, after such a march on both
sides! Friedrich lies on the eastern Hill-tops that night (Hamlet of
Czimitz his Head-quarter, discoverable if you wish it, scarcely three
miles north of Prag); and accurate appointment is made with Schwerin
as to the meeting-place to-morrow morning. Meeting-place is to be the
environs of Prossik Village, southeastward over yonder, short way north
of the Prag-Konigsgratz Highway; and rather nearer Prag than we now
are, in Czimitz here: time at Prossik to be 6 A.M. by the clock; and
Winterfeld and Schwerin to come in person and speak with his Majesty.
This is the program for Friday, May 6th, which proves to be so memorable
a day.
Schwerin is on foot by the stroke of midnight; comes along, "over the
heights of Chaber," by half a dozen, or I know not how many roads;
visible in due time to Friedrich's people, who are likewise punctually
on the advance: in a word, the junction is accomplished with all
correctness. And, while the Columns are marching up, Schwerin and
Winterfeld ride about in personal conference with his Majesty; taking
survey, through spy-glasses, of those Austrians encamped yonder on the
broad back of their Zisca Hill, a couple of miles to southward. "What a
set of Austrians," exclaim military critics, "to permit such junction,
without effort to devour the one half or the other, in good time!"
Friedrich himself, it is probable, might partly be of the same opinion;
but he knew his Austrians, and had made bold to venture. Friedrich, we
can observe, always got to know his man, after fighting him a month or
two; and took liberties with him, or did not take, accordingly. And,
for most part,--not quite always, as one signal exception will Show,--he
does it with perfect accuracy; and often with vital profit to his
measures. "If the Austrian cooking-tents are a-smoke before eight in the
morning," notes he, "you may calculate, in such case, the Austrians will
march that day." [MILITARY INSTRUCTIONS.] With a surprising vividness of
eye and mind (beautiful to rival, if one could), he watches the signs of
the times, of the hours and the days and the places; and prophesies from
them; reads men and their procedures, as if they were mere handwriting,
not too cramp for him.--The Austrians have, by this time, got their
Konigseck home, very unvictorious, but still on foot, all but a thousand
or two: they are already stronger than the Prussians by count of
heads; and till even Daun come up, what hurry in a Post like this? The
Austrians are viewing Friedrich, too, this morning; but in the blankest
manner: their outposts fire a cannon-shot or two on his group of
adjutants and him, without effect; and the Head people send their
cavalry out to forage, so little prophecy have they from signs seen.
Zisca Hill, where the Austrians now are, rises sheer up, of well-nigh
precipitous steepness, though there are trees and grass on it, from
the eastern side of Prag, say five or six hundred feet. A steep,
picturesque, massive green Hill; Moldau River, turning suddenly to
right, strikes the northwest corner of it (has flowed well to west of
it, till then), and winds eastward round its northern base. As will
be noticed presently. The ascent of Ziscaberg, by roads, is steep and
tedious: but once at the top, you find that it is precipitous on two
sides only, the City or westward side, and the Moldau or northward.
Atop it spreads out, far and wide, into a waving upland level; bare
of hedges; ploughable all of it, studded with littery hamlets and
farmsteadings; far and wide, a kind of Plain, sloping with extreme
gentleness, five or six miles to eastward, and as far to southward,
before the level perceptibly rise again.
Another feature of the Ziscaberg, already hinted at, is very notable:
that of the Moldau skirting its northern base, and scarping the Hill,
on that side too, into a precipitous, or very steep condition. Moldau
having arrived from southward, fairly past the end of Ziscaberg, had,
so to speak, made up his mind to go right eastward, quarrying his way
through the lower uplands there, And he proceeds accordingly, hugging
the northern base of Ziscaberg, and making it steep enough; but finds,
in the course of a mile or so, that he can no more; upland being still
rock-built, not underminable farther; and so is obliged to wind round
again, to northward, and finally straight westward, the way he came,
or parallel to the way he came; and has effected that great Horse-shoe
Hollow we heard of lately. An extremely pretty Hollow, and curious to
look upon; pretty villas, gardens, and a "Belvedere Park," laid out in
the bottom part; with green mountain-walls rising all round it, and a
silver ring of river at the base of them: length of Horse-shoe, from
heel to toe, or from west to east, is perhaps a mile; breadth, from heel
to heel, perhaps half as much. Having arrived at his old distance
to west, Moldau, like a repentant prodigal, and as if ashamed of his
frolic, just over against the old point he swerved from, takes straight
to northward again. Straight northward; and quarries out that fine
narrow valley, or Quasi-Highland Strath, with its pleasant busy
villages, where he turns the overshot machinery, and where Friedrich and
his men had their pontoons swimming yesterday.
It is here, on this broad back of the Ziscaberg, that the Austrians now
lie; looking northward over to the King, and trying cannon-shots
upon him. There they have been encamping, and diligently intrenching
themselves for four days past; diligent especially since yesterday, when
they heard of Friedrich's crossing the River. Their groups of tents,
and batteries at all the good points, stretch from near the crown of
Ziscaberg, eastward to the Villages of Hlaupetin, Kyge, and their
Lakes, near four miles; and rearward into the interior one knows not how
far;--Prince Karl, hardly awake yet, lies at Nussel, near the Moldau,
near the Wischerad or southeastmost point of Prag; six good miles
west-by-south of Kyge, at the other end of the diagonal line. About the
same distance, right east from Nussel, and a mile or more to south of
Kyge, over yonder, is a littery Farmstead named Sterbohol, which is
not yet occupied by the Austrians, but will become very famous in their
War-Annals, this day!--
Where the Austrian Camp or various Tent-groups were, at the time
Friedrich first cast eye on them, is no great concern of his or ours;
inasmuch as, in two or three hours hence, the Austrians were obliged,
rather suddenly, to take Order of Battle; and that, and not their
camping, is the thing we are curious upon. Let us step across, and take
some survey of that Austrian ground, which Friedrich is now surveying
from the distance, fully intending that it shall be a battle-ground in
few hours; and try to explain how the Austrians drew up on it, when they
noticed the Prussian symptoms to become serious more and more. By nine
in the morning,--some two hours after Friedrich began his scanning, and
the Austrian outposts their firing of stray cannon-shots on him,--it is
Battle-lines, not empty Tents (which there was not time to strike), that
salute the eye over yonder.
