While this Subsidy Treaty is getting settled in England, Duke Ferdinand

has his French in full cackle of universal flight; and before the

signing of it (April 11th), every feather of them is over the Rhine;

Duke Ferdinand busy preparing to follow. Glorious news, day after day,

coming in, for Pitt, for Miss Barbara and for all English souls, Royal

Highness of Cumberland hardly excepted! The "Descent on Rochefort," last

Autumn, had a good deal disappointed Pitt and England;--an expensively

elaborate Expedition, military and naval; which could not "descend" at

all, when it got to the point; but merely went groping about, on

the muddy shores of the Charente, holding councils of war yonder;

"cannonaded the Isle of Aix for two hours;" and returned home without

result of any kind, Courts-martial following on it, as too usual. This

was an unsuccessful first-stroke for Pitt. Indeed, he never did much

succeed in those Descents on the French Coast, though never again so ill

as this time. Those are a kind of things that require an exactitude

as of clockwork, in all their parts: and Pitt's Generalcies and

War-Offices,--we know whether they were of the Prussian type or of the

Swedish! A very grievous hindrance to Pitt;--which he will not believe

to be quite incurable. Against which he, for his part, stands up, in

grim earnest, and with his whole strength; and is now, and at all times,

doing what in him lies to abate or remedy it:--successfully, to an

unexpected degree, within the next four years. From America, he has

decided to recall Lord Loudon, as a cunctatory haggling mortal, the

reverse of a General; how very different from his Austrian Cousin!

[Cousins certainly enough; their Progenitors were Brothers, of that

House, about 1568,--when Matthew, the cadet, went "into Livonia,"

into foreign Soldiering (Papa having fallen Prisoner "at the Battle of

Langside," 1568, and the Family prospects being low); from this Matthew

comes, through a scrips of Livonian Soldiers, the famed Austrian

Loudon. Douglas, _Peerage of Scotland,_ p. 425; &c. &c. VIE DE LOUDON

(ill-informed on that point and some others) says, the first Livonian

Loudon came from Ayrshire, "in the fourteenth century".] "Abercrombie

may be better," hopes he;--was better, still not good. But already in

the gloomy imbroglio over yonder, Pitt discerns that one Amherst (the

son of people unimportant at the hustings) has military talent: and

in this puddle of a Rochefort Futility, he has got his eye on a young

Officer named Wolfe, who was Quartermaster of the Expedition; a young

man likewise destitute of Parliamentary connection, but who may be worth

something. Both of whom will be heard of! In a four years' determined

effort of this kind, things do improve: and it was wonderful, to

what amount,--out of these chaotic War-Offices little better than the

Swedish, and ignorant Generalcies fully worse than the Swedish,--Pitt

got heroic successes and work really done.

On Pitt, amid confused clouds, there is bright dawn rising; and

Friedrich too, for the last month, in Breslau, has a cheerful prospect

on that Western side of his horizon. Here is one of his Postscripts,

thrown off in Autograph, which Duke Ferdinand will read with pleasure:

"I congratulate you, MON CHER, with my whole heart! May you FLEUR-DE-LYS

every French skin of them; cutting out on their"--what shall we say

(LEUR IMPRIMANT SUR LE CUE)!--"the Initials of the Peace of Westphalia,

and packing them across the Rhine," tattooed in that latest extremity of

fashion! [Friedrich to Duke Ferdinand, "Grussau, 19th March, 1758:" in

Knesebeck, _ Herzog Ferdinand,_ i. 64. _Herzog Ferdinand wahrend des

7-jahrigen Krieges_ ("from the English and Prussian Archives") is

the full Title of Knesebeck's Book: LETTERS altogether; not very

intelligently edited, but well worth reading by every student, military

and civil: 2 vols. 8vo. Hannover, 1857.]

Friedrich, grounding partly on those Rhine aspects, has his own scheme

laid for Campaign 1758. It is the old scheme tried twice already: to go

home upon your Enemy swiftly, with your utmost collective strength, and

try to strike into the heart of him before he is aware. Friedrich has

twice tried this; the second time with success, respectable though far

short of complete. Weakened as now, but with Ferdinand likely to

find the French in employment, he means to try it again; and is busy

preparing at Neisse and elsewhere, though keeping it a dead secret for

the time. There is, in fact, no other hopeful plan for him, if this

prove feasible at all. Double your velocity, you double your momentum.

One's weight is given,--weight growing less and less;--but not, or not

in the same way and degree, one's velocity, one's rightness of aim.

Weight given: it is only by doubling or trebling his velocity that a man

can make his momentum double or treble, as needed! Friedrich means to

try it, readers will see how,--were the Fort of Schweidnitz once had;

for which object Friedrich watches the weather like a very D'Argens,

eager that the frost would go. Recapture of Schweidnitz, the last

speck of Austrianism wiped away there; that is evidently the preface to

whatsoever day's-work may be ahead.

March 15th, frost being now off, Friedrich quits Breslau and

D'Argens,--his Head-quarter thenceforth Kloster-Grussau, near Landshut,

troops all getting cantoned thereabout, to keep Bohemia quiet,--and

goes at once upon Schweidnitz. With the top of the morning, so to speak;

means to have Schweidnitz before campaigning usually can begin, or

common laborers take their tools in this trade. The Austrian Commandant

has been greatly strengthening the works; he had, at first, some 8,000

of garrison; but the three months' blockade has been tight upon him and

them; and it is hoped the thing can be done.

APRIL 1st-2d,--Siege-material being got to the ground, and Siege

Division and Covering Army all in their places,--in spite of the heavy

rains, we open our first parallel, Austrian Commandant not noticing till

it is nearly done. April 8th, we have our batteries built; and burst

out, at our best rate, into cannonade; aiming a good deal at "Fort No.

1," called also "GALGEN or Gallows Fort," which we esteem the principal.

Cannonade continues day after day, prospers tolerably on Gallows

Fort,"--though the wet weather, and hardship to the troops, are grievous

circumstances, and make Friedrich doubly urgent. "Try it by storm!"

counsels Balbi, who is Engineer. Night of APRIL 15th-16th storm takes

place; with such vigor and such cunning, that the Gallows Fort is got

for almost nothing (loss of ten men);-and few hours after, Austria beat

the chamade. [Tempelhof, ii. 21-25; _Helden-Geschichte,_ _v. 109-123:

above all, Tielcke, _Beytrage zur Kriegs-Kunst und zur Geschichte des

Krieges von 1756 bis 1763_ _(6 vols. 4to, Freyberg, 1775-1786), iv.

43-76. Volume iv. is wholly devoted to Schweidnitz and its successive

Sieges.] Fifty-one new Austrian guns, for one item, and about 7,000

pounds of money. Prisoners of War the Garrison, 8,000 gone to 4,900;

with such stores as we can guess, of ours and theirs added: Balbi

was Prussian Engineer-in-Chief, Treskau Captain of the Siege;--other

particulars I spare the reader.

Unfortunate Schweidnitz underwent four Sieges, four captures or

recaptures, in this War;--upon all of which we must be quite summary,

only the results of them important to us. For the curious in sieges,

especially for the scientifically curious, there is, by a Captain

Tielcke, excellent account of all these Schweidnitz Sieges, and of

others;--Artillery-Captain Tielcke, in the Saxon or Saxon-Russian

service; whom perhaps we shall transiently fall in with, on a different

field, in the course of this Year.

Chapter XII.--SIEGE OF OLMUTZ.

Fouquet, on the first movement towards Schweidnitz, had been detached

from Landshut to sweep certain Croat Parties out of Glatz; Ziethen, with

a similar view, into Troppau Country; both which errands were at once

perfectly done. Daun lies behind the Bohemian Frontier (betimes in the

field he too, "arrived at Konigsgratz, March 13th"); and is, with all

diligence, perfecting his new levies; intrenching himself on all points,

as man seldom did; "felling whole forests," they say, building abatis

within abatis;--not doubting, especially on these Ziethen-Fouquet

symptoms, but Friedrich's Campaign is to be an Invasion of Bohemia

again. "Which he shall not do gratis!" hopes Daun; and, indeed, judges

say the entrance would hardly have been possible on that side, had

Friedrich tried it; which he did not.

Schweidnitz being done, and Daun deep in the Bohemian

problem,--Friedrich, in an unintelligible manner, breaks out from

Grussau and the Landshut region (April 19th-25th), not straight

southward, as Daun had been expecting, but straight southeastward

through Neisse, Jagerndorf: all gone, or all but Ziethen and Fouquet

gone, that way;--meaning who shall say what, when news of it comes to

Daun? In two divisions, from 30 to 40,000 strong; through Jagerndorf,

ever onward through Troppau, and not till THEN turning southward:

indubitable march of that cunning Enemy; rapidly proceeding, his 40,000

and he, along those elevated upland countries, watershed of the Black

Sea and the Baltic, bleakly illumined by the April sun; a march into the

mists of the future tense, which do not yet clear themselves to Daun.

Seeing the march turn southward at Troppau, a light breaks on Daun: "Ha!

coming round upon Bohemia from the east, then?" That is Daun's opinion,

for some time yet; and he immediately starts that way, to save a fine

magazine he has at Leutomischl over there. Daun, from Skalitz near

Konigsgratz where he is, has but some eighty miles to march, for the

King's hundred and fifty; and arrives in those parts few days after

the King; posts himself at Leutomischl, veiled in Pandours. Not for two

weeks more does he ascertain it to have been a march upon the Olmutz

Country, and the intricate forks of the Morawa River; with a view to

besieging Olmutz, by this wily Enemy! Upon which Daun did strive

to bestir himself thitherward, at last; and, though very slow and

hesitative, his measures otherwise were unexceptionable, and turned out

luckier than had been expected by some people.

Olmutz is an ancient pleasant little City, in the Plains of Mahren,

romantic, indistinct to the English mind; with Domes, with Steeples

eminent beyond its size,--population little above 10,000 souls;--has its

Prince-Archbishop and ecclesiastic outfittings, with whom Friedrich

has lodged in his time. City which trades in leather, and Russian and

Moldavian droves of oxen. Memorable to the Slavic populations for its

grand Czech Library, which was carried away by the Swedes, happily into

thick night; [To Stralsund (1645), "and has not since been heard of."]

also for that poor little Wenzel of theirs (last heir of the Bohemian

Czech royalties, whom no reader has the least memory of) being killed

on the streets here;--uncertain, to this day, by whom, though for whose

benefit that dagger-stroke ended is certain enough; [Supra, vol. v. p.

118.]--poor little Wenzel's dust lies under that highest Dome, of

the old Cathedral yonder, if anybody thought of such a thing in hot

practical times. Poor Lafayette, too, lodged here in prison, when the

Austrians seized him. City trades in leather and live stock, we said;

has much to do with artillery, much with ecclesiastry;--and Friedrich

besieged it, for seven weeks, in the hot summer days of 1758, to no

purpose. Friedrich has been in Olmiitz more than once before; his

Schwerin once took it in a single day, and it was his for months, in the

old Moravian-Foray time: but the place is changed now; become an arsenal

or military storehouse of Austria; strongly fortified, and with a

Captain in it, who distinguishes himself by valiant skill and activity

on this occasion.

