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    <h1>
      HISTORY OF FRIEDRICH II OF PRUSSIA, Volume 15
    </h1>
    <h2>
      FREDERICK THE GREAT
    </h2>
    <h2>
      by Thomas Carlyle
    </h2>
    <p>
      <br /> <br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <br /> <br />
    </p>
    <h2>
      Contents
    </h2>
    <div class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <big><b>BOOK XV.&mdash;SECOND SILESIAN WAR,
      IMPORTANT EPISODE IN THE GENERAL EUROPEAN ONE.&mdash;15th Aug. 1744-25th
      Dec. 1745.</b></big> </a><br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> <b>Chapter I.&mdash;PRELIMINARY:
      HOW THE MOMENT ARRIVED.</b> </a><br />
      <div class="toc2">
        <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> PRINCE KARL GETS ACROSS THE RHINE (20 JUNE-2
        JULY, 1744). </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> FRIEDRICH DECIDES TO
        INTERVENE. </a><br /><br />
      </div>
      <a href="#link2HCH0002"> <b>Chapter II.&mdash;FRIEDRICH MARCHES UPON PRAG,
      CAPTURES PRAG.</b> </a><br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> <b>Chapter III.&mdash;FRIEDRICH,
      DILIGENT IN HIS BOHEMIAN CONQUESTS, UNEXPECTEDLY COMES UPON PRINCE KARL,
      WITH NO FRENCH ATTENDING HIM.</b> </a><br />
      <div class="toc2">
        <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> FRIEDRICH, LEAVING SMALL GARRISON IN PRAG,
        RUSHES SWIFTLY UP THE MOLDAU VALLEY, UPON THE TABOR-BUDWEIS COUNTRY; TO
        PLEASE HIS FRENCH FRIENDS. </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> THE
        FRENCH ARE LITTLE GRATEFUL FOR THE PLEASURE DONE THEM AT SUCH RUINOUS
        EXPENSE. </a><br /><br />
      </div>
      <a href="#link2HCH0004"> <b>Chapter IV.&mdash;FRIEDRICH REDUCED TO
      STRAITS; CANNOT MAINTAIN HIS MOLDAU CONQUESTS AGAINST PRICE KARL.</b> </a><br />
      <div class="toc2">
        <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> FRIEDRICH TRIES TO HAVE BATTLE FROM PRINCE
        KARL, IN THE MOLDAU COUNTRIES; CANNOT, OWING TO THE SKILL OF PRINCE KARL
        OR OF OLD FELDMARSCHALL TRAUN;&mdash;HAS TO RETIRE BEHIND THE SAZAWA,
        AND ULTIMATELY BEHIND THE ELBE, WITH MUCH LABOR IN VAIN. </a><br /> <a
        href="#link2H_4_0011"> FRIEDRICH'S RETREAT; ESPECIALLY EINSIEDEL'S FROM
        PRAG. </a><br /><br />
      </div>
      <a href="#link2HCH0005"> <b>Chapter V.&mdash;FRIEDRICH, UNDER
      DIFFICULTIES, PREPARES FOR A NEW CAMPAIGN.</b> </a><br />
      <div class="toc2">
        <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> OLD DESSAUER REPELS THE SILESIAN INVASION
        (Winter, 1744-45). </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> THE FRENCH FULLY
        INTEND TO BEHAVE BETTER NEXT SEASON TO FRIEDRICH AND THEIR GERMAN
        ALLIES;&mdash;BUT ARE PREVENTED BY VARIOUS ACCIDENTS (November,
        1744-April, 1745; April-August, 1745). </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0015">
        STRANGE ACCIDENT TO MARECHAL DE BELLEISLE IN THE HARZ MOUNTAINS (20th
        December, 1744). </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> THE KAISER KARL
        VII. GETS SECURED FROM OPPRESSIONS, IN A TRAGIC WAY. FRIEDRICH PROPOSES
        PEACE, BUT TO NO PURPOSE. </a><br /><br />
      </div>
      <a href="#link2HCH0006"> <b>Chapter VI.&mdash;VALORI GOES ON AN
      ELECTIONEERING MISSION TO DRESDEN.</b> </a><br />
      <div class="toc2">
        <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> 1. FRIEDRICH'S POSITION TOWARDS SAXONY. </a><br />
        <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> 2. THERE IS A, "UNION OF WARSAW" (8th January,
        1745); AND STILL MORE SPECIALLY A "TREATY OF WARSAW" (8th January-18th
        May, 1745). </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> 3. VALORI'S ACCOUNT OF
        HIS MISSION (in compressed form). [Valori, i. 211-219.] </a><br /> <a
        href="#link2H_4_0021"> MIDDLE-RHINE ARMY IN A STAGGERING STATE; THE
        BAVARIAN INTRICACY SETTLES ITSELF, THE WRONG WAY. </a><br /><br />
      </div>
      <a href="#link2HCH0007"> <b>Chapter VII.&mdash;FRIEDRICH IN SILESIA;
      UNUSUALLY BUSY.</b> </a><br />
      <div class="toc2">
        <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> KING FRIEDRICH TO PODEWILS, IN BERLIN (under
        various dates, March-April, 1745). </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0024">
        FRIEDRICH TO PODEWILS (as before, April-May, 1745). </a><br /><br />
      </div>
      <a href="#link2HCH0008"> <b>Chapter VIII.&mdash;THE MARTIAL BOY AND HIS
      ENGLISH versus THE LAWS OF NATURE.</b> </a><br />
      <div class="toc2">
        <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> BATTLE OF FONTENOY (11th May, 1745). </a><br /><br />
      </div>
      <a href="#link2HCH0009"> <b>Chapter IX.&mdash;THE AUSTRIAN-SAXON ARMY
      INVADES SILESIA, ACROSS THE MOUNTAINS.</b> </a><br /><br /> <a
      href="#link2HCH0010"> <b>Chapter X.&mdash;BATTLE OF HOHENFRIEDBERG.</b>
      </a><br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> <b>Chapter XI.&mdash;CAMP OF
      CHLUM: FRIEDRICH CANNOT ACHIEVE PEACE.</b> </a><br />
      <div class="toc2">
        <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> CAMP OF DIESKAU: BRITANNIC MAJESTY MAKES
        PEACE, FOR HIMSELF, WITH FRIEDRICH; BUT CANNOT FOR AUSTRIA OR SAXONY.
        </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> SCHONBRUNN, 2d AUGUST, 1745,
        ROBINSON HAS AUDIENCE OF HER HUNGARIAN MAJESTY. </a><br /> <a
        href="#link2H_4_0032"> GRAND-DUKE FRANZ IS ELECTED KAISER (13TH
        SEPTEMBER, 1745); FRIEDRICH, THE SEASON AND FORAGE BEING DONE, MAKES FOR
        SILESIA. </a><br /><br />
      </div>
      <a href="#link2HCH0012"> <b>Chapter XII.&mdash;BATTLE OF SOHR.</b> </a><br /><br />
      <a href="#link2HCH0013"> <b>Chapter XIII.&mdash;SAXONY AND AUSTRIA MAKE A
      SURPRISING LAST ATTEMPT.</b> </a><br />
      <div class="toc2">
        <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> FRIEDRICH GOES OUT TO MEET HIS THREE-LEGGED
        MONSTER; CUTS ONE LEG OF IT IN TWO (Fight of Hennersdorf, 23d November,
        1745). </a><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> PRINCE KARL, CUT IN TWO,
        TUMBLES HOME AGAIN DOUBLE-QUICK. </a><br /><br />
      </div>
      <a href="#link2HCH0014"> <b>Chapter XIV.&mdash;BATTLE OF KESSELSDORF.</b>
      </a><br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> <b>Chapter XV.&mdash;PEACE OF
      DRESDEN: FRIEDRICH DOES MARCH HOME.</b> </a><br /><br />
    </div>
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    <h2>
      BOOK XV.&mdash;SECOND SILESIAN WAR, IMPORTANT EPISODE IN THE GENERAL
      EUROPEAN ONE.&mdash;15th Aug. 1744-25th Dec. 1745.
    </h2>
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      <br /><br /><br /><br />
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    <h2>
      Chapter I.&mdash;PRELIMINARY: HOW THE MOMENT ARRIVED.
    </h2>
    <p>
      Battle being once seen to be inevitable, it was Friedrich's plan not to
      wait for it, but to give it. Thanks to Friedrich Wilhelm and himself,
      there is no Army, nor ever was any, in such continual preparation.
      Military people say, "Some Countries take six months, some twelve, to get
      in motion for war: but in three weeks Prussia can be across the marches,
      and upon the throat of its enemy." Which is an immense advantage to little
      Prussia among its big neighbors. "Some Countries have a longer sword than
      Prussia; but none can unsheathe it so soon:"&mdash;we hope, too, it is
      moderately sharp, when wielded by a deft hand.
    </p>
    <p>
      The French, as was intimated, are in great vigor, this Year; thoroughly
      provoked; and especially since Friedrich sent his Rothenburg among them,
      have been doing their very utmost. Their main effort is in the
      Netherlands, at present;&mdash;and indeed, as happened, continues all
      through this War to be. They by no means intend, or ever did, to neglect
      Teutschland; yet it turns out, they have pretty much done with their
      fighting there. And next Year, driven or led by accidents of various
      kinds, they quit it altogether; and turning their whole strength upon the
      Netherlands and Italy, chiefly on the Netherlands, leave Friedrich, much
      to his astonishment, with the German War hanging wholly round HIS neck,
      and take no charge of it farther! In which, to Friedrich's Biographers,
      there is this inestimable benefit, if far the reverse to Friedrich's self:
      That we shall soon have done with the French, then; with them and with so
      much else; and may, in time coming, for most part, leave their huge
      Sorcerer's Sabbath of a European War to dance itself out, well in the
      distance, not encumbering us farther, like a circumambient Bedlam, as it
      has hitherto done. Courage, reader! Let us give, in a glance or two, some
      notion of the course things took, and what moment it was when Friedrich
      struck in;&mdash;whom alone, or almost alone, we hope to follow
      thenceforth; "Dismal Swamp" (so gracious was Heaven to us) lying now
      mostly to rearward, little as we hoped it!
    </p>
    <p>
      It was mere accident, a series of bad accidents, that led King Louis and
      his Ministers into gradually forsaking Friedrich. They were the farthest
      in the world from intending such a thing. Contrariwise, what
      brain-beating, diplomatic spider-weaving, practical contriving, now and
      afterwards, for that object; especially now! Rothenburg, Noailles,
      Belleisle, Cardinal Tencin, have been busy; not less the mistress
      Chateauroux, who admires Friedrich, being indeed a high-minded unfortunate
      female, as they say; and has thrown out Amelot, not for stammering alone.
      They are able, almost high people, this new Chateauroux Ministry, compared
      with some; and already show results.
    </p>
    <p>
      Nay, what is most important of all, France has (unconsciously, or by mere
      help of Noailles and luck) got a real General to her Armies: Comte de
      Saxe, now Marechal de Saxe; who will shine very splendent in these
      Netherland operations,&mdash;counter-shone by mere Wades, D'Ahrembergs,
      Cumberlands,&mdash;in this and the Four following Years. Noailles had
      always recognized Comte de Saxe; had long striven for him, in Official
      quarters; and here gets the light of him unveiled at last, and set on a
      high place: loyal Noailles.
    </p>
    <p>
      This was the Year, this 1744, when Louis XV., urged by his Chateauroux,
      the high-souled unfortunate female, appeared in person at the head of his
      troops: "Go, Sire, go, MON CHOU (and I will accompany); show yourself
      where a King should be, at the head of your troops; be a second
      Louis-le-Grand!" Which he did, his Chateauroux and he; actually went to
      the Netherlands, with baggage-train immeasurable, including not cooks
      only, but play-actors with their thunder-barrels (off from Paris, May 3d),
      to the admiration of the Universe. [Adelung, iv. 113; Barbier, ii. 391,
      394; Dulaure, <i>Hist. de Paris;</i> &amp;c.] Took the command,
      nominal-command, first days of June; and captured in no-time Menin, Ipres,
      Furnes, and the Fort of Knock, and as much of the Austrian Netherlands as
      he liked,&mdash;that is to say, saw Noailles and Saxe do it;&mdash;walking
      rapidly forward from Siege to Siege, with a most thundering artillery; old
      Marshal Wade and consorts dismally eating their victuals, and looking on
      from the distance, unable to attempt the least stroke in opposition. So
      that the Dutch Barrier, if anybody now cared for it, did go all flat; and
      the Balance of Power gets kicked out of its sacred pivot: to such purpose
      have the Dutch been hoisted! Terrible to think of;&mdash;had not there,
      from the opposite quarter, risen a surprising counterpoise; had not there
      been a Prince Karl, with his 70,000, pressing victoriously over the Rhine;
      which stayed the French in these sacrilegious procedures.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      PRINCE KARL GETS ACROSS THE RHINE (20 JUNE-2 JULY, 1744).
    </h2>
    <p>
      Prince Karl, some weeks ago, at Heilbronn, joined his Rhine Army, which
      had gathered thither from the Austrian side, through Baiern, and from the
      Hither-Austrian or Swabian Winter-quarters; with full intent to be across
      the Rhine, and home upon Elsass and the Compensation Countries, this
      Summer, under what difficulties soever. Karl, or, as some whisper, old
      Marshal Traun, who is nominally second in command, do make a glorious
      campaign of it, this Year;&mdash;and lift the Cause of Liberty, at one
      time, to the highest pitch it ever reached. Here, in brief terms, is
      Prince Karl's Operation on the Rhine, much admired by military men:&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "STOCKSTADT, JUNE 20th, 1744. Some thirty and odd miles north of Mannheim,
      the Rhine, before turning westward at Mainz, makes one other of its many
      Islands (of which there are hundreds since the leap at Schaffhausen): one
      other, and I think the biggest of them all; perhaps two miles by five;
      which the Germans call KUHKOPF (Cowhead), from the shape it has,&mdash;a
      narrow semi-ellipse; River there splitting in two, one split (the western)
      going straight, the other bending luxuriantly round: so that the HIND-head
      or straight end of the Island lies towards France, and the round end, or
      cow-LIPS (so to speak) towards native Teutschland, and the woody Hills of
      the Berg-Strasse thereabouts. Stockstadt, chief little Town looking over
      into this Cowhead Island, lies under the CHIN: understand only farther
      that the German branch carries more than two-thirds of the River; that on
      the Island itself there is no town, or post of defence; and that
      Stockstadt is the place for getting over. Coigny and the French, some
      40,000, are guarding the River hereabouts, with lines, with batteries,
      cordons, the best they can; Seckendorf, with 20,000 more ('Imperial' Old
      Bavarian Troops, revivified, recruited by French pay), is in his garrison
      of Philipsburg, ready to help when needed:"&mdash;not moulting now, at
      Wembdingen, in that dismal manner; new-feathered now into "Kaiser's Army;"
      waiting in his Philipsburg to guard the River there. "Coigny's French have
      ramparts, ditches, not quite unfurnished, on their own shore, opposite
      this Cowhead Island (ISLE DE HERON, as they call it); looking over to the
      hind-head, namely: but they have nothing considerable there; and in the
      Island itself, nothing whatever. 'If now Stockstadt were suddenly snatched
      by us,' thinks Karl;&mdash;'if a few pontoons were nimbly swung in?'
    </p>
    <p>
      "JUNE 20th,&mdash;Coigny's people all shooting FEU-DE-JOIE, for that never
      enough to be celebrated Capture of Menin and the Dutch Barrier a fortnight
      ago,&mdash;this is managed to be done. The active General Barenklau,
      active Brigadier Daun under him, pushes rapidly across into Kuhkopf;
      rapidly throws up intrenchments, ramparts, mounts cannon, digs himself in,&mdash;greatly
      to Coigny's astonishment; whose people hereabouts, and in all their lines
      and posts, are busy shooting FEU-DE-JOIE for those immortal Dutch
      victories, at the moment, and never dreaming of such a thing. Fresh force
      floods in, Prince Karl himself arrives next day, in support of Barenklau;
      Coigny (head-quarters at Speyer, forty miles south) need not attempt
      dislodging him; but must stand upon his guard, and prepare for worse.
      Which he does with diligence; shifting northward into those
      Stockstadt-Mainz parts; calling Seckendorf across the River, and otherwise
      doing his best,&mdash;for about ten days more, when worse, and almost
      worst, did verily befall him.
    </p>
    <p>
      "No attempt was made on Barenklau; nor, beyond the alarming of the
      Coigny-Seckendorf people, did anything occur in Cowhead Island,&mdash;unless
      it were the finis of an ugly bully and ruffian, who has more than once
      afflicted us: which may be worth one word. Colonel Mentzel [copper-faced
      Colonel, originally Play-actor, "Spy in Persia," and I know not what] had
      been at the seizure of Kuhkopf; a prominent man. Whom, on the fifth day
      after ('June 25th'), Prince Karl overwhelmed with joy, by handing him a
      Patent of Generalcy: 'Just received from Court, my Friend, on account of
      your merits old and late.'&mdash;'Aha,' said Barenklau, congratulating
      warmly: 'Dine with me, then, Herr General Mentzel, this very day. The
      Prince himself is to be there, Highness of Hessen-Darmstadt, and who not;
      all are impatient to drink your health!' Mentzel had a glorious dinner;
      still more glorious drink,&mdash;Prince Karl and the others, it is said,
      egging him into much wild bluster and gasconade, to season their much
      wine. Eminent swill of drinking, with the loud coarse talk supposable, on
      the part of Mentzel and consorts did go on, in this manner, all afternoon:
      in the evening, drunk Mentzel came out for air; went strutting and
      staggering about; emerging finally on the platform of some rampart, face
      of him huge and red as that of the foggiest rising Moon;&mdash;and stood,
      looking over into the Lorraine Country; belching out a storm of oaths, as
      to his taking it, as to his doing this and that; and was even flourishing
      his sword by way of accompaniment; when, lo, whistling slightly through
      the summer air, a rifle-ball from some sentry on the French side (writers
      say, it was a French drummer, grown impatient, and snatching a sentry's
      piece) took the brain of him, or the belly of him; and he rushed down at
      once, a totally collapsed monster, and mere heap of dead ruin, never to
      trouble mankind more." [<i>Guerre de Boheme,</i> iii. 165.] For which my
      readers and I are rather thankful. Voltaire, and perhaps other memorable
      persons, sometimes mention this brute (miraculous to the Plebs and
      Gazetteers); otherwise eternal oblivion were the best we could do with
      him. Trenck also, readers will be glad to understand, ends in jail and
      bedlam by and by.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Prince Karl had not the least intention of crossing by this Cowhead
      Island. Nevertheless he set about two other Bridges in the neighborhood,
      nearer Mainz (few miles below that City); kept manoeuvring his Force, in
      huge half-moon, round that quarter, and mysteriously up and down; alarming
      Coigny wholly into the Mainz region. For the space of ten days; and then,
      stealing off to Schrock, a little Rhine Village above Philipsburg, many
      miles away from Coigny and his vigilantes, he&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "NIGHT OF 30th JUNE-1st JULY, Suddenly shot Pandour Trenck, followed by
      Nadasti and 6,000, across at Schrock who scattered Seckendorf's poor
      outposts thereabouts to the winds; 'built a bridge before morning, and
      next day another.' Next day Prince Karl in person appeared; and on the 3d
      of July, had his whole Army with its luggages across; and had seized the
      Lines of Lauterburg and Weissenburg (celebrated northern defence of
      Elsass),&mdash;much to Coigny's amazement; and remained inexpugnable
      there, with Elsass open to him, and to Coigny shut, for the present!
      [Adelung, iv. 139-141.] Coigny made bitter wail, accusation, blame of
      Seckendorf, blame of men and of things; even tried some fighting,
      Seckendorf too doing feats, to recover those Lines of Weissenburg: but
      could not do it. And, in fact, blazing to and fro in that excited rather
      than luminous condition, could not do anything; except retire into the
      strong posts of the background; and send express on express, swifter than
      the wind if you can, to a victorious King overturning the Dutch Barrier:
      'Help, your Majesty, or we are lost; and France is&mdash;what shall I
      say!'"
    </p>
    <p>
      "Admirable feat of Strategy! What a General, this Prince Karl!" exclaimed
      mankind,&mdash;Cause-of-Liberty mankind with special enthusiasm; and took
      to writing LIVES of Prince Karl, [For instance, <i>The Life of his
      Highness Prince Charles of &amp;c., with &amp;c. &amp;c.</i> (London,
      1746); one of the most distracted Blotches ever published under the name
      of Book;&mdash;wakening thoughts of a public dimness very considerable
      indeed, to which this could offer itself as lamp!] as well as tar-burning
      and TE-DEUM-ing on an extensive scale. For it had sent the Cause of
      Liberty bounding up again to the top of things, this of crossing the
      Rhine, in such fashion. And, in effect, the Cause of Liberty, and Prince
      Karl himself, had risen hereby to their acme or culminating point in
      World-History; not to continue long at such height, little as they dreamt
      of that, among their tar-burnings. The feat itself&mdash;contrived by
      Nadasti, people say, and executed (what was the real difficulty) by Traun&mdash;brought
      Prince Karl very great renown, this Year; and is praised by Friedrich
      himself, now and afterwards, as masterly, as Julius Caesar's method, and
      the proper way of crossing rivers (when executable) in face of an enemy.
      And indeed Prince Karl, owing to Traun or not, is highly respectable in
      the way of Generalship at present; and did in these Five Months, from June
      onward, really considerable things. At his very acme of Life, as well as
      of Generalship; which, alas, soon changed, poor man; never to culminate
      again. He had got, at the beginning of the Year, the high Maria Theresa's
      one Sister, Archduchess Maria Anna, to Wife; [Age then twenty-five gone:
      "born 14th September, 1718; married to Prince Karl 7th January, 1744;
      died, of childbirth, 16th December same year" (Hormayr, <i>OEsterreichischer
      Plutarch,</i> iv. erstes Baudchen, 54).] the crown of long mutual
      attachment; she safe now at Brussels, diligent Co-Regent, and in a
      promising family-way; he here walking on victorious:&mdash;need any man be
      happier? No man can be supremely happy long; and this General's strategic
      felicity and his domestic were fatally cut down almost together. The Cause
      of Liberty, too, now at the top of its orbit, was&mdash;But let us stick
      by our Excerpting:
    </p>
    <p>
      "DUNKIRK, 19th JULY, 1744 [Princess Ulrique's Wedding, just two days ago].
      King Louis, on hearing of the Job's-news from Elsass, instantly suspended
      his Conquests in Flanders; detached Noailles, detached this one and that,
      double-quick, Division after Division (leaving Saxe, with 45,000, to his
      own resources, and the fatuities of Marshal Wade); and, 19th July, himself
      hastens off from Dunkirk (leaving much of the luggage, but not the
      Chateauroux behind him), to save his Country, poor soul. But could not, in
      the least, save it; the reverse rather. August 4th, he got to Metz,
      Belleisle's strong town, about 100 miles from the actual scene; his
      detached reinforcements, say 50,000 men or so, hanging out ahead like
      flame-clouds, but uncertain how to act;&mdash;Noailles being always
      cunctatious in time of crisis, and poor Louis himself nothing of a
      Cloud-Compeller;&mdash;and then,
    </p>
    <p>
      "METZ, AUGUST 8th, The Most Christian King fell ill; dangerously,
      dreadfully, just like to die. Which entirely paralyzed Noailles and
      Company, or reduced them to mere hysterics, and excitement of the
      unluminous kind. And filled France in general, Paris in particular, with
      terror, lamentation, prayers of forty hours; and such a paroxysm of
      hero-worship as was never seen for such an object before." [Espagnac, ii.