From behind that verdant Horse-shoe Chasm we spoke of, buttressed by
the inaccessible steeps, and the Moldau, double-folded in the form of
Horse-shoe, all along the brow of that sloping expanse, stands (by 9
A.M. "foragers all suddenly called in") the Austrian front; the second
line and the reserve, parallel to it, at good distances behind. Ranked
there; say 65,000 regulars (Prussian force little short of the same),
on the brow of Ziscaberg slope, some four miles long. Their right wing
ends, in strong batteries, in intricate marshes, knolls, lakelets,
between Hlaupetin and Kyge: the extreme of their left wing looks over on
that Horse-shoe Hollow, where Moldau tried to dig his way, but could not
and had to turn back. They have numerous redoubts, in front and in all
the good places; and are busy with more, some of them just now getting
finished, treble-quick, while the Prussians are seen under way. As many
as sixty heavy cannon in battery up and down: of field-pieces they
have a hundred and fifty. Excellent always with their Artillery, these
Austrians; plenty of it, well-placed and well-served: thanks to Prince
Lichtenstein's fine labors within these ten years past. [_OEuvres
de Frederic,_ (in several places); see Hormayr,? Lichtenstein.] The
villages, the farmsteads, are occupied; every rising ground especially
has its battery,--Homoly Berg, Tabor Berg, "Mount of Tabor;" say
KNOLL of Tabor (nothing like so high as Battersea Rise, hardly even
as Constitution Hill), though scriptural Zisca would make a Mount of
it;--these, and other BERGS of the like type.
That is the Austrian Battle Order (as it stood about 9, though it had
still to change a little, as we shall see): their first line, straight
or nearly so, looking northward, stands on the brow of the Zisca Slope;
their second and their third, singularly like it, at the due distances
behind;--in the intervals, their tents, which stand scattered, in groups
wide apart, in the ample interior to southward. The cavalry is on
both wings; left wing, behind that Moldau Chasm, cannot attack nor be
attacked,--except it were on hippogriffs, and its enemy on the
like, capable of fighting in the air, overhead of these Belvedere
Pleasure-grounds: perhaps Prince Karl will remedy this oversight; fruit
of close following of the orthodox practice? Prince Karl, supreme Chief,
commands on the left wing; Browne on the right, where he can attack or
be attacked, NOT on hippogriffs. As we shall see, and others will! Light
horse, in any quantity, hang scattered on all outskirts. With foot, with
cannon batteries, with horse, light or heavy, they cover in long broad
flood the whole of that Zisca Slope, to near where it ceases, and the
ground to eastward begins perceptibly to rise again.
In this latter quarter, Zisca Slope, now nearly ended, begins to get
very swampy in parts; on the eastern border of the Austrian Camp, at
Kyge, Hostawitz, and beyond it southward, about Sterbohol and Michelup,
there are many little lakelets; artificial fish-ponds, several of them,
with their sluices, dams and apparatus: a ragged broadish lacing of
ponds and lakelets (all well dried in our day) straggles and zigzags
along there, connected by the miserablest Brook in nature, which takes
to oozing and serpentizing forward thereabouts, and does finally get
emptied, now in a rather livelier condition, into the Moldau, about the
TOE-part of that Horse-shoe or Belvedere region. It runs in sight of the
King, I think, where he now is; this lower livelier part of it: little
does the King know how important the upper oozing portion of it will
be to him this day. Near Michelup are lakelets worth noticing; a little
under Sterbohol, in the course of this miserable Brook, is a string of
fish-ponds, with their sluices open at this time, the water out, and
the mud bottom sown with herb-provender for the intended carps, which
is coming on beautifully, green as leeks, and nearly ready for the fish
getting to it again.
Friedrich surveys diligently what he can of all this, from the northern
verge. We will now return to Friedrich; and will stay on his side
through the terrible Action that is coming. Battle of Prag, one of the
furious Battles of the World; loud as Doomsday;--the very Emblem of
which, done on the Piano by females of energy, scatters mankind to
flight who love their ears! Of this great Action the Narratives old and
modern are innumerable; false some of them, unintelligible well-nigh
all. There are three in Lloyd, known probably to some of my readers.
Tempelhof, with criticisms of these three, gives a fourth,--perhaps the
one Narrative which human nature, after much study, can in some sort
understand. Human readers, especially military, I refer to that as their
finale. [In Lloyd, i. 38 et seq. (the Three): in Tempelhof, i. 123
(the Fourth); ib. i. 144 (strength of each Army), 105-149 (remarks of
Tempelhof).--The "HISTORY," or Series of Lectures on the Battles &c. of
this War, "BY THE ROYAL STAFF-OFFICERS"--which, for the last thirty or
forty years, is used as Text-Book, or Military EUCLID, in the Prussian
Cadet-Schools,--appears to possess the fit professorial lucidity and
amplitude; and, in regard to all Official details, enumerations and the
like, is received as of CANONICAL authority: it is not accessible to
the general Public,--though liberally enough conceded in special cases;
whereby, in effect, the main results of it are now become current in
modern Prussian Books. By favor in high quarters, I had once possession
of a copy, for some months; but not, at that time, the possibility
of thoroughly reading any part of it.] Other interest than
military-scientific the Action now has not much. The stormy fire of soul
that blazed that day (higher in no ancient or modern Fight of men) is
extinct, hopeless of resuscitation for English readers. Approximately
what the thing to human eyes might be like; what Friedrich's procedure,
humor and physiognomy of soul was in it: this, especially the latter
head, is what we search for,--had lazy Dryasdust given us almost
anything on this latter head! What little can be gleaned from him
on both heads let us faithfully give, and finish our sad part of the
combat.