Friedrich's Olmutz Enterprise, the rather as it was unsuccessful, has

not wanted critics. And certainly, according to the ordinary rules of

cautious prudence, could these have been Friedrich's in his present

situation, it was not to be called a prudent Enterprise. But had

Friedrich's arrangements been punctually fulfilled, and Olmutz been got

in fair time, as was possible or probable, the thing might have been

done very well. Duke Ferdinand, in these early May days, is practically

making preparations to follow the French across the Rhine; no fear of

French Armies interfering with us this year. Dohna has the Swedes locked

in Stralsund (capable of being starved, had not the thaw come); and

in Hinter-Pommern he has General Platen, with a tolerable Detachment,

watching Fermor and his Russians; Dohna, with Platen, may entertain the

Russians for a little, when they get on way,--which we know will be at a

slow pace, and late in the season. Prince Henri commands in Saxony, say

with 30,000;--King's vicegerent and other self there, "Do YOUR wisest

and promptest; hold no councils of war!" Prince Henri, altogether on

the aggressive as yet, is waiting what Reichs Army there may be;--has

already had Mayer and Free Corps careering about in Franken Country once

and again, tearing up the incipiencies and preparations, with the usual

emphasis; and is himself intending to follow thither, in a still more

impressive manner. Friedrich's calculation is, Prince Henri will have

his hands free for a good few weeks yet. Which proved true enough, so

far as that went.

And now, supposing Olmutz ours, and Vienna itself open to our insults,

does not, by rapid suction, every armed Austrian flow thitherward;

Germany all drained of them: in which case, what is to hinder Prince

Henri from stepping into Bohmen, by the Metal Mountains; capturing Prag;

getting into junction with us here, and tumbling Austria at a rate

that will astonish her! Her, and her miscellaneous tagraggery of

Confederates, one and all. Konigsberg, Stralsund, Bamberg; Russians,

Swedes, Reichsfolk,--here, in Mahren, will be the crown of the game for

all these. Prosper in Mahren, all these are lamed; one right stroke at

the heart, the limbs become manageable quantities! This was Friedrich's

program; and had not imperfections of execution, beyond what was looked

for, and also a good deal of plain ill-luck, intervened, this bold

stroke for Mahren might have turned out far otherwise than it did.

The march thither (started from Neisse April 27th) was beautiful:

Friedrich with vanguard and first division; Keith with rear-guard and

second, always at a day's distance; split into proper columns, for

convenience of road and quarter in the hungry countries; threading

those silent mountain villages, and upper streamlets of Oder and Morawa:

Ziethen waving intrusive Croateries far off; Fouquet, in thousands

of wagons, shoving on from Neisse, "in four sections," with the

due intervals, under the due escorts, the immensity of stores and

siege-furniture, through Jagerndorf, through Troppau, and onwards;

[Table of his routes and stages in TEMPELHOF, ii. 46.]--punctual

everybody; besiegers and siege materials ready on their ground by the

set day. Daun too had made speed to save his Magazine. Daun was at

Leutomischl, May 5th,--a forty miles to west of the Morawa,--few days

after Friedrich had arrived in those countries by the eastern or left

bank, by Troppau, Gibau, Littau, Aschmeritz, Prossnitz; and a week

before Friedrich had finished his reconnoitrings, campings, and taken

position to his mind. Camps, four or more (shrank in the end to three),

on both banks of the River; a matter of abstruse study; so that it was

May 12th before Friedrich first took view of Olmutz itself, and could

fairly begin his Problem,--Daun, with his best Tolpatcheries, still

unable to guess what it was.

Of the Siege I propose to say little, though the accounts of it are

ample, useful to the Artillerist and Engineer. If the reader can be

made to conceive it as a blazing loud-sounding fact, on which, and on

Friedrich in it, the eyes of all Europe were fixed for some weeks, it

may rest now in impressive indistinctness to us. Keith is Captain of the

Siege, whom all praise for his punctual firmness of progress; Balbi as

before, is Engineer, against whom goes the criticism, Keith's first of

all, that he "opened his first parallel 800 yards too far off,"--which

much increased the labor, and the expenditure of useless gunpowder, shot

having no effect at such a distance. There were various criticisms: some

real, as this; some imaginary, as that Friedrich grudged gunpowder, the

fact being that he had it not, except after carriage from Neisse, say a

hundred and twenty miles off,--Troppau, his last Silesian Town, or safe

place (his for the moment), is eighty miles;--and was obliged to waste

none of it.

Friedrich is not thought to shine in the sieging line as he does in

the fighting; which has some truth in it, though not very much. When

Friedrich laid himself to engineering, I observe, he did it well: see

Neisse, Graudenz, Magdeburg. His Balbi went wrong with the parallels, on

this occasion; many things went wrong: but the truly grievous thing was

his distance from Silesia and the supplies. A hundred and twenty

miles of hill-carriage, eighty of them disputable, for every shot of

ammunition and for every loaf of bread; this was hard to stand:--and

perhaps no War-apparatus but a Prussian, with a Friedrich for sole

chief-manager, could have stood it so long. Friedrich did stand it, in

a wonderfully tolerable manner; and was continuing to stand it, and make

fair progress; and it is not doubted he would have got Olmutz, had

not there another fact come on him, which proved to be of unmanageable

nature. The actual loss, namely, of one Convoy, after so many had

come safe, and when, as appears, there was now only one wanted and no

more!--Let us attend to this a little.

Had Daun, at Olmutz, been as a Duke of Cumberland relieving Tournay,

rushing into fight at Fontenoy, like a Hanover White-Horse, neck clothed

with thunder, and head destitute of knowledge,--how lucky had it been

for Friedrich! But Daun knows his trade better. Daun, though superior

in strength, sits on his Magazine, clear not to fight. By no art of

manoeuvring, had Friedrich much tried it, or hoped it, this time, could

Daun have been brought to give battle. As Fabins Cunctator he is here in

his right place; taking impregnable positions, no man with better skill

in that branch of business; pushing out parties on the Troppau road; and

patiently waiting till this dangerous Enemy, with such endless shifts in

him, come in sight perhaps of his last cartridge, or perhaps make

some stumble on the way towards that consummation. Daun is aware of

Friedrich's surprising qualities. Bos against Leo, Daun feels these

procedures to be altogether feline (FELIS-LEONINE); such stealthy

glidings about, deceptive motions, appearances; then such a rapidity of

spring upon you, and with such a set of claws,--destructive to bovine

or rhinoceros nature: in regard to all which, Bos, if he will prosper,

surely cannot be too cautious. It was remarked of Daun, that he was

scrupulously careful; never, in the most impregnable situations,

neglecting the least precaution, but punctiliously fortifying himself to

the last item, even to a ridiculous extent, say Retzow and the critics.

It was the one resource of Daun: truly a solid stubborn patience is in

the man; stubborn courage too, of bovine-rhinoceros type;--stupid,

if you will, but doing at all times honestly his best and his wisest

without flurry; which character is often of surprising value in War;

capable of much mischief, now and then, to quicker people. Rhinoceros

Daun did play his Leo a bad prank more than once; and this of barring

him out from Olmutz was one of them, perhaps the worst after Kolin.

Daun's management of this Olmutz business is by no means reckoned

brilliant, even in the Fabius line; but, on the contrary, inert,

dim-minded, inconclusive; and in reality, till almost the very last, he

had been of little help to the besieged. For near three weeks (till May

23d) Daun sat at Leutomischl, immovable on his bread-basket there, forty

or more miles from Olmutz; and did not see that a Siege was meant. May

27th-28th, Balbi opened his first parallel, in that mistaken way; four

days before which, Daun does move inwards a march or so, to Zwittau,

to Gewitsch (still thirty miles to west of Olmutz); still thinking

of Bohemia, not of any siege; still hanging by the mountains and the

bread-basket. And there,--about Gewitsch, siege or no siege, Daun

sits down again; pretty much immovable, through the five weeks of

bombardment; and,--except that Loudon and the Light Horse are very

diligent to do a mischief, "attempting our convoys, more than once, to

no purpose, and alarming some of our outposts almost every night, but

every night beaten off,"--does, in a manner, nothing; sits quiet, behind

his impenetrable veil of Pandours, and lets the bombardment take its

course. Had not express Order come from Vienna on him, it is thought

Daun would have sat till Olmutz was taken; and would then have gone back

to Leutomischl and impregnable posts in the Hills. On express order,

he--But gather, first, these poor sparks in elucidation:--

"The 'destructive sallies' and the like, at Olmutz, were principally an

affair of the gazetteers and the imagination: but it is certain, Olmutz

this time was excellently well defended; the Commandant, a vigorous

skilful man, prompt to seize advantages; and Garrison and Townsfolk

zealously helping: so that Friedrich's progress was unusually slow.

Friedrich's feelings, all this while, and Balbi's (who 'spent his first

1,220 shots entirely in vain,' beginning so far off), may be judged

of,--the sound of him to Balbi sometimes stern enough! As when (June

9th) he personally visits Balbi's parallels (top of the Tafelberg

yonder); and inquires, 'When do you calculate to get done, then?' West

side of Olmutz and of the River (east side lies mostly under water),

there is the bombarding; seventy-one heavy guns; Keith, in his expertest

manner, doing all the captaincies: Keith has about 8,000 of foot and

horse, busy and vigilant, with their faces to the east. In a ring of

four camps, or principally three (Prossnitz, Littau, and Neustadt, which

is across the River), all looking westward or northwestward, some, ten

or twenty miles from Keith, Friedrich (head-quarters oftenest Prossnitz,

the chief camp) stands facing Daun; who lies concentric to him, at the

distance of another ten or twenty miles, in good part still thirty or

forty miles from Olmutz, veiled mostly under a cloud of Pandours.

"Of Friedrich's impatiences we hear little, though they must have been

great. Prince Henri is ready for Prag; many things are ready, were

Olmutz but done! May 22d, Prince Henri had followed Mayer in person,

with a stronger corps, to root out the Reichsfolk,--and is now in

Bamberg City and Country. And is even in Baireuth itself, where was

lately the Camp of the new Reichs General, Serene Highness of Zweibruck,

and his nascent Reichs Army; who are off bodily to Bohemia, 'to Eger and

the Circle of Saatz,' a week before. [_Helden-Geschichte,_ v. 206-209.

Wilhelmina's pretty Letter to Friedrich ("Baireuth, 10th May");

Friedrich's Answer ("Olmutz, June, 1758"); in _OEuvres de Frederic,_

xxvii. i. 313-315.] Fancy that visit of Henri's to a poor Wilhelmina;

the last sight she ever had of a Brother, or of the old Prussian

uniforms, clearing her of Zweibrucks and sorrowful guests! Our poor

Wilhelmina, alas she is sunk in sickness this year more than ever;

journeying towards death, in fact; and is probably the most pungent,

sacredly tragic, of Friedrich's sorrows, now and onwards. June 12th,

Friedrich's pouting Brother, the Prince of Prussia, died; this also he

had to hear in Camp at Olmutz. 'What did he die of?' said Friedrich to

the Messenger, a Major Something. 'Of chagrin,' said the Major, 'AUS

GRAM.' Friedrich made no answer.--

"On the last night of May, by beautiful management, military and other,

Duke Ferdinand is across the Rhine; again chasing the French before him;

who, as they are far more numerous, cannot surely but make some stand:

so that a Battle there may be expected soon,--let us hope, a Victory;

as indeed it beautifully proved to be, three weeks after. [Battle of

Crefeld, 23d June.] On the other hand, Fermor and his Russians are

astir; continually wending towards Brandenburg, in their voluminous

manner, since June 16th, though at a slow rate. How desirable the Siege

of Olmutz were done!"