      12; Adelung, iv. 180; <i>Fastes de Louis XV.,</i> ii. 423; &amp;c. &amp;c.]
    </p>
    <p>
      For the Cause of Liberty here, we consider, was the culminating moment;
      Elsass, Lorraine and the Three Bishoprics lying in their quasi-moribund
      condition; Austrian claims of Compensation ceasing to be visions of the
      heated brain, and gaining some footing on the Earth as facts. Prince Karl
      is here actually in Elsass, master of the strong passes; elate in heart,
      he and his; France, again, as if fallen paralytic, into temporary
      distraction; offering for resistance nothing hitherto but that universal
      wailing of mankind, Hero-worship of a thrice-lamentable nature, and the
      Prayers of Forty-Hours! Most Christian Majesty, now IN EXTREMIS, centre of
      the basest hubbub that ever was, is dismissing Chateauroux. Noailles,
      Coigny and Company hang well back upon the Hill regions, and strong posts
      which are not yet menaced; or fly vaguely, more or less distractedly,
      hither and thither; not in the least like fighting Karl, much less like
      beating him. Karl has Germany free at his back (nay it is a German
      population round him here); neither haversack nor cartridge-box like to
      fail: before him are only a Noailles and consorts, flying vaguely about;&mdash;and
      there is in Karl, or under the same cloak with him at present, a talent of
      manoeuvring men, which even Friedrich finds masterly. If old Marshal Wade,
      at the other end of the line, should chance to awaken and press home on
      Saxe, and his remnant of French, with right vigor? In fact, there was not,
      that I can see, for centuries past, not even at the Siege of Lille in
      Marlborough's time, a more imminent peril for France.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      FRIEDRICH DECIDES TO INTERVENE.
    </h2>
    <p>
      King Friedrich, on hearing of these Rhenish emergencies and of King
      Louis's heroic advance to the rescue, perceived that for himself too the
      moment was come; and hastened to inform heroic Louis, That though the
      terms of their Bargain were not yet completed, Sweden, Russia and other
      points being still in a pendent condition, he, Friedrich,&mdash;with an
      eye to success of their Joint Adventure, and to the indispensability of
      joint action, energy, and the top of one's speed now or never,&mdash;would,
      by the middle of this same August, be on the field with 100,000 men. "An
      invasion of Bohemia, will not that astonish Prince Karl; and bring him to
      his Rhine-Bridges again? Over which, if your Most Christian Majesty be
      active, he will not get, except in a half, or wholly ruined state. Follow
      him close; send the rest of your force to threaten Hanover; sit well on
      the skirts of Prince Karl. Him as he hurries homeward, ruined or
      half-ruined, him, or whatever Austrian will fight, I do my best to beat.
      We may have Bohemia, and a beaten Austria, this very Autumn: see,&mdash;and,
      in one Campaign, there is Peace ready for us!" This is Friedrich's scheme
      of action; success certain, thinks he, if only there be energy, activity,
      on your side, as there shall be on mine;&mdash;and has sent Count
      Schmettau, filled with fiery speed and determination, to keep the French
      full of the like, and concert mutual operations.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Magnanimous!" exclaim Noailles and the paralyzed French Gentlemen (King
      Louis, I think, now past speech, for Schmettau only came August 9th):
      "Most sublime behavior, on his Prussian Majesty's part!" own they. And
      truly it is a fine manful indifference (by no means so common as it should
      be) to all interests, to all considerations, but that of a Joint
      Enterprise one has engaged in. And truly, furthermore, it was immediate
      salvation to the paralyzed French Gentlemen, in that alarming crisis;
      though they did not much recognize it afterwards as such: and indeed were
      conspicuously forgetful of all parts of it, when their own danger was
      over.
    </p>
    <p>
      Maria Theresa's feelings may be conceived; George II's feelings; and what
      the Cause of Liberty in general felt, and furiously said and complained,
      when&mdash;suddenly as a DEUS EX MACHINA, or Supernal Genie in the Minor
      Theatres&mdash;Friedrich stept in. Precisely in this supreme crisis, 7th
      August, 1744, Friedrich's Minister, Graf von Dohna, at Vienna, has given
      notice of the Frankfurt Union, and solemn Engagement entered into:
      "Obliged in honor and conscience; will and must now step forth to right an
      injured Kaiser; cannot stand these high procedures against an Imperial
      Majesty chosen by all the Princes of the Reich, this unheard-of protest
      that the Kaiser is no Kaiser, as if all Germany were but Austria and the
      Queen of Hungary's. Prussian Majesty has not the least quarrel of his own
      with the Queen of Hungary, stands true, and will stand, by the Treaty of
      Berlin and Breslau;&mdash;only, with certain other German Princes, has
      done what all German Princes and peoples not Austrian are bound to do, on
      behalf of their down-trodden Kaiser, formed a Union of Frankfurt; and
      will, with armed hand if indispensable, endeavor to see right done in that
      matter." [In <i>Adelung,</i> iv. 155, 156, the Declaration itself
      (Audience, "7th August, 1744." Dohna off homeward "on the second day
      after").]
    </p>
    <p>
      This is the astonishing fact for the Cause of Liberty; and no clamor and
      execration will avail anything. This man is prompt, too; does not linger
      in getting out his Sword, when he has talked of it. Prince Karl's
      Operation is likely to be marred amazingly. If this swift King (comparable
      to the old Serpent for devices) were to burst forth from his Silesian
      strengths; tread sharply on the TAIL of Prince Karl's Operation, and bring
      back the formidably fanged head of IT out of Alsace, five hundred miles
      all at once,&mdash;there would be a business!
    </p>
    <p>
      We will now quit the Rhine Operations, which indeed are not now of moment;
      Friedrich being suddenly the key of events again. I add only, what readers
      are vaguely aware of, that King Louis did not die; that he lay at death's
      door for precisely one week (8th-15th August), symptoms mending on the
      15th. In the interim,&mdash;Grand-Almoner Fitz-James (Uncle of our Conte
      di Spinelli) insisting that a certain Cardinal, who had got the Sacraments
      in hand, should insist; and endless ministerial intrigue being busy,&mdash;moribund
      Louis had, when it came to the Sacramental point, been obliged to dismiss
      his Chateauroux. Poor Chateauroux; an unfortunate female; yet, one almost
      thinks, the best man among them: dismissed at Metz here, and like to be
      mobbed! That was the one issue of King Louis's death-sickness. Sublime
      sickness; during which all Paris wept aloud, in terror and sorrow, like a
      child that has lost its mother and sees a mastiff coming; wept sublimely,
      and did the Prayers of Forty-Hours; and called King Louis Le BIEN-AIME
      (The Well-beloved):&mdash;merely some obstruction in the royal bowels, it
      turned out;&mdash;a good cathartic, and the Prayers of Forty-Hours, quite
      reinstated matters. Nay reinstated even Chateauroux, some time after,&mdash;"the
      Devil being well again," and, as the Proverb says, quitting his monastic
      view. Reinstated Chateauroux: but this time, poor creature, she continued
      only about a day:&mdash;"Sudden fever, from excitement," said the Doctors:
      "Fever? Poison, you mean!" whispered others, and looked for changes in the
      Ministry. Enough, oh, enough!&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      Old Marshal Wade did not awaken, though bawled to by his Ligoniers and
      others, and much shaken about, poor old gentleman. "No artillery to speak
      of," murmured he; "want baggage-wagons, too!" and lay still. "Here is
      artillery!" answered the Official people; "With my own money I will buy
      you baggage-wagons!" answered the high Maria Anna, in her own name and her
      Prince Karl's, who are Joint-Governors there. Possibly he would have
      awakened, had they given him time. But time, in War especially, is the
      thing that is never given. Once Friedrich HAD struck in, the moment was
      gone by. Poor old Wade! Of him also enough.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      Chapter II.&mdash;FRIEDRICH MARCHES UPON PRAG, CAPTURES PRAG.
    </h2>
    <p>
      It was on Saturday, "early in the morning," 15th August, 1744, that
      Friedrich set out, attended by his two eldest Brothers, Prince of Prussia
      and Prince Henri, from Potsdam, towards this new Adventure, which proved
      so famous since. Sudden, swift, to the world's astonishment;&mdash;actually
      on march here, in three Columns (two through Saxony by various routes
      southeastward, one from Silesia through Glatz southwestward), to invade
      Bohemia: rumor says 100,000 strong, fact itself says upwards of 80,000, on
      their various routes, converging towards Prag. [&mdash;Helden-Geschichte,&mdash;ii.
      1165. Orlich (ii. 25, 27) enumerates the various regiments.] His Columns,
      especially his Saxon Columns, are already on the road; he joins one
      Column, this night, at Wittenberg; and is bent, through Saxony, towards
      the frontiers of Bohemia, at the utmost military speed he has.
    </p>
    <p>
      Through Saxony about 60,000 go: he has got the Kaiser's Order to the
      Government of Saxony, "Our august Ally, requiring on our Imperial business
      a transit through you;"&mdash;and Winterfeld, an excellent soldier and
      negotiator, has gone forward to present said Order. A Document which
      flurries the Dresden Officials beyond measure. Their King is in Warsaw;
      their King, if here, could do little; and indeed has been inclining to
      Maria Theresa this long while. And Winterfeld insists on such despatch;&mdash;and
      not even the Duke of Weissenfels is in Town, Dresden Officials "send off
      five couriers and thirteen estafettes" to the poor old Duke; [<i>Helden-Geschichte,</i>
      ii. 1163.] get him at last; and&mdash;The march is already taking effect;
      they may as well consent to it: what can they do but consent! In the
      uttermost flurry, they had set to fortifying Dresden; all hands driving
      palisades, picking, delving, making COUPURES (trenches, or sunk
      barricades) in the streets;&mdash;fatally aware that it can avail nothing.
      Is not this the Kaiser's Order? Prussians, to the amount of 60,000, are
      across our Frontiers, rapidly speeding on.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Friedrich's Manifesto&mdash;under the modest Title, 'ANZEIGE DER URSACHEN
      (Advertisement of the Causes which have induced his Prussian Majesty to
      send the Romish Kaiser's Majesty some Auxiliary Troops)'&mdash;had
      appeared in the Berlin Newspapers Thursday, 13th, only two days before. An
      astonishment to all mankind; which gave rise to endless misconceptions of
      Friedrich: but which, supporting itself on proofs, on punctually excerpted
      foot-notes, is intrinsically a modest, quiet Piece; and, what is singular
      in Manifestoes, has nothing, or almost nothing, in it that is not, so far
      as it goes, a perfect statement of the fact. 'Auxiliary troops, that is
      our essential character. No war with her Hungarian Majesty, or with any
      other, on our own score. But her Hungarian Majesty, how has she treated
      the Romish Kaiser, her and our and the Reich's Sovereign Head, and to what
      pass reduced him; refusing him Peace on any terms, except those of
      self-annihilation; denying that he is a Kaiser at all;'&mdash;and
      enumerates the various Imperial injuries, with proof given, quiet
      footnotes by way of proof; and concludes in these words: 'For himself his
      Majesty requires nothing. The question here is not of his Majesty's own
      interest at all [everything his Majesty required, or requires, is by the
      Treaty of Berlin solemnly his, if the Reich and its Laws endure]: and he
      has taken up arms simply and solely in the view of restoring to the Reich
      its freedom, to the Kaiser his Headship of the Reich, and to all Europe
      the Peace which is so desirable.' [Given in Seyfarth, <i>Beylage,</i> i.
      121-136, with date "August, 1744."]
    </p>
    <p>
      "'Pretences, subterfuges, lies!' exclaimed the Austrian and Allied Public
      everywhere, or strove to exclaim; especially the English Public, which had
      no difficulty in so doing;&mdash;a Public comfortably blank as to German
      facts or non-facts; and finding with amazement only this a very certain
      fact, That hereby is their own Pragmatic thunder checked in mid-volley in
      a most surprising manner, and the triumphant Cause of Liberty brought to
      jeopardy again. 'Perfidious, ambitious, capricious!' exclaimed they: 'a
      Prince without honor, without truth, without constancy;'&mdash;and
      completed, for themselves, in hot rabid humor, that English Theory of
      Friedrich which has prevailed ever since. Perhaps the most surprising item
      of which is this latter, very prominent in those old times, That Friedrich
      has no 'constancy,' but follows his 'caprices,' and accidental whirls of
      impulse:&mdash;item which has dropped away in our times, though the others
      stand as stable as ever. A monument of several things! Friedrich's
      suddenness is an essential part of what fighting talent he has: if the
      Public, thrown into flurry, cannot judge it well, they must even misjudge
      it: what help is there?
    </p>
    <p>
      "That the above were actually Friedrich's reasons for venturing into this
      Big Game again, is not now disputable. And as to the rumor, which rose
      afterwards (and was denied, and could only be denied diplomatically to the
      ear, if even to the ear), That Friedrich by Secret Article was 'to have
      for himself the Three Bohemian Circles, Konigsgratz, Bunzlau, Leitmeritz,
      which lie between Schlesien and Sachsen,' [<i>Helden-Geschichte,</i> i.
      1081; Scholl, ii. 349.]&mdash;there is not a doubt but Friedrich had so
      bargained, 'Very well, if we can get said Circles!' and would right
      cheerfully have kept and held them, had the big game gone in all points
      completely well (game, to reinstate the Kaiser BOTH in Bohemia and
      Bavaria) by Friedrich's fine playing. Not a doubt of all this:&mdash;nor
      of what an extremely hypothetic outlook it then and always was; greatly
      too weak for enticing such a man."
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich goes in Three Columns. One, on the south or left shore of the
      Elbe, coming in various branches under Friedrich himself; this alone will
      touch on Dresden, pass on the south side of Dresden; gather itself about
      Pirna (in the Saxon Switzerland so called, a notable locality); thence
      over the Metal Mountains into Bohmen, by Toplitz, by Lowositz, Leitmeritz,
      and the Highway called the Pascopol, famous in War. The Second Column,
      under Leopold the Young Dessauer, goes on the other or north side of the
      Elbe, at a fair distance; marching through the Lausitz (rendezvous or
      starting-point was Bautzen in the Lausitz) straight south, to meet the
      King at Leitmeritz, where the grand Magazine is to be; and thence, still
      south, straight upon Prag, in conjunction with his Majesty or parallel to
      him. [<i>Helden-Geschichte,</i> i. 1081.] These are the Two Saxon Columns.
      The Third Column, under Schwerin, collects itself in the interior of
      Silesia; is issuing, by Glatz Country, through the Giant Mountains,
      BOHMISCHE KAMME (Bohemian COMBS as they are called, which Tourists know),
      by the Pass of Braunau,&mdash;disturbing the dreams of Rubezahl, if
      Rubezahl happen to be there. This, say 20,000, will come down upon Prag
      from the eastern side; and be first on the ground (31st August),&mdash;first
      by one day. In the home parts of Silesia, well eastward of Glatz, there is
      left another Force of 20,000, which can go across the Austrian Border
      there, and hang upon the Hills, threatening Olmutz and the Moravian
      Countries, should need be.
    </p>
    <p>
      And so, in its Three Columns, from west, from north, from east, the march,
      with a steady swiftness, proceeds. Important especially those Two Saxon
      Columns from west and north: 60,000 of them, "with a frightful
      (ENTSETZLICH) quantity of big guns coming up the Elbe." Much is coming up
      the Elbe; indispensable Highway for this Enterprise. Three months'
      provisions, endless artillery and provender, is on the Elbe; 480 big
      boats, with immense VORSPANN (of trace-horses, dreadful swearing, too, as
      I have heard), will pass through the middle of Dresden: not landing by any
      means. "No, be assured of it, ye Dresdeners, all flurried, palisaded,
      barricaded; no hair of you shall be harmed." After a day or two, the
      flurry of Saxony subsided; Prussians, under strict discipline, molest no
      private person; pay their way; keep well aloof, to south and to north, of
      Dresden (all but the necessary ammunition-escorts do);&mdash;and require
      of the Official people nothing but what the Law of the Reich authorizes to
      "Imperial Auxiliaries" in such case. "The Saxons themselves," Friedrich
      observes, "had some 40,000, but scattered about; King in Warsaw:&mdash;dreadful
      terror; making COUPURES and TETES-DE-PONT;&mdash;could have made no
      defence." Had we diligently spent eight days on them! reflects he
      afterwards. "To seize Saxony [and hobble it with ropes, so that at any
      time you could pin it motionless, and even, if need were, milk the
      substance out of it], would not have detained us eight days." [ <i>OEuvres
      de Frederic,</i> iii. 53.] Which would have been the true plan, had we
      known what was getting ready there! Certain it is, Friedrich did no
      mischief, paid for everything; anxious to keep well with Saxony; hoping
      always they might join him again, in such a Cause. "Cause dear to every
      Patriot German Prince," urges Friedrich,&mdash;though Bruhl, and the
      Polish, once "Moravian," Majesty are of a very different opinion:&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "Maria Theresa, her thoughts at hearing of it may be imagined: 'The Evil
      Genius of my House afoot again! My high projects on Elsass and Lorraine;
      Husband for Kaiser, Elsass for the Reich and him, Lorraine for myself and
      him; gone probably to water!' Nevertheless she said (an Official person
      heard her say), 'My right is known to God; God will protect me, as He has
      already done.' [ <i>Helden-Geschichte,</i> ii. 1024.] And rose very
      strong, and magnanimously defiant again; perhaps, at the bottom of her
      heart, almost glad withal that she would now have a stroke for her dear
      Silesia again, unhindered by Paladin George and his Treaties and notions.
      What measures, against this nefarious Prussian outbreak, hateful to gods
      and men, are possible, she rapidly takes: in Bohemia, in Bavaria and her
      other Countries, that are threatened or can help. And abates nothing of
      heart or hope;&mdash;praying withal, immensely, she and her People,
      according to the mode they have. Sending for Prince Karl, we need not say,
      double-quick, as the very first thing.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Of Maria Theresa in Hungary,&mdash;for she ran to Presburg again with her
      woes (August 16th, Diet just assembling there),&mdash;let us say only that
      Hungary was again chivalrous; that old Palfy and the general Hungarian
      Nation answered in the old tone,&mdash;VIVAT MARIA; AD ARMA, AD ARMA! with
      Tolpatches, Pandours, Warasdins;&mdash;and, in short, that great and
      small, in infinite 'Insurrection,' have still a stroke of battle in them
      PRO REGE NOSTRO. Scarcely above a District or two (as the JASZERS and
      KAUERS, in their over-cautious way) making the least difficulty. Much
      enthusiasm and unanimity in all the others; here and there a Hungarian
      gentleman complaining scornfully that their troops, known as among the
      best fighters in Nature, are called irregular troops,&mdash;irregular,
      forsooth! In one public consultation [District not important, not very
      spellable, though doubtless pronounceable by natives to it], a gentleman
      suggests that 'Winter is near; should not there be some slight provision
      of tents, of shelter in the frozen sleety Mountains, to our gallant
      fellows bound thither?' Upon which another starts up, 'When our Ancestors
      came out of Asia Minor, over the Palus Maeotis bound in winter ice; and,
      sabre in hand, cut their way into this fine Country which is still ours,
      what shelter had they? No talk of tents, of barracks or accommodation
      there; each, wrapt in his sheep skin, found it shelter sufficient. Tents!'
      [ <i>Helden-Geschichte,</i> ii. 1030.] And the thing was carried by
      acclamation.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Wide wail in Bohemia that War is coming back. Nobility all making off,
      some to Vienna or the intermediate Towns lying thitherward, some to their
      Country-seats; all out of Prag. Willing mind on the part of the Common
      People; which the Government strains every nerve to make the most of. Here
      are fasts, processions, Prayers of Forty-Hours; here, as in Vienna and
      elsewhere. In Vienna was a Three Days' solemn Fast: the like in Prag, or
      better; with procession to the shrine of St. Vitus,&mdash;little likely to
      help, I should fear. 'Rise, all fencible men,' exclaims the Government,&mdash;'at
      least we will ballot, and make you rise:'&mdash;Militia people enter Prag
      to the extent of 10,000; like to avail little, one would fear. General
      Harsch, with reinforcement of real soldiers, is despatched from Vienna;
      Harsch, one of our ablest soldiers since Khevenhuller died, gets in still
      in time; and thus increases the Garrison of regulars to 4,000, with a
      vigorous Captain to guide it. Old Count Ogilvy, the same whom Saxe
      surprised two years ago in the moonlight, snatching ladders from the
      gallows,&mdash;Ogilvy is again Commandant; but this time nominal mainly,
      and with better outlooks, Harsch being under him. In relays, 3,000 of the
      Militia men dig and shovel night and day; repairing, perfecting the
      ramparts of the place. Then, as to provisions, endless corn is introduced,&mdash;farmers
      forced, the unwilling at the bayonet's point, to deliver in their corn;
      much of it in sheaf, so that we have to thrash it in the market-place, in
      the streets that are wide: and thus in Prag is heard the sound of flails,
      among the Militia-drums and so many other noises. With the great
      church-organs growling; and the bass and treble MISERERE of the poor
      superstitious People rising, to St. Vitus and others. In fact, it is a
      general Dance of St. Vitus,&mdash;except that of the flails, and Militia-men
      working at the ramparts,&mdash;mostly not leading any-whither." ["LETTER
      from a Citizen of Prag," date, 21st Sept. (in <i>Helden-Geschichte,</i>
      ii. 1168), which gives several curious details.]
    </p>
    <p>
      Meanwhile Friedrich's march from west, from north, from east, is flowing
      on; diligent, swift; punctual to its times, its places; and meets no
      impediment to speak of. At Tetschen on the Saxon-Bohemian Frontier,&mdash;a
      pleasant Schloss perched on its crags, as Tourists know, where the Elbe
      sweeps into Saxon Switzerland and its long stone labyrinths,&mdash;at
      Tetschen the Austrians had taken post; had tried to block the River,
      driving piles into it, and tumbling boulders into it, with a view to stop
      the 480 Prussian Boats. These people needed to be torn out, their piles
      and they: which was done in two days, the soldier part of it; and occupied
      the boatmen above a week, before all was clear again. Prosperous, correct
      to program, all the rest; not needing mention from us;&mdash;here are the
      few sparks from it that dwell in one's memory:&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "AUGUST 15th, 1744, King left Potsdam; joined his First Column that night,
      at Wittenberg. Through Mieissen, Torgau, Freyberg; is at Peterswalde,
      eastern slope of the Metal Mountains, August 25th; all the Columns now on
      Bohemian ground.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Friedrich had crossed Elbe by the Bridge of Meissen: on the southern
      shore, politely waiting to receive his Majesty, there stood Feldmarschall
      the Duke of Weissenfels; to whom the King gave his hand," no doubt in
      friendly style, "and talked for above half an hour,"&mdash;with such
      success! thinks Friedrich by and by. We have heard of Weissenfels before;
      the same poor Weissenfels who was Wilhelmina's Wooer in old time, now on
      the verge of sixty; an extremely polite but weakish old gentleman;
      accidentally preserved in History. One of those conspicuous "Human
      Clothes-Horses" (phantasmal all but the digestive part), which abound in
      that Eighteenth Century and others like it; and distress your Historical
      studies. Poor old soul; now Feldmarschall and Commander-in-Chief here. Has
      been in Turk and other Wars; with little profit to himself or others. Used
      to like his glass, they say; is still very poor, though now Duke in
      reality as well as title (succeeded two egregious Brothers, some years
      since, who had been spendthrift): he has still one other beating to get in
      this world,&mdash;from Friedrich next year. Died altogether, two years
      hence; and Wilhelmina heard no more of him.