Friedrich, with his Schwerin and Winterfeld, surveying these things
from the northern edge, admits that the Austrian position is extremely
strong; but he has no doubt that it must be, by some good method,
attacked straightway, and the Austrians got beaten. Indisputably the
enterprise is difficult. Unattackable clearly, the Austrians, on that
left wing of theirs; not in the centre well attackable, nor in the
front at all, with that stiff ground, and such redoubts and points of
strength: but round on their right yonder; take them in flank,--cannot
we? On as far as Kyge, the Three have ridden reconnoitring; and found
no possibility upon the front; nor at Kyge, where the front ends in
batteries, pools and quagmires, is there any. "Difficult, not undoable,"
persists the King: "and it must be straightway set about and got done."
Winterfeld, always for action, is of that opinion, too: and, examining
farther down along their right flank, reports that there the thing is
feasible.
Feasible perhaps: "but straightway?" objects Schwerin. His men have been
on foot since midnight, and on forced marches for days past: were it not
better to rest for this one day? "Rest:--and Daun, coming on with 30,000
of reinforcement to them, might arrive this night? Never, my good
Feldmarschall;"--and as the Feldmarschall was a man of stiff notions,
and had a tongue of some emphasis, the Dialogue went on, probably with
increasing emphasis on Friedrich's side too, till old Schwerin, with
a quite emphatic flash of countenance, crushing the hat firm over his
brow, exclaims: "Well, your Majesty: the fresher fish the better fish
(FRISCHE FISCHE, GUTE FISCHE): straightway, then!" and springs off on
the gallop southward, he too, seeking some likely point of attack.
He too,--conjointly or not with Winterfeld, I do not know: Winterfeld
himself does not say; whose own modest words on the subject readers
shall see before we finish. But both are mentioned in the Books as
searching, at hand-gallop, in this way: and both, once well round to
south, by the Podschernitz ["Podschernitz" is pronounced PotSHERnitz
(should we happen to mentionn it again); "Kyge," KEEGA.] quarter, with
the Austrian right flank full in view, were agreed that here the thing
was possible. "Infantry to push from this quarter towards Sterbohol
yonder, and then plunge into their redoubts and them! Cavalry may sweep
still farther southward, if found convenient, and even take them in
rear." Both agree that it will do in this way: ground tolerably good,
slightly downwards for us, then slightly upwards again; tolerable for
horse even:--the intermediate lacing of dirty lakelets, the fish-ponds
with their sluices drawn, Schwerin and Winterfeld either did not notice
at all, or thought them insiginificant, interspersed with such beautiful
"pasture-ground,"--of unusual verdure at this early season of the year.
The deployment, or "marching up (AUFMARSCHIREN)" of the Prussians
was wonderful; in their squadrons, in their battalions, horse,
foot, artillery, wheeling, closing, opening; strangely checkering a
country-side,--in movements intricate, chaotic to all but the scientific
eye. Conceive them, flowing along, from the Heights of Chaber, behind
Prossik Hamlet (right wing of infantry plants itself at Prossik, horse
westward of them); and ever onwards in broad many-checkered tide-stream,
eastward, eastward, then southward ("our artillery went through
Podschernitz, the foot and horse a little on this westward side of it"):
intricate, many-glancing tide of coming battle; which, swift, correct
as clock-work, becomes two lines, from Prossik to near Chwala ("baggage
well behind at Gbell"); thence round by Podschernitz quarter; and
descends, steady, swift, tornado-storm so beautifully hidden in it,
towards Sterbohol, there to grip to. Gradually, in stirring up those old
dead pedantic record-books, the fact rises on us: silent whirlwinds
of old Platt-Deutsch fire, beautifully held down, dwell in those mute
masses; better human stuff there is not than that old Teutsch (Dutch,
English, Platt-Deutsch and other varieties); and so disciplined as here
it never was before or since. "In an hour and half," what military men
may count almost incredible, they are fairly on their ground, motionless
the most of them by 9 A.M.; the rest wheeling rightward, as they
successively arrive in the Chwala-Podschernitz localities; and,
descending diligently, Sterbohol way; and will be at their harvest-work
anon.
Meanwhile the Austrians, seeing, to their astonishment, these phenomena
to the north, and that it is a quite serious thing, do also rapidly
bestir themselves; swarming like bees;--bringing in their foraging
Cavalry, "No time to change your jacket for a coat:" rank, double-quick!
Browne is on that right wing of theirs: "Bring the left wing over
hither," suggests Browne; "cavalry is useless yonder, unless they had
hippogriffs!"--and (again Browne suggesting) the Austrians make a change
in the position of their right wing, both horse and foot: change which
is of vital importance, though unnoted in many Narratives of this
Battle. Seeing, namely, what the Prussians intend, they wheel their
right wing (say the last furlong or two of their long Line of Battle)
half round to right; so that the last furlong or two stands at right
angles ("EN POTENCE," gallows-wise, or joiner's-square-wise to the
rest); and, in this way, make front to the Prussian onslaught,--front
now, not flank, as the Prussians are anticipating. This is an important
wheel to right, and formation in joiner's-square manner; and involves no
end of interior wheeling, marching and deploying; which Austrians cannot
manage with Prussian velocity. "Swift with it, here about Sterbohol
at least, my men! For here are the Prussians within wind of us!" urges
Browne. And here straightway the hurricane does break loose.