On express from Vienna, Daun did bestir himself; cautiously got on foot

again; detached, across the River, an expert Hussar General ("Be busy

all ye Loudons, St. Ignons, Ziskowitzes, doubly now!"),--expert Hussar

General, one item of whose force is 1,100 chosen grenadiers;--and

himself cautiously stept southward and eastward, nearer the Siege Lines.

The Hussar General's meaning seemed to be some mischief on our Camp

of Neustadt and the outposts there; but in reality it was to throw

his 1,100 into Olmutz (useful to the Commandant); which--by ingenious

manoeuvring, and guidance from the peasants "through bushy woods and

by-paths" on that east side of the River--the expert Hussar General,

though Ziethen was sent over to handle him, did perfectly manage, and

would not quit for Ziethen till he saw it finished. Which done, Daun

keeps stepping still farther southward, nearer the Siege Lines; and, at

Prossnitz, morning of June 22d, Friedrich, with his own eyes, sees Daun

taking post on the opposite heights; says to somebody near him, "VOILA

LES AUTRICHIENS, ILS APPRENNENT A MARCHER, There are the Austrians; they

are learning to march, though!"--getting on their feet, like infants in

a certain stage ("MARCHER" having that meaning too, though I know not

that the King intended it);--they have learned a great many things,

since your Majesty first met them. Friedrich took Daun to be, now at

last, meaning Battle for Olmutz, and made some slight arrangements

accordingly; but that is not Daun's intention at all; as Friedrich will

find to his cost, in few days. That very day, Daun has vanished again,

still in the southerly direction, again under veil of Pandours.

Meanwhile, in spite of all things, the Siege makes progress; "June

22d, Balbi's sap had got to their glacis, and was pushing forward

there,"--June 22d, day when Daun made momentary appearance, and the

reinforcement stole in:--within a fortnight more, Balbi promises the

thing shall be done. But supplies are indispensable: one other convoy

from Troppau, and let it be a big one, "between 3 and 4,000 wagons,"

meal, money, iron, powder; Friedrich hopes this one, if he can get it

home, will suffice. Colonel Mosel is to bring this Convoy; a resolute

expert Officer, with perhaps 7,000 foot and horse: surely sufficient

escort: but, as Daun is astir, and his Loudons, Ziskowitzes and

light people are gliding about, Friedrich orders Ziethen to meet this

important Convoy, with some thousands of new force, and take charge of

bringing it in. Mosel was to leave Troppau June 26th; Ziethen pushes

out to meet him from the Olmutz end, on the second day after; and, one

hopes, all is now safe on that head.

The driving of 3,000 four-horse wagons, under escort, ninety miles of

road, is such an enterprise as cannot readily be conceived by sedentary

pacific readers;--much more the attack of such! Military science,

constraining chaos into the cosmic state, has nowhere such a problem.

There are twelve thousand horses, for one thing, to be shod, geared,

kept roadworthy and regular; say six thousand country wagoners,

thick-soled peasants: then, hanging to the skirts of these, in

miscellaneous crazy vehicles and weak teams, equine and asinine, are one

or two thousand sutler people, male and female, not of select quality,

though on them, too, we keep a sharp eye. The series covers many miles,

as many as twenty English miles (says Tempelhof), unless in favorable

points you compress them into five, going four wagons abreast for

defence's sake. Defence, or escort, goes in three bulks or brigades;

vanguard, middle, rear-guard, with sparse pickets intervening;--wider

than five miles, you cannot get the parts to support one another. An

enemy breaking in upon you, at some difficult point of road, woody

hollow or the like, and opening cannon, musketry and hussar exercise on

such an object, must make a confused transaction of it! Some commanders,

for the road has hitherto been mainly pacific, divide their train

into parts, say four parts; moving with their partial escorts, with an

interval of one day between each two: this has its obvious advantages,

but depends, of course, on the road being little infested, so that your

partial escort will suffice to repel attacks. Toiling forward, at their

diligent slow rate, I find these trains from Troppau take about six

days (from Neisse to Olmutz they take eleven, but the first five are

peaceable [Tempelhof, ii. 48.]);--can't be hurried beyond that pace, if

you would save your laggards, your irregulars, and prevent what we may

call RAGGERY in your rearward parts; the skirts of your procession get

torn by the bushes if you go faster. This time Colonel Mosel will have

to mend his pace, however, and to go in the lump withal; the case being

critical, as Mosel knows, and MORE than he yet knows.

Daun, who has friends everywhere, and no lack of spies in this country,

generally hears of the convoys. He has heard, in particular, of this

important one, in good time. Hitherto Daun had not attempted much

upon convoys, nor anything with success: King's posted corps and other

precautions are of such a kind, not even Loudon, when he tried his best,

could do any good; and common wandering hussar parties are as likely

to get a mischief as to do one, on such service. Cautious Daun had been

busy enough keeping his own Camp safe, and flinging a word of news or

encouragement, at the most a trifle of reinforcement, into Olmutz. when

possible. But now it becomes evident there must be one of two things:

this convoy seized, or else a battle risked;--and that in defect of both

these, the inevitable third thing is, Olmutz will straightway go.

Major-General Loudon, the best partisan soldier extant, and ripening

for better things, has usually a force of perhaps 10,000 under him,

four regiments of them regular grenadiers; and has been active on

the convoys, though hitherto unsuccessful. Let an active Loudon, with

increased force, try this, their vitally important convoy, from the west

side of the River; an active Ziskowitz co-operating on the east side,

where the road itself is; and do their uttermost! That is Daun's

plan,--now in course of execution. Daun, instead of meaning battle, that

day when Friedrich saw him, was cautiously stealing past, intending to

cross the River farther down; and himself support the operation. Daun

has crossed accordingly, and has doubled up northward again to the fit

point; Ziskowitz is in the fit point, in the due force, on this east

side too. Loudon, on the west side, goes by Muglitz, Hof; making a long

deep bend far to westward and hillward of all the Prussian posted corps

and precautions, and altogether hidden from them; Loudon aims to be in

Troppau neighborhood, "Guntersdorf, near Bautsch," by the proper day,

and pay Mosel an unexpected visit in the passage there.

Colonel Mosel, marshalling his endless Trains with every excellent

precaution, and the cleverest dispositions (say the Books), against

the known and the unknown, had got upon the road, and creaked forward,

many-wheeled, out of Troppau, Monday, 26th June. [Tempelhof, ii. 89-94.]

The roads, worn by the much travelling and wet weather, were utterly

bad; the pace was perhaps quicker than usual; the much-jolting Train got

greatly into a jumble:--Mosel, to bring up the laggards, made the morrow

a rest-day; did get about two-thirds of his laggards marshalled again;

ordered the others to return, as impossible. They say, had it not been

for this rest-day, which seemed of no consequence, Loudon would not have

been at Guntersdorf in time, nor have attempted as he did at Guntersdorf

and afterwards. At break of day (Wednesday, 28th), Mosel is again on the

road; heavily jumbling forward from his quarters in Bautsch. Few

miles on, towards Guntersdorf, he discovers Loudon posted ahead in the

defiles. What a sight for Mosel, in his character of Wagoner up with

the dawn! But Mosel managed the defiles and Loudon this time; halted his

train, dashed up into the woody heights and difficult grounds; stormed

Loudon's cannon from him, smote Loudon in a valiant tempestuous manner;

and sent him travelling again for the present.

Loudon, I conjecture, would have struggled farther, had not he known

that there would be a better chance again not very many miles ahead.

London has studied this Convoy; knows of Ziethen coming to it with so

many; of Ziskowitz coming to him, Loudon, with so many; that Ziethen

cannot send for more (roads being all beset by our industry yesterday),

that Ziskowitz can, should it be needful;--and that at Domstadtl there

is a defile, or confused woody hollow, of unequalled quality! Mosel

jumbles on all day with his Train, none molesting; at night gets to his

appointed quarters, Village of Neudorff; [The L, or EL, is a

diminutive in these Names: (NEUDORFL) "New-ThorpLET," (DOMSTADTL)

"Cathedral-TownLET," and the like.] and there finds Ziethen: a glad

meeting, we may fancy, but an anxious one, with Domstadtl ahead on

the morrow. Loudon concerts with Ziskowitz this day; calls in all

reinforcements possible, and takes his measures. Thursday morning,

Ziethen finds the Train in such a state, hardly half of it come up,

he has to spend the whole day, Mosel and he, in rearranging it: Friday

morning, June 30th, they get under way again;--Friday, the catastrophe

is waiting them.

The Pass of Domstadtl, lapped in the dim Moravian distance, is not known

to me or to my readers; nor indeed could the human pen or intellect,

aided by ocular inspection or whatever helps, give the least image of

what now took place there, rendering Domstadtl a memorable locality ever

since. Understand that Ziethen and Mosel, with their waste

slow deluge of wagons, come jumbling in, with anxiety, with

precautions,--precautions doubled, now that the woody intricacies about

Domstadtl rise in sight. "Pooh, it is as we thought: there go Austrian

cannon-salvos, horse-charges, volleying musketries, as our first wagons

enter the Pass;--and there will be a job!" Indecipherable to mankind far

off, or even near. Of which only this feature and that can be laid hold

of, as discernible, by the most industrious man. Escort, in three main

bodies, vanguard, middle, rear-guard, marches on each side; infantry on

the left, cavalry on the right, as the ground is leveller there. Length

of the Train in statute miles, as it jumbles along at this point, is not

given; but we know it was many miles; that horses and wagoners were in

panic hardly restrainable; and we dimly descry, here especially, human

drill-sergeantcy doing the impossible to keep chaos plugged down. The

poor wagoner, cannon playing ahead, whirls homeward with his vehicle, if

your eye quit him,--still better, and handier, cuts his traces, mounts

in a good moment, and is off at heavy-footed gallop, leaving his wagon.

Seldom had human drill-sergeantcy such a problem.

The Prussian Vanguard, one Krockow its commander, repulsed that first

Austrian attack; swept the Bass clear for some minutes; got their

section of the carriages, or some part of it, 250 in all, hurried

through; then halted on the safe side, to wait what Ziethen would do

with the remainder. Ziethen does his best and bravest, as everybody

does; keeps his wagon-chaos plugged down; ranks it in square mass, as a

wagon fortress (WAGENBURG); ranks himself and everybody, his cannon, his

platoon musketry, to the best advantage round it; furiously shoots out

in all manner of ways, against the furious Loudon on this flank, and

the furious Ziskowitz on that; takes hills, loses them; repels and is

repelled (wagon-chaos ever harder to keep plugged); finally perceives

himself to be beaten; that the wagon-chaos has got unplugged (fancy

it!)--and that he, Ziethen, must retreat; back foremost if possible. He

did retreat, fighting all the way to Troppau; and the Convoy is a ruin

and a prey.