    </p>
    <p>
      "At Meissen Bridge, say some, was this Half-hour's Interview; at Pirna,
      the Bridge of Pirna, others say; [See Orlich, ii. 25; and <i>Helden-Geschichte,</i>
      ii. 1166.]&mdash;quite indifferent to us which. At Pirna, and hither and
      thither in Saxon Switzerland, Friedrich certainly was. 'Who ever saw such
      positions, your Majesty?' For Friedrich is always looking out, were it
      even from the window of his carriage, and putting military problems to
      himself in all manner of scenery, 'What would a man do, in that kind of
      ground, if attacking, if attacked? with that hill, that brook, that bit of
      bog?' and advises every Officer to be continually doing the like.
      [MILITARY INSTRUCTIONS? RULES FOR A GOOD COMMANDER OF &amp;c.?&mdash;I
      have, for certain, read this Passage; but the reference is gone again,
      like a sparrow from the house-top!] That is the value of picturesque or
      other scenery to Friedrich, and their effect on good Prussian Officers and
      him.
    </p>
    <p>
      "... At Tetschen, Colonel Kahlbutz," diligent Prussian Colonel, "plucks
      out those 100 Austrians from their rock nest there; makes them prisoners
      of war;&mdash;which detained the Leitmeritz branch of us two days. August
      28th, junction at Leitmeritz thereupon. Magazine established there. Boats
      coming on presently. Friedrich himself camped at Lobositz in this part,"&mdash;Lobositz,
      or Lowositz, which he will remember one day.
    </p>
    <p>
      "AUGUST 29th, March to Budin; that is, southward, across the Eger, arrive
      within forty miles of Prag. Austrian Bathyani, summoned hastily out of his
      Bavarian posts, to succor in this pressing emergency, has arrived in these
      neighborhoods,&mdash;some 12,000 regulars under him, preceded by clouds of
      hussars, whom Ziethen smites a little, by way of handsel;&mdash;no other
      Austrian force to speak of hereabouts; and we are now between Bathyani and
      Prag.
    </p>
    <p>
      "SEPTEMBER 1st, To Mickowitz, near Welwarn, twenty miles from Prag.
      September 2d, Camp on the Weissenberg there." [ <i>Helden-Geschichte,</i>
      i. 1080.]
    </p>
    <p>
      And so they are all assembled about Prag, begirdling the poor City,&mdash;third
      Siege it has stood within these three years (since that moonlight November
      night in 1741);&mdash;and are only waiting for their heavy artillery to
      begin battering. The poor inhabitants, in spite of three sieges; the
      10,000 raw militia-men, mostly of Hungarian breed; the 4,000 regulars, and
      Harsch and old Ogilvy, are all disposed to do their best. Friedrich is
      naturally in haste to get hold of Prag. But he finds, on taking survey:
      that the sword-in-hand method is not now, as in 1741, feasible at all;
      that the place is in good posture of strength; and will need a hot
      battering to tear it open. Owing to that accident at Tetschen, the
      siege-cannon are not yet come up: "Build your batteries, your
      Moldau-bridges, your communications, till the cannon come; and beware of
      Bathyani meddling with your cannon by the road!"
    </p>
    <p>
      "Bathyani is within twenty miles of us, at Beraun, a compact little Town
      to southwest; gathering a Magazine there; and ready for enterprises,&mdash;in
      more force than Friedrich guesses. 'Drive him out, seize that Magazine of
      his!' orders Friedrich (September 5th); and despatches General Hacke on
      it, a right man,"&mdash;at whose wedding we assisted (wedding to an
      heiress, long since, in Friedrich Wilhelm's time), if anybody now
      remembered. "And on the morrow there falls out a pretty little 'Action of
      Beraun,' about which great noise was made in the Gazettes PRO and CONTRA:
      which did not dislodge Bathyani by airy means; but which might easily have
      ruined the impetuous Hacke and his 6,000, getting into masked batteries,
      Pandour whirlwinds, charges of horses 'from front, from rear, and from
      both flanks,'&mdash;had not he, with masterly promptitude, whirled himself
      out of it, snatched instantly what best post there was, and defended
      himself inexpugnably there, for six hours, till relief came." [DIE BEY
      BERAUN VORGEFALLENE ACTION (in Seyfarth, <i>Beylage,</i> i. 136, 137).]
      Brilliant little action, well performed on both sides, but leading to
      nothing; and which shall not concern us farther. Except to say that
      Bathyani did now, more at his leisure, retire out of harm's way; and begin
      collecting Magazines at Pilsen far rearward, which may prove useful to
      Prince Karl, in the route Prince Karl is upon.
    </p>
    <p>
      Siege-cannon having at last come (September 8th), the batteries are all
      mounted:&mdash;on Wednesday, 9th, late at night, the Artillery, "in
      enormous quantity," opens its dread throat; poor Prag is startled from its
      bed by torrents of shot, solid and shell, from three different quarters;
      and makes haste to stand to its guns. From three different quarters; from
      Bubenetsch northward; from the Upland of St. Lawrence (famed WEISSENBERG,
      or White-Hill) westward; and from the Ziscaberg eastward (Hill of Zisca,
      where iron Zisca posted himself on a grand occasion once),&mdash;which
      latter is a broad long Hill, west end of it falling sheer over Prag; and
      on another point of it, highest point of all, the Praguers have a strong
      battery and works. The Prag guns otherwise are not too effectual; planted
      mostly on low ground. By much the best Prag battery is this of the
      Ziscaberg. And this, after two days' experience had of it, the Prussians
      determine to take on the morrow.
    </p>
    <p>
      SEPTEMBER 12th, Schwerin, who commands on that side, assaults accordingly;
      with the due steadfastness and stormfulness: throwing shells and balls by
      way of prelude. Friedrich, with some group of staff-officers and
      dignitaries, steps out on the Bubenetsch post, to see how this affair of
      the Ziscaberg will prosper: the Praguers thereabouts, seeing so many
      dignitaries, turn cannon on them. "Disperse, IHR HERREN; have a care!"
      cried Friedrich; not himself much minding, so intent upon the Ziscaberg.
      And could have skipt indifferently over your cannon-balls ploughing the
      ground,&mdash;had not one fateful ball shattered out the life of poor
      Prince Wilhelm; a good young Cousin of his, shot down here at his hand.
      Doubtless a sharp moment for the King. Prince Margraf Wilhelm and a poor
      young page, there they lie dead; indifferent to the Ziscaberg and all
      coming wars of mankind. Lamentation, naturally, for this young man,&mdash;Brother
      to the one who fell at Mollwitz, youngest Brother of the Margraf Karl, who
      commands in this Bubenetsch redoubt:&mdash;But we must lift our eye-glass
      again; see how Schwerin is prospering. Schwerin, with due steadfastness
      and stormfulness, after his prelude of bomb-shells, rushes on
      double-quick; cannot be withstood; hurls out the Praguers, and seizes
      their battery; a ruinous loss to them.
    </p>
    <p>
      Their grand Zisca redoubt is gone, then; and two subsidiary small redoubts
      behind it withal, which the French had built, and named "the magpie-nests
      (NIDS A PIE);" these also are ours. And we overhang, from our Zisca Hill,
      the very roofs, as it were; and there is nothing but a long bare curtain
      now in this quarter, ready to be battered in breach, and soon holed, if
      needful. It is not needful,&mdash;not quite. In the course of three days
      more, our Bubenetsch battery, of enormous power, has been so diligent, it
      has set fire to the Water-mill; burns irretrievably the Water-mill, and
      still worse, the wooden Sluice of the Moldau; so that the river falls to
      the everywhere wadable pitch. And Governor Harsch perceives that all this
      quarter of the Town is open to any comer;&mdash;and, in fact, that he will
      have to get away, the best he can.
    </p>
    <p>
      White flag accordingly (Tuesday, 15th): "Free withdrawal, to the
      Wischerad; won't you?" "By no manner of means!" answers Friedrich. Bids
      Schwerin from his Ziscaberg make a hole or two in that "curtain" opposite
      him; and gets ready for storm. Upon which Harsch, next morning, has to
      beat the chamade, and surrender Prisoner of War. And thus, Wednesday,
      16th, it is done: a siege of one week, no more,&mdash;after all that
      thrashing of grain, drilling of militia, and other spirited preparation.
      Harsch could not help it; the Prussian cannonading was so furious.
      [Orlich, ii. 36-39; <i>Helden-Geschichte,</i> i. 1082, and ii. 1168; <i>OEuvres
      de Frederic,</i> iii. 56; &amp;c. &amp;c.]
    </p>
    <p>
      Prag has to swear fealty to the Kaiser; and "pay a ransom of 200,000
      pounds." Drilled militia, regulars, Hungarians, about 16,000,&mdash;only
      that many of the Tolpatches contrived to whisk loose,&mdash;are marched
      prisoners to Glatz and other strong places. Prag City, with plenty of
      provision in it, is ours. A brilliant beginning of a Campaign; the eyes of
      all Europe turned again, in very various humor, on this young King. If
      only the French do their duty, and hang well on the skirts of Marshal
      Traun (or of Prince Karl, the Cloak of Traun), who is hastening hitherward
      all he can.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      Chapter III.&mdash;FRIEDRICH, DILIGENT IN HIS BOHEMIAN CONQUESTS,
      UNEXPECTEDLY COMES UPON PRINCE KARL, WITH NO FRENCH ATTENDING HIM.
    </h2>
    <p>
      This electrically sudden operation on Prag was considered by astonished
      mankind, whatever else they might think about it, a decidedly brilliant
      feat of War: falling like a bolt out of the blue,&mdash;like three bolts,
      suddenly coalescing over Prag, and striking it down. Friedrich himself,
      though there is nothing of boast audible here or anywhere, was evidently
      very well satisfied; and thought the aspects good. There is Prince Karl
      whirling instantly back from his Strasburg Prospects; the general St.
      Vitus Dance of Austrian things rising higher and higher in these home
      parts:&mdash;reasonable hope that "in the course of one Campaign," proud
      obstinate Austria might feel itself so wrung and screwed as to be glad of
      Peace with neighbors not wishing War. That was the young King's
      calculation at this time. And, had France done at all as it promised,&mdash;or
      had the young King himself been considerably wiser than he was,&mdash;he
      had not been disappointed in the way we shall see!
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich admits he did not understand War at this period. His own scheme
      now was: To move towards the southwest, there to abolish Bathyani and his
      Tolpatches, who are busy gathering Magazines for Prince Karl's advent; to
      seize the said Magazines, which will be very useful to us; then advance
      straight towards the Passes of the Bohemian Mountains. Towns of Furth,
      Waldmunchen, unfortunate Town of Cham (burnt by Trenck, where masons are
      now busy); these stand successive in the grand Pass, through which the
      highway runs; some hundred miles or so from where we are: march, at one's
      swiftest, thitherward, Bathyani's Magazines to help; and there await
      Prince Karl? It was Friedrich's own notion; not a bad one, though not the
      best. The best, he admits, would have been: To stay pretty much where he
      was; abolish Bathyani's Tolpatch people, seizing their Magazines, and
      collecting others; in general, well rooting and fencing himself in Prag,
      and in the Circles that lie thereabouts upon the Elbe,&mdash;bounded to
      southward by the Sazawa (branch of the Moldau), which runs parallel to the
      Elbe;&mdash;but well refusing to stir much farther at such an advanced
      season of the year.
    </p>
    <p>
      That second plan would have been the wisest:&mdash;then why not, follow
      it? Too tame a plan for the youthful mind. Besides, we perceive, as indeed
      is intimated by himself, he dreaded the force of public opinion in France.
      "Aha, look at your King of Prussia again. Gone to conquer Bohemia; and,
      except the Three Circles he himself is to have of it, lets Bohemia go to
      the winds!" This sort of thing, Friedrich admits, he dreaded too much, at
      that young period; so loud had the criticisms been on him, in the time of
      the Breslau Treaty: "Out upon your King of Prussia; call you that an
      honorable Ally!" Undoubtedly a weakness in the young King; inasmuch, says
      he, as "every General [and every man, add we] should look to the fact, not
      to the rumor of the fact." Well; but, at least, he will adopt his own
      other notion; that of making for the Passes of the Bohemian Mountains; to
      abolish Bathyani at least, and lock the door upon Prince Karl's advent?
      That was his own plan; and, though second-best, that also would have done
      well, had there been no third.
    </p>
    <p>
      But there was, as we hinted, a third plan, ardently favored by Belleisle,
      whose war-talent Friedrich much respected at this time: plan built on
      Belleisle's reminiscences of the old Tabor-Budweis businesses, and totally
      inapplicable now. Belleisle said, "Go southeast, not southwest; right
      towards the Austrian Frontier itself; that will frighten Austria into a
      fine tremor. Shut up the roads from Austria: Budweis, Neuhaus; seize those
      two Highroad Towns, and keep them, if you would hold Bohemia; the want of
      them was our ruin there." Your ruin, yes: but your enemy was not coming
      from Alsace and the southwest then. He was coming from Austria; and your
      own home lay on the southwest: it is all different now! Friedrich might
      well think himself bewitched not to have gone for Cham and Furth, and the
      Passes of the Bohmer-Wald, according to his own notion. But so it was; he
      yielded to the big reputation of Belleisle, and to fear of what the world
      would say of him in France; a weakness which he will perhaps be taught not
      to repeat. In fact, he is now about to be taught several things;&mdash;and
      will have to pay his school-wages as he goes.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      FRIEDRICH, LEAVING SMALL GARRISON IN PRAG, RUSHES SWIFTLY UP THE MOLDAU
      VALLEY, UPON THE TABOR-BUDWEIS COUNTRY; TO PLEASE HIS FRENCH FRIENDS.
    </h2>
    <p>
      Friedrich made no delay in Prag; in haste at this late time of year.
      September 17th, on the very morrow of the Siege, the Prussians get in
      motion southward; on the 19th, Friedrich, from his post to north of the
      City, defiles through Prag, on march to Kunraditz,&mdash;first stage on
      that questionable Expedition up the Moldau Valley, right bank; towards
      Tabor, Budweis, Neuhaus; to threaten Austria, and please Belleisle and the
      French.
    </p>
    <p>
      Prag is left under General Einsiedel with a small garrison of 5,000;&mdash;Einsiedel,
      a steady elderly gentleman, favorite of Friedrich Wilhelm's, has brief
      order, or outline of order to be filled up by his own good sense.
      Posadowsky follows the march, with as many meal-wagons as possible,&mdash;draught-cattle
      in very ineffectual condition. Our main Magazine is at Leitmeritz (should
      have been brought on to Prag, thinks Friedrich); Commissariat very
      ill-managed in comparison to what it ought to be,&mdash;to what it shall
      be, if we ever live to make another Campaign. Heavy artillery is left in
      Prag (another fault); and from each regiment, one of its baggage-wagons. [
      <i>Helden-Geschichte,</i> i. 1083; Orlich, ii. 41 et seqq.; <i>Frederic,</i>
      iii. 59; &amp;c.] "We rest a day here at Kunraditz: 21st September, get to
      the Sazawa River;&mdash;22d, to Bistritz (rest a day);&mdash;26th, to
      Miltschin; and 27th, to Tabor:"&mdash;But the Diary would be tedious.
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich goes in two Columns; one along the great road towards Tabor,
      under Schwerin this, and Friedrich mainly with him; the other to the
      right, along the River's bank, under Leopold, Young Dessauer, which has to
      go by wild country roads, or now and then roads of its own making; and
      much needs the pioneer (a difficult march in the shortening days).
      Posadowsky follows with the proviant, drawn by cattle of the horse and ox
      species, daily falling down starved: great swearing there too, I doubt
      not! General Nassau is vanguard, and stretches forward successfully at a
      much lighter pace.
    </p>
    <p>
      There are two Rivers, considerable branches of the Moldau, coming from
      eastward; which, and first of them the Sazawa, concern us here. After
      mounting the southern Uplands from Prag for a day or two, you then begin
      to drop again, into the hollow of a River called Sazawa, important in
      Bohemian Wars. It is of winding course, the first considerable branch of
      the Moldau, rising in Teutschbrod Country, seventy or eighty miles to east
      of us: in regard to Sazawa, there is, at present, no difficulty about
      crossing; the Country being all ours. After the Sazawa, mount again, long
      miles, day after day, through intricate stony desolation, rocks, bogs,
      untrimmed woods, you will get to Miltschin, thence to Tabor: Miltschin is
      the crown of that rough moor country; from Prag to Tabor is some sixty
      miles. After Miltschin the course of those brown mountain-brooks is all
      towards the Luschnitz, the next considerable branch of the Moldau; branch
      still longer and more winding than the Sazawa; Tabor towers up near this
      branch; Budweis, on the Moldau itself, is forty miles farther; and there
      at last you are out of the stony moors, and in a rich champaign
      comfortable to man and horse, were you but once there, after plodding
      through the desolations. But from that Sazawa by the Luschnitz on to
      Budweis, mounting and falling in such fashion, there must be ninety miles
      or thereby. Plod along; and keep a sharp eye on the whirling clouds of
      Pandours, for those too have got across upon us,&mdash;added to the other
      tempests of Autumn.
    </p>
    <p>
      On the ninth day of their march, the Prussians begin to descry on the
      horizon ahead the steeples and chimney-tops of Tabor, on its high scarped
      rock, or "Hill of Zisca,"&mdash;for it was Zisca and his Hussites that
      built themselves this Bit of Inexpugnability, and named it Tabor from
      their Bibles,&mdash;in those waste mountain regions. On the tenth day
      (27th September), the Prussians without difficulty took Tabor; walls being
      ruined, garrison small. We lie at Tabor till the 30th, last day of
      September. Thence, 2d October, part of us to Moldau-Tein rightwards; where
      cross the Moldau by a Bridge,&mdash;"Bridge" one has heard of, in old
      Broglio times;&mdash;cross there, with intent (easily successful) to
      snatch that "Castle of Frauenberg," darling of Broglio, for which he
      fought his Pharsalia of a Sahay to no purpose!
    </p>
    <p>
      Both Columns got united at Tabor; and paused for a day or two, to rest,
      and gather up their draggled skirts there. The Expedition does not improve
      in promise, as we advance in it; the march one of the most untowardly; and
      Posadowsky comes up with only half of his provision-carts,&mdash;half of
      his cattle having fallen down of bad weather, hill-roads and starvation;
      what could he do? That is an ominous circumstance, not the less.
    </p>
    <p>
      Three things are against the Prussians on this march; two of them
      accidental things. FIRST, there is, at this late season too, the intrinsic
      nature of the Country; which Friedrich with emphasis describes as boggy,
      stony, precipitous; a waste, hungry and altogether barren Country,&mdash;too
      emphatically so described. But then SECONDLY, what might have been
      otherwise, the Population, worked upon by Austrian officials, all fly from
      the sight of us; nothing but fireless deserted hamlets; and the corn, if
      they ever had any, all thrashed and hidden. No amount of money can
      purchase any service from them. Poor dark creatures; not loving Austria
      much, but loving some others even less, it would appear. Of Bigoted Papist
      Creed, for one thing; that is a great point. We do not meddle with their
      worship more or less; but we are Heretics, and they hate us as the Night.
      Which is a dreadful difficulty you always have in Bohemia: nowhere but in
      the Circle of Konigsgraz, where there are Hussites (far to the rear of us
      at this time), will you find it otherwise. This is difficulty second.
    </p>
    <p>
      Then, THIRDLY, what much aggravates it,&mdash;we neglected to abolish
      Bathyani! And here are Bathyani's Pandours come across the Moldau on us.
      Plenty of Pandours;&mdash;to whom "10,000 fresh Hungarians," of a new
      Insurrection which has been got up there, are daily speeding forward to
      add themselves:&mdash;such a swarm of hornets, as darkens the very
      daylight for you. Vain to scourge them down, to burn them off by blaze of
      gunpowder: they fly fast; but are straightway back again. They lurk in
      these bushy wildernesses, scraggy woods: no foraging possible, unless
      whole regiments are sent out to do it; you cannot get a letter safely
      carried for them. They are an unspeakable contemptible grief to the
      earnest leader of men.&mdash;Let us proceed, however; it will serve
      nothing to complain. Let us hope the French sit well on the skirts of
      Prince Karl: these sorrowful labors may all turn to good, in that case.
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich pushes on from Tabor; shoots partly (as we have seen) across the
      Moldau, to the left bank as well; captures romantic Frauenberg on its high
      rock, where Broglio got into such a fluster once. We could push to Pisek,
      too, and make a "Bivouac of Pisek," if we lost our wits! Nassau is in
      Budweis, in Neuhaus; and proper garrisons are gone thither: nothing
      wanting on our side of the business. But these Pandours, these 10,000
      Insurrection Hungarians, with their Trencks spurring them! A continual
      unblessed swarm of hornets, these; which shut out the very light of day
      from us. Too literally the light of day: we can get no free messaging from
      part to part of our own Army even. "As many as six Orderlies have been
      despatched to an outlying General; and not one of them could get through
      to him. They have snapt up three Letter-bags destined for the King
      himself. For four weeks he is absolutely shut out from the rest of
      Europe;" knows not in the least what the Kaiser, or the Most Christian or
      any other King, is doing; or whether the French are sitting well on Prince
      Karl's skirts, or not attempting that at all. This also is a thing to be
      amended, a thing you had to learn, your Majesty? An Army absolutely shut
      out from news, from letters, messages to or fro, and groping its way in
      darkness, owing to these circumambient thunder-clouds of Tolpatches, is
      not a well-situated Army! And alas, when at last the Letter-bag did get
      through, and&mdash;But let us not anticipate!