Winterfeld, the van of Schwerin's infantry (Schwerin's own regiment,
and some others, with him), is striding rapidly on Sterbohol; Winterfeld
catches it before Browne can. But near by, behind that important
post, on the Homely Hill (BERG or "Mountain," nothing like so high as
Constitution Mountain), are cannon-batteries of devouring quality; which
awaken on Winterfeld, as he rushes out double-quick on the advancing
Austrians; and are fatal to Winterfeld's attempt, and nearly to
Winterfeld himself. Winterfeld, heavily wounded, sank in swoon from his
horse; and awakening again in a pool of blood, found his men all off,
rushing back upon the main Schwerin body; "Austrian grenadiers gazing on
the thing, about eighty paces off, not venturing to follow." Winterfeld,
half dead, scrambled across to Schwerin, who has now come up with the
main body, his front line fronting the Austrians here. And there
ensued, about Sterbohol and neighborhood, led on by Schwerin, such a
death-wrestle as was seldom seen in the Annals of War. Winterfeld's miss
of Sterbohol was the beginning of it: the exact course of sequel none
can describe, though the end is well known.
The Austrians now hold Sterbohol with firm grip, backed by those
batteries from Homoly Hill. Redoubts, cannon-batteries, as we said,
stud all the field; the Austrian stock of artillery is very great;
arrangement of it cunning, practice excellent; does honor to Prince
Lichtenstein, and indeed is the real force of the Austrians on this
occasion. Schwerin must have Sterbohol, in spite of batteries and ranked
Austrians, and Winterfeld's recoil tumbling round him:--and rarely had
the oldest veteran such a problem. Old Schwerin (fiery as ever, at the
age of 73) has been in many battles, from Blenheim onwards; and now has
got to his hottest and his last. "Vanguard could not do it; main body,
we hope, kindling all the hotter, perhaps may!" A most willing mind is
in these Prussians of Schwerin's: fatigue of over-marching has tired
the muscles of them; but their hearts,--all witnesses say, these (and
through these, their very muscles, "always fresh again, after a few
minutes of breathing-time") were beyond comparison, this day!
Schwerin's Prussians, as they "march up" (that is, as they front and
advance upon the Austrians), are everywhere saluted by case-shot, from
Homoly Hill and the batteries northward of Homoly; but march on, this
main line of them, finely regardless of it or of Winterfeld's disaster
by it. The general Prussian Order this day is: "By push of bayonet;
no firing, none, at any rate, till you see the whites of their eyes!"
Swift, steady as on the parade-ground, swiftly making up their gaps
again, the Prussians advance, on these terms; and are now near those
"fine sleek pasture-grounds, unusually green for the season." Figure the
actual stepping upon these "fine pasture-grounds:"--mud-tanks, verdant
with mere "bearding oat-crop" sown there as carp-provender! Figure the
sinking of whole regiments to the knee; to the middle, some of them; the
steady march become a wild sprawl through viscous mud, mere case-shot
singing round you, tearing you away at its ease! Even on those terrible
terms, the Prussians, by dams, by footpaths, sometimes one man abreast,
sprawl steadily forward, trailing their cannon with them; only a few
regiments, in the footpath parts, cannot bring their cannon. Forward;
rank again, when the ground will carry; ever forward, the case-shot
getting ever more murderous! No human pen can describe the deadly chaos
which ensued in that quarter. Which lasted, in desperate fury, issue
dubious, for above three hours; and was the crisis, or essential agony,
of the Battle. Foot-chargings, (once the mud-transit was accomplished),
under storms of grape-shot from Homoly Hill; by and by, Horse-chargings,
Prussian against Austrian, southward of Homoly and Sterbohol,
still farther to the Prussian left; huge whirlpool of tumultuous
death-wrestle, every species of spasmodic effort, on the one side
and the other;--King himself present there, as I dimly discover;
Feldmarschall Browne eminent, in the last of his fields; and, as the old
NIEBELUNGEN has it, "a murder grim and great" going on.
Schwerin's Prussians, in that preliminary struggle through the mud-tanks
(which Winterfeld, I think, had happened to skirt, and avoid), were hard
bested. This, so far as I can learn, was the worst of the chaos, this
preliminary part. Intolerable to human nature, this, or nearly so; even
to human nature of the Platt-Teutsch type, improved by Prussian drill.
Winterfeld's repulse we saw; Schwerin's own Regiment in it. Various
repulses, I perceive, there were,--"fresh regiments from our Second
Line" storming in thereupon; till the poor repulsed people "took
breath," repented, "and themselves stormed in again," say the Books.
Fearful tugging, swagging and swaying is conceivable, in this Sterbohol
problem! And after long scanning, I rather judge it was in the wake of
that first repulse, and not of some other farther on, that the veteran
Schwerin himself got his death. No one times it for us; but the fact is
unforgettable; and in the dim whirl of sequences, dimly places itself
there. Very certain it is, "at sight of his own regiment in retreat,"
Feldmarschall Schwerin seized the colors,--as did other Generals, who
are not named, that day. Seizes the colors, fiery old man: "HERAN, MEINE
KINDER (This way, my sons)!" and rides ahead, along the straight dam
again; his "sons" all turning, and with hot repentance following. "On,
my children, HERAN!" Five bits of grape-shot, deadly each of them, at
once hit the old man; dead he sinks there on his flag; and will never
fight more. "HERAN!" storm the others with hot tears; Adjutant von
Platen takes the flag; Platen, too, is instantly shot; but another
takes it. "HERAN, On!" in wild storm of rage and grief:--in a word,
they manage to do the work at Sterbohol, they and the rest. First line,
Second line, Infantry, Cavalry (and even the very Horses, I suppose),
fighting inexpressibly; conquering one of the worst problems ever seen
in War. For the Austrians too, especially their grenadiers there, stood
to it toughly, and fought like men;--and "every grenadier that survived
of them," as I read afterwards, "got double pay for life."