Krockow, with the 250, has got under way again; hearing the

powder-wagons start into the air (fired by the enemy), and hearing

the cannon and musketry take a northerly course, and die away in

that ominous direction. These 250 were all the carriages that came

in:--happily, by Ziethen's prudence, the money, a large sum, had been

lodged in the vanmost of these. The rest of the Convoy, ball, powder,

bread, was of little value to Loudon, but beyond value to Friedrich at

this moment; and it has gone to annihilation and the belly of Chaos and

the Croats. Among the tragic wrecks of this Convoy there is one that

still goes to our heart. A longish, almost straight row of young

Prussian recruits stretched among the slain, what are these? These were

700 recruits coming up from their cantons to the Wars; hardly yet six

months in training: see how they have fought to the death, poor lads,

and have honorably, on the sudden, got manumitted from the toils of

life. Seven hundred of them stood to arms, this morning; some sixty-five

will get back to Troppau; that is the invoice account. They lie there,

with their blond young cheeks and light hair; beautiful in death;--could

not have done better, though the sacred poet has said nothing of them

hitherto,--nor need, till times mend with us and him. Adieu, my noble

young Brothers; so brave, so modest, no Spartan nor no Roman more; may

the silence be blessed to you!

Contrary to some current notions, it is comfortably evident that there

was a considerable fire of loyalty in the Prussians towards their King,

during this War; loyalty kept well under cover, not wasting itself in

harangues or noisy froth; but coming out, among all ranks of men, in

practical attempts to be of help in this high struggle, which was their

own as well as his. The STANDE, landed Gentry, of Pommern and other

places, we heard of their poor little Navy of twelve gunboats, which

were all taken by the Swedes. Militia Regiments too, which did good

service at Colberg, as may transiently appear by and by:--in the gentry

or upper classes, a respectable zeal for their King. Then, among the

peasantry or lower class--Here are Seven Hundred who stood well where

he planted them. And their Mothers--Be Spartan also, ye Mothers! In

peaceable times, Tempelhof tells us the Prussian Mother is usually proud

of having her son in this King's service: a country wife will say

to you: "I have three of them, all in the regiment," Billerbeck,

Itzenplitz, or whatever be the Canton regiment; "the eldest is ten

inches [stands five feet ten], the second is eleven, the third eight,

for indeed he is yet young."

Daun, on the day of this Domstadtl business, and by way of masking it,

feeling how vital it was, made various extensive movements, across the

River by several Bridges; then hither, thither, on the farther side

of Olmutz, mazing up and down: Friedrich observing him, till he should

ripen to something definite, followed his bombarding the while; perhaps

having hopes of wager of battle ensuing. Of the disaster at Domstadtl

Friedrich could know nothing, Loudon having closed the roads. Daun by

no means ripens into battle: news of the disaster reached Friedrich next

day (Saturday, July 1st),--who "immediately assembled his Generals, and

spoke a few inspiring words to them," such as we may fancy. Friedrich

perceives that Olmutz is over; that his Third Campaign, third lunge upon

the Enemy's heart, has prospered worse, thus far, than either of the

others; that he must straightway end this of Olmutz, without any success

whatever, and try the remaining methods and resources. No word of

complaint, they say, is heard from Friedrich in such cases; face always

hopeful, tone cheery. A man in Friedrich's position needs a good deal of

Stoicism, Greek or other.

That Saturday night the Prussian bombardment is quite uncommonly

furious, long continuing; no night yet like it:--the Prussians are

shooting off their superfluous ammunition this night; do not quite

end till Sunday is in. On Sunday itself, packings, preparations, all

completed; and, "Keith, with above 4,000 wagons, safe on the road since

2 A.M."--the Prussians softly vanish in long smooth streams, with music

playing, unmolested by Daun; and leaving nothing, it is boasted, but

five or three mortars, which kept playing to the last, and one cannon,

to which something had happened.

Of the retreat there could be much said, instructive to military men

who were studious; extremely fine retreat, say all judges;--of which

my readers crave only the outlines, the results. Daun, it was thought,

should have ruined Friedrich in this retreat; but he did nothing of harm

to him. In fact, for a week he could not comprehend the phenomenon at

all, and did not stir from his place,--which was on the other, or wrong,

side of the River. Daun had never doubted but the retreat would be to

Silesia; and he had made his detachments, and laid himself out for doing

something upon it, in that direction: but, lo, what roads are these,

what motions whitherward? In about a week it becomes manifest that

the retreat, which goes on various roads, sometimes three at once, has

converged on Leutomischl; straight for Bohemia instead of Silesia; and

that Daun is fallen seven days behind it; incapable now to do anything.

Not even the Magazine at Leutomischl could be got away, nor could even

the whole of it be burnt.

Keith and the baggage once safe in Leutomischl (July 8th), all goes in

deliberate long column; Friedrich ahead to open the passages. July 14th,

after five more marches, Friedrioh bursts up Konigsgratz; scattering any

opposition there is; and sits down there, in a position considered, he

knows well how inexpugnable; to live on the Country, and survey events.

The 4,000 baggage-wagons came in about entire. Fouquet had the first

division of them, and a secondary charge of the whole; an extremely

strict, almost pedantic man, and of very fiery temper: "HE, D'OU

VENEZ-VOUS?" asked he sharply of Retzow senior, who had broken through

his order, one day, to avert great mischief: "How come you here, MON

GENERAL?" "By the Highway, your Excellency!" answered Retzow in a grave

stiff tone. [Retzow, i. 302.]

Keith himself takes the rear-guard, the most ticklish post of all, and

manages it well, and with success, as his wont is. Under sickness at the

time, but with his usual vigilance, prudence, energy; qualities apt to

be successful in War. Some brushes of Croat fighting he had from Loudon;

but they did not amount to anything. It was at Holitz, within a march

of Konigsgratz, that Loudon made his chief attempt; a vehement,

well-intended thing; which looked well at one time. But Keith heard the

cannonading ahead; hurried up with new cavalry, new sagacity and fire of

energy; dashed out horse-charges, seized hill-tops, of a vital nature;

and quickly ended the affair. A man fiery enough, and prompt with his

stroke when wanted, though commonly so quiet. "Tell Monsieur,"--some

General who seemed too stupid or too languid on this occasion,--"Tell

Monsieur from me," said Keith to his Aide-de-camp, "he may be a very

pretty thing, but he is not a man (QU'IL PEUT ETRE UNE BONNE CHOSE, MAIS

QU'IL N'EST PAS UN HOMME)!" [Varnhagen, _Leben des &c. Jakob von Keith,_

p. 227.] The excellent vernacular Keith;--still a fine breadth of accent

in him, one perceives! He is now past sixty; troubled with asthma; and

I doubt not may be, occasionally, thinking it near time to end his

campaigns. And in fact, he is about ending them; sooner than he or

anybody had expected.

Daun, picking his steps and positions, latterly with threefold

precaution, got into Konigsgratz neighborhood, a week after Friedrich;

and looked down with enigmatic wonder upon Friedrich's new settlement

there. Forage abundant all round, and the corn-harvest growing

white;--here, strange to say, has Friedrich got planted in the inside of

those innumerable Daun redoubts, and "woods of abatis;" and might make

a very pretty "Bohemian Campaign" of it, after all, were Daun the

only adversary he had! Judges are of opinion, that Daun, with all his

superiority of number, could not have disrooted Friedrich this season.

[Tempelhof, ii. 170-176, 185;--who, unluckily, in soldier fashion, here

as too often elsewhere, does not give us the Arithmetical Numbers of

each, but counts by "Battalions" and "Squadrons," which, except in

time of Peace, are a totally uncertain quantity:--guess vaguely, 75,000

against 30,000.] Daun did try him by the Pandour methods, "1,000 Croats

stealing in upon Konigsgratz at one in the morning," and the like; but

these availed nothing. By the one effectual method, that of beating

him in battle, Daun never would have tried. What did disroot Friedrich,

then?--Take the following dates, and small hints of phenomena in other

parts of the big Theatre of War. "Konitz" is a little Polish Town,

midway between Dantzig and Friedrich's Dominions:--

"KONITZ, 16th JUNE, 1758. This day Feldmarschall Fermor arrives in his

principal Camp here. For many weeks past he has been dribbling across

the Weichsel hitherward, into various small camps, with Cossack Parties

flying about, under check of General Platen. But now, being all across,

and reunited, Fermor shoots out Cossack Parties of quite other weight

and atrocity; and is ready to begin business,--still a little uncertain

how. His Cossacks, under their Demikows, Romanzows; capable of no good

fighting, but of endless incendiary mischief in the neighborhood;--shoot

far ahead into Prussian territory: Platen, Hordt with his Free-Corps,

are beautifully sharp upon them; but many beatings avail little. 'They

burn the town of Driesen [Hordt having been hard upon them there]; town

of Ratzebuhr, and nineteen villages around;'--burn poor old women and

men, one poor old clergyman especially, wind him well in straw-roping,

then set fire, and leave him;--and are worse than fiends or hyenas. Not

to be checked by Platen's best diligence; not, in the end, by Platen and

Dohna together. Dohna (18th June) has risen from Stralsund in check

of them,--leaving the unfortunate Swedes to come out [shrunk to about

7,000, so unsalutary their stockfish diet there],--these hyena-Cossacks

being the far more pressing thing. Dohna is diligent, gives them many

slaps and checks; Dohna cannot cut the tap-root of them in two; that is

to say, fight Fermor and beat him: other effectual check there can be

none. [_Helden-Geschichte,_ v. 149 et seq.; Tempelhof, ii. 135 &c.]

"TSCHOPAU (in Saxony), 21st JUNE. Prince Henri has quitted Bamberg

Country; and is home again, carefully posted, at Tschopau and up and

down, on the southern side of Saxony; with his eye well on the Passes

of the Metal Mountains,--where now, in the turn things at Olmutz have

taken, his clear fate is to be invaded, NOT to invade. The Reichs Army,

fairly afoot in the Circle of Saatz, counts itself 35,000; add 15,000

Austrians of a solid quality, there is a Reichs Army of 50,000 in all,

this Year. And will certainly invade Saxony,--though it is in no hurry;

does not stir till August come, and will find Prince Henri elaborately

on his guard, and little to be made of him, though he is as one to two.

"CREFELD (Rhine Country), 23d JUNE. Duke Ferdinand, after skilful

shoving and advancing, some forty or fifty miles, on his new or French

side of the Rhine, finds the French drawn up at Crefeld (June

23d); 47,000 of them VERSUS 33,000: in altogether intricate ground;

canal-ditches, osier-thickets, farm-villages, peat-bogs. Ground

defensible against the world, had the 47,000 had a Captain; but

reasonably safe to attack, with nothing but a Clermont acting that

character. Ferdinand, I can perceive, knew his Clermont; and took

liberties with him. Divided himself into three attacks: one in front;

one on Clermont's right flank, both of which cannonaded, as if in

earnest, but did not prevent Clermont going to dinner. One attack on

front, one on right flank; then there was a third, seemingly on left

flank, but which winded itself round (perilously imprudent, had there

been a Captain, instead of a Clermont deepish in wine by this time), and

burst in upon Clermont's rear; jingling his wine-glasses and decanters,

think at what a rate;--scattering his 47,000 and him to the road again,

with a loss of men, which was counted to 4,000 (4,000 against 1,700),

and of honor--whatever was still to lose!" [Mauvillon, i. 297-309;

Westphalen, i. 588-604; Tempelhof; &c. &c.]