    </p>
    <p>
      At Tabor there arose two opinions; which, in spite of the King's presence,
      was a new difficulty. South from Tabor a day's march, the Highway splits;
      direct way for Vienna; left-hand goes to Neuhaus, right-hand, or
      straightforward rather, goes to Budweis, bearing upon Linz: which of these
      two? Nassau has already seized Budweis; and it is a habitable champaign
      country in comparison. Neuhaus, farther from the Moldau and its uses, but
      more imminent on Austria, would be easy to seize; and would frighten the
      Enemy more. Leopold the Young Dessauer is for Budweis; rapid Schwerin, a
      hardy outspoken man, is emphatic for the other place as Head-quarter. So
      emphatic are both, that the two Generals quarrel there; and Friedrich
      needs his authority to keep them from outbreaks, from open incompatibility
      henceforth, which would be destructive to the service. For the rest,
      Friedrich seizes both places; sends a detachment to Neuhaus as well; but
      holds by Budweis and the Moldau region with his main Army; which was not
      quite gratifying to the hardy Schwerin. On the opposite or left bank,
      holding Frauenberg, the renowned Hill-fortress there, we make inroads at
      discretion: but the country is woody, favorable to Pandours; and the right
      bank is our chief scene of action. How we are to maintain ourselves in
      this country? To winter in these towns between the Sazawa and the
      Luschnitz? Unless the French sit well on Prince Karl's skirts, it will not
      be possible.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      THE FRENCH ARE LITTLE GRATEFUL FOR THE PLEASURE DONE THEM AT SUCH RUINOUS
      EXPENSE.
    </h2>
    <p>
      French sitting well on Prince Karl's skirts? They are not molesting Prince
      Karl in the smallest; never tried such a thing;&mdash;are turned away to
      the Brisgan, to the Upper Rhine Country; gone to besiege Freyburg there,
      and seize Towns; about the Lake of Constance, as if there were no
      Friedrich in the game! It must be owned the French do liberally pay off
      old scores against Friedrich,&mdash;if, except in their own imagination,
      they had old scores against him. No man ever delivered them from a more
      imminent peril; and they, the rope once cut that was strangling them,
      magnificently forget who cut it; and celebrate only their own
      distinguished conduct during and after the operation. To a degree truly
      wonderful.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was moonlight, clear as day that night, 23d August, when Prince Karl
      had to recross the Rhine, close in their neighborhood; [<i>Guerre de
      Boheme,</i> iii. 196.]&mdash;and instead of harassing Prince Karl "to half
      or to whole ruin," as the bargain was, their distinguished conduct
      consisted in going quietly to their beds (old Marechal de Noailles even
      calling back some of his too forward subalterns), and joyfully leaving
      Prince Karl, then and afterwards, to cross the Rhine, and march for
      Bohmen, at his own perfect convenience.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Seckendorf will sit on Karl's skirts," they said: "too late for US, this
      season; next season, you shall see!" Such was their theory, after Louis
      got that cathartic, and rose from bed. Schmettau, with his importunities,
      which at last irritated everybody, could make nothing more of it. "Let the
      King of France crown his glories by the Siege of Freyburg, the conquest of
      Brisgau:&mdash;for behoof of the poor Kaiser, don't you observe? Hither
      Austria is the Kaiser's;&mdash;and furthermore, were Freyburg gone, there
      will be no invading of Elsass again" (which is another privately very
      interesting point)!
    </p>
    <p>
      And there, at Freyburg, the Most Christian King now is, and his Army up to
      the knees in mud, conquering Hither Austria; besieging Freyburg, with much
      difficulty owing to the wet,&mdash;besieging there with what energy; a
      spectacle to the world! And has, for the present, but one wife, no
      mistress either! With rapturous eyes France looks on; with admiration too
      big for words. Voltaire, I have heard, made pilgrimage to Freyburg, with
      rhymed Panegyric in his pocket; saw those miraculous operations of a Most
      Christian King miraculously awakened; and had the honor to present said
      Panegyric; and be seen, for the first time, by the royal eyes,&mdash;which
      did not seem to relish him much. [The Panegyric (EPITRE AU ROI DEVANT
      FRIBOURG) is in <i>OEuvres de Voltaire,</i> xvii. 184.] Since the first
      days of October, Freyburg had been under constant assault; "amid rains,
      amid frosts; a siege long and murderous" (to the besieging party);&mdash;and
      was not got till November 5th; not quite entirely, the Citadels of it,
      till November 25th; Majesty gone home to Paris, to illuminations and
      triumphal arches, in the interim. [Adelung, iv. 266; Barbier, ii. 414
      (13th November, &amp;c.), for the illuminations, grand in the extreme, in
      spite of wild rains and winds.] It had been a difficult and bloody
      conquest to him, this of Freyburg and the Brisgau Country; and I never
      heard that either the Kaiser or he got sensible advantage by it,&mdash;though
      Prince Karl, on the present occasion, might be said to get a great deal.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Seckendorf will do your Prince Karl," they had cried always: "Seckendorf
      and his Prussian Majesty! Are not we conquering Hither Austria here, for
      the Kaiser's behoof?" Seckendorf they did officially appoint to pursue;
      appoint or allow;&mdash;and laid all the blame on Seckendorf; who perhaps
      deserved his share of it. Very certain it is, Seckendorf did little or
      nothing to Prince Karl; marched "leisurely behind him through the
      Ober-Pfalz,"&mdash;skirting Baireuth Country, Karl and he, to Wilhelmina's
      grief; [Her Letters ( <i>OEuvres de Frederic,</i> xxvii. i. 133, &amp;c.).]&mdash;"leisurely
      behind him at a distance of four days," knew better than meddle with
      Prince Karl. So that Prince Karl, "in twenty-one marches," disturbed only
      by the elements and bad roads, reached Waldmunchen 26th September, in the
      Furth-Cham Country; [Ranke, iii. 187.] and was heard to exclaim: "We are
      let off for the fright, then (NOUS VOILA QUITTES POUR LA PEUR)!"&mdash;Seckendorf,
      finding nothing to live upon in Ober-Pfalz, could not attend Prince Karl
      farther; but turned leftwards home to Bavaria; made a kind of Second
      "Reconquest of Bavaria" (on exactly the same terms as the First, Austrian
      occupants being all called off to assist in Bohmen again);&mdash;concerning
      which, here is an Excerpt:&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "Seckendorf, following at his leisure, and joined by the Hessians and
      Pfalzers, so as now to exceed 30,000, leaves Prince Karl and the rest of
      the enterprise to do as it can; and applies himself, for his own share, as
      the needfulest thing, to getting hold of Bavaria again, that his poor
      Kaiser may have where to lay his head, and pay old servants their wages.
      Dreadfully exclaimed against, the old gentleman, especially by the French
      co-managers: 'Why did not the old traitor stick in the rear of Prince
      Karl, in the difficult passes, and drive him prone,&mdash;while we went
      besieging Freyburg, and poaching about, trying for a bit of the Brisgau
      while chance served!' A traitor beyond doubt; probably bought with money
      down: thinks Valori. But, after all, what could Seckendorf do? He is now
      of weight for Barenklau and Bavaria, not for much more. He does sweep
      Barenklau and his Austrians from Bavaria, clear out (in the course of this
      October), all but Ingolstadt and two or three strong towns,&mdash;Passau
      especially, 'which can be blockaded, and afterwards besieged if needful.'
      For the rest, he is dreadfully ill-off for provisions, incapable of the
      least, attempt on Passau (as Friedrich urged, on hearing of him again);
      and will have to canton himself in home-quarters, and live by his shifts
      till Spring.
    </p>
    <p>
      "The noise of French censure rises loud, against not themselves, but
      against Seckendorf:&mdash;Friedrich, before that Tolpatch eclipse of
      Correspondence [when three of his Letter-bags were seized, and he fell
      quite dark], had too well foreboded, and contemptuously expressed his
      astonishment at the blame BOTH were well earning: Passau, said he, cannot
      you go at least upon Passau; which might alarm the Enemy a little, and
      drag him homewards? 'Adieu, my dear Seckendorf, your Officer will tell you
      how we did the Siege of Prag. You and your French are wetted hens (POULES
      MOUILLEES),'&mdash;cowering about like drenched hens in a day of set rain.
      'As I hear nothing of either of you, I must try to get out of this
      business without your help;'"&mdash;otherwise it will be ill for me
      indeed! [Excerpted Fragment of a Letter from Friedrich,&mdash;(exact date
      not given, date of EXCERPT is, Donanworth Country, 23d September, 1744),&mdash;which
      the French Agent in Seckendorf's Army had a reading of (<i>Campagnes de
      Coigny,</i> iv. 185-187; ib. 216-219: cited in Adelung, iv. 225).] "Which
      latter expression alarmed the French, and set them upon writing and
      bustling, but not upon doing anything."
    </p>
    <p>
      "Prince Karl had crossed the Rhine unmolested, in the clearest moonlight,
      August 23d-24th; Seckendorf was not wholly got to Heilbronn, September
      8th: a pretty way behind Prince Karl! The 6,000 Hessians, formerly in
      English pay, indignant Landgraf Wilhelm [who never could forgive that
      Machiavellian conduct of Carteret at Hanau, never till he found out what
      it really was] has, this year, put into French pay. And they have now
      joined Seckendorf; [Espagnac, ii. 13; Buchholz, ii. 123.] Prince Friedrich
      [Britannic Majesty's Son-in-law], not good fat Uncle George, commanding
      them henceforth:&mdash;with extreme lack of profit to Prince Friedrich, to
      the Hessians, and to the French, as will appear in time. These 6,000, and
      certain thousands of Pfalzers likewise in French pay, are now with
      Seckendorf, and have raised him to above 30,000;&mdash;it is the one fruit
      King Friedrich has got by that 'Union of Frankfurt,' and by all his long
      prospective haggling, and struggling for a 'Union of German Princes in
      general.' Two pears, after that long shaking of the tree; both pears
      rotten, or indeed falling into Seckendorf, who is a basket of such
      quality! 'Seckendorf, increased in this munificent manner, can he still do
      nothing?' cry the French: 'the old traitor!'&mdash;'I have no magazines,'
      said Seckendorf, 'nothing to live upon, to shoot with; no money!' And it
      is a mutual crescendo between the 'perfidious Seckendorf' and them;
      without work done. In the Nurnberg Country, some Hussars of his picked up
      Lord Holderness, an English Ambassador making for Venice by that bad
      route. 'Prisoner, are not you?' But they did not use him ill; on
      consideration, the Heads of Imperial Departments gave him a Pass, and he
      continued his Venetian Journey (result of it zero) without farther
      molestation that I heard of. [Adelung, iv. 222.]
    </p>
    <p>
      "These French-Seckendorf cunctations, recriminations and drenched-hen
      procedures are an endless sorrow to poor Kaiser Karl; who at length can
      stand it no longer; but resolves, since at least Bavaria, though moneyless
      and in ruins, is his, he will in person go thither; confident that there
      will be victual and equipment discoverable for self and Army were he
      there. Remonstrances avail not: 'Ask me to die with honor, ask me not to
      lie rotting here;' [Ib. iv. 241.]&mdash;and quits Frankfurt, and the
      Reich's-Diet and its babble, 17th October, 1744 (small sorrow, were it for
      the last time),&mdash;and enters his Munchen in the course of a week.
      [17th October, 1744, leaves Frankfurt; arrives in Munchen 23d (Adelung,
      iv. 241-244).] Munchen is transported with joy to see the Legitimate
      Sovereign again; and blazes into illuminations,&mdash;forgetful who caused
      its past wretchednesses, hoping only all wretchedness is now ended. Let
      ruined huts, and Cham and the burnt Towns, rebuild themselves; the wasted
      hedges make up their gaps again: here is the King come home! Here, sure
      enough, is an unfortunate Kaiser of the Holy Romish Reich, who can once
      more hope to pay his milk-scores, being a loved Kurfurst of Bavaria at
      least. Very dear to the hearts of these poor people;&mdash;and to their
      purses, interests and skins, has not he in another sense been dear? What a
      price the ambitions and cracked phantasms of that weak brain have cost the
      seemingly innocent population! Population harried, hungered down, dragged
      off to perish in Italian Wars; a Country burnt, tribulated, torn to ruin,
      under the harrow of Fate and ruffian Trenck and Company. Britannic George,
      rather a dear morsel too, has come much cheaper hitherto. England is not
      yet burnt; nothing burning there,&mdash;except the dull fire of deliriums;
      Natural Stupidities all set flaming, which (whatever it may BE in the way
      of loss) is not felt as a loss, but rather as a comfort for the time
      being;&mdash;and in fact there are only, say, a forty or fifty thousand
      armed Englishmen rotted down, and scarcely a Hundred Millions of money yet
      spent. Nothing to speak of, in the cause of Human Liberty. Why Populations
      suffer for their guilty Kings? My friend, it is the Populations too that
      are guilty in having such Kings. Reverence, sacred Respect for Human
      Worth, sacred Abhorrence of Human Unworth, have you considered what it
      means? These poor Populations have it not, or for long generations have
      had it less and less. Hence, by degrees, this sort of 'Kings' to them, and
      enormous consequences following!"&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      Karl VII. got back to Munchen 23d October, 1744; and the tar-barrels being
      once burnt, and indispensable sortings effected, he went to the field
      along with Seckendorf, to encourage his men under Seckendorf, and urge the
      French by all considerations to come on. And really did what he could,
      poor man. But the cordage of his life had been so strained and torn, he
      was not now good for much; alas, it had been but little he was ever good
      for. A couple of dear Kurfursts, his Father and he; have stood these
      Bavarian Countries very high, since the Battle of Blenheim and downwards!
    </p>
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    <h2>
      Chapter IV.&mdash;FRIEDRICH REDUCED TO STRAITS; CANNOT MAINTAIN HIS MOLDAU
      CONQUESTS AGAINST PRICE KARL.
    </h2>
    <p>
      One may fancy what were Friedrich's reflections when he heard that Prince
      Karl had, prosperously and unmolested, got across, by those Passes from
      the Ober-Pfalz, into Bohmen and the Circle of Pilsen, into junction with
      Bathyani and his magazines; ["At Mirotitz, October 2d" (Ranke, iii. 194);
      Orlich, ii. 49.] heard, moreover, that the Saxons, 20,000 strong, under
      Weissenfels, crossing the Metal Mountains, coming on by Eger and Karlsbad
      regions, were about uniting with him (bound by Treaty to assist the
      Hungarian Majesty when invaded);&mdash;and had finally, what confirms
      everything, that the said Prince Karl in person (making for Budweis, "just
      seen his advanced guard," said rumor under mistake) was but few miles off.
      Few miles off, on the other side of the Moldau;&mdash;of unknown strength,
      hidden in the circumambient clouds of Pandours.
    </p>
    <p>
      Suppressing all the rages and natural reflections but those needful for
      the moment, Friedrich (October 4th, by Moldau-Tein) dashes across the
      Moldau, to seek Prince Karl, at the place indicated, and at once smite him
      down if possible;&mdash;that will be a remedy for all things. Prince Karl
      is not there, nor was; the indication had been false; Friedrich searches
      about, for four days, to no purpose. Prince Karl, he then learns for
      certain, has crossed the Moldau farther down, farther northward, between
      Prag and us. Means to cut us off from Prag, then, which is our fountain of
      life in these circumstances? That is his intention:&mdash;"Old Traun, who
      is with him, understands his trade!" thinks Friedrich. Traun, or the
      Prince, is diligently forming magazines, all the Country carrying to him,
      in the Town of Beneschau, hither side of the Sazawa, some seventy miles
      north of us, an important Town where roads meet:&mdash;unless we can get
      hold of Beneschau, it will be ill with us here! Across the River again, at
      any rate; and let us hasten thither. That is an affair which must be
      looked to; and speed is necessary!
    </p>
    <p>
      OCTOBER 8th, After four days' search ending in this manner, Friedrich
      swiftly crosses towards Tabor again, to Bechin (over on the Luschnitz, one
      march), there to collect himself for Beneschau and the other intricacies.
      Towards Tabor again, by his Bridge of Moldau-Tein;&mdash;clouds of Pandour
      people, larger clouds than usual, hanging round; hidden by the woods till
      Friedrich is gone. Friedrich being gone, there occurs the AFFAIR OF
      MOLDAU-TEIN, much talked of in Prussian Books. Of which, in extreme
      condensation, this is the essence:&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "OCTOBER 9th. Friedrich once off to Bechin, the Pandour clouds gather on
      his rearguard next day at Tein Bridge here, to the number of about 10,000
      [rumor counts 14,000]; and with desperate intent, and more regularity than
      usual, attack the Tein-Bridge Party, which consists of perhaps 2,000
      grenadiers and hussars, the whole under Ziethen's charge,&mdash;obliged to
      wait for a cargo of Bread-wagons here. 'Defend your Bridge, with cannon,
      with case-shot:' that is what the grenadiers do. The Pandour cloud, with
      horrid lanes cut in it, draws back out of this; then plunges at the River
      itself, which can be ridden above or below; rides it, furious, by the
      thousand: 'Off with your infantry; quit the Bridge!' cries Ziethen to his
      Captain there: 'Retire you, Parthian-like; thrice-steady,' orders Ziethen:
      'It is to be hoped our hussars can deal with this mad-doggery!' And they
      do it; cutting in with iron discipline, with fierceness not undrilled; a
      wedge of iron hussars, with ditto grenadiers continually wheeling, like so
      many reapers steady among wind-tossed grain; and gradually give the
      Pandours enough. Seven hours of it, in all: 'of their sixty cartridges the
      grenadiers had fired fifty-four,' when it ended, about 7 P.M. The coming
      Bread-wagons, getting word, had to cast their loaves into the River (sad
      to think of); and make for Bechin at their swiftest. But the rearguard got
      off with its guns, in this victorious manner: thanks to Major-General
      Ziethen, Colonel Reusch and the others concerned. [<i>Feldzuge der
      Preussen,</i> i. 268; Orlich, ii. 55.]
    </p>
    <p>
      "Ziethen handsels his Major-Generalcy in this fine way: [Patent given him
      "3d October, 1744," only a week ago, "and ordered to be dated eight months
      back" (Rodenbeck, i. 109).] a man who has had promotion, and also has had
      none, and may again come to have none;&mdash;and is able to do either way.
      Never mind, my excellent tacit friend! Ziethen is five-and-forty gone; has
      a face which is beautiful to me, though one of the coarsest. Face
      thrice-honest, intricately ploughed with thoughts which are well kept
      silent (the thoughts, indeed, being themselves mostly inarticulate;
      thoughts of a simple-hearted, much-enduring, hot-tempered son of iron and
      oatmeal);&mdash;decidedly rather likable, with its lazily hanging
      under-lip, and respectable bearskin cylinder atop."
    </p>
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    <h2>
      FRIEDRICH TRIES TO HAVE BATTLE FROM PRINCE KARL, IN THE MOLDAU COUNTRIES;
      CANNOT, OWING TO THE SKILL OF PRINCE KARL OR OF OLD FELDMARSCHALL TRAUN;&mdash;HAS
      TO RETIRE BEHIND THE SAZAWA, AND ULTIMATELY BEHIND THE ELBE, WITH MUCH
      LABOR IN VAIN.
    </h2>
    <p>
      OCTOBER 14th-18th: RETREAT FROM BECHIN-TABOR COUNTRY TO BENESCHAU. ...
      "These Pandours give us trouble enough; no Magazine here, no living to be
      had in this Country beside them. Unfortunate Colonel Jahnus went out from
      Tabor lately, to look after requisitioned grains: infinite Pandours set
      upon him [Muhlhausen is the memorable place]; Jahnus was obstinate (too
      obstinate, thinks Friedrich), and perished on the ground, he and 200 of
      his. [ <i>OEuvres de Frederic,</i> iii. 61.] Nay, next, a swarm of them
      came to Tabor itself, Nadasti at their head; to try whether Tabor, with
      its small garrison, could not be escaladed, and perhaps Prince Henri, who
      lies sick there, be taken? Tabor taught them another lesson; sent them
      home with heads broken;&mdash;which Friedrich thinks was an extremely
      suitable thing. But so it stands: Here by the thousand and the ten
      thousand they hang round us; and Prince Karl&mdash;It is of all things
      necessary we get hold of that Beneschau, and the Magazine he is gathering
      there!
    </p>
    <p>
      "Rapidity is indispensable,&mdash;and yet how quit Tabor? We have
      detachments out at Neuhaus, at Budweis, and in Tabor 300 men in hospital,
      whom there are no means of carrying. To leave them to the Tolpaches?
      Friedrich confesses he was weak on this occasion; he could not leave these
      300 men, as was his clear duty, in this extremity of War. He ordered in
      his Neuhaus Detachment; not yet any of the others. He despatched Schmerin
      towards Beneschau with all his speed; Schwerin was lucky enough to take
      Beneschau and its provender,&mdash;a most blessed fortune,&mdash;and
      fences himself there. Hearing which, Friedrich, having now got the Neuhaus
      Detachment in hand, orders the other Three, the Budweis, the Tabor here,
      and the Frauenberg across the River, to maintain themselves; and then,
      leaving those southern regions to their chance, hastens towards Beneschau
      and Schwerin; encamps (October 18th) near Beneschau,&mdash;'Camp of
      Konopischt,' unattackable Camp, celebrated in the Prussian Books;&mdash;and
      there, for eight days, still on the south side of Sazawa, tries every
      shift to mend the bad posture of affairs in that Luschnitz-Sazawa Country.
      His Three Garrisons (3,000 men in them, besides the 300 sick) he now sees
      will not be able to maintain themselves; and he sends in succession 'eight
      messengers,' not one messenger of whom could get through, to bid them come
      away. His own hope now is for a Battle with Prince Karl; which might
      remedy all things. [<i>OEuvres de Frederic,</i> iii. 62-64.]"
    </p>
    <p>
      That is Friedrich's wish; but it is by no means Traun's, who sees that
      hunger and wet weather will of themselves suffice for Friedrich. There
      ensues accordingly, for three weeks to come, in that confused Country, a
      series of swift shufflings, checkings and manoeuvrings between these two,
      which is gratifying and instructive to the strategic mind, but cannot be
      inflicted upon common readers. Two considerable chess-players, an old and
      a young; their chess-board a bushy, rocky, marshy parallelogram, running
      fifty miles straight east from Prag, and twenty or fewer south, of which
      Prag is the northwest angle, and Beneschau, or the impregnable Konopischt
      the southwest: the reader must conceive it; and how Traun will not fight
      Friedrich, yet makes him skip hither and thither, chiefly by threatening
      his victuals. Friedrich's main magazine is now at Pardubitz, the extreme
      northeast angle of the parallelogram. Parallelogram has one river in it,
      with the innumerable rocks and brooks and quagmires, the river Sazawa; and
      on the north side, where are Kuttenberg, Czaslau, Chotusitz, places again
      become important in this business, it is bounded by another river, the
      Elbe. Intricate manoeuvring there is here, for three weeks following: "old
      Traun an admirable man!" thinks Friedrich, who ever after recognized Traun
      as his Schoolmaster in the art of War. We mark here and there a date, and
      leave it to readers.