Done, that Sterbohol work;--those Foot-chargings, Horse-chargings; that
battery of Homoly Hill; and, hanging upon that, all manner of redoubts
and batteries to the rightward and rearward:--but how it was done no
pen can describe, nor any intellect in clear sequence understand. An
enormous MELEE there: new Prussian battalions charging, and ever new,
irrepressible by case-shot, as they successively get up; Marshal Browne
too sending for new battalions at double-quick from his left, disputing
stiffly every inch of his ground. Till at length (hour not given), a
cannon-shot tore away his foot; and he had to be carried into Prag,
mortally wounded. Which probably was a most important circumstance, or
the most important of all.
Important too, I gradually see, was that of the Prussian Horse of the
Left Wing. Prussian Horse of the extreme left, as already noticed, had,
in the mean while, fallen in, well southward, round by certain lakelets
about Michelup, on Browne's extreme right; furiously charging the
Austrian Horse, which stood ranked there in many lines; breaking it,
then again half broken by it; but again rallying, charging it a second
time, then a third time, "both to front and flank, amid whirlwinds
of dust" (Ziethen busy there, not to mention indignant Warnery and
others);--and at length, driving it wholly to the winds: "beyond Nussel,
towards the Sazawa Country;" never seen again that day. Prince Karl
(after Browne's death-wound, or before, I never know) came galloping
to rally that important Right Wing of horse. Prince Karl did his very
utmost there; obtesting, praying, raging, threatening:--but to no
purpose; the Zietheners and others so heavy on the rear of them:--and at
last there came a cramp, or intolerable twinge of spasm, through Prince
Karl's own person (breast or heart), like to take the life of him: so
that he too had to be carried into Prag to the doctors. And his Cavalry
fled at discretion; chased by Ziethen, on Friedrich's express order, and
sent quite over the horizon. Enough, "by about half-past one," Sterbohol
work is thoroughly done: and the Austrian Battle, both its Commanders
gone, has heeled fairly downwards, and is in an ominous way.
The whole of this Austrian Right Wing, horse and foot, batteries and
redoubts, which was put EN POTENCE, or square-wise, to the main battle,
is become a ruin; gone to confusion; hovers in distracted clouds,
seeking roads to run away by, which it ultimately found. Done all this
surely was; and poor Browne, mortally wounded, is being carried off
the ground; but in what sequence done, under what exact vicissitudes
of aspect, special steps of cause and effect, no man can say; and only
imagination, guided by these few data, can paint to itself. Such a
chaotic whirlwind of blood, dust, mud, artillery-thunder, sulphurous
rage, and human death and victory,--who shall pretend to describe it, or
draw, except in the gross, the scientific plan of it?
For, in the mean time,--I think while the dispute at Sterbohol, on the
extreme of the Austrian right wing "in joiner's-square form," was past
the hottest (but nobody will give the hour),--there has occurred
another thing, much calculated to settle that. And, indeed, to settle
everything;--as it did. This was a volunteer exploit, upon the very
elbow or angle of said "joiner's-square;" in the wet grounds between
Hlaupetin and Kyge, a good way north of Sterbohol. Volunteer exploit; on
the part of General Mannstein, our old Russian friend; which Friedrich,
a long way off from it, blames as a rash fault of Mannstein's, made good
by Prince Henri and Ferdinand of Brunswick running up to mend it; but
which Winterfeld, and subsequent good judges, admit to have been highly
salutary, and to have finished everything. It went, if I read right,
somewhat as follows.
In the Kyge-Hlaupetin quarter, at the corner of that Austrian right
wing EN POTENCE, there had, much contrary to Browne's intention, a
perceptible gap occurred; the corner is open there; nothing in it but
batteries and swamps. The Austrian right wing, wheeling southward, there
to form POTENCE; and scrambling and marching, then and subsequently,
through such ground at double-quick, had gone too far (had thinned and
lengthened itself, as is common, in such scrambling, and double-quick
movement, thinks Tempelhof), and left a little gap at elbow; which
always rather widened as the stress at Sterbohol went on. Certain
enough, a gap there is, covered only by some half-moon battery in
advance: into this, General Mannstein has been looking wistfully a long
time: "Austrian Line fallen out at elbow yonder; clouted by some battery
in advance?"--and at length cannot help dashing loose on it with
his Division. A man liable to be rash, and always too impetuous in
battle-time.
He would have fared ill, thinks Friedrich, had not Henri and Ferdinand,
in pain for Mannstein (some think, privately in preconcert with
him), hastened in to help; and done it altogether in a shining way;
surmounting perilous difficulties not a few. Hard fighting in that
corner, partly on the Sterbohol terms; batteries, mud-tanks; chargings,
rechargings: "Comrades, you have got honor enough, KAMERADEN, IHR HABT
EHRE GENUG [the second man of you lying dead]; let us now try!" said a
certain Regiment to a certain other, in this business. [Archenholtz, i.
75; Tempelhof, &c.] Prince Henri shone especially, the gallant little
gentleman: coming upon one of those mud-tanks with battery beyond, his
men were spreading file-wise, to cross it on the dams; "BURSCHE, this
way!" cried the Prince, and plunged in middle-deep, right upon the
battery; and over it, and victoriously took possession of it. In a word,
they all plunge forward, in a shining manner; rush on those half-moon
batteries, regardless of results; rush over them, seize and secure them.
Rush, in a word, fairly into that Austrian hole-at-elbow, torrents more
following them,--and irretrievably ruin both fore-arm and shoulder-arm
of the Austrians thereby.
Fore-arm (Austrian right wing, if still struggling and wriggling about
Sterbohol) is taken in flank; shoulder-arm, or main line, the like;
we have them both in flank; with their own batteries to scour them to
destruction here:--the Austrian Line, throughout, is become a ruin.