Ferdinand, it was hoped, would now be able to maintain himself, and push

forward, on this French side of the Rhine: and had Wesel been his (as

some of us know it is not!), perhaps he might. At any rate, veteran

Belleisle took his measures:--dismissal of Clermont Prince of the Blood,

and appointment of Contades, a man of some skill; recall of Soubise and

his 24,000 from their Austrian intentions; these and other strenuous

measures,--and prevented such consummation. A gallant young Comte

de Gisors, only son of Belleisle, perished in that disgraceful

Crefeld:--unfortunate old man, what a business that of "cutting Germany

in four" has been to you, first and last!

"LOUISBURG (North America), JULY 8th. Landing of General Amherst's

people at Louisburg in Cape Breton; with a view of besieging that

important place. Which has now become extremely difficult; the garrison,

and their defences, military, naval, being in full readiness for such an

event. Landing was done by Brigadier Wolfe; under the eye of Amherst and

Admiral Boscawen from rearward, and under abundant fire of batteries and

musketries playing on it ahead: in one of the surfiest seas (but we have

waited four days, and it hardly mends), tossing us about like corks;--so

that 'many of the boats were broken;' and Wolfe and people 'had to leap

out, breast-deep,' and make fight for themselves, the faster the better,

under very intricate circumstances! Which was victoriously done, by

Wolfe and his people; really in a rather handsome manner, that morning.

As were all the subsequent Siege-operations, on land and on water, by

them and the others:--till (August 8th) the Siege ended: in complete

surrender,--positively for the last time (Pitt fully intends); no

Austrian Netherlands now to put one on revoking it! [General Amherst's

DIARY OF THE SIEGE (in _Gentleman's Magazine,_ xxviii. 384-389).]

"These are pretty victories, cheering to Pitt and Friedrich; but the

difficult point still is that of Fermor. Whose Cossacks, and their

devil-like ravagings, are hideous to think of:--unrestrainable by Dohna,

unless he could cut the root of them; which he cannot. JUNE 27th [while

Colonel Mosel, with his 3,000 wagons, still only one stage from Troppau,

was so busy], slow Fermor rose from Konitz; began hitching southward,

southward gradually to Posen,--a considerably stronger Polish Town;

on the edge both of Brandenburg and of Silesia;--and has been sitting

there, almost ever since our entrance into Bohemia; his Cossacks burning

and wasting to great distances in both Countries; no deciding which of

them he meant to invade with his main Army. Sits there almost a month,

enigmatic to Dohna, enigmatic to Friedrich: till Friedrich decides at

last that he cannot be suffered longer, whichever of them he mean; and

rises for Silesia (August 2d). Precisely about which day Fermor had

decided for Brandenburg, and rolled over thither, towards Custrin and

the Frankfurt-on-Oder Country, heralded by fire and murder, as usual."

Friedrich's march to Landshut is, again, much admired. Daun had beset

the three great roads, the two likeliest especially, with abundant

Pandours, and his best Loudons and St. Ignons: Friedrich, making himself

enigmatic to Daun, struck into the third road by Skalitz, Nachod;

circuitous, steep, but lying Glatz-ward, handy for support of various

kinds. He was attempted, once or more, by Pandours, but used them badly;

fell in with Daun's old abatis (well wind-dried now), in different

places, and burnt them in passing. And in five days was in

Kloster-Grussau, safe on his own side of the Mountains again. One point

only we will note, in these Pandour turmoilings. From Skalitz, the first

stage of his march, he answers a Letter of Brother Henri's:--

TO PRINCE HENRI (at Tachopau in Saxony). "What you write to me of my

Sister of Baireuth [that she has been in extremity, cannot yet write,

and must not be told of the Prince of Prussia's death lest it kill

her] makes me tremble! Next to our Mother, she is what I have the most

tenderly loved in this world. She is a Sister who has my heart and all

my confidence; and whose character is of price beyond all the crowns in

this universe. From my tenderest years, I was brought up with her:

you can conceive how there reigns between us that indissoluble bond of

mutual affection and attachment for life, which in all other cases, were

it only from disparity of ages, is impossible. Would to Heaven I might

die before her;--and that this terror itself don't take away my life

without my actually losing her!" [_OEuvres de Frederic,_ xxvi. 179,

"Klenny, near Skalitz, 3d August, 1758;" Henri's Letter is dated "Camp

of Tschopau, 28th July" (ib. 277).]...

At Grussau (August 9th) he writes to his dear Wilhelmina herself: "O

you, the dearest of my family, you whom I have most at heart of all in

this world,--for the sake of whatever is most precious to you, preserve

yourself, and let me have at least the consolation of shedding my tears

in your bosom! Fear nothing for US, and"--O King, she is dying, and I

believe knows it, though you will hope to the last! There is something

piercingly tragical in those final Letters of Friedrich to his

Wilhelmina, written from such scenes of wreck and storm, and in

Wilhelmina's beautiful ever-loving quiet Answers, dictated when she

could no longer write. ["July 18th" is the last by her hand, and "almost

illegible;"--still extant, it seems, though withheld from us. Was

received at Grussau here, and answered at some length (_OEuvres,_ xxvii.

i. 316), according to the specimen just given. Two more of hers follow,

and four of the King's (ib. 317-322). Nearly meaningless, as printed

there, without commentary for the unprepared reader.]

Friedrich had last left Grussau April 18th; he has returned to it August

8th: after sixteen weeks of a very eventful absence. In Grussau he

stayed two whole days;--busy enough he, probably, though his people were

resting! August 10th he draws up, for Prince Henri, "under seal of the

most absolute secrecy," and with admirable business-like strictness,

brevity and clearness, forgetting nothing useful, remembering nothing

useless, a Paper of Directions in case of a certain event: "I march

to-morrow against the Russians: as the events of War may lead to all

sorts of accidents, and it may easily happen to me to be killed, I have

thought it my duty to let you know what my plans were," and what you

are to do in that event,--"the rather as you are Guardian of our Nephew

[late Prince of Prussia's Son] with an unlimited authority." Oath from

all the armies the instant I am killed: rapid, active, as ever; the

enemy not to notice that there is any change in the command. I intend

to "beat the Russians utterly [A PLATE COUTURE, splay-seam], if it be

possible;" then to &c.:--gives you his "itinerary," too, or probable

address, till "the 25th" (notably enough); in short, forgets nothing

useful, nor remembers anything that is not, in spite of his hurry.

["DISPOSITION TESTAMENTAIRE" (so they have labelled it); given in

_OEuvres,_ iv. (APPENDICE) 261, 262. Friedrich's TESTAMENT proper is

already made, and all in order, years ago ("11th January 1752"): of

this there followed Two new Redactions (new EDITIONS with slight

improvements, "7th November, 1768," and "8th January, 1769" the FINALLY

valid one); and various Supplements, or summary Enforcements (as here),

at different times of crisis. see PREUSS, iv. 277, 401, and _OEuvres

de Frederic,_ vi. p. 13 (of Preface), for some confused account of that

matter.] For Mlnlster Finck also there went a Paper; seal lzot needing

to be opened for the moment.

With Margraf Karl, and Fouquet under him, who are to guard Silesia, he

leaves in two Divisions about Half the late Olmutz Army:--added to the

other force, this will make about 40,000 for that service. [Stenzel, v.

163.] Keith has the chief command here; but is ordered to Breslau, in

the mean time, for a little rest and recovery of health. Friday, 11th

August, Friedrich himself, with the other Half, pushes off towards

Fermor and the Cossack demons; through Liegnitz, through Hohenfriedberg

Country, straight for Frankfurt, with his best speed.

Chapter XIII.--BATTLE OF ZORNDORF.

Sunday, 20th August, Friedrich, with his small Army, hardly above 15,000

I should guess, arrived at Frankfurt-on-Oder: "his Majesty," it seems,

"lodged in the Lebus Suburb, in the house of a Clergyman's Widow; and

was observed to go often out of doors, and listen to the cannonading,

which was going on at Custrin." [Rodenbeck, i. 347.] From Landshut

hither, he has come in nine days; the swiftest marching; a fiery spur

of indignation being upon all his men and him, for the last two days

fierier than ever,--longing all to have a blow at those incendiary

Russian gentlemen. Five days ago, the Russians, attempting blindly

on the Garrison of Custrin, had burnt,--nothing of the Garrison at

all,--but the poor little Town altogether. Which has filled everybody

with lamentation and horror. And, listen yonder, they are still busy on

the solitary Garrison of Custrin;--audible enough to Friedrich from his

northern or Lebus Suburb, which lies nearest the place, at a distance of

some twenty miles.

Of Fermor's red-hot savagery on Custrin, it is lamentably necessary we

should say something: to say much would he a waste of record; as the

thing itself was a waste of powder. A thing hideous to think of; without

the least profit to Fermor, but with total ruin to all the inhabitants,

and to the many strangers who had sought refuge there. One interior

circumstance is memorable and lucky to us. Artillery-Captain Tielcke

happened to be with these people; had come in the train of "two Saxon

Princes, serving as volunteers;" and, with a singular lucidity, and

faithful good sense, not scientific alone, he illuminates these black

Russian matters for such as have to do with them.

Tielcke's Book of _Contributions to the Art of War_ [_Beytrage zur

Kriege-Kunst und (ZUR) Geschichte des Krieges von 1756 bis 1763_ (six

thin vols. 4to, with many Plates); cited above.] is still in repute with

Soldiers, especially in the Artillery line; and indeed shows a sound

geometrical head, and contains bits of excellent Historical reading

interspersed among the scientific parts. This Tielcke, it appears, was

a common foot-soldier, one of those Pirna 14,000 made Prussian against

their will; but Tielcke had a milkmaid for sweetheart in those regions,

who, good soul, gave him her generous farewell, a suit of her clothes,

perhaps a pair of her pails; and in that guise he walked out of bondage.

Clear away; to Warsaw, to favor with the King and others (being of

real merit, an excellent, studious, modest little man); and here he

now reappears, in a higher capacity; as articulate Eye-witness of the

Custrin Business and the Zorndorf, among much other Russian darkness,

which shall remain comfortably blank to us.

Up to Custrin, the Journal of the Operations of the Russian Army, which

I could give from day to day, ["TAGEBUCH BEYDER &c. (Diary of both

Armies from the beginning of the Campaign till Zorndorf"), in Tielcke,

ii. 1-75; Tempelhof, ii. 136, 216-224; _Helden-Geschichte,_ v.; &c.

&c.] is of no interest except to the Nether Powers of this Universe; the

Russian Operations hitherto having consisted in slow marches, sluttish

cookeries, cantonings, bivouackings, with destruction of a poor innocent

Country, and arson, theft and murder done on the great scale by inhuman

vagabonds, Cossacks so called, not tempered on this occasion by the

mercy of Calmucks. The regular Russian Army, it appears, participates

in the common horror of mankind against such a method of making war; but

neither Feldmarschall Fermor, nor General Demikof (properly THEMICOUD, a

Swiss, deserving little thanks from us, who has taken in hand to command

these Missionaries of the Pit), can help the results above described.

Which are justly characterized as abominable, to gods and men; and

not fit to be recorded in human Annals; execration, and, if it were

possible, oblivion, being the human resource with them., The Russian

Officers, it seems, despise this Cossack rabble incredibly; for their

fighting qualities withal are close on zero, though their talent for

arson and murder is so considerable. And contrariwise, the Cossacks, for

their part, have no objection to plunder, or even, if obstreperous,

to kill, any regular Officer they may meet unescorted in a good place.