    </p>
    <p>
      "RADICZ, OCTOBER 21st-22d. At Radicz, a march to southwest of us, and on
      our side of the Moldau, the Saxons, under Weissenfels, 20,000 effective,
      join Prince Karl; which raises his force to 69,514 men, some 10,000 more
      than Friedrich is master of. [Orlich, ii. 66.] Prospect of wintering
      between the Luschnitz and the Sazawa there is now little; unless they will
      fight us, and be beaten. Friedrich, from his inaccessible Camp of
      Konopischt, manoeuvres, reconnoitres, in all directions, to produce this
      result; but to no purpose. An Austrian Detachment did come, to look after
      Beneschau and the Magazines there; but rapidly drew back again, finding
      Konopischt on their road, and how matters were. Friedrich will guard the
      door of this Sazawa-Elbe tract of Country; hope of the Sazawa-Luschnitz
      tract has, in few days, fallen extinct. Here is news come to Konopischt:
      our Three poor Garrisons, Budweis, Tabor, Frauenberg, already all lost;
      guns and men, after defence to the last cartridge,&mdash;in Frauenberg
      their water was cut off, it was eight-and-forty hours of thirst at
      Frauenberg:&mdash;one way or other, they are all Three gone; eight
      couriers galloping with message, 'Come away,' were all picked up by the
      Pandours; so they stood, and were lost. 'Three thousand fighting men gone,
      for the weak chance of saving three hundred who were in hospital!' thinks
      Friedrich: War is not a school of the weak pities. For the chance of ten,
      you lose a hundred and the ten too. Sazawa-Elbe tract of country, let us
      vigilantly keep the door of that!
    </p>
    <p>
      "SATURDAY, OCTOBER 24th, Friedrich out reconnoitring from Konopischt
      discovers of a certainty that the whole Austrian-Saxon force is now
      advaucing towards Beneschau, and will, this night, encamp at Marschowitz,
      to southwest, only one march from us! On the instant Friedrich hurries
      back; gets his Army on march thitherward, though the late October sun is
      now past noon; off instantly; a stroke yonder will perhaps be the cure of
      all. Such roads we had, says Friedrich, as never Army travelled before:
      long after nightfall, we arrive near the Austrian camp, bivouac as we can
      till daylight return. At the first streak of day, Friedrich and his chief
      generals are on the heights with their spy-glasses: Austrian Army sure
      enough; and there they have altered their posture overnight (for Traun too
      has been awake); they lie now opposite our RIGHT flank; 'on a scarped
      height, at the foot of which, through swamps and quagmires, runs a muddy
      stream.' Unattackable on this side: their right flank and foot are safe
      enough. Creep round and see their left:&mdash;Nothing but copses, swampy
      intricacies! We may shoulder arms again, and go back to Konopischt: no
      fight here! [<i>OEuvres de Frederic,</i> iii. 63, 64; Orlich, ii. 69.]
      Speaking of defensive Campaigns, says Friedrich didactically, years
      afterwards, 'If such situations are to answer the purpose intended, the
      front and flanks must be equally strong, but the rear entirely open. Such,
      for instance, are those heights which have an extensive front, and whose
      flanks are covered by morasses:&mdash;as was Prince Karl's Camp at
      Marschowitz in the year 1744, with its front covered by a stream, and the
      wings by deep hollows; or that which we ourselves then occupied at
      Konopischt,&mdash;as you well remember. [<i>Military Instructions</i>
      (above cited), p. 44.]
    </p>
    <p>
      "OCTOBER 26th-NOVEMBER 1st. The Sazawa-Luschnitz tract of Country is quite
      lost, then; lost with damages: the question now is, Can we keep the
      Sazawa-Elbe tract? For about three weeks more, Friedrich struggles for
      that object; cannot compass that either. Want of horse-provender is very
      great:&mdash;country entirely eaten, say the peasants, and not a truss
      remaining. October 26th, Friedrich has to cross the Sazawa; we must quit
      the door of that tract (hunger driving us), and fight for the interior in
      detail. Traun gets to Beneschau in that cheap way; and now, in behalf of
      Traun, the peasants find forage enough, being zealous for Queen and creed.
      Pandours spread themselves all over this Sazawa-Elbe country; endanger our
      subsistences, make our lives miserable. It is the old story: Friedrich,
      famine and mud and misery of Pandours compelling, has to retire northward,
      Elbe-ward, inch by inch; whither the Austrians follow at a safe distance,
      and, in spite of all manoeuvring, cannot be got to fight.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Brave General Nassau, who much distinguishes himself in these businesses,
      has (though Friedrich does not yet know it) dexterously seized Kolin,
      westward in those Elbe parts,&mdash;ground that will be notable in years
      coming. Important little feat of Nassau's; of which anon. On the other
      hand, our Magazine at Pardubitz, eastward on the Elbe, is not out of
      danger: Pandours and regulars 2,000 and odd, 'sixty of the Pandour kind
      disguised as peasants leading hay-carts,' made an attempt there lately;
      but were detected by the vigilant Colonel, and blown to pieces, in the
      nick of time, some of them actually within the gate. [ <i>OEuvres de
      Frederic,</i> iii. 65.] Nay, a body of Austrian regulars were in full
      march for Kolin lately, intending to get hold of the Elbe itself at that
      point (midway between Prag and Pardubitz): but the prompt General Nassau,
      as we remarked, had struck in before them; and now holds Kolin;&mdash;though,
      for several days, Friedrich could not tell what had become of Nassau,
      owing to the swarms of Pandours.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Friedrich, standing with his back to Prag, which is fifty miles from him,
      and rather in need of his support than able to give him any; and drawing
      his meal from the uncertain distance, with Pandours hovering round,&mdash;is
      in difficult case. While old Traun is kept luminous as mid-day; the
      circumambient atmosphere of Pandours is tenebrific to Friedrich, keeps him
      in perpetual midnight. He has to read his position as with flashes of
      lightning, for most part. A heavy-laden, sorely exasperated man; and must
      keep his haggard miseries strictly secret; which I believe he does. Were
      Valori here, it is very possible he might find the countenance FAROUCHE
      again; eyes gloomy, on damp November mornings! Schwerin, in a huff, has
      gone home: Since your Majesty is pleased to prefer his young Durchlaucht
      of Anhalt's advice, what can an elderly servant (not without rheumatisms)
      do other?&mdash;'Well!' answers Friedrich, not with eyes cheered by the
      phenomenon. The Elbe-Sazawa tract, even this looks as if it would be hard
      to keep. A world very dark for Friedrich, enveloped so by the ill chances
      and the Pandours. But what help?
    </p>
    <p>
      "From the French Camp far away, there comes, dated 17th October (third
      week of their Siege of Freyburg), by way of help to Friedrich, magnanimous
      promise: 'So soon as this Siege is done, which will be speedily, though it
      is difficult, we propose to send fifty battalions and a hundred
      squadrons,'"&mdash;say only 60,000 horse and foot (not a hoof or toe of
      which ever got that length, on actually trying it),&mdash;"towards
      Westphalia, to bring the Elector of Koln to reason [poor Kaiser's lanky
      Brother, who cannot stand the French procedures, and has lately sold
      himself, that is sold his troops, to England], and keep the King of
      England and the Dutch in check,"&mdash;by way of solacement to your
      Majesty. Will you indeed, you magnanimous Allies?&mdash;This was picked up
      by the Pandours; and I know not but Friedrich was spared the useless pain
      of reading it. [Orlich, ii. 73.]
    </p>
    <p>
      "NOVEMBER 1st-9th: FRIEDRICH LOSES SAZAWA-ELBE COUNTRY TOO. On the first
      day of November, here is a lightning-flash which reveals strange things to
      Friedrich. Traun's late manoeuvrings, which have been so enigmatic, to
      right and to left, upon Prag and other points, issue now in an attempt
      towards Pardubitz; which reveals to Friedrich the intention Traun has
      formed, of forcing him to choose one of those two places, and let go the
      other. Formidable, fatal, thinks Friedrich; and yet admirable on the part
      of Traun: 'a design beautiful and worthy of admiration.' If we stay near
      Prag, what becomes of our communication with Silesia; what becomes of
      Silesia itself? If we go towards Pardubitz, Prag and Bohmen are lost! What
      to do? 'Despatch reinforcement to Pardubitz; thanks to Nassau, the
      Kolin-Pardubitz road is ours!' That is done, Pardubitz saved for the
      moment. Could we now get to Kuttenberg before the old Marshal, his design
      were overset altogether. Alas, we cannot march at once, have to wait a day
      for the bread. Forward, nevertheless; and again forward, and again; three
      heavy marches in November weather: let us make a fourth forced march,
      start to-morrow before dawn,&mdash;Kuttenberg above all things! In vain;
      to-morrow, 4th November, there is such a fog, dark as London itself, from
      six in the morning onwards, no starting till noon: and then impossible,
      with all our efforts, to reach Kuttenberg. We have to halt an eight miles
      short of it, in front of Kolin; and pitch tents there. On the morrow, 5th
      November, Traun is found encamped, unattackable, between us and our
      object; sits there, at his ease in a friendly Country, with Pandour
      whirlpools flowing out and in; an irreducible case to Friedrich. November
      5th, and for three days more, Friedrich, to no purpose, tries his utmost;&mdash;finds
      he will have to give up the Elbe-Sazawa region, like the others. Monday,
      November 9th, Friedrich gathers himself at Kolin; crosses the Elbe by
      Kolin Bridge, that day. Point after point of the game going against him."
    </p>
    <p>
      Kolin was, of course, attacked, that Monday evening, so soon as the main
      Army crossed: but, so soon as the Army left, General Nassau had taken his
      measures; and, with his great guns and his small, handled the Pandours in
      a way that pleased us. [ <i>OEuvres de Frederic,</i> iii. 68.] Thursday
      night following, they came back, with regular grenadiers to support; under
      cloud of night, in great force, ruffian Trenck at the head of them: a
      frightful phenomenon to weak nerves. But this also Nassau treated in such
      a fiery fashion that it vanished without return; three hundred dead left
      on the ground, and ruffian Trenck riding off with his own crown broken,&mdash;beautiful
      indigo face streaking itself into GINGHAM-pattern, for the moment!
    </p>
    <p>
      Except Pardubitz, where also the due battalions are left, Friedrich now
      holds no post south of the Elbe in this quarter; Elbe-Sazawa Tract is gone
      like the others, to all appearance. And we must now say, Silesia or Prag?
      Prince Leopold, Council-of-War being held on the matter, is for keeping
      hold of Prag: "Pity to lose all the excellent siege-artillery we brought
      thither," says he. True, too true; an ill-managed business that of Prag!
      thinks Friedrich sadly to himself: but what is Prag and artillery,
      compared to Silesia? Parthian retreat into Silesia; and let Prag and the
      artillery go: that, to Friedrich, is clearly the sure course. Or perhaps
      the fatal alternative will not actually arrive? So long as Pardubitz and
      Kolin hold; and we have the Elbe for barrier? Truth is, Prince Karl has
      himself written to Court that, having now pushed his Enemy fairly over the
      Elbe, and winter being come with its sleets and slushes, ruinous to troops
      that have been so marched about, the Campaign ought to end;&mdash;nay, his
      own young Wife is in perilous interesting circumstances, and the poor
      Prince wishes to be home. To which, however, it is again understood, Maria
      Theresa has emphatically answered, "No,&mdash;finish first!"
    </p>
    <p>
      NOVEMBER 9th-19th: WE DEFEND THE ELBE RIVER. Friedrich has posted himself
      on the north shore of the Elbe, from Pardubitz to the other side of Kolin;
      means to defend that side of the River, where go the Silesian roads. At
      Bohdenetz, short way across from Pardubitz, he himself is; Prince Leopold
      is near Kolin: thirty miles of river-bank to dispute. The controversy
      lasts ten days; ends in ELBE-TEINITZ, a celebrated "passage," in Books and
      otherwise. Friedrich is in shaggy, intricate country; no want of dingles,
      woods and quagmires; now and then pleasant places too,&mdash;here is
      Kladrup for example, where our Father came three hundred miles to dine
      with the Kaiser once. The grooms and colts are all off at present; Father
      and Kaiser are off; and much is changed since then. Grim tussle of War
      now; sleety winter, and the Giant Mountains in the distance getting on
      their white hoods! Friedrich doubtless has his thoughts as he rides up and
      down, in sight of Kladrup, among other places, settling many things; but
      what his thoughts were, he is careful not to say except where necessary.
      Much is to be looked after, in this River controversy of thirty miles.
      Detachments lie, at intervals, all the way; and mounted sentries, a sentry
      every five miles, patrol the River-bank; vigilant, we hope, as lynxes.
      Nothing can cross but alarm will be given, and by degrees the whole
      Prussian force be upon it. This is the Circle of Konigsgratz, this that
      now lies to rear; and happily there are a few Hussites in it, not utterly
      indisposed to do a little spying for us, and bring a glimmering of
      intelligence, now and then.
    </p>
    <p>
      It is now the second week that Frietrich has lain so, with his mounted
      patrols in motion, with his Hussite spies; guarding Argus-like this thirty
      miles of River; and the Austrians attempt nothing, or nothing with effect.
      If the Austrians go home to their winter-quarters, he hopes to issue from
      Kolin again before Spring, and to sweep the Elbe-Sazawa Tract clear of
      them, after all. Maria Theresa having answered No, it is likely the
      Austrians will try to get across: Be vigilant therefore, ye mounted
      sentries. Or will they perhaps make an attempt on Prag? Einsiedel, who has
      no garrison of the least adequacy, apprises us That "in all the villages
      round Prag people are busy making ladders,"&mdash;what can that mean?
      Friedrich has learned, by intercepted letters, that something great is to
      be done on Wednesday, 18th: he sends Rothenburg with reinforcement to
      Einsiedel, lest a scalade of Prag should be on the cards. Rothenburg is
      right welcome in the lines of Prag, though with reinforcement still
      ineffectual; but it is not Prag that is meant, nor is Wednesday the day.
      Through Wednesday, Friedrich, all eye and ear, could observe nothing: much
      marching to and fro on the Austrian side of the River; but apparently it
      comes to nothing? The mounted patrols had better be vigilant, however.
    </p>
    <p>
      On the morrow, 5 A.M., what is this that is going on? Audible booming of
      cannon, of musketry and battle, echoing through the woods, penetrates to
      Friedrich's quarters at Bohdenetz in the Pardubitz region: Attack upon
      Kolin, Nassau defending himself there? Out swift scouts, and see! Many
      scouts gallop out; but none comes back. Friedrich, for hours, has to
      remain uncertain; can only hope Nassau will defend himself. Boom go the
      distant volleyings; no scout comes back. And it is not Nassau or Kolin; it
      is something worse: very glorious for Prussian valor, but ruinous to this
      Campaign.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Austrians, at 2 o'clock this morning, Austrians and Saxons, came in
      great force, in dead silence, to the south brink of the River, opposite a
      place called Teinitz (Elbe-Teinitz), ten miles east of Kolin; that was the
      fruit of their marching yesterday. They sat there forbidden to speak, to
      smoke tobacco or do anything but breathe, till all was ready; till
      pontoons, cannons had come up, and some gleam of dawn had broken. At the
      first gleam of dawn, as they are shoving down their pontoon boats, there
      comes a "WER-DA, Who goes?" from our Prussian patrol across the River.
      Receiving no answer, he fires; and is himself shot down. One Wedell,
      Wedell and Ziethen, who keep watch in this part, start instantly at sound
      of these shots; and make a dreadful day of it for these invasive Saxon and
      Austrian multitudes. Naturally, too, they send off scouts, galloping for
      more help, to the right and to the left. But that avails not. Wild doggery
      of Pandours, it would seem, have already swum or waded the River, above
      Teinitz and below:&mdash;"Want of vigilance!" barks Friedrich impatiently:
      but such a doggery is difficult to watch with effect. At any rate, to the
      right and to the left, the woods are already beset with Pandours; every
      scout sent out is killed: and to east or to west there comes no news but
      an echoing of musketry, a boom of distant cannon. [Orlich, ii. 82-85.]
      Saxon-Austrian battalions, four or five, with unlimited artillery going,
      VERSUS Wedell's one battalion, with musketry and Ziethen's hussars: it is
      fearful odds. The Prussians stand to it like heroes; doggedly, for four
      hours, continue the dispute,&mdash;till it is fairly desperate; "two
      bridges of the enemy's now finished;"&mdash;whereupon they manoeuvre off,
      with Parthian or Prussian countenance, into the woods, safe, towards
      Kolin; "despatching definite news to Friedrich, which does arrive about 11
      A.M., and sets him at once on new measures."
    </p>
    <p>
      This is a great feat in the Prussian military annals; for which, sad as
      the news was, Wedell got the name of Leonidas attached to him by Friedrich
      himself. And indeed it is a gallant passage of war; "Forcing of the Elbe
      at Teinitz;" of which I could give two Narratives, one from the Prussian,
      and one from the Saxon side; [Seyfarth, <i>Beylage,</i> i. 595-598; <i>Helden-Geschichte,</i>
      ii. 1175-1181.] didactic, admonitory to the military mind, nay to the
      civic reader that has sympathy with heroisms, with work done manfully, and
      terror and danger and difficulty well trampled under foot. Leonidas Wedell
      has an admirable silence, too; and Ziethen's lazily hanging under-lip is
      in its old attitude again, now that the spasm is over. "WAS THUTS? They
      are across, without a doubt. We would have helped it, and could not.
      Steady!"&mdash;
    </p>
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    <h2>
      FRIEDRICH'S RETREAT; ESPECIALLY EINSIEDEL'S FROM PRAG.
    </h2>
    <p>
      Seeing, then, that they are fairly over, Friedrich, with a creditable
      veracity of mind, sees also that the game is done; and that same night he
      begins manoeuvring towards Silesia, lest far more be lost by continuing
      the play. One column, under Leopold the Young Dessauer, goes through
      Glatz, takes the Magazine of Pardubitz along with it: good to go in
      several columns, the enemy will less know which to chase. Friedrich, with
      another column, will wait for Nassau about Konigsgratz, then go by the
      more westerly road, through Nachod and the Pass of Braunau. Nassau, who is
      to get across from Kolin, and join us northwards, has due rendezvous
      appointed him in the Konigsgratz region. Einsiedel, in Prag, is to spike
      his guns, since he cannot carry them; blow up his bastions, and the like;
      and get away with all discretion and all diligence,&mdash;northwestward
      first, to Leitmeritz, where our magazines are; there to leave his heavier
      goods, and make eastward towards Friedland, and across the "Silesian
      Combs" by what Passes he can. Will have a difficult operation; but must
      stand to it. And speed; steady, simultaneous, regular, unresting velocity;
      that is the word for all. And so it is done,&mdash;though with difficulty,
      on the part of poor Einsiedel for one. It was Thursday, 19th November,
      when the Austrians got across the Elbe: on Monday, 23d, the Prussian
      rendezvousings are completed; and Friedrich's column, and the Glatz one
      under Leopold, are both on march; infinite baggage-wagons groaning orderly
      along ("sick-wagons well ahead," and the like precautions and
      arrangements), on both these highways for Silesia: and before the week
      ends, Thursday, 26th, even Einsiedel is under way. Let us give something
      of poor Einsiedel, whose disasters made considerable noise in the world,
      that Winter and afterwards.
    </p>
    <p>
      "The two main columns were not much molested; that which went by Glatz,
      under Leopold, was not pursued at all. On the rear of Friedrich's own
      column, going towards Braunau, all the way to Nachod or beyond, there hung
      the usual doggery of Pandours, which required whipping off from time to
      time; but in the defiles and difficult places due precaution was taken,
      and they did little real damage. Truchsess von Waldburg [our old friend of
      the Spartan feat near Austerlitz in the MORAVIAN-FORAY time, whom we have
      known in London society as Prussian Envoy in bygone years] was in one of
      the divisions of this column; and one day, at a village where there was a
      little river to cross (river Mietau, Konigsgratz branch of the Elbe), got
      provoked injudiciously into fighting with a body of these people. Intent
      not on whipping them merely, but on whipping them to death, Truchsess had
      already lost some forty men, and the business with such crowds of them was
      getting hot; when, all at once a loud squeaking of pigs was heard in the
      village,"&mdash;apprehensive swineherd hastily penning his pigs belike,
      and some pig refractory;&mdash;"at sound of which, the Pandour multitude
      suddenly pauses, quits fighting, and, struck by a new enthusiasm, rushes
      wholly into the village; leaving Truchsess, in a tragi-comic humor,
      victorious, but half ashamed of himself. [ <i>OEuvres de Frederic,</i>
      iii. 73.] In the beginning of December, Friedrich's column reached home,
      by Braunau through the Mountains, the same way part of it had come in
      August; not quite so brilliant in equipment now as then.
    </p>
    <p>
      "It was upon Einsiedel's poor Garrison, leaving Prag in such haste, that
      the real stress of the retreat fell; its difficulties great indeed, and
      its losses great. Einsiedel did what was possible; but all things are not
      possible on a week's warning. He spiked great guns, shook endless
      hundredweights of powder, and 10,000 stand of arms, into the River; he
      requisitioned horses, oxen, without number; put mines under the bastions,
      almost none of which went off with effect. He kept Prag accurately shut,
      the Praguers accurately in the dark; took his measures prudently; and
      labored night and day. One measure I note of him: stringent Proclamation
      to the inhabitants of Prag, 'Provision yourselves for three months;
      nothing but starvation ahead otherwise.' Alas, we are to stand a fourth
      siege, then? say the Praguers. But where are provisions to be had? At such
      and such places; from the Royal Magazines only, if you bring a certificate
      and ready money! Whereby Einsiedel got delivered of his meal-magazine, for
      one thing. But his difficulties otherwise were immense.
    </p>
    <p>
      "On the Thursday morning, 26th November, 1744, he marched. His wagons had
      begun the night before; and went all night, rumbling continuous (Anonymous
      of Prag [Second "LETTER from a Citizen, &amp;c." (date, 27th November, see
      supra, p. 348), in <i>Helden-Geschichte,</i> ii. 1181-1188.] hearing them
      well), through the Karlthor, northwest gate of Prag, across the Moldau
      Rridge. All night across that bridge,&mdash;Leitmeritz road, great road to
      the northwest:&mdash;followed finally by the march of horse and foot. But
      news had already fled abroad. Five hundred Pandours were in the City,
      backed by the Butchers' lads and other riotous GESINDEL, before the
      rear-guard got away. Sad tugging and wriggling in consequence, much firing
      from windows, and uproarious chaos;&mdash;so that Rothenburg had at last
      to remount a couple of guns, and blow it off with case-shot. A drilled
      Prussian rear-guard struggling, with stern composure, through a real bit
      of burning chaos. With effect, though not without difficulty. Here is the
      scene on the Noldau Bridge, and past that high Hradschin [Old Palace of
      the Bohemian Kings (pronounce RADsheen); one of the steepest Royal Sites
      in the world.] mass of buildings; all Prag, not the Hradschin only,
      struggling to give us fatal farewell if it durst. River is covered with
      Pandours firing out of boats; Bridge encumbered to impassability by
      forsaken wagons, the drivers of which had cut traces and run; shot comes
      overhead from the Hradschin on our left, much shot, infinite tumult all
      round; thoroughfare impossible for two-wheeled vehicle, or men in rank.