Has to hurl itself rapidly to rightwards, to rearwards, says Tempelhof,
behind what redoubts and strong points it may have in those parts; and
then, by sure stages (Tempelhof guesses three, or perhaps four), as one
redoubt after another is torn from the loose grasp of it, and the stand
made becomes ever weaker, and the confusion worse,--to roll pell-mell
into Prag, and hastily close the door behind it. The Prussians,
Sterbohol people, Mannstein-Henri people, left wing and right, are quite
across the Zisca Back, on by Nussel (Prince Earl's head-quarter that
was), and at the Moldau Brink again, when the thing ends. Ziethen's
Hussars have been at Nussel, very busy plundering there, ever since that
final charge and chase from Sterbohol. Plundering; and, I am ashamed
to say, mostly drunk: "Your Majesty, I cannot rank a hundred sober,"
answered Ziethen (doubtless with a kind of blush), when the King applied
for them. The King himself has got to Branik, farther up stream. Part
of the Austrian foot fled, leftwards, southwards, as their right wing
of horse had all done, up the Moldau. About 16,000 Austrians are
distractedly on flight that way. Towards, the Sazawa Country; to unite
with Daun, as the now advisable thing. Near 40,000 of them are getting
crammed into Prag; in spite of Prince Karl, now recovered of his cramp,
and risen to the frantic pitch; who vainly struggles at the Gate
against such inrush, and had even got through the Gate, conjuring and
commanding, but was himself swum in again by those panic torrents of
ebb-tide.
Rallying within, he again attempted, twice over, at two different
points, to get out, and up the Moldau, with his broken people; but the
Prussians, Nussel-Branik way, were awake to him: "No retreat up the
Moldau for you, Austrian gentlemen!" They tried by another Gate, on the
other side of the River; but Keith was awake too: "In again, ye Austrian
gentlemen! Closed gates here too. What else?" Browne, from his bed of
pain (death-bed, as it proved), was for a much more determined outrush:
"In the dead of night, rank, deliberately adjust yourselves; storm out,
one and all, and cut your way, night favoring!" That was Browne's last
counsel; but that also was not taken. A really noble Browne, say all
judges; died here in about six weeks,--and got away from Kriegs-Hofraths
and Prince Karls, and the stupidity of neighbors, and the other ills
that flesh is heir to, altogether.
At Branik the victorious King had one great disappointment: Prince
Moritz of Dessau, who should have been here long hours ago, with Keith's
right wing, a fresh 15,000, to fall upon the enemy's rear;--no Moritz
visible; not even now, when the business is to chase! "How is this?" "Ill
luck, your Majesty!" Moritz's Pontoon Bridge would not reach across,
when he tried it. That is certain: "just three poor pontoons wanting,"
Rumor says:--three or more; spoiled, I am told, in some narrow road,
some short-cut which Moritz had commanded for them: and now they are
not; and it is as if three hundred had been spoiled. Moritz, would
he die for it, cannot get his Bridge to reach: his fresh 15,000 stand
futile there; not even Seidlitz with his light horse could really swim
across, though he tried hard, and is fabled to have done so. Beware of
short-cuts, my Prince: your Father that is gone, what would he say of
you here! It was the worst mistake Prince Moritz ever made. The Austrian
Army might have been annihilated, say judges (of a sanguine temper), had
Moritz been ready, at his hour, to fall on from rearward;--and where had
their retreat been? As it is, the Austrian Army is not annihilated; only
bottled into Prag, and will need sieging. The brightest triumph has
a bar of black in it, and might always have been brighter. Here is a
flying Note, which I will subjoin:--
Friedrich's dispositions for the Battle, this day, are allowed to have
been masterly; but there was one signal fault, thinks Retzow: That
he did not, as Schwerin counselled, wait till the morrow. Fault which
brought many in the train of it; that of his "tired soldiers," says
Retzow, being only a first item, and small in comparison. "Had he waited
till the morrow, those fish-ponds of Sterbohol, examined in the interim,
need not have been mistaken for green meadows; Prince Moritz, with his
15,000, would have been a fact, instead of a false hope; the King might
have done his marching down upon Sterbohol in the night-time, and been
ready for the Austrians, flank, or even rear, at daybreak: the King
might"--In reality, this fault seems to have been considerable; to have
made the victory far more costly to him, and far less complete. No doubt
he had his reasons for making haste: Daun, advancing Prag-ward with
30,000, was within three marches of him; General Beck, Daun's vanguard,
with a 10,000 of irregulars, did a kind of feat at Brandeis, on the
Prussian post there (our Saxons deserting to him, in the heat of
action), this very day, May 6th; and might, if lucky, have taken part at
Ziscaberg next day. And besides these solid reasons, there was perhaps
another. Retzow, who is secretly of the Opposition-party, and well worth
hearing, knows personally a curious thing. He says:--
"Being then [in March or April, weeks before we left Saxony] employed to
translate the PLAN OF OPERATIONS into French, for Marshal Keith's
use, who did not understand German, I well know that it contained the
following three main objects: 1. 'All Regiments cantoning in Silesia as
well as Saxony march for Bohemia on one and the same day. 2. Whole Army
arrives at Prag May 4th [Schwerin was a day later, and got scolded in
consequence]; if the Enemy stand, he is attacked May 6th, and beaten.
3. So soon as Prag is got, Schwerin, with the gross of the Army, pushes
into Mahren,' and the heart of Austria itself; 'King hastens with 40,000
to help of the Allied Army,'"--Royal Highness of Cumberland's; who will
much need it by that time! [Retzow, i. 84 n.]
Here is a very curious fact and consideration. That the King had so
prophesied and preordained: "May 4th, Four Columns arrive at Prag; May
6th, attack the Austrians, beat them,"--and now wished to keep his word!