Their talent for arson is great. They do uncountable damage to the Army

itself; provoking all the Country people to destroy by fire what could

be eaten or used, the foraging, food and equipments of horse and man;

so that horse and man have to be fed by victual carted hundreds of miles

out of Poland; and the Russian Army sticks, as it were, tethered with a

welter of broken porridge-pots and rent meal-bags hung to every foot it

has.

East Preussen is quiet from the storms of War; holds its tongue well,

and hopes better days: but the Russians themselves are little the better

for it, a country so lately burned bare; they are merely flung so many

scores of miles forward, farther from home and their real resources,

before they can begin work, They have no port on the Baltic: poor

blockheads, they are aware how desirable, for instance, Dantzig would

be; to help feeding them out of ships; but the Dantzigers won't.

Colberg, a poor little place, with only 700 militia people in it, would

be of immense service to them as a sea-haven: but even this they have

not yet tried to get; and after trying, they will find it a job. "Why

not unite with the Swedes and take Stettin (the finest harbor in the

Baltic), which would bring Russia, by ships, to your very hand?" This

is what Montalembert is urgent upon, year after year, to the point

of wearying everybody; but he can get no official soul to pay heed to

him,--the difficulties are so considerable. "Swedes, what are they?" say

the Russians: "Russians what?" say the Swedes. "Sweden would be so handy

for the Artilleries," urges Montalembert; "Russians for the Soldiery,

or covering and fighting part."--"Can't be done!" Officiality shakes its

head: and Montalembert is obliged to be silent.

The Russians have got into the Neumark of Brandenburg, on those bad

terms; and are clearly aware that, without some Fortress as a Place of

Arms, they are an overgrown Incompetency and Monstrosity in the field

of War; doing much destruction, most of which proves self-destructive

before long. But how help it? If the carrying of meal so far be

difficult what will the carrying of siege-furniture be? A flat

impossibility. Fermor, aware of these facts, remembers what happened at

Oczakow,--long ago, in our presence, and Keith's and Munnich's, if the

reader have not quite forgot. Munnich, on that occasion, took Oczakow

without any siege-furniture whatever, by boldly marching up to it;

nothing but audacity and good luck on his side. Fermor determines to

try Custrin in the like way,--if peradventure Prussian soldiery be like

Turk?--

Fermor rose from Posen August 2d, almost three weeks ago; making daily

for the Neumark and those unfortunate Oder Countries; nobody but Dohna

to oppose him,--Dohna in the ratio of perhaps one against four. Dohna

naturally laid hold of Frankfurt and the Oder Bridge, so that Fermor

could not cross there; whereupon Fermor, as the next best thing, struck

northward for the Warta (black Polish stream, last big branch of Oder);

crossed this, at his ease, by Landsberg Bridge, August 10th [Tempelhof,

ii. 216.] and after a day or two of readjustment in Landsberg, made for

Custrin Country (his next head-quarter is at Gross Kamin); hoping in

some accidental or miraculous way to cross Oder thereabouts, or even get

hold of Custrin as a Place of Arms. If peradventure he can take Custrin

without proper siege-artillery, in the Oczakow or Anti-Turk way? Fermor

has been busy upon Custrin since August 15th;--in what fashion we partly

heard, and will now, from authentic sources, see a little for ourselves.

The Castle of Custrin, built by good Johann of Custrin, and "roofed

with copper," in the Reformation times,--we know it from of old, and

Friedrich has since had some knowledge of it. Custrin itself is a rugged

little Town, with some moorland traffic, and is still a place of great

military strength, the garrison of those parts. Its rough pavements,

its heavy stone battlements and barriers, give it a guarled obstinate

aspect,--stern enough place of exile for a Crown-Prince fallen into such

disfavor with Papa! A rugged, compact, by no means handsome little Town,

at the meeting of the Warta and the Oder; stands naturally among sedges,

willows and drained mire, except that human industry is pleasantly busy

upon it, and has long been. So that the neighborhood is populous beyond

expectation; studded with rough cottages in white-wash; hamlets in a

paved condition; and comfortable signs of labor victoriously wrestling

with the wilderness. Custrin, an arsenal and garrison, begirt with two

rivers, and with awful bulwarks, and bastions cased in stone,--"perhaps

too high," say the learned,--is likely to be impregnable to Russian

engineering on those terms. Here, with brevity, is the catastrophe of

Custrin.

TUESDAY, 15th AUGUST, 1758. At two in the morning, several thousand

Russians, grenadiers, under Quartermaster General Stoffeln, whom the

readers of Mannstein know from old Oczakow times, are astir; pushing

along from Gross Kamin, through the scraggy firwoods, and flat peat

countries; intending a stroke on Custrin, if perhaps they can get it:

[Tempelhof, ii. 217; but Tielcke, ii. 69 et seq., the real source.]--not

the slightest chance to get Custrin; Prussian soldiership and Turkish

being two quite different things! The pickeering and manoeuvring of

Stoffeln shall not detain us. Stoffeln came along by the Landsberg

road (course of the now Konigsberg-Custrin Railway); and drove in the

Prussian out-parties, who at first took him for Cossacks. Stoffeln set

himself down on the north side of the place; planted cannon in certain

clay-pits thereabouts, and about nine o'clock began firing shells and

incendiary grenadoes at a great rate. Tielcke saw everything,--and had

the honor to take luncheon, that evening, with certain chief Officers,

sitting on the ground, after all was over, and only a few shots from the

Garrison still dropping. [Tielcke, ii. 75 n.]

At the third grenade, which, it seems, fell into a straw magazine,

Custrin took fire; could not be quenched again, so much dry wood in it,

so much disorder too, the very soldiers some of them disorderly (a bad

deserter set); so that it soon flamed aloft,--from side to side one sea

of flame: and man, woman and child, every soul (except the Garrison,

which sat enclosed in strong stone), had to fly across the River, under

penalty of death by fire. Of Custrin, by five in the evening, there was

nothing left but the black ashes; the Garrison standing unharmed, and

the Church, School-house and some stone edifices in a charred skeleton

condition. "No life was lost, except that of one child in arms." All

Neumark had lodged its valuables in this place of strength; all are fled

now in horror and terror across the Oder, by the Bridge, before it also

unquenchably takes fire, at the western or non-Russian end of the place.

Such a day as was seldom seen in human experience;--Fermor responsible

for it, happily not we.

Fermor, in the evening, said to his Artillery People: "Why have you

ceased to fire grenadoes?" "Excellency, the Town is out; nothing now but

ashes and stone." "Never mind; give them the rest, one every quarter

of an hour. We shall not need the grenadoes again. The cannon-balls we

shall; them, therefore, do not waste." On the morrow morning, after

this performance on the Town, Fermor sends a Trumpeter: "Surrender

or else--!" rather in the tremendous style. "Or else?" answers the

Commandant, pointing to the ashes, to the black inconsumable stones; and

is deaf to this EX-POST-FACTO Trumpeter. The Russians say they sent

one yesterday morning, not EX-POST-FACTO, but he was killed in the

pickeerings, and never heard of again. A mile or so to rear of Custrin,

on the westward or Berlin side of the River, lies Dohna for the last

four days; expecting that the Laws of Nature will hold good, and Custrin

prove tenable against such sieging. So stands it on Friedrich's arrival.

We left Friedrich in the Lebus Suburb of Frankfurt, Sunday, August 20th,

listening to the distant cannonade. Next morning, he is here himself;

at Dohna's Camp of Gorgast, taking survey of affairs; came early, under

rapid small escort, leaving his Army to follow; scorn and contemptuous

indignation the humor of him, they say; resolution to be swiftly home

upon that surprising Russian armament, and teach it new manners. The

black skeleton of Custrin stares hideously across the River; "Custrin

Siege" so called still going on;--had better make despatch now, and take

itself away! He greatly despises Russian soldiership: "Pooh, pooh," he

would answer, if Keith from experience said, "Your Majesty does not do

it justice;"--and Keith has been known to hint, "If the trial ever come,

your Majesty will alter that opinion." A day or two hence, amid these

hideous Russian fire-traceries, the Hussars bring him a dozen of

Cossacks they have made prisoners: Friedrich looks at the dirty green

vagabonds; says to one of his Staff: "And this is the kind of Doggery I

have to bother with!"--The sight of the poor country-people, and their

tears of joy and of sorrow on his reappearance among them, much affected

him. Taking inspection of Dohna, he finds Dohna wonderfully clean,

pipe-clayed, complete: "You are very fine indeed, you;--I bring you

a set of fellows, rough as GRASTEUFELN ["grass-devils," I never know

whether insects or birds]; but they can bite,"--hope you can!

Tuesday, August 32d, at five in the morning our Army has all arrived,

the Frankfurt people just come in; 30,000 of us now in Camp at Gorgast.

Friedrich orders straightway that a certain Russian Redoubt on the other

side of the River, at Schaumburg, a mile or two down stream, be well

cannonaded into ruin,--as if he took it for some incipiency of a Russian

Bridge, or were himself minded to cross here, under cover of Custrin.

Friedrich's intention very certainly is to cross,--here or not just

here;--and that same night, after some hours of rest to the Frankfurt

people,--night of Tuesday-Wednesday, Friedrich, having persuaded the

Russians that his crossing-place will be their Redoubt at Schaumburg,

marches ten or twelve miles down the River, silently his 30,000 and

he, till opposite the Village of Gustebiese; rapidly makes his Bridges

there, unmolested: Fermor, with his eye on the cannonaded Redoubt only,

has expected no such matter; and is much astonished when he hears of

it, twenty hours after. Friedrich, across with the vanguard, at an early

hour of Wednesday, gets upon the knoll at Gustebiese for a view; and

all Gustebiese, hearing of him, hurries out, with low-voiced tremulous

blessings, irrepressible tears: "God reward your Majesty, that have

come to us!"--and there is a hustling and a struggling, among the women

especially, to kiss the skirts of his coat. Poor souls: one could have

stood tremendous cheers; but this is a thing I forgive Friedrich for

being visibly affected with.

Friedrich leaves his baggage on the other side of the Oder, and the

Bridge guarded; our friend Hordt, with his Free-Corps, doing it,

Friedrich marches forward some ten miles that night; eastward, straight

for Gross Kamin, as if to take the Russians in rear; encamps at a place

called Klossow, spreading himself obliquely towards the Mutzel (black

sluggish tributary of the Oder in those parts), meaning to reach Neu

Damm on the Mutzel to-morrow, there almost within wind of the Russians,

and be ready for crossing on them. It was at Klossow (23d August,

evening), that the Hussars brought in their dozen or two of Cossacks,

and he had his first sight of Russian soldiery; by no means a favorable

one, "Ugh, only look!"--As we are now approaching Zorndorf, and the

monstrous tug of Battle which fell out there, readers will be glad of

the following:--

"From Damm on the Mutzel, where Friedrich intends crossing it to-morrow

night, south to Gross Kamin, not far from the Warta, where Fermor's

head-quarter lately was, may be about five miles. From Custrin, Kamin

lies northeast about eight or ten miles: Zorndorf, the most considerable

Village in this tract, lies--little dreaming of the sad glory coming to

it--pretty much in the centre between big Warta and smaller Mutzel. The

Country is by nature a peat wilderness, far and wide; but it has been

tamed extensively; grows crops, green pastures; is elsewhere covered

with wood (Scotch fir, scraggy in size, but evidently under forest

management); perhaps half the country is in Fir tracts, what they call

HEIDEN (Heaths); the cultivated spaces lying like light-green islands

with black-green channels and expanses of circumambient Fir. The Drewitz

Heath, the Massin or Zither Heath, and others about Zorndorf, will

become notable to us. The Country is now much drier than in Friedrich's

time; the human spade doing its duty everywhere: so that much of the

Battle-ground has become irrecognizable, when compared with the old

marshy descriptions given of it. Zorndorf, a rough substantial Hamlet,

has nothing of boggy now visible near by; lies east to west, a firm

broad highway leading through: a sea of forest before it, to south; to

north, good dry barley-grounds or rye-grounds, sensibly rising for

half a mile, then waving about in various slow slight changes of level

towards Quartschen, Zicher, &c.: forming an irregular cleared

'island,' altogether of perhaps four miles by three, with unlimited

circumambiencies of wood. It was here, on this island as we call it,

that the Battle, which has made Zorndorf famous, was fought.