      'Halt!' cries Colonel Brandes, who has charge of the thing; divides them
      in three: 'First one party, deal with these river-boats, that Pandour
      doggery; second party, pull these stray wagons to right and left, making
      the way clear; third party, drag our own wagons forward, shoulder to
      shaft, and yoke them out of shot-range;&mdash;you, Captain Carlowitz,' and
      calls twenty volunteers to go with Carlowitz, and drag their own cannon,
      'step you forward, keep the gate of that Hradschin till we all pass!' In
      this manner, rapid, hard of stroke, clear-headed and with stern
      regularity, drilled talent gets the burning Nessus'-shirt wriggled off;
      and tramps successfully forth with its baggages. About 11 A.M., this
      rearguard of Brandes's did; should have been at seven,&mdash;right well
      that it could be at all.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Einsiedel, after this, got tolerably well to Leitmeritz; left his heavy
      baggage there; then turned at an acute angle right eastward, towards the
      Silesian Combs, as ordered: still a good seventy miles to do, and the
      weather getting snowy and the days towards their shortest. Worse still;
      old Weissenfels, now in Prag with his Saxons, is aware that Einsiedel,
      before ending, will touch on a wild high-lying corner of the Lausitz which
      is Saxon Country; and thitherward Weissenfels has despatched Chevalier de
      Saxe (in plenty of time, November 29th), with horse and foot, to waylay
      Einsiedel, and block the entrance of the Silesian Mountains for him.
      Whereupon, in the latter end of his long march, and almost within sight of
      home, ensues the hardest brush of all for Einsiedel. And, in the
      desolation of that rugged Hill country of the Lausitz, 'HOCHWALD (Upper
      Weld),' twenty or more miles from Bohemian Friedland, from his entrance on
      the Mountain Barrier and Silesian Combs, there are scenes&mdash;which gave
      rise to a Court-Martial before long. For unexpectedly, on the winter
      afternoon (December 9th), Einsiedel, struggling among the snows and
      pathless Hills, comes upon Chevalier de Saxe and his Saxon Detachment,&mdash;intrenched
      with trees, snow-redoubts, and a hollow bog dividing us; plainly
      unassailable;&mdash;and stands there, without covering, without 'food,
      fire, or salt,' says one Eye-witness, 'for the space of fourteen hours.'
      Gazing gloomily into it, exchanging a few shots, uncertain what more to
      do; the much-dubitating Einsiedel. 'At which the men were so disgusted and
      enraged, they deserted [the foreign part of them, I fancy] in groups at a
      time,' says the above Eye-witness. Not to think what became of the
      equipments, baggage-wagons, sick-wagons:&mdash;too evident Einsiedel's
      loss, in all kinds, was very considerable. Nassau, despatched by Leopold
      out of Glatz, from the other side of the Combs, is marching to help
      Einsiedel;&mdash;who knows, at this moment, where or whitherward? For the
      peasants are all against us; our very guides desert, and become spies.
      'Push to the left, over the Hochwald top, must not we?' thinks Einsiedel:
      'that is Lausitz, a Saxon Country; and Saxony, though the Saxons stand
      intrenched here, with the knife at our throat, are not at war with us, oh
      no, only allies of her Majesty of Hungary, and neutral otherwise!' And
      here, it is too clear, the Chevalier de Saxe stands intrenched behind his
      trees and snow; and it is the fourteenth hour, men deserting by the
      hundred, without fire and without salt; and Nassau is coming,&mdash;God
      knows by what road!
    </p>
    <p>
      "Einsiedel pushes to the left, the Hochwald way; finds, in the Hochwald
      too, a Saxon Commandant waiting him, with arms strictly shouldered. 'And
      we cannot pass through this moor skirt of Lausitz, say you, then?'
      'Unarmed, yes; your muskets can come in wagons after you,' replies the
      Saxon Commandant of Lausitz. 'Thousand thanks, Herr Commandant; but we
      will not give you all that trouble,' answer Einsiedel and his Prussians;
      'and march on, overwhelming him with politenesses,' says Friedrich;&mdash;the
      approach of Nassau, above all, being a stringent civility. Of course,
      despatch is very requisite to Einsiedel; the Chevalier, with his force,
      being still within hail. The Prussians march all night, with pitch-links
      flaring,&mdash;nights (I think) of the 13th-15th December, 1744, up among
      the highlands there, rugged buttresses of the Silesian Combs: a sight
      enough to astonish Rubezahl, if he happened to be out! As good chance
      would have it, Nassau and Einsiedel, by preconcert, partly by lucky guess
      of their own, were hurrying by the same road: three heaven-rending cheers
      (December 16th) when we get sight of Nassau; and find that here is land!
      December 16th, we are across,&mdash;by Ruckersdorf, not far from Friedland
      (Bohmisch Friedland, not the Silesian town of that name, once
      Wallenstein's);&mdash;and rejoice now to look back on labor done." [ <i>Helden-Geschichte,</i>
      ii. 1181-1190, 1191-1194;&mdash;Feldzuge,&mdash;i. 278-280.]
    </p>
    <p>
      These were intricate strange scenes, much talked of at the time:
      Rothenburg, ugly Walrave, Hacke, and other known figures, concerned in
      them. Scenes in which Friedrich is not well informed; who much blames
      Einsiedel, as he is apt to do the unsuccessful. Accounts exist, both from
      the Prussian and from the Saxon side, decipherable with industry; not now
      worth deciphering to English readers. Only that final scene of the
      pitch-links, the night before meeting with Nassau, dwells voluntarily in
      one's memory. And is the farewell of Einsiedel withal. Friedrich blames
      him to the last: though a Court-Martial had sat on his case, some months
      after, and honorably acquitted him. Good solid, silent Einsiedel;&mdash;and
      in some months more, he went to a still higher court, got still stricter
      justice: I do not hear expressly that it was the winter marches, or strain
      of mind; but he died in 1745; and that flare of pitch-links in Rubezahl's
      country is the last scene of him to us,&mdash;and the end of Friedrich's
      unfortunate First Expedition in the Second Silesian War.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Foiled, ultimately, then, on every point; a totally ill-ordered game on
      our part! Evidently we, for our part, have been altogether in the wrong,
      in various essential particulars. Amendment, that and no other, is the
      word now. Let us take the scathe and the scorn candidly home to us;&mdash;and
      try to prepare for doing better. The world will crow over us. Well, the
      world knows little about it; the world, if it did know, would be partly in
      the right!"&mdash;Wise is he who, when beaten, learns the reasons of it,
      and alters these. This wisdom, it must be owned, is Friedrich's; and much
      distinguishes him among generals and men. Veracity of mind, as I say,
      loyal eyesight superior to sophistries; noble incapacity of self-delusion,
      the root of all good qualities in man. His epilogue to this Campaign is
      remarkable;&mdash;too long for quoting here, except the first word of it
      and the last:&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "No General committed more faults than did the King in this Campaign....
      The conduct of M. de Traun is a model of perfection, which every soldier
      that loves his business ought to study, and try to imitate, if he have the
      talent. The king has himself admitted that he regarded this Campaign as
      his school in the Art of War, and M. de Traun as his teacher." But what
      shall we say? "Bad is often better for Princes than good;&mdash;and
      instead of intoxicating them with presumption, renders them circumspect
      and modest." [<i>OEuvres,</i> iii.76, 77.] Let us still hope!&mdash;
    </p>
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    <h2>
      Chapter V.&mdash;FRIEDRICH, UNDER DIFFICULTIES, PREPARES FOR A NEW
      CAMPAIGN.
    </h2>
    <p>
      To the Court of Vienna, especially to the Hungarian Majesty, this
      wonderful reconquest of Bohemia, without battle fought,&mdash;or any cause
      assignable but Traun's excellent manoeuvring and Friedrich's imprudences
      and trust in the French,&mdash;was a thing of heavenly miracle; blessed
      omen that Providence had vouchsafed to her prayers the recovery of Silesia
      itself. All the world was crowing over Friedrich: but her Majesty of
      Hungary's views had risen to a clearly higher pitch of exultation and
      triumphant hope, terrestrial and celestial, than any other living
      person's. "Silesia back again," that was now the hope and resolution of
      her Majesty's high heart: "My wicked neighbor shall be driven out, and
      smart dear for the ill he has done; Heaven so wills it!" "Very little
      uplifts the Austrians," says Valori; which is true, under such a Queen;
      "and yet there is nothing that can crush them altogether down," adds he.
    </p>
    <p>
      No sooner is Bohemia cleared of Friedrich, than Maria, winter as it is,
      orders that there be, through the Giant-Mountains, vigorous assault upon
      Silesia. Highland snows and ices, what are these to Pandour people, who,
      at their first entrance on the scene of History, "crossed the
      Palus-Maeotis itself [Father of Quagmires, so to speak] in a frozen
      state," and were sufficiently accommodated each in his own dirty
      sheepskin? "Prosecute the King of Prussia," ordered she; "take your
      winter-quarters in Silesia!"&mdash;and Traun, in spite of the advanced
      season, and prior labors and hardships, had to try, from the southwestern
      Bohemian side, what he could do; while a new Insurrection, coming through
      the Jablunka, spread itself over the southeast and east. Seriously
      invasive multitudes; which were an unpleasant surprise to Friedrich; and
      did, as we shall see, require to be smitten back again, and re-smitten;
      making a very troublesome winter to the Prussians and themselves; but by
      no means getting winter-quarters, as they once hoped.
    </p>
    <p>
      In a like sense, Maria Theresa had already (December 2d) sent forth her
      Manifesto or Patent, solemnly apprising her ever-faithful Silesian
      Populations, "That the Treaty of Breslau, not by her fault, is broken;
      palpably a Treaty no longer. That they, accordingly, are absolved from all
      oaths and allegiance to the King of Prussia; and shall hold themselves in
      readiness to swear anew to her Majesty, which will be a great comfort to
      such faithful creatures; suffering, as her Majesty explains to them that
      they have done, under Prussian tyranny for these two years past. Immediate
      dead-lift effort there shall be; that is certain: and 'the Almighty God
      assisting, who does not leave such injustices unpunished, We have the
      fixed Christian hope, Omnipotence blessing our arms, of almost immediately
      (EHESTENS) delivering you from this temporary Bondage (BISHERIGEN JOCH).'
      You can pray, in the mean while, for the success of her Majesty's arms;
      good fighting, aided by prayer, in a Cause clearly Heaven's, will now, to
      appearance, bring matters swiftly round again, to the astonishment and
      confusion of bad men." [In <i>Helden-Geschichte,</i> ii. 1194-1198; Ib.
      1201-1206, is Friedrich's Answer, "19th December, 1744."]
    </p>
    <p>
      These are her Majesty's views; intensely true, I doubt not, to her devout
      heart. Robinson and the English seem not to be enthusiastic in that
      direction; as indeed how can they? They would fain be tender of Silesia,
      which they have guaranteed; fain, now and afterwards, restrain her Majesty
      from driving at such a pace down hill: but the declivity is so
      encouraging, her Majesty is not to be restrained, and goes faster and
      faster for the time being. And indeed, under less devout forms, the
      general impression, among Pragmatic people, Saxon, Austrian, British even,
      was, That Friedrich had pretty much ruined himself, and deserved to do so;
      that this of his being mere "Auxiliary" to a Kaiser in distress was an
      untenable pretext, now justly fallen bankrupt upon him. The evident fact,
      That he had by his "Frankfurt Union," and struggles about "union,"
      reopened the door for French tribulations and rough-ridings in the Reich,
      was universally distasteful; all chance of a "general union of German
      Princes, in aid of their Kaiser," was extinct for the present.
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich's rapidity had served him ill with the Public, in this as in
      some other instances! Friedrich, contemplating his situation, not
      self-delusively, but with the candor of real remorse, was by no means yet
      aware how very bad it was. For six months coming, partly as existing facts
      better disclosed themselves, as France, Saxony and others showed what
      spirit they were of; partly as new sinister events and facts arrived one
      after the other,&mdash;his outlook continued to darken and darken, till it
      had become very dark indeed. There is perennially the great comfort,
      immense if you can manage it, of making front against misfortune; of
      looking it frankly in the face, and doing with a resolution, hour by hour,
      your own utmost against it. Friedrich never lacked that comfort; and was
      not heard complaining. But from December 13th, 1744, when he hastened home
      to Berlin, under such aspects, till June 4th, 1745, when aspects suddenly
      changed, are probably the worst six months Friedrich had yet had in the
      world. During which, his affairs all threatening to break down about him,
      he himself, behooving to stand firm if the worst was not to realize
      itself, had to draw largely on what silent courage, or private
      inexpugnability of mind, was in him,&mdash;a larger instalment of that
      royal quality (as I compute) than the Fates had ever hitherto demanded of
      him. Ever hitherto; though perhaps nothing like the largest of all, which
      they had upon their Books for him, at a farther stage! As will be seen.
      For he was greatly drawn upon in that way, in his time. And he paid
      always; no man in his Century so well; few men, in any Century, better. As
      perhaps readers may be led to guess or acknowledge, on surveying and
      considering. To see, and sympathetically recognize, cannot be expected of
      modern readers, in the present great distance, and changed conditions of
      men and things.
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich, after despatching Nassau to cut out Einsiedel, had delivered
      the Silesian Army to the Old Dessauer, who is to command in chief during
      Winter; and had then hastened to Berlin,&mdash;many things there urgently
      requiring his presence; preparations, reparations, not to speak of
      diplomacies, and what was the heaviest item of all, new finance for the
      coming exertions. In Schweidnitz, on Leopold's appearance, there had been
      an interview, due consultings, orderings; which done, Friedrich at once
      took the road; and was at Berlin, Monday, December 14th,&mdash;precisely
      in the time while Nassau and Einsiedel were marching with torchlights in
      Rubezahl's Country, and near ending their difficult enterprise better or
      worse.
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich, fastening eagerly on Home business, is astonished and provoked
      to learn that the Austrians, not content with pushing him out of Bohmen,
      are themselves pushing into Schlesien,&mdash;so Old Leopold reports, with
      increasing emphasis day by day; to whom Friedrich sends impatient order:
      Hurl them out again; gather what force you need, ten thousand, or were it
      twenty or thirty thousand, and be immediate about it; "I will as soon be
      pitched (HERAUSGESCHMISSEN) out of the Mark of Brandenburg as out of
      Schlesien:" no delay, I tell you! And as the Old Dessauer still explains
      that the ten or fifteen thousand he needs are actually assembling, and
      cannot be got on march quite in a moment, Friedrich dashes away his
      incipient Berlin Operations; will go himself and do it. Haggle no more,
      you tedious Old Dessauer:&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      BERLIN, "19th DECEMBER," 1744. "On the 21st [Monday, one week after my
      arriving], I leave Berlin, and mean to be at Neisse on the 24th at latest.
      Your Serenity will in the interim make out the Order-of-Battle [which is
      also Order-of-March] for what regiments are come in. For I will, on the
      25th, without delay, cross the Neisse, and attack those people, cost what
      it may,&mdash;to chase them out of Schlesien and Glatz, and follow them so
      far as possible. Your Serenity will therefore take your measures, and
      provide everything, so far as in this short time you can, that the project
      may be executable the moment I arrive." [Friedrich to the Old Dessauer (<i>Orlich,</i>
      ii. 356).]
    </p>
    <p>
      And rushed off accordingly, in a somewhat flamy humor; but at Schweidnitz,
      where the Old Dessauer met him again, became convinced that the matter was
      weightier than he thought; not one of Tolpatchery alone, but had Traun
      himself in it. Upon which Friedrich candidly drew bridle; hastened back,
      and, with a loss of four days, was at his Potsdam Affairs again. To which
      he stuck henceforth, ardently, and I think rather with increase of gloom,
      though without spurt of impatience farther, for three months to come.
      Before his return,&mdash;nay, had he known, it was the night before he
      went away,&mdash;a strange little thing had happened in the opposite or
      Western parts: surprising accident to Marechal de Belleisle; which now
      lies waiting his immediate consideration. But let us finish Silesia first.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      OLD DESSAUER REPELS THE SILESIAN INVASION (Winter, 1744-45).
    </h2>
    <p>
      "This Silesian Affair includes due inroad of Pandours; or indeed two
      inroads, southwest and southeast; and in the southwest, or Traun quarter,
      regulars are the main element of it. Traun, 20,000 strong, PLUS
      stormy-enough Pandour ACCOMPANIMENT, is by this time through into Glatz;
      in three columns;&mdash;is master of all Glatz, except the Rock-Fortress
      itself; and has spread himself, right and left, along the Neisse River,
      and from the southwest northwards, in a skilful and dangerous manner. In
      concert with whom, far to the east, are Pandour whirlwinds on their own
      footing (brand-new 'Insurrection' of them, got thus far) starting from
      Olmutz and Brunn; scouring that eastern country, as far as Namslau
      northward [a place we were at the taking of, in old Brieg times]; much
      more, infesting the Mountains of the South. A rather serious thing; with
      Traun for general manager of it."
    </p>
    <p>
      With Traun, we say: poor Prince Karl is off, weeks ago; on the saddest of
      errands. His beautiful young Wife,&mdash;Hungarian Majesty's one Sister,
      Vice-Regents of the Netherlands he and she, conspicuous among the bright
      couples of the world,&mdash;she had a bad lying-in (child still-born),
      while those grand Moldau Operations went on; has been ill, poor lady, ever
      since; and, at Brussels, on December 16th, she herself lies dead, Prince
      Karl weeping over her and the days that will not return. Prince Karl's
      felicities, private and public, had been at their zenith lately, which was
      very high indeed; but go on declining from this day. Never more the
      Happiest of Husbands (did not wed again at all); still less the Greatest
      of Captains, equal or superior to Caesar in the Gazetteer judgment, with
      distracted EULOGIES, BIOGRAPHIES and such like filling the air: before
      long, a War-Captain of quite moderate renown; which we shall see sink
      gradually into no renown at all, and even (unjustly) into MINUS
      quantities, before all end. A mad world, my masters!
    </p>
    <p>
      "Between Traun on the southwest hand, and his Pandours on the southeast,
      the small Prussian posts have all been driven in upon Troppau-Jagerndorf
      region; more and more narrowed there;&mdash;and, in fine (two days before
      this new Interview of Leopold and the impatient King at Schweidnitz), have
      had to quit the Troppau-Jagerndorf position; to quit the Hills altogether,
      and are now in full march towards Brieg. Of which march I should say
      nothing, were it not that Marwitz, Father of Wilhelmina's giggling
      Marmitzes, commanded;&mdash;and came by his death in the course of it;
      though our Wilhelmina is not now there, pen in hand, to tell us what the
      effects at Baireuth were. Marwitz had been left for dead on the Field of
      Mollwitz; lay so all night, but was nursed to some kind of strength again
      by those giggling young women; and came back to Schlesien, to posts of
      chief trust, for the last year or two,&mdash;was guarding the Mountains,
      and even invading Mahren, during the late Campaign;&mdash;but saw himself
      reduced latterly to Jagerndorf and Troppau; and had even to retreat out of
      these. And in the whirlpool of hurries thereupon,&mdash;how is not very
      clear; by apoplexy, say some; by accidental pistol from a servant of his
      own; in actual skirmish with Pandours,&mdash;too certainly, one way or the
      other, on December 23d (just during that second Interview at Schweidnitz),
      brave old Marwitz did suddenly sink dead, and is ended. [<i>Helden-Geschichte,</i>
      ii. 1201.] Even so, ye poor giggling creatures, and your loud weeping will
      not mend it at all!
    </p>
    <p>
      "Friedrich, looking candidly into these phenomena, could not but see that:
      what with Tolpatcheries, what with Traun's 20,000 regulars, and the whole
      Army at their back, his Silesian Border is girt in by a very considerable
      inroad of Austrians,&mdash;huge Chain of them, in horse-shoe form, 300
      miles long, pressing in; from beyond Glatz and Landshut, round by the
      southern Mountains, and up eastward again as far as Namslau, nothing but
      war whirlwinds in regular or irregular form, in the centre of them Traun;&mdash;and
      that the Old Dessauer really must have time to gird himself for dealing
      with Traun and them.
    </p>
    <p>
      "It was not till January 9th that Old Leopold, 25,000 strong, equipped to
      his mind, which was a difficult matter, crossed the Neisse River; and
      marched direct upon Traun, with Ziethen charging ahead. Actually marched;
      after which the main wrestle was done in a week. January 16th, Old Leopold
      got to Jagerndorf; found the actual Traun concentrated at Jagerndorf; and
      drew up, to be ready for assault to-morrow morning,&mdash;had not Traun,
      candidly computing, judged it better to glide wholly away in the
      night-time, diligently towards Mahren, breaking the bridges behind him.
      And so, in effect, to give up the Silesian Invasion for this time. After
      which, though there remained a good deal of rough tussling with Pandour
      details, and some rugged exploits of fight, there is&mdash;except that of
      Lehwald in clearing of Glatz&mdash;nothing farther that we can afford to
      speak of. Lehwald's exploit, Lehwald VERSUS Wallis (same Wallis who
      defended Glogau long since), which came to be talked of, and got name and
      date, 'Action of Habelschwert, February 14th,' something almost like a
      pitched fight on the small scale, is to the following effect:&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "PLOMNITZ, NEAR HABELSCHWERT, 14th FEBRUARY, 1745. Old General Lehwald,
      marching in the hollow ground near Habelschwert (hollow of the young
      Neisse River, twenty miles south of Glatz), with intent to cut that
      Country free; the Enemy, whom he is in search of, appears in great force,&mdash;posted
      on the uphill ground ahead, half-frozen difficult stream in front of them,
      cannon on flank, Pandour multitude in woods; all things betokening
      inexpugnability on the part of the Enemy. So that Lehwald has to take his
      measures; study well where the vital point is, the root of that extensive
      Austrian junglery, and cut in upon the same. By considerable fire of
      effort, the uphill ground, half-frozen stream, sylvan Pandours,
      cannon-batteries, and what inexpugnabilities there may be, are subdued;
      Austrian wide junglery, the root of it slit asunder rolls homeward
      simultaneously, not too fast: nay it halted, and re-ranked itself twice
      over, finding woods and quaggy runlets to its mind; but was always slit
      out again, disrooted, and finally tumbled home, having had enough. 'Wenzel
      Wallis,' Friedrich asserts with due scorn, 'was all this while in a
      Chapel; praying ardently,' to St. Vitus, or one knows not whom; 'without
      effect; till they shouted to him, "Beaten, Sir! Off, or you are lost!"
      upon which he sprang to saddle, and spurred with both heels (PIQUA DES
      DEUX).' [ <i>OEuvres de Frederic,</i> iii. 79. 80.] That was the feat of
      Lehwald, clearing the Glatz Country with one good cut: a skilful Captain;
      now getting decidedly oldish, close on sixty; whom we shall meet again a
      dozen years hence, still in harness.