This is an aerial reason, which I can suspect to have had its weight
among others. There were twirls of that kind in Friedrich; intricate
weak places; knots in the sound straight-fibred mind he had (as in
whose mind are they not?),--which now and then cost him dear! The
Anecdote-Books say he was very ill of body, that day, May 6th; and
called for something of drug nature, and swallowed it (drug not named),
after getting on horseback. The Evening Anecdote is prettier: How, in
the rushing about, Austrians now flying, he got eye on Brother Henri
(clayey to a degree); and sat down with him, in the blessed sunset, for
a minute or two, and bewailed his sad losses of Schwerin and others.
Certain it is, the victory was bought by hard fighting; and but for
the quality of his troops, had not been there. But the bravery of the
Prussians was exemplary, and covered all mistakes that were made. Nobler
fire, when did it burn in any Army? More perfect soldiers I have
not read of. Platt-Teutsch fire--which I liken to anthracite, in
contradistinction to Gaelic blaze of kindled straw--is thrice noble,
when, by strict stern discipline, you are above it withal; and wield
your fire-element, as Jove his thunder, by rule! Otherwise it is but
half-admirable: Turk-Janissaries have it otherwise; and it comes to
comparatively little.
This is the famed Battle of Prag; fought May 6th, 1757; which sounded
through all the world,--and used to deafen us in drawing-rooms within
man's memory. Results of it were: On the Prussian side, killed, wounded
and missing, 12,500 men; on the Austrian, 13,000 (prisoners included),
with many flags, cannon, tents, much war-gear gone the wrong road;--and
a very great humiliation and dispiritment; though they had fought well:
"No longer the old Austrians, by any means," as Friedrich sees; but have
iron ramrods, all manner of Prussian improvements, and are "learning to
march," as he once says, with surprise not quite pleasant.
Friedrich gives the cipher of loss, on both sides, much higher: "This
Battle," says he, "which began towards nine in the morning, and lasted,
chase included, till eight at night, was one of the bloodiest of the
age. The Enemy lost 24,000 men, of whom were 5,000 prisoners; the
Prussian loss amounted to 18,000 fighting men,--without counting Marshal
Schwerin, who alone was worth above 10,000." "This day saw the pillars
of the Prussian Infantry cut down," says he mournfully, seeming almost
to think the "laurels of victory" were purchased too dear. His account
of the Battle, as if it had been a painful object, rather avoided in
his after-thoughts, is unusually indistinct;--and helps us little in the
extreme confusion that reigns otherwise, both in the thing itself and in
the reporters of the thing. Here is a word from Winterfeld, some private
Letter, two days after; which is well worth reading for those who would
understand this Battle.
"The enemy had his Left Wing leaning on the City, close by the Moldau,"
at Nussel; "and stretched with his Right Wing across the high Hill [of
Zisca] to the village of Lieben [so he HAD stood, looking into Prag;
but faced about, on hearing that Friedrich was across the River]; having
before him those terrible Defiles [DIE TERRIBLEN DEFILEES, "Horse-shoe
of the Moldau," as we call it], and the village of Prossik, which was
crammed with Pandours. It was about half-past six in the morning, when
our Schwerin Army [myself part of it, at this time] joined with the
twenty battalions and twenty squadrons, which the King had brought
across to unite with us, and which formed our right wing of battle that
day [our left wing were Schweriners, Sterbohol and the fighting done by
Schweriners after their long march]. The King was at once determined to
attack the Enemy; as also were Schwerin [say nothing of the arguing] and
your humble servant (MEINE WENIGKEIT): but the first thing was, to find
a hole whereby to get at him.
"This too was selected, and decided on, my proposal being found good;
and took effect in manner following: We [Schweriners] had marched off
left-wise, foremost; and we now, without halt, continued marching so
with the Left Wing" of horse, "which had the van (TETE); and moved on,
keeping the road for Hlaupetin, and ever thence onwards along for Kyge,
round the Ponds of Unter-Podschernitz, without needing to pass these,
and so as to get them in our rear.
"The Enemy, who at first had expected nothing bad, and never supposed
that we would attack him at once, FLAGRANTE DELICTO, and least of all in
this point; and did not believe it possible, as we should have to wade,
breast-deep in part, through the ditches, and drag our cannon,--was at
first quite tranquil. But as he began to perceive our real design (in
which, they say, Prince Karl was the first to open Marshal Browne's
eyes), he drew his whole Cavalry over towards us, as fast as it could
be done, and stretched them out as Right Wing; to complete which, his
Grenadiers and Hungarian Regulars of Foot ranked themselves as they
got up [makes his POTENCE, HAKEN, or joiner's-square, outmost end of it
Horse.]
"The Enemy's intention was to hold with the Right Wing of his infantry
on the Farmstead which they call Sterbaholy [Sterbohol, a very dirty
Farmstead at this day]; I, however, had the good luck, plunging on, head
foremost, with six battalions of our Left Wing and two of the Flank, to
get to it before him. Although our Second Line was not yet come forward,
yet, as the battalions of the First were tolerably well together, I
decided, with General Fouquet, who had charge of the Flank, to begin
at once; and, that the Enemy might not have time to post himself still
better, I pushed forward, quick step, out of the Farmstead" of Sterbohol
"to meet him,--so fast, that even our cannon had not time to follow. He
did, accordingly, begin to waver; and I could observe that his people
here, on this Wing, were making right-about.
"Meanwhile, his fire of case-shot opened [from Homoly Hill, on our
left], and we were still pushing on,--might now be about two hundred
steps from the Enemy's Line, when I had the misfortune, at the head of
Regiment Schwerin, to get wounded, and, swooning away (VOR TOD), fell
from my horse to the ground. Awakening after some minutes, and raising
my head to look about, I found nobody of our people now here beside or
round me; but all were already behind, in full flood of retreat (HOCH
ANSCHLAGEN). The Enemy's Grenadiers were perhaps eighty paces from me;
but had halted, and had not the confidence to follow us. I struggled to
my feet, as fast as, for weakness, I possibly could; and got up to our
confused mass [CONFUSEN KLUMPEN,--exact place, where?]: but could not,
by entreaties or by threats, persuade a single man of them to turn his
face on the Enemy, much less to halt and try again.