"Zorndorf (or even the open ground half a mile to north of it, which

will be more important to us) is probably not 50 feet above the level of

the Mutzel, nor 100 above Warta and Oder, six miles off; but it is the

crown of the Country;--the ground dropping therefrom every way, in

lazy dull waves or swells; towards Tamsel and Gross Kamin on southeast;

towards Birken-Busch, Quartschen, Darmutzel [DAR of the Mutzel, whatever

"DAR" may be.] on northwest; as well as towards Damm and its Bridge

northeast, where Friedrich will soon be, and towards Custrin southwest,

where he lately was, each a five or six miles from Zorndorf.

"Such is the poor moorland tract of Country; Zorndorf the centre of

it,--where the battle is likely to be:--Zorndorf and environs a bare

quasi-island among these woods; extensive bald crown of the landscape,

girt with a frizzle of firwoods all round. Boggy pools there are,

especially on the western side (all drained in our time). Mutzel, or

north side, is of course the lowest in level: and accordingly," what is

much to be marked by readers here, "from the south, or Zorndorf side,

at wide intervals, there saunter along, in a slow obscure manner, Three

miserable continuous Leakages, or oozy Threads of Water, all making for

Quartschen, to north or northwest, there to disembogue into the Mutzel.

Each of these has its little Hollow; of which the westernmost, called

Zabern Hollow (ZABERNGRUND), is the most considerable, and the most

important to us here: GALGENGRUND (Gallows-Hollow) is also worth naming

in this Battle; the third Leakage, though without importance, invites us

to name it, HOSEBRUCH, quasi STOCKING-quagmire,--because you can use no

stockings there, except with manifest disadvantage."--Take this other

concluding trait:--

... "Inexpressible fringe of marsh, two or three miles broad, mostly

bottomless, woven with sluggish creeks and stagnant pools, borders the

Warta for many miles towards Landsberg; Custrin-Landsberg Causeway the

alone sure footing in it; after which, the country rises insensibly, but

most beneficially, and is mainly drier till you get to the Mutzel again,

and find the same fringe of mud lace-work again, Zorndorf we called the

crown of it. Tamsel, Wilkersdorf, Klein Kamin, Gross Kamin, and other

places known to us, lie on the dry turf-fuel country, but looking over

close upon the hem of that marsh-fringe, and no doubt getting peats,

wild ducks, pike-fishes, eels, and snatches of summer pasture and

cow-hay out of it."

Thursday, August 24th, Friedrich is again speeding on; occupying

Darmutzel and other crossing-places of the Mutzel; [Mitchell to

Holderness, "DErmItzel, 24th August, 1758" (MEMOIRS AND PAPERS, i.

425; Ib. ii. 40-47, Mitchell's Private Journal).]--by no means himself

crossing there; on the contrary, carefully breaking all the Bridges

before he go ("No retreat for those Russian vagabonds, only death or

surrender for them!")--himself not intending to cross till he be up at

Damm, Neu Damm, well eastward of his Russians, and have got them all

pinfolded between Mutzel and Oder in that way. In the evening, he

reaches Damm and the Mill of Damm, some three or four miles higher up

the Mutzel;--and there pushes partly across at once. That is to say,

his vanguard at once, and takes a defensive position; his Artillery

and other Divisions by degrees, in the silent night hours; and, before

daybreak to-morrow, every soul will be across, and the Bridge broken

again;--and Fermor had better have his accounts settled.

Fermor's roving Cossack clouds seldom bring him in intelligence; but

only return stained with charcoal grime and red murder: up to late last

night, he had not known where Friedrich was at all; had idly thought him

busy with the Schaumburg Redoubt, on the other side of Oder, fencing

and precautioning: but now (night of the 23d), these Cossacks do come in

with news, "Indisputable to our poor minds, the Prussians are at Klossow

yonder,--captured a dozen green vagabonds of us, and have sent

us galloping!"--which news, with the night closing in on him, was

astonishing, thrice and four times important to Fermor.

Instantly he raises the siege of Custrin, any siege there was; gets his

immense baggage-train shoved off that night to Klein Kamin, Landsberg

way; summons the force from Landsberg to join him without loss of a

moment;--and in the meanwhile pitches himself in long bivouac in the

Drewitz Wood or Fir-Heath, with the quaggy Zaberngrund in front. Quaggy

Zaberngrund,--do readers remember it; one of those "Three continuous

Leakages," very important, to Fermor and us at present? This is the

safest place Fermor can find for himself; scraggy firs around, good

quagmires and Zabern Hollow in front; looking to the east, waiting what

a new day will bring. That was Fermor's posture, while Friedrich quitted

Klossow in the dawn of the 24th. Be busy, ye Cossack doggeries; return

with news, not with mere grime and marks of blood on your mouths!

Evening of the 24th, Cossacks report that Friedrich has got to Damm

Mill; has hold of the Bridge there; and may be looked for, sure as the

daylight, to-morrow. Fermor is 50,000 odd, his Landsberg forces all

coming in; one Detachment out Stettin way, which cannot come in; Fermor

finds that his baggage-train is fairly on the road to Klein Kamin;--and

that he will have to quit this bosky bivouac, and fight for himself in

the open ground, or do worse.

THESEUS AND THE MINOTAUR OVER AGAIN,--THAT IS TO SAY, FRIEDRICH AT

HAND-GRIPS WITH FERMOR AND HIS RUSSIANS (25TH AUGUST, 1758).

Artless Fermor draws out to the open ground, north of Zorndorf, south

of Quartschen; arranges himself in huge quadrilateral mass, with his

"staff-baggage" (lighter baggage) in the centre, and his front, so

to speak, everywhere. [Excellent Plan of him, or rather Plans, in his

successive shapes, in Tielcke, ii. (PLATES 4, 5, 6, 7, 8).] Mass, say

two miles long by one mile broad; but it is by no means regular, and has

many zigzags according to the ground, and narrows and droops southward

on the eastern end: one of the most artless arrangements; but known to

Fermor, and the readiest on this pinch of time. Munnich devised this

quadrilateral mode; and found it good against the Turks, and their

deluges of raging horse and foot: Fermor could perhaps do better; but

there is such a press of hurry. Fermor's western flank, or biggest

breadth of quadrilateral, leans on that Zabern Hollow, with its fine

quagmires; his eastern, narrowest part, droops down on certain mud-pools

and conveniences towards Zicher. Gallows Hollow, a slighter than the

Zabern, runs through the centre of him; and with his best people he

fronts towards the Mutzel Bridges, especially towards Damm-Mill Bridge

whence Friedrich will emerge, sure as the sunrise, one knows not with

what issue. Artless Fermor is nothing daunted; nor are his people;

but stand patiently under arms, regardless of future and present, to a

degree not common in soldiering.

Friday, August 25th, by half-past three in the morning, Friedrich is

across the Mutzel; self and Infantry by Damm-Mutzel Bridge, cavalry by

another Bridge (KERSTEN-BRUGGE, means "Christian Bridge," in the dialect

of Charlemagne's time, a very old arrangement of Successive Logs up

there!) some furlongs higher up. The Bridge at Damm is perhaps some

three miles from the nearest Russians about Zicher; but Friedrich has

no thought of attacking Fermor there; he has a quite other program

laid, and will attack Fermor precisely on the side opposite to there.

Friedrich's intention is to sweep quite round this monstrous Russian

quadrilateral; to break in upon it on the western flank, and hurl it

back upon Mutzel and its quagmires. He has broken his two bridges after

passing, all bridges are gone there, and the country is bottomless:

surrender at discretion if once you are driven thither! And Friedrich's

own retreat, if he fail, is short and open to Custrin. "Admirable," say

the Critics, "and altogether in Friedrich's style!"--Friedrich, adds

one Critic, was not aware that the Russian Heavy-Baggage Train, which

is their powder-flask and bread-basket and staff of life, lies at Klein

Kamin, within few miles on his left just now, Russians themselves on his

right; that the Russians could have been abolished from those countries

without fighting at all! [Retzow, i. 305-329.] This is very true.

Friedrich's haste is great, his humor hot; and he has not heard of this

Klein-Kamin fact, which in common times he would have done, and of which

in a calmer mood he would, with a fine scientific gusto, have taken his

advantage.

Friedrich pours incessant southward; cavalry parallel to infantry and

a certain distance beyond it, eastward of it; and they have burnt the

Bridges; which is a curious fact! Continually southward, as if for

Tamsel:--poor old Tamsel, do readers recollect it at all, does Friedrich

at all? No pleasant dinner, or lily-and-rose complexions, there for

one to-day!--Some distance short of Tamsel, Friedrich, emerging, turns

westward;--intending what on earth? thinks Fermor. Friedrich has been

mostly hidden by the woods all this while, and enigmatic to Fermor.

Fermor does now at last see the color of the facts;--and that one's

chief front must change itself to southward, one's best leg and arm

be foremost, or towards Zorndorf, not towards the Mutzel as hitherto.

Fermor stirs up his Quadrilateral, makes the required change, "You, best

or northern line, step across, and front southward; across to southward,

I say; second-best go northward in their stead:" and so, with some other

slight polishings, suggested by the ground and phenomena, we anew await

this Prussian Enigma with our best leg foremost. The march or circular

sweep of these Prussian lines, from Damm Bridge through the woods and

champaign to their appointed place of action, is seven or eight miles;

lines when halted in battle-order will be two miles long or more.

Friedrich pours steadily along, horse and foot, by the rear cf

Wilkersdorf, of Zorndorf,--Russian Minotaur scrutinizing him in that

manner with dull bloodshot eyes, uncertain what he will do. It is eight

in the morning, hot August; wind a mere lull, but southernly if any.

Small Hussar pickets ride to right of the main Army March; to keep the

Cossacks in check: who are roving about, all on wing; and pert enough,

in spite of the Hussar pickets, Desperado individuals of them gallop up

to the Infantry ranks, and fire off their pistols there,--without reply;

reply or firing, till the word come, is strictly forbidden. Infantry

pours along, like a ploughman drawing his furrow, heedless of the

circling crows. Crows or Cossacks, finding they are not regarded, set

fire to Zorndorf, and gallop off. Zorndorf goes up readily, mainly

wood and straw; rolls in big clouds of smoke far northward in upon the

Russian Minotaur, making him still blinder in the important moments now

coming.