    </p>
    <p>
      "The old Serene Highness himself, face the color of gun-powder, and bluer
      in the winter frost, went rushing far and wide in an open vehicle, which
      he called his 'cart;' pushing out detachments, supervising everything;
      wheeling hither and thither as needful; sweeping out the Pandour world,
      and keeping it out: not much of fighting needed, but 'a great deal of
      marching [murmurs Friedrich], which in winter is as bad, and wears down
      the force of the battalions.' Of all which we give no detail: sufficient
      to fancy, in this manner, the Old Dessauer flapping his wide military
      wings in the faces of the Pandour hordes, with here and there a hard
      twitch from beak or claws; tolerably keeping down the Pandour interest all
      Winter. His sons, Leopold and Dietrich, were under him, occasionally
      beside him; the Junior Leopold so worn down with feverish gout he could
      hardly sit on horseback at all, while old Papa went tearing about in his
      cart at that rate." [<i>Unternehmung in Ober-Schlesien, unter dem Fursten
      Leopold von Anhalt-Dessau, im Januar und Februar,</i> 1745 (Seyfarth, <i>Beylage,</i>
      i. 141-152); Stenzel, iv. 232; &amp;c.]
    </p>
    <p>
      There was, on the 21st of February, TE-DEUM sung in the churches of Berlin
      "for the Deliverance of Silesia from Invasion." Not that even yet the
      Pandours would be quite quiet, or allow Old Leopold to quit his cart; far
      from it. And they returned in such increased and tempestuous state, as
      will again require mention, with the earliest Spring:&mdash;precursors to
      a second, far more serious and deadly "Invasion of Silesia;" for which it
      hangs yet on the balance whether there will be a TE-DEUM or a MISERERE to
      sing!
    </p>
    <p>
      Hungarian Majesty, disappointed of Silesia,&mdash;which, it seems, is not
      to be had "all at once (EHESTENS)," in the form of miracle,&mdash;makes
      amends by a rush upon Seckendorf and Bavaria; attacks Seckendorf furiously
      ("Bathyani pressing up the Donau Valley, with Browne on one hand, and
      Barenklau on the other") in midwinter; and makes a terrible hand of him;
      reducing his "Reconquest of Bavaria" to nothing again, nay to less. Of
      which in due time.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      THE FRENCH FULLY INTEND TO BEHAVE BETTER NEXT SEASON TO FRIEDRICH AND
      THEIR GERMAN ALLIES;&mdash;BUT ARE PREVENTED BY VARIOUS ACCIDENTS
      (November, 1744-April, 1745; April-August, 1745).
    </h2>
    <p>
      It is not divine miracle, Friedrich knows well, that has lost him his late
      Bohemian Conquests without battle fought: it was rash choosing of a plan
      inexecutable without French co-operation,&mdash;culpable blindness to the
      chance that France would break its promises, and not co-operate. Had your
      Majesty forgotten the Joint-Stock Principle, then? His Majesty has
      sorrowful cause to remember it, from this time, on a still larger scale!
    </p>
    <p>
      Reflections, indignant or exculpatory, on the conduct of the French in
      this Business are useless to Friedrich, and to us. The performance, on
      their part, has been nearly the worst;&mdash;though their intentions,
      while the Austrian Dragon had them by the throat, were doubtless
      enthusiastically good! But, the big Austrian Dragon being jerked away from
      Elsass, by Friedrich's treading on his tail, 500 miles off, they were
      charmed, quite into new enthusiasm, to be rid of said Dragon: and, instead
      of chasing HIM according to bargain, took to destroying his DEN, that he
      might be harmless thenceforth. Freyburg is a captured Town, to the joy and
      glory of admiring France; and Friedrich's Campaign has gone the road we
      see! The Freyburg Illuminations having burnt out, there might rise, in the
      triumphant mind, some thought of Friedrich again,&mdash;perhaps almost of
      a remorseful nature? Certain it is, the French intentions are now again
      magnanimous, more so than ever; coupled now with some attempts at
      fulfilment, too; which obliges us to mention them here. They were still a
      matter of important hope to Friedrich; hope which did not quite go out
      till August coming. Though, alas, it did then go out, in gusts of
      indignation on Friedrich's part! And as the whole of these magnanimous
      French intentions, latter like former, again came to zero, we are
      interested only in rendering them conceivable to readers for Friedrich's
      sake,&mdash;with the more brevity, the better for everybody. Two grand
      French Attempts there were; listen, on the threshold, a little:&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      ... "It is certain the French intend gloriously; regardless of expense.
      They are dismantling Freyburg, to render it harmless henceforth. But,
      withal, in answer to the poor Kaiser's shrieks, they have sent Segur [our
      old Linz friend], with 12,000, to assist Seckendorf; 'the bravest troops
      in the world,'"&mdash;who did bravely take one beating (at Pfaffenhofen,
      as will be seen), and go home again. ("They have Coigny guarding those
      fine Brisgau Conquests. And are furthermore diplomatizing diligently, not
      to say truculently, in the Rhine Countries; bullying poor little fat
      Kur-Trier, lean Kur-Koln and others, 'To join the Frankfurt Union' not one
      of whom would, under menace),&mdash;though 'it is the clear duty of all
      Reich's-Princes with a Kaiser under oppression:'&mdash;and have marched
      Maillebois, directly after Freyburg, into the Middle-Rhine Countries, to
      Koln Country, to Mainz Country, and to and fro, in support of said
      compulsory diplomacies;&mdash;but without the least effect."
    </p>
    <p>
      To the "Middle-Rhine Countries," observe, and under Maillebois, then under
      Conti, little matter under whom: only let readers recollect the name of
      it;&mdash;for it is the FIRST of the French Attempts to do something of a
      joint-stock nature; something for self AND Allies, instead of for self
      only. It caused great alarm in those months, to Britannic George and
      others; and brought out poor Duc d'Ahremberg with portions (no English
      included) of the poor Pragmatic Army, to go marching about in the winter
      slushes, instead of resting in bed, [Adelung, iv. 276, 420 ("December,
      1744-June, 1745").]&mdash;and is indeed a very loud business in the old
      Gazettes and books, till August coming. Business which almost broke poor
      D'Ahremberg's heart, he says, "till once I got out of it" (was TURNED out,
      in fact): Business of Pragmatic Army, under D'Ahremberg, VERSUS
      Middle-Rhine Army under Maillebois, under Conti; Business now wholly of
      Zero VERSUS Zero to us,&mdash;except for a few dates and reflex
      glimmerings upon King Friedrich. Result otherwise&mdash;We shall see the
      Result!
    </p>
    <p>
      "Attempt SECOND was still more important to Friedrich; being directed upon
      the Kaiser and Bavaria. Belleisle is to go thither and take survey;
      Belleisle thither first: you may judge if the intention is sincere! Valori
      is quite eloquent upon it. Directly after Freyburg, says he, Sechelles,
      that first of Commissaries, was sent to Munchen. Sechelles cleared up the
      chaos of Accounts; which King Louis then instantly paid. 'Your Imperial
      Majesty shall have Magazines also,' said Louis, regardless of expense;
      'and your Army, with auxiliaries (Segur and 25,000 of them French), shall
      be raised to 60,000.' Belleisle then came: 'We will have Ingolstadt, the
      first thing, in Spring.' Alas, Belleisle had his Accident in the Harz; and
      all went aback, from that time." [Valori, i. 322-329.] Aback, too
      indisputably, all!&mdash;"And Belleisle's Accident?" Patience, readers.
    </p>
    <p>
      "The truth is, Attempt SECOND, and chief, broke down at once [Bathyani
      beating it to pieces, as will be seen],&mdash;the ruins of it painfully
      reacting on Attempt FIRST; which had the like fate some months later;&mdash;and
      there was no THIRD made. And, in fact, from the date of that latter
      down-break, August, or end of July, 1745 [and quite especially from
      "September 13th," by which time several irrevocable things had happened,
      which we shall hear of], the French withdrew altogether out of German
      entanglements; and concentrated themselves upon the Netherlands, there to
      demolish his Britannic Majesty, as the likelier enterprise. This was a
      course to which, ever since the Exit of Broglio and the Oriflamme, they
      had been more and more tending and inclining, 'Nothing for us but loss on
      loss, to be had in Germany!' and so they at last frankly gave up that bad
      Country. They fought well in the Netherlands, with great splendor of
      success, under Saxe VERSUS Cumberland and Company. They did also some
      successful work in Italy;&mdash;and left Friedrich to bear the brunt in
      Germany; too glad if he or another were there to take Germany off their
      hand! Friedrich's feelings on his arriving at this consummation, and
      during his gradual advance towards it, which was pretty steady all along
      from those first 'drenched-hen (POULES MOUILLEES)' procedures, were amply
      known to Excellency Valori, and may be conceived by readers,"&mdash;who
      are slightly interested in the dates of them at farthest. And now for the
      Belleisle Accident, with these faint preliminary lights.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      STRANGE ACCIDENT TO MARECHAL DE BELLEISLE IN THE HARZ MOUNTAINS (20th
      December, 1744).
    </h2>
    <p>
      Siege of Freyburg being completed, and the River and most other things
      (except always the bastions, which we blow up) being let into their old
      channels there, Marechal de Belleisle, who is to have a chief management
      henceforth,&mdash;the Most Christian King recognizing him again as his
      ablest man in war or peace,&mdash;sets forth on a long tour of
      supervision, of diplomacy and general arrangement, to prepare matters for
      the next Campaign. Need enough of a Belleisle: what a business we have
      made of it, since Friedrich trod on the serpent's tail for us! Nothing but
      our own Freyburg to show for ourselves; elsewhere, mere down-rush of
      everything whitherward it liked;&mdash;and King Friedrich got into such a
      humor! Friedrich must be put in tune again; something real and good to be
      agreed on at Berlin: let that be the last thing, crown of the whole. The
      first thing is, look into Bavaria a little; and how the Kaiser, poor
      gentleman, in want of all requisites but good-will, can be put into
      something of fighting posture.
    </p>
    <p>
      "In the end of November, Marechal Duc de Belleisle, with his Brother the
      Chevalier (now properly the Count, there having been promotions), and a
      great retinue more, alights at Munchen; holds counsel with the poor Kaiser
      for certain days:&mdash;Money wanted; many things wanted; and all things,
      we need not doubt, much fallen out of square. 'Those Seckendorf troops in
      their winter-quarters,' say our French Inspectors and Segur people, as
      usual, 'do but look on it, your Excellency! Scattered, along the valleys,
      into the very edge of Austria; Austria will swallow them, the first thing,
      next year; they will never rendezvous again except in the Austrian
      prisons. Surely, Monseigneur, only a man ignorant of war, or with
      treasonous intention [or ill-off for victuals],&mdash;could post troops in
      that way? Seckendorf is not ignorant of war!' say they. [Valori, i. 206.]
      For, in fact, suspicion runs high; and there is no end to the accusations
      just and unjust; and Seckendorf is as ill treated as any of us could wish.
      Poor old soul. Probably nobody in all the Earth, but his old Wife in the
      Schloss of Altenburg, has any pity for him,&mdash;if even she, which I
      hope. He has fought and diplomatized and intrigued in many countries, very
      much; and in his old days is hard bested. Monseigueur, whose part is
      rather that of Jove the Cloud-compeller, is studious to be himself
      noiseless amid this noise; and makes no alteration in the Seckendorf
      troops; but it is certain he meant to do it, thinks Valori."
    </p>
    <p>
      And indeed Seckendorf, tired of the Bavarian bed-of-roses, had privately
      fixed with himself to quit the same;&mdash;and does so, inexorable to the
      very Kaiser, on New-Year arriving. [<i>Seckendorfs Leben,</i> p. 365.]
      Succeeded by Thorring (our old friend DRUM Thorring), if that be an
      improvement. Marechal de Belleisle has still a long journey ahead, and
      infinitely harder problems than these,&mdash;assuagement of the King of
      Prussia, for example. Let us follow his remarkable steps.
    </p>
    <p>
      "WEDNESDAY, 9th DECEMBER, 1744, the Marechal leaves Munchen, northwards
      through OEttingen and the Bamberg-Anspach regions towards Cassel;&mdash;journey
      of some three hundred and fifty miles: with a great retinue of his own;
      with an escort of two hundred horse from the Kaiser; these latter to
      prevent any outfall or insult in the Ingolstadt quarter, where the
      Austrians have a garrison, not at all very tightly blocked by the
      Seckendorf people thereabouts. No insult or outfall occurring, the
      Marechal dismisses his escort at OEttingen; fares forward in his twenty
      coaches and fourgons, some score or so of vehicles:&mdash;mere neutral
      Imperial Countries henceforth, where the Kaiser's Agent, as Marechal de
      Belleisle can style himself, and Titular Prince of the German Empire
      withal, has only to pay his way. By Donauworth, by OEttingen; over the
      Donau acclivities, then down the pleasant Valley of the Mayn. [See REVIEW
      OF THE CASE OF MARSHAL BELLEISLE (or Abstract of it, <i>Gentleman's
      Magazine,</i> 1745, pp. 366-373); &amp;c. &amp;c.]
    </p>
    <p>
      "SUNDAY, 13th DECEMBER, Marechal de Belleisle arrives at Hanau [where we
      have seen Conferences held before now, and Carteret, Prince Karl and great
      George our King very busy], there to confer with Marshals Coigny,
      Maillebois and other high men, Commanders in those Rhine parts. Who all
      come accordingly, except Marechal Maillebois, who is sorry that he
      absolutely cannot; but will surely do himself the honor as Monseigneur
      returns." As Monseigneur returns! "And so, on Monday, 14th, Monseigneur
      starts for Cassel; say a hundred miles right north; where we shall meet
      Prince Wilhelm of Hessen-Cassel, a zealous Ally; inform him how his
      Troops, under Seckendorf, are posted [at Vilshofen yonder; hiding how
      perilous their post is, or promising alterations]; perhaps rest a day or
      two, consulting as to the common weal: How the King of Prussia takes our
      treatment of him? How to smooth the King of Prussia, and turn him to
      harmony again? We are approaching the true nodus of our business,
      difficulty of difficulties; and Wilhelm, the wise Landgraf, may afford a
      hint or two. Thus travels magnanimous Belleisle in twenty vehicles, a man
      loaded with weighty matters, in these deep Winter months; suffering
      dreadfully from rheumatic neuralgic ailments, a Doctor one of his
      needfulest equipments; and has the hardest problem yet ahead of him.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Prince Wilhelm's consultations are happily lost altogether; buried from
      sight forever, to the last hint,&mdash;all except as to what road to
      Berlin would be the best from Cassel. By Leipzig, through low-lying
      country, is the great Highway, advisable in winter; but it runs a hundred
      and thirty miles to right, before ever starting northward; such a
      roundabout. Not to say that the Saxons are allies of Austria,&mdash;if
      there be anything in that. Enemies, they, to the Most Christian King:
      though surely, again, we are on Kaiser's business, nay we are titular
      'Prince of the Reich,' for that matter, such the Kaiser's grace to us?
      Well; it is better perhaps to AVOID the Saxon Territory. And, of course,
      the Hanoverian much more; through which lies the other Great Road! 'Go by
      the Harz,' advises Landgraf Wilhelm: 'a rugged Hill Country; but it is
      your hypotenuse towards Berlin; passes at once, or nearly so, from Cassel
      Territory into Prussian: a rugged road, but a shorter and safer.' That is
      the road Belleisle resolves upon. Twenty carriages; his Brother the
      Chevalier and himself occupy one; and always the courier rides before,
      ordering forty post-horses to be ready harnessed.
    </p>
    <p>
      "SUNDAY, 20th DECEMBER, 1744. In this way they have climbed the eastern
      shin of the Harz Range, where the Harz is capable of wheel-carriages; and
      hope now to descend, this night, to Halberstadt; and thence rapidly by
      level roads to Berlin. It is sinking towards dark; the courier is forward
      to Elbingerode, ordering forty horses to be out. Roughish uphill road;
      winter in the sky and earth, winter vapors and tumbling wind-gusts:
      westward, in torn storm-cloak, the Bracken, with its witch-dances;
      highland Goslar, and ghost of Henry the Fowler, on the other side of it. A
      multifarious wizard Country, much overhung by goblin reminiscences,
      witch-dances, sorcerers'-sabbaths and the like,&mdash;if a rheumatic
      gentleman cared to look on it, in the cold twilight. Brrh! Waste chasmy
      uplands, snow-choked torrents; wild people, gloomy firs! Here at last, by
      one's watch 5 P.M., is Elbingerode, uncomfortable little Town; and it is
      to be hoped the forty post-horses are ready.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Behold, while the forty post-horses are getting ready, a thing takes
      place, most unexpected;&mdash;which made the name of Elbingerode famous
      for eight months to come. Of which let us hastily give the bare facts,
      Fancy making of them what she can. Was Monseigneur aware that this
      Elbingerode, with a patch of territory round it, is Hanoverian ground; one
      of those distracted patches or ragged outskirts frequent in the German
      map? Prussia is not yet, and Hessen-Cassel has ceased to be. Undoubtedly
      Hanoverian! Apparently the Landgraf and Monseigneur had not thought of
      that. But Munchhausen of Hanover, spies informing him, had. The Bailiff
      (Vogt, AdVOCATus) has gathered twenty JAGER [official Game-keepers] with
      their guns, and a select idle Sunday population of the place with or
      without guns: the Vogt steps forward, and inquires for Monseigneur's
      passport. 'No passport, no need of any!'&mdash;'Pardon!' and signifies to
      Monseigneur, on the part of George Elector of Hanover, King of Great
      Britain, France and Ireland, that Monseigneur is arrested!
    </p>
    <p>
      "Monseigneur, with compressed or incompressible feelings, indignantly
      complies,&mdash;what could he else, unfortunate rheumatic gentleman?&mdash;and
      is plucked away in such sudden manner, he for one, out of that big German
      game of his raising. The twenty vehicles are dragged different roads;
      towards Scharzfels, Osterode, or I know not where,&mdash;handiest roads to
      Hanover;&mdash;and Monseigneur himself has travelling treatment which
      might be complained of, did not one disdain complaint: 'my Brother parted
      from me, nay my Doctor, and my Interpreter;'"&mdash;not even speech
      possible to me. [Letter of Belleisle next morning, "Neuhof, 21st December,
      9 A.M." (in <i>Valori,</i> i. 204), to Munchhausen at Hanover,&mdash;by no
      possibility "to Valori," as the distracted French Editor has given it!]
      That was the Belleisle Accident in the Harz, Sunday Evening, 20th
      December, 1744.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Afflicted indignant Valori, soon enough apprised, runs to Friedrich with
      the news,&mdash;greets Friedrich with it just alighting from that Silesian
      run of his own. Friedrich, not without several other things to think of,
      is naturally sorry at such news; sorry for his own sake even; but not
      overmuch. Friedrich refuses 'to despatch a party of horse,' and cut out
      Marechal de Belleisle. "That will never do, MON CHER!'&mdash;and even gets
      into FROIDES PLAISANTERIES: 'Perhaps the Marechal did it himself? Tallard,
      prisoner after Blenheim, made PEACE, you know, in England?'&mdash;and the
      like; which grieved the soul of Valori, and convinced him of Friedrich's
      inhumanity, in a crying case.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Belleisle is lugged on to Hanover; his case not doubtful to Munchhausen,
      or the English Ministry,&mdash;though it raised great argument, (was the
      capture fair, was it unfair? Is he entitled to exchange by cartel, or not
      entitled?' and produced, in the next eight months, much angry animated
      pamphleteering and negotiation. For we hear by and by, he is to be
      forwarded to Stade, on the Hamburg sea-coast, where English Seventy-fours
      are waiting for him; his case still undecided;&mdash;and, in effect, it
      was not till after eight months that he got dismissal. 'Lodged handsomely
      in Windsor Palace,' in the interim; free on his parole, people of rank
      very civil to him, though the Gazetteers were sometimes ill-tongued,&mdash;had
      he understood their PATOIS, or concerned himself about such things
    </p>
    <p>
      ["TUESDAY, 18th FEBRUARY [1st March, 1745], Marshal Belleisle landed at
      Harwich; lay at Greenwich Palace, having crossed Thames at the Isle of
      Dogs: next morning, about 10, set out, in a coach-and-six, Colonel Douglas
      and two troops of horse escorting; arrived 3 P.M.,&mdash;by Camberwell,
      Clapham, Wandsworth, over Kingston and Staines Bridges,&mdash;at Windsor
      Castle, and the apartments ready for him." (<i>Gentleman's Magazine,</i>
      1745, p 107.) Was let go 13th (24th) August, again with great pomp and
      civilities (ib. p. 442). See Adelung, iv. 299, 346; v. 83, 84.]
    </p>
    <p>
      "It was a current notion among contemporary mankind, this of Friedrich,
      that Belleisle's capture might be a mere collusion, meant to bring about a
      Peace in that Tallard fashion,&mdash;wide of the truth as such a notion
      is, far as any Peace was from following. To Britannic George and his
      Hanoverians it had merely seemed, Here was a chief War-Captain and
      Diplomatist among the French; the pivot of all these world-wide movements,
      as Valori defines him; which pivot, a chance offering, it were well to
      twitch from its socket, and see what would follow. Perhaps nothing will
      follow; next to nothing? A world, all waltzing in mad war, is not to be
      stopped by acting on any pivot; your waltzing world will find new pivots,
      or do without any, and perhaps only waltz the more madly for wanting the
      principal one."
    </p>
    <p>
      This withdrawal of Belleisle, the one Frenchman respected by Friedrich, or
      much interested for his own sake in things German, is reckoned a main
      cause why the French Alliance turned out so ill for Friedrich; and why
      French effort took more and more a Netherlands direction thenceforth, and
      these new French magnanimities on Friedrich's behalf issued in futility
      again. Probably they never could have issued in very much: but it is
      certain that, from this point, they also do become zero; and that
      Friedrich, from his French alliance, reaped from first to last nothing at
      all, except a great deal of obloquy from German neighbors, and from the
      French side endless trouble, anger and disappointment in every particular.
      Which 'might be a joy (though not unmixed) to Britannic Majesty and the
      subtle followers who had ginned this fine Belleisle bird in its flight
      over the Harz Range? Though again, had they passively let him wing his
      way, and he had GOT "to be Commander and Manager," as was in agitation,&mdash;he,
      Belleisle and in Germany, instead of Marechal de Saxe with the Netherlands
      as chief scene,&mdash;what an advantage might that have been to them!
    </p>
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    <h2>
      THE KAISER KARL VII. GETS SECURED FROM OPPRESSIONS, IN A TRAGIC WAY.
      FRIEDRICH PROPOSES PEACE, BUT TO NO PURPOSE.
    </h2>
    <p>
      A still sadder cross for Friedrich, in the current of foreign Accidents
      and Diplomacies, was the next that befell; exactly a month later,&mdash;at
      Munchen, 20th January, 1745. Hardly was Belleisle's back turned, when her
      Hungarian Majesty, by her Bathyani and Company, broke furiously in upon
      the poor Kaiser and his Seckendorf-Segur defences. Belleisle had not
      reached the Harz, when all was going topsy-turvy there again, and the
      Donau-Valley fast falling back into Austrian hands. Nor is that the worst,
      or nearly so.