"In this embarrassment the deceased Feldmarschall found me, and noticed
that the blood was flowing stream-wise from my neck. As I was on foot,
and none of my people now near, he bade give me his led horse which he
still had [and sent me home for surgery? Winterfeld, handsomely effacing
himself when no longer good for anything, hurries on to the Catastrophe,
leaving us to guess that he was NOT an eye-witness farther]--bade
give me the led horse which he still had; AND [as if that had happened
directly after, which surely it did not? AND] snatched the flag from
Captain Rohr, who had taken it up to make the Bursche turn, and rode
forward with it himself.' But before he could succeed in the attempt,
this excellent man, almost in a minute, was hit with five case-shot
balls, and fell dead on the ground; as also his brave Adjutant von
Platen was so wounded that he died next day.
"During this confusion and repulse, by which, as already mentioned, the
Enemy had not the heart to profit, not only was our Second Line come on,
but those of the First, who had not suffered, went vigorously (FRISCH)
at the Enemy,"--and in course of time (perhaps two hours yet), and by
dint of effort, we did manage Sterbohol and its batteries:--"Like as
[still in one sentence, and without the least punctuation; Winterfeld
being little of a grammarian, and in haste for the close], Like as
Prince Henri's Royal Highness with our Right Wing," Mannstein and he,
"without waiting for order, attacked so PROMPT and with such FERMOTE,"
in that elbow-hole far north of US, "that everywhere the Enemy's Line
began to give way; and instead of continuing as Line, sought corps-wise
to gain the Heights, and there post itself. And as, without winning
said Heights, we could not win the Battle, we had to storm them all, one
after the other; and this it was that cost us the best, most and bravest
people.
"The late Colonel von Goltz [if we glance back to Sterbohol itself],
who, with the regiment Fouquet, was advancing, right-hand of Schwerin
regiment" and your servant, "had likewise got quite close to the Enemy;
and had he not, at the very instant when he was levelling bayonets, been
shot down, I think that he, with myself and the Schwerin regiment, would
have got in,"--and perhaps have there done the job, special and general,
with much less expense, and sooner! [Preuss, ii. 45-47 (in Winterfeld's
hand; dated "Camp at Prag, 8th May, 1757:" addressed to one knows not
whom; first printed by Preuss).]
This is what we get from Winterfeld; a rugged, not much grammatical man,
but (as I can perceive) with excellent eyes in his head, and interior
talent for twenty grammatical people, had that been his line. These,
faithfully rendered here, without change but of pointing, are the
only words I ever saw of his: to my regret,--which surely the Prussian
Dryasdust might still amend a little?--in respect of so distinguished
a person, and chosen Peer of Friedrich's. This his brief theory of Prag
Battle, if intensely read, I find to be of a piece with his practice
there.
Schwerin was much lamented in the Army; and has been duly honored ever
since. His body lies in Schwerinsburg, at home, far away; his Monument,
finale of a series of Monuments, stands, now under special guardianship,
near Sterbohol on the spot where he fell. A late Tourist says:--
"At first there was a monument of wood [TREE planted, I will hope],
which is now all gone; round this Kaiser Joseph II. once, in the year
1776, holding some review there, made his grenadier battalions and
artilleries form circle, fronting the sky all round, and give three
volleys of great arms and small, Kaiser in the centre doffing hat at
each volley, in honor of the hero. Which was thought a very pretty thing
on the Kaiser's part. In 1824, the tree, I suppose, being gone to a
stump, certain subscribing Prussian Officers had it rooted out, and a
modest Pyramid of red-veined marble built in its room. Which latter
the then King of Prussia, Friedrich Wilhelm III., determined to improve
upon; and so, in 1839, built a second Pyramid close by, bigger, finer,
and of Prussian iron, this one;--purchasing also, from the Austrian
Government, a rood or two of ground for site; and appointing some
perpetual Peculium, or increase of Pension to an Austrian Veteran of
merit for taking charge there. All which, perfectly in order, is in
its place at this day. The actual Austrian Pensioner of merit is a
loud-voiced, hard-faced, very limited, but honest little fellow; who
has worked a little polygon ditch and miniature hedge round the two
Monuments; keeps his own cottage, little garden, and self, respectably
clean; and leads stoically a lone life,--no company, I should think, but
the Sterbohol hinds, who probably are Czechs and cannot speak to him. He
was once 'of the regiment Hohenlohe;' suffers somewhat from cold, in
the winter-time, in those upland parts (the 'cords of wood' allowed him
being limited); but complains of nothing else. Two English names were
in his Album, a military two, and no more. 'EHRET DEN HELD (Honor the
Hero)!' we said to him, at parting. 'Don't I?' answered he; glancing at
his muddy bare legs and little spade, with which he had been working
in the Polygon Ditch when we arrived. I could wish him an additional
'KLAFTER HOLZ' (cord more of firewood) now and then, in the cold
months!--
"Sterbohol Farmstead has been new built, in man's memory, but is dirty
as ever. Agriculture, all over this table-land of the Ziscaberg,
I should judge to be bad. Not so the prospect; which is cheerfully
extensive, picturesque in parts, and to the student of Friedrich offers
good commentary. Roads, mansions, villages: Prossik, Kyge, Podschernitz,
from the Heights of Chaber round to Nussel and beyond: from any
knoll, all Friedrich's Villages, and many more, lie round you as on a
map,--their dirt all hidden, nothing wanting to the landscape, were it
better carpeted with green (green instead of russet), and shaded here
and there with wood. A small wild pink, bright-red, and of the size of
a star, grows extensively about; of which you are tempted to pluck
specimens, as memorial of a Field so famous in War." [Tourist's Note
(September, 1858).]