Friedrich rides up to view the Zabern Hollow: "Beyond expectation deep;

very boggy too, with its foul leakage or brook: no attacking of their

western flank through this Zaberngrund;--attack the corner of them,

then; here on the southwest!" That is Friedrich's rapid resource. The

lines halt, accordingly; make ready. Behind flaming Zorndorf stands his

extreme left, which is to make the attack; infantry in front; horse to

rear and farther leftwards,--and under the command of Seidlitz in this

quarter, which is an important circumstance. Right wing, reaching to

behind Wilkersdorf, is to refuse itself; whole force of centre is

to push upon that Russian corner, to support the left in doing

it;--according to the Leuthen or LEUCTRA principle, once more. May no

mistakes occur in executing it this day!--

The first division of the Prussian Infantry, or extreme Left, marches

forward by the west end of flaming Zorndorf; next division, which should

stand close to right of it, or even behind it in action, and follow it

close into the Russian fire, has to march by the east end of Zorndorf;

this is a farther road, owing to the flames; and not a lucky one. Second

division could never get into fair contact with that first division

again: that was the mistake: and it might have been fatal, but was not,

as we shall see. First division has got clear of Zorndorf, in advancing

towards its Russian business;--is striding forward, its left flank safe

against the Zaberngrund; steadily by fixed stages, against the fated

Russian Corner, which is its point of attack. First division, second

division, are clear of Zorndorf, though with a wide gap between them;

are steadily striding forward towards the Russian Corner. Two strong

batteries, wide apart, have planted themselves ahead; and are playing

upon the Russian Quadrilateral, their fires crossing at the due Corner

yonder, with terrible effect; Russian artillery, which are multitudinous

and all gathered down to this southwestern corner, are responding,

though with their fire spread, and far less effectual. The Prussian line

steps on, extreme left perhaps in too animated a manner; their cannon

batteries enfilade the thick mass of Russians at a frightful rate

("forty-two men of a certain regiment blown away by a single ball," in

one instance [Tielcke.]), drive the interior baggage-horses to despair:

a very agitated Quadrilateral, under its grim canopy of cannon

smoke, and of straw smoke, heaped on it from the Zorndorf side here.

Manteuffel, leader of that first or leftmost division, sees the internal

simmering; steps forward still more briskly, to firing distance; begins

his platoon thunder, with the due steady fury,--had the second division

but got up to support Manteuffel! The second division is in fire too;

but not close to Manteuffel, where it should be.

Fermor notices the gap, the wavering of Manteuffel unsupported; plunges

out in immense torrent, horse and foot, into the gap, into Manteuffel's

flank and front; hurls Manteuffel back, who has no support at hand:

"ARAH, ARAH (Hurrah, Hurrah)! Victory, Victory!" shout the Russians,

plunging wildly forward, sweeping all before them, capturing twenty-six

pieces of cannon, for one item. What a moment for Friedrich; looking on

it from some knoll somewhere near Zorndorf, I suppose; hastily bidding

Seidlitz strike in: "Seidlitz, now!" The hurrahing Russians cannot keep

rank at that rate of going, like a buffalo stampede; but fall into heaps

and gaps: Seidlitz, with a swiftness, with a dexterity beyond praise,

has picked his way across that quaggy Zabern Hollow; falls, with say

5,000 horse, on the flank of this big buffalo stampede; tumbles it into

instant ruin;--which proves irretrievable, as the Prussian Infantry come

on again, and back Seidlitz.

In fifteen minutes more (I guess it now to be ten o'clock), the Russian

Minotaur, this end of it, on to the Gallows Ground, is one wild mass.

Seldom was there seen such a charge; issuing in such deluges of wreck,

of chaotic flight, or chaotic refusal to fly. The Seidlitz cavalry went

sabring till, for very fatigue, they gave it up, and could no more. The

Russian horse fled to Kutzdorf,--Fermor with them, who saw no more of

this Fight, and did not get back till dark;--had not the Bridges been

burnt, and no crossing of the Mutzel possible, Fermor never would have

come back, and here had been the end of Zorndorf. Luckier if it had!

But there is no crossing of the Mutzel, there is only drowning in the

quagmires there:--death any way; what can be done but die?

The Russian infantry stand to be sabred, in the above manner, as if

they had been dead oxen. More remote from Seidlitz, they break open

the sutlers' brandy-casks, and in few minutes get roaring drunk. Their

officers, desperate, split the brandy-casks; soldiers flap down to drink

it from the puddles; furiously remonstrate with their officers, and

"kill a good many of them" (VIELE, says Tielcke), especially the

foreign sort. "A frightful blood-bath," by all the Accounts: blood-bath,

brandy-bath, and chief Nucleus of Chaos then extant aboveground. Fermor

is swept away: this chaos, the very Prussians drawing back from it,

wearied with massacring, lasts till about one o'clock. Up to the

Gallows-ground the Minotaur is mere wreck and delirium: but beyond the

Gallows-ground, the other half forms a new front to itself; becomes a

new Minotaur, though in reduced shape. This is Part First of the Battle

of Zorndorf; Friedrich--on the edge of great disaster at one moment, but

miraculously saved--has still the other half to do (unlucky that he left

no Bridges on the Mutzel), and must again change his program.

Half of the Minotaur is gone to shreds in this manner; but the attack

upon it, too, is spent: what is to be done with the other half of the

monster, which is again alive; which still stands, and polypus-like

has arranged a new life for itself, a new front against the Galgengrund

yonder? Friedrich brings his right wing into action. Rapidly arranges

right wing, centre, all of the left that is disposable, with batteries,

with cavalry; for an attack on the opposite or southeastern end of

his monster. If your monster, polypus-like, come alive again in the

tail-part, you must fell that other head of him. Batteries, well in

advance, begin work upon the new head of the monster, which was once

his tail; fresh troops, long lines of them, pushing forward to begin

platoon-volleying:--time now, I should guess, about half-past two. Our

infantry has not yet got within musket-range,--when torrents of Russian

Horse, Foot too following, plunge out; wide-flowing, stormfully swift;

and dash against the coming attack. Dash against it; stagger it;

actually tumble it back, in the centre part; take one of the batteries,

and a whole battalion prisoners. Here again is a moment! Friedrich,

they say, rushed personally into this vortex; rallied these broken

battalions, again rallied and led them up; but it was to no purpose:

they could not be made to stand, these centre battalions;--"some sudden

panic in them, a thing unaccountable," says Tempelhof; "they are Dohna's

people, who fought perfectly at Jagersdorf, and often elsewhere" (they

were all in such a finely burnished state the other day; but have not

biting talent, like the grass-devils): enough, they fairly scour away,

certain disgraceful battalions, and are not got ranked again till below

Wilkersdorf, above a mile off; though the grass-devils, on both hands of

them, stand grimly steady, left in this ominous manner.

What would have become of the affair one knows not, if it had not been

that Seidlitz once more made his appearance. On Friedrich's order, or

on his own, I do not know; but sure it is, Seidlitz, with sixty-one

squadrons, arriving from some distance, breaks in like a DEUS EX

MACHINA, swift as the storm-wind, upon this Russian Horse-torrent;

drives it again before him like a mere torrent of chaff, back, ever

back, to the shore of Acheron and the Stygian quagmires (of the Mutzel,

namely); so that it did not return again; and the Prussian infantry had

free field for their platoon exercise. Their rage against the Russians

was extreme; and that of the Russians corresponded. Three of these

grass-devil battalions, who stood nearest to Dohna's runaways, were

natives of this same burnt-out Zorndorf Country; we may fancy the

Platt-Teutsch hearts of them, and the sacred lightning, with a

moisture to it, that was in their eyes. Platt-Teutsch platooning,

bayonet-charging,--on such terms no Russian or mortal Quadrilateral can

stand it. The Russian Minotaur goes all to shreds a second time; but

will not run. "No quarter!"--"Well, then, none!"

"Shortly after four o'clock," say my Accounts, "the firing," regular

firing, "altogether ceased; ammunition nearly spent, on both sides;

Prussians snatching cartridge-boxes of Russian dead;" and then began a

tug of deadly massacring and wrestling man to man, "with bayonets,

with butts of muskets, with hands, even with teeth [in some Russian

instances], such as was never seen before." The Russians, beaten to

fragments, would not run: whither run? Behind is Mutzel and the bog of

Acheron;--on Mutzel is no bridge left; "the shore of Mutzel is thick

with men and horses, who have tried to cross, and lie there swallowed

in the ooze"--"like a pavement," says Tielcke. The Russians,--never was

such VIS INERTIAE as theirs now. They stood like sacks of clay, like

oxen already dead; not even if you shot a bullet through them, would

they fall at once, says Archenholtz, but seem to be deliberate about it.

Complete disorder reigned on both sides; except that the Prussians

could always form again when bidden, the Russians not. This lasted till

nightfall,--Russians getting themselves shoved away on these horrid

terms, and obstinate to take no other. Towards dark, there appeared, on

a distant knoll, something like a ranked body of them again,--some 2,000

foot and half as many horse; whom Themicoud (superlative Swiss Cossack,

usually written Demikof or Demikow) had picked up, and persuaded from

the shore of Acheron, back to this knoll of vantage, and some cannon

with them. Friedrich orders these to be dispersed again: General

Forcade, with two battalions, taking the front of them, shall attack

there; you, General Rauter, bring up those Dohna fellows again, and take

them in flank. Forcade pushes on, Rauter too,--but at the first taste of

cannon-shot, these poor Dohna-people (such their now flurried, disgraced

state of mind) take to flight again, worse than before; rush quite

through Wilkersdorf this time, into the woods, and can hardly be got

together at all. Scandalous to think of. No wonder Friedrich "looked

always askance on those regiments that had been beaten at Gross

Jagersdorf, and to the end of his life gave them proofs of it:"

[Retzow;--and still more emphatically, _Briefe eines alten Preussischen

Officiers_ (Hohenzollern, 1790), i. 34, ii. 52, &c.] very natural, if

the rest were like these!

Of poor General Rauter, Tempelhof and the others, that can help it, are

politely silent; only Saxon Tielcke tells us, that Friedrich dismissed

him, "Go, you, to some other trade!"--which, on Prussian evidence too,

expressed in veiled terms, I find to be the fact: _Militair-Lexikon,_

obliged to have an article on Rauter, is very brief about it; hints

nothing unkind; records his personal intrepidity; and says, "in 1758 he,

on his request, had leave to withdraw,"--poor soul, leave and more!

Forcade, left to himself, kept cannonading Themicoud; Themicoud

responding, would not go; stood on his knoll of vantage, but gathered

no strength: "Let him stand," said Friedrich, after some time; and

Themicoud melted in the shades of night, gradually towards the hither

shore of Acheron,--that is, of Acheron-Mutzel, none now attempting

to PAVE it farther, but simmering about at their sad leisure there.

Feldmarschall Fermor is now got to his people again, or his people to

him; reunited in place and luck: such a chaos as Fermor never saw before

or after. No regiment or battalion now is; mere simmering monads, this

fine Army; officers doing their utmost to cobble it into something of

rank, without regard to regiments or qualities. Darkness seldom sank on

such a scene.