    </p>
    <p>
      "MUNCHEN, 20th JANUARY, 1745. This day poor Kaiser Karl laid down his
      earthly burden here, and at length gave all his enemies the slip. He had
      been ill of gout for some time; a man of much malady always, with no want
      of vexations and apprehensions. Too likely the Austrians will drive him
      out of Munchen again; then nothing but furnished lodgings, and the French
      to depend upon. He had been much chagrined by some Election, just done, in
      the Chapter of Salzburg. [Adelung, iv. 249, 276, 313.] The Archbishop
      there&mdash;it was Firmian, he of the SALZBURG EMIGRATION, memorable to
      readers&mdash;had died, some while ago. And now, in flat contradiction to
      Imperial customs, prerogatives, these people had admitted an Austrian
      Garrison; and then, in the teeth of our express precept, had elected an
      Austrian to their benefice: what can one account it but an insult as well
      as an injury? And the neuralgic maladies press sore, and the gouty
      twinges; and Belleisle is seized, perhaps with important papers of ours;
      and the Seckendorf-Segur detachments were ill placed; nay here are the
      Austrians already on the throat of them, in midwinter! It is said, a
      babbling valet, or lord-in-waiting, happened to talk of some skirmish that
      had fallen out (called a battle, in the valet rumor), and how ill the
      French and Bavarians had fared in it, owing to their ill behavior. And
      this, add they, proved to be the ounce-weight too much for the so
      heavy-laden back.
    </p>
    <p>
      "The Kaiser took to bed, not much complaining; patient, mild, though the
      saddest of all mortals; and, in a day or two, died. Adieu, adieu, ye loved
      faithful ones; pity me, and pray for me! He gave his Wife, poor little fat
      devout creature, and his poor Children (eldest lad, his Heir, only
      seventeen), a tender blessing; solemnly exhorted them, To eschew ambition,
      and be warned by his example;&mdash;to make their peace with Austria; and
      never, like him, try COM' E DURO CALLE, and what the charity of Christian
      Kings amounts to. This counsel, it is thought, the Empress Dowager
      zealously accedes to, and will impress upon her Son. That is the Austrian
      and Cause-of-Liberty account: King Friedrich, from the other side, has
      heard a directly opposite one. How the Kaiser, at the point of death,
      exhorted his son, 'Never forget the services which the King of France and
      the King of Prussia have done us, and do not repay them with ingratitude.'
      [ <i>OEuvres de Frederic,</i> iii. 92;&mdash;and see (PER CONTRA) in
      Adelung, iv. 314 A; in Coxe, &amp;c.] The reader can choose which he will,
      or reject both into the region of the uncertain. 'Karl Albert's pious and
      affectionate demeanor drew tears from all eyes,' say the by-standers: 'the
      manner in which he took leave of his Empress would have melted a heart of
      stone.' He was in his forty-eighth year; he had been, of all men in his
      generation, the most conspicuously unhappy."
    </p>
    <p>
      What a down-rush of confusion there ensued on this event, not to Bavaria
      alone, but to all the world, and to King Friedrich more than another, no
      reader can now take the pains of conceiving. The "Frankfurt Union," then,
      has gone to air! Here is now no "Kaiser to be delivered from oppression:"
      here is a new Kaiser to be elected,&mdash;"Grand-Duke Franz the man," cry
      the Pragmatic Potentates with exultation, "no Belleisle to disturb!"&mdash;and
      questions arise innumerable thereupon, Will France go into electioneering
      again? The new Kur-Baiern, only seventeen, poor child, cannot be set up as
      candidate. What will France do with HIM; what he with France? Whom can the
      French try as Candidate against the Grand-Duke? Kur-Sachsen, the Polish
      Majesty again? Belleisle himself must have paused uncertain over such a
      welter,&mdash;and probably have done, like the others, little or nothing
      in it, but left it to collapse by natural gravitation.
    </p>
    <p>
      Hungarian Majesty checked her Bavarian Armaments a little: "If perhaps
      this young Kur-Baiern will detach himself from France, and on submissive
      terms come over to us?" Whereupon, at Munchen, and in the cognate
      quarters, such wriggling, dubitating and diplomatizing, as seldom was,&mdash;French,
      Anti-French (Seckendorf busiest of all), straining every nerve in that
      way, and for almost three months, nothing coming of it,&mdash;till
      Hungarian Majesty sent her Barenklaus and Bathyanis upon them again; and
      these rapidly solved the question, in what way we shall see!
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich has still his hopes of Bavaria, so grandiloquent are the French
      in regard to it; who but would hope? The French diplomatize to all lengths
      in Munchen, promising seas and mountains; but they perform little; in an
      effectual manner, nothing. Bavarian "Army raised to 60,000;" counts in
      fact little above half that number; with no General to it but an imaginary
      one; Segur's actual French contingent, instead of 25,000, is perhaps
      12,000;&mdash;and so of other things. Add to all which, Seckendorf is
      there, not now as War-General, but as extra-official "Adviser;" busier
      than ever,&mdash;"scandalous old traitor!" say the French;&mdash;and
      Friedrich may justly fear that Bavaria will go, by collapse, a bad road
      for him.
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich, a week or two after the Kaiser's death, seeing Bavarian and
      French things in such a hypothetic state, instructs his Ambassador at
      London to declare his, Friedrich's, perfect readiness and wish for Peace:
      "Old Treaty of Breslau and Berlin made indubitable to me; the rest of the
      quarrel has, by decease of the Kaiser, gone to air." To which the
      Britannic Majesty, rather elated at this time, as all Pragmatic people
      are, answers somewhat in a careless way, "Well, if the others like it!"
      and promises that he will propose it in the proper quarter. So that
      henceforth there is always a hope of Peace through England; as well as
      contrariwise, especially till Bavaria settle itself (in April next), a
      hope of great assistance from the French. Here are potentialities and
      counter-potentialities, which make the Bavarian Intricacy very agitating
      to the young King, while it lasts. And indeed his world is one huge
      imbroglio of Potentialities and Diplomatic Intricacies, agitating to
      behold. Concerning which we have again to remark how these huge Spectres
      of Diplomacy, now filling Friedrich's world, came mostly in result to
      Nothing;&mdash;shaping themselves wholly, for or against, in exact
      proportion, direct or inverse, to the actual Quantity of Battle and
      effective Performance that happened to be found in Friedrich himself.
      Diplomatic Spectralities, wide Fatamorganas of hope, and hideous big
      Bugbears blotting out the sun: of these, few men ever had more than
      Friedrich at this time. And he is careful, none carefuler, not to neglect
      his Diplomacies at any time;&mdash;though he knows, better than most, that
      good fighting of his own is what alone can determine the value of these
      contingent and aerial quantities,&mdash;mere Lapland witchcraft the
      greater part of them.
    </p>
    <p>
      A second grand Intricacy and difficulty, still more enigmatic, and
      pressing the tighter by its close neighborhood, was that with the Saxons.
      "Are the Saxons enemies; are they friends? Neutrals at lowest; bound by
      Treaty to lend Austria troops; but to lend for defence merely, not for
      offence! Could not one, by good methods, make friends with his Polish
      Majesty?" Friedrich was far from suspecting the rages that lurked in the
      Polish Majesty, and least of all owing to what. Owing to that old
      MORAVIAN-FORAY business; and to his, Friedrich's, behavior to the Saxons
      in it; excellent Saxons, who had behaved so beautifully to Friedrich! That
      is the sad fact, however. Stupid Polish Majesty has his natural envies,
      jealousies, of a Brandenburg waxing over his head at this rate. But it
      appears, the Moravian Foray entered for a great deal into the account, and
      was the final overwhelming item. Bruhl, by much descanting on that famous
      Expedition,&mdash;with such candid Eye-witnesses to appeal to, such
      corroborative Staff-officers and appliances, powerful on the idle heart
      and weak brain of a Polish Majesty,&mdash;has brought it so far. Fixed
      indignation, for intolerable usage, especially in that Moravian-Foray
      time: fixed; not very malignant, but altogether obstinate (as, I am told,
      that of the pacific sheep species usually is); which carried Bruhl and his
      Polish Majesty to extraordinary heights and depths in years coming! But
      that will deserve a section to itself by and by.
    </p>
    <p>
      A third difficulty, privately more stringent than any, is that of Finance.
      The expenses of the late Bohemian Expedition, "Friedrich's Army costing
      75,000 pounds a month," have been excessive. For our next Campaign, if it
      is to be done in the way essential, there are, by rigorous arithmetic,
      "900,000 pounds" needed. A frugal Prussia raises no new taxes; pays its
      Wars from "the Treasure," from the Fund saved beforehand for emergencies
      of that kind; Fund which is running low, threatening to be at the lees if
      such drain on it continue. To fight with effect being the one sure hope,
      and salve for all sores, it is not in the Army, in the Fortresses, the
      Fighting Equipments, that there shall be any flaw left! Friedrich's budget
      is a sore problem upon him; needing endless shift and ingenuity, now and
      onwards, through this war:&mdash;already, during these months, in the
      Berlin Schloss, a great deal of those massive Friedrich-Wilhelm plate
      Sumptuosities, especially that unparalleled Music-Balcony up stairs, all
      silver, has been, under Fredersdorf's management, quietly taken away;
      "carried over, in the night-time, to the Mint." [Orlich, ii. 126-128.]
    </p>
    <p>
      And, in fact, no modern reader, not deeper in that distressing story of
      the Austrian-Succession War than readers are again like to be, can imagine
      to himself the difficulties of Friedrich at this time, as they already lay
      disclosed, and kept gradually disclosing themselves, for months coming;
      nor will ever know what perspicacity, patience of scanning, sharpness of
      discernment, dexterity of management, were required at Friedrich's hands;&mdash;and
      under what imminency of peril, too; victorious deliverance, or ruin and
      annihilation, wavering fearfully in the balance for him, more than once,
      or rather all along. But it is certain the deeper one goes into that
      hideous Medea's Caldron of stupidities, once so flamy, now fallen extinct,
      the more is one sensible of Friedrich's difficulties; and of the talent
      for all kinds of Captaincy,&mdash;by no means in the Field only, or
      perhaps even chiefly,&mdash;that was now required of him. Candid readers
      shall accept these hints, and do their best:&mdash;Friedrich himself made
      not the least complaint of men's then misunderstanding him; still less
      will he now! We, keeping henceforth the Diplomacies, the vaporous
      Foreshadows, and general Dance of Unclean Spirits with their intrigues and
      spectralities, well underground, so far as possible, will stick to what
      comes up as practical Performance on Friedrich's part, and try to give
      intelligible account of that.
    </p>
    <p>
      Valori says, he is greatly changed, and for the better, by these late
      reverses of fortune. All the world notices it, says Valori. No longer that
      brief infallibility of manner; that lofty light air, that politely
      disdainful view of Valori and mankind: he has now need of men. Complains
      of nothing, is cheerful, quizzical;&mdash;ardently busy to "grind out the
      notches," as our proverb is; has a mild humane aspect, something of
      modesty, almost of piety in him. Help me, thou Supreme Power, Maker of
      men, if my purposes are manlike! Though one does not go upon the Prayers
      of Forty-Hours, or apply through St. Vitus and such channels, there may be
      something of authentic petition to Heaven in the thoughts of that young
      man. He is grown very amiable; the handsomest young bit of Royalty now
      going. He must fight well next Summer, or it will go hard with him!
    </p>
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    <h2>
      Chapter VI.&mdash;VALORI GOES ON AN ELECTIONEERING MISSION TO DRESDEN.
    </h2>
    <p>
      Some time in January, a new Frenchman, a "Chevalier de Courten," if the
      name is known to anybody, was here at Berlin; consulting, settling about
      mutual interests and operations. Since Belleisle is snatched from us, it
      is necessary some Courten should come; and produce what he has got: little
      of settlement, I should fear, of definite program that will hold water; in
      regard to War operations chiefly a magazine of clouds. [Specimens of it,
      in Ranke, iii. 219.] For the rest, the Bavarian question; and very
      specially, Who the new Emperor is to be?"King of Poland, thinks your
      Majesty?"&mdash;"By all means," answers Friedrich, "if you can! Detach him
      from Austria; that will be well!" Which was reckoned magnanimous, at least
      public-spirited, in Friedrich; considering what Saxony's behavior to him
      had already been. "By all means, his Polish Majesty for Kaiser; do our
      utmost, Excellencies Valori, Courten and Company!" answers Friedrich,&mdash;and
      for his own part, I observe, is intensely busy upon Army matters, looking
      after the main chance.
    </p>
    <p>
      And so Valori is to go to Dresden, and manage this cloud or cobwebbery
      department of the thing; namely, persuade his Polish Majesty to stand for
      the Kaisership: "Baiern, Pfalz, Koln, Brandenburg, there are four votes,
      Sire; your own is five: sure of carrying it, your Polish Majesty; backed
      by the Most Christian King, and his Allies and resources!" And Polish
      Majesty does, for his own share, very much desire to be Kaiser. But none
      of us yet knows how he is tied up by Austria, Anti-Friedrich, Anti-French
      considerations; and can only "accept if it is offered me:" thrice-willing
      to accept, if it will fall into my mouth; which, on those terms, it has so
      little chance of doing!&mdash;Saxony and its mysterious affairs and
      intentions having been, to Friedrich, a riddle and trouble and
      astonishment, during all this Campaign, readers ought to know the fact
      well;&mdash;and no reader could stand the details of such a fact. Here, in
      condensed form, are some scraps of Excerpt; which enable us to go with
      Valori on this Dresden Mission, and look for ourselves:&mdash;
    </p>
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    <h2>
      1. FRIEDRICH'S POSITION TOWARDS SAXONY.
    </h2>
    <p>
      "... By known Treaty, the Polish Majesty is bound to assist the Hungarian
      with 12,000 men, 'whenever invaded in her own dominions.' Polish Majesty
      had 20,000 in the field for that object lately,&mdash;part of them, 8,000
      of them, hired by Britannic subsidy, as he alleges. The question now is,
      Will Saxony assist Austria in invading Silesia, with or without Britannic
      subsidy? Friedrich hopes that this is impossible! Friedrich is deeply
      unaware of the humor he has raised against himself in the Saxon
      Court-circles; how the Polish Majesty regards that Moravian Foray; with
      what a perfect hatred little Bruhl regards him, Friedrich; and to what
      pitch of humor, owing to those Moravian-Foray starvings, marchings about
      and inhuman treatment of the poor Saxon Army, not to mention other
      offences and afflictive considerations, Bruhl has raised the simple Polish
      Majesty against Friedrich. These things, as they gradually unfolded
      themselves to Friedrich, were very surprising. And proved very
      disadvantageous at the present juncture and for a long time afterwards. To
      Friedrich disadvantageous and surprising; and to Saxony, in the end,
      ruinous; poor Saxony having got its back broken by them, and never stood
      up in the world since! Ruined by this wretched little Bruhl; and reduced,
      from the first place in Northern Teutschland, to a second or third, or no
      real place at all."
    </p>
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    <h2>
      2. THERE IS A, "UNION OF WARSAW" (8th January, 1745); AND STILL MORE
      SPECIALLY A "TREATY OF WARSAW" (8th January-18th May, 1745).
    </h2>
    <p>
      "January 8th, 1745, before the Old Dessauer got ranked in Schlesien
      against Traun, there had concluded itself at Warsaw, by way of
      counterpoise to the 'Frankfurt Union,' a 'Union of Warsaw,' called also
      'Quadruple Alliance of Warsaw;' the Parties to which were Polish Majesty,
      Hungarian ditto, Prime-Movers, and the two Sea-Powers as Purseholders;
      stipulating, to the effect: 'We Four will hold together in affairs of the
      Reich VERSUS that dangerous Frankfurt Union; we will'&mdash;do a variety
      of salutary things; and as one practical thing, 'There shall be, this
      Season, 30,000 Saxons conjoined to the Austrian Force, for which we
      Sea-Powers will furnish subsidy.'&mdash;This was the one practical point
      stipulated, January 8th; and farther than this the Sea-Powers did not go,
      now or afterwards, in that affair.
    </p>
    <p>
      "But there was then proposed by the Polish and Hungarian Majesties, in the
      form of Secret Articles, an ulterior Project; with which the Sea-Powers,
      expressing mere disbelief and even abhorrence of it, refused to have any
      concern now or henceforth. Polish Majesty, in hopes it would have been
      better taken, had given his 30,000 soldiers at a rate of subsidy
      miraculously low, only 150,000 pounds for the whole: but the Sea-Powers
      were inexorable, perhaps almost repented of their 150,000 pounds; and
      would hear nothing farther of secret Articles and delirious Projects.
    </p>
    <p>
      "So that the 'Union of Warsaw' had to retire to its pigeon-hole, content
      with producing those 30,000 Saxons for the immediate occasion; and there
      had to be concocted between the Polish and Hungarian Majesties themselves
      what is now, in the modern Pamphlets, called a 'TREATY of Warsaw,'&mdash;much
      different from the innocent, 'UNION of Warsaw;' though it is merely the
      specifying and fixing down of what had been shadowed out as secret
      codicils in said 'Union,' when the Sea-Power parties obstinately recoiled.
      Treaty of Warsaw let us continue to call it; though its actual birth-place
      was Leipzig (in the profoundest secrecy, 18th May, 1745), above four
      months after it had tried to be born at Warsaw, and failed as aforesaid.
      Warsaw Union is not worth speaking of; but this other is a Treaty highly
      remarkable to the reader,&mdash;and to Friedrich was almost infinitely so,
      when he came to get wind of it long after.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Treaty which, though it proved abortional, and never came to fulfilment
      in any part of it, is at this day one of the remarkablest bits of
      sheepskin extant in the world. It was signed 18th May, 1745; [Scholl, ii.
      350.] and had cost a great deal of painful contriving, capable still of
      new altering and retouching, to hit mutual views: Treaty not only for
      reconquering Silesia (which to the Two Majesties, though it did not to the
      Sea-Powers, seems infallible, in Friedrich's now ruined circumstances),
      but for cutting down that bad Neighbor to something like the dimensions
      proper for a Brandenburg Vassal;&mdash;in fact, quite the old 'Detestable
      Project' of Spring, 1741, only more elaborated into detail (in which
      Britannic George knows better than to meddle!)&mdash;Saxony to have share
      of the parings, when we get them. 'What share?' asked Saxony, and long
      keeps asking. 'A road to Warsaw; Strip of Country carrying us from the end
      of the Lausitz, which is ours, into Poland, which we trust will continue
      ours, would be very handy! Duchy of Glogau; some small paring of Silesia,
      won't your Majesty?' 'Of my Silesia not one hand-breadth,' answered the
      Queen impatiently (though she did at last concede some outlying
      hand-breadths, famed old 'Circle of Schwiebus,' if I recollect); and they
      have had to think of other equivalent parings for Saxony's behoof
      (Magdeburg, Halberstadt, Saale-Circle, or one knows not what); and have
      had, and will have, their adoes to get it fixed. Excellent bearskin to be
      slit into straps; only the bear is still on his feet!&mdash;Polish Majesty
      and Hungarian, Polish with especial vigor, Bruhl quite restless upon it,
      are&mdash;little as Valori or any mortal could dream of it&mdash;engaged
      in this partition of the bearskin, when Valori arrives. Of their innocent
      Union of Warsaw, there was, from the first, no secret made; but the
      Document now called 'TREATY of Warsaw' needs to lie secret and
      thrice-secret; and it was not till 1756 that Friedrich, having unearthed
      it by industries of his own, and studied it with great intensity for some
      years, made it known to the world." [Adelung, v. 308. 397; Ranke, iii. 231
      (who, for some reason of his own, dates "3d May" instead of 18th].
    </p>
    <p>
      Treaties, vaporous Foreshadows of Events, have oftenest something of the
      ghost in them; and are importune to human nature, longing for the Events
      themselves; all the more if they have proved abortional Treaties, and
      become doubly ghost-like or ghastly. Nevertheless the reader is to note
      well this Treaty of Warsaw, as important to Friedrich and him; and indeed
      it is perhaps the remarkablest Treaty, abortional or realized, which got
      to parchment in that Century. For though it proved abortional, and no part
      of it, now or afterwards, could be executed, and even the subsidy and
      30,000 Saxons (stipulated in the "UNION of Warsaw") became crow's-meat in
      a manner,&mdash;this preternatural "Treaty of Warsaw," trodden down never
      so much by the heel of Destiny, and by the weight of new Treaties,
      superseding it or presupposing its impossibility or inconceivability,
      would by no means die (such the humor of Bruhl, of the Two Majesties and
      others); but lay alive under the ashes, carefully tended, for Ten or
      Twenty Years to come;&mdash;and had got all Europe kindled again, for
      destruction of that bad Neighbor, before it would itself consent to go
      out! And did succeed in getting Saxony's back broken, if not the bad
      Neighbor's,&mdash;in answer to the humor of little Bruhl; unfortunate
      Saxony to possess such a Bruhl!
    </p>
    <p>
      In those beautiful Saxon-Austrian developments of the Treaty of Warsaw,
      Czarina Elizabeth, bobbing about in that unlovely whirlpool of intrigues,
      amours, devotions and strong liquor, which her History is, took (ask not
      for what reason) a lively part:&mdash;and already in this Spring of 1745,
      they hope she could, by "a gift of two millions for her pleasures" (gift
      so easy to you Sea-Powers), be stirred up to anger against Friedrich. And
      she did, in effect, from this time, hover about in a manner questionable
      to Friedrich; though not yet in anger, but only with the wish to be
      important, and to make herself felt in Foreign affairs. Whether the
      Sea-Powers gave her that trifle of pocket-money ("for her pleasures"), I
      never knew; but it is certain they spent, first and last, very large
      amounts that way, upon her and hers; especially the English did, with what
      result may be considered questionable.
    </p>
    <p>
      As for Graf von Bruhl, most rising man of Saxony, once a page; now by
      industry King August III.'s first favorite and factotum; the fact that he
      cordially hates Friedrich is too evident; but the why is not known to me.
      Except indeed, That no man&mdash;especially no man with three hundred and
      sixty-five fashionable suits of clothes usually about him, different suit
      each day of the year&mdash;can be comfortable in the evident contempt of
      another man. Other man of sarcastic bantering turn, too; tongue sharp as
      needles; whose sayings many birds of the air are busy to carry about. Year
      after year, Bruhl (doubtless with help enough that way, if there had
      needed such) hates him more and more; as the too jovial Czarina herself
      comes to do, wounded by things that birds have carried. And now we will go
      with Valori,&mdash;seeing better into some things than Valori yet can.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      3. VALORI'S ACCOUNT OF HIS MISSION (in compressed form). [Valori, i.
      211-219.]
    </h2>
    <p>
      "Valori [I could guess about the 10th of February, but there is no date at
      all] was despatched to Dresden with that fine project, Polish Majesty for
      Kaiser: is authorized to offer 60,000 men, with money corresponding, and
      no end of brilliant outlooks;&mdash;must keep back his offers, however, if
      he find the people indisposed. Which he did, to an extreme degree; nothing
      but vague talk, procrastination, hesitation on the part of Bruhl. This
      wretched little Bruhl has twelve tailors always sewing for him, and three
      hundred and sixty-five suits of clothes: so many suits, all pictured in a
      Book; a valet enters every morning, proposes a suit, which, after
      deliberation, with perhaps amendments, is acceded to, and worn at dinner.
      Vainest of human clothes-horses; foolishest coxcomb Valori has seen: it is
      visibly his notion that it was he, Bruhl, by his Saxon auxiliaries, by his
      masterly strokes of policy, that checkmated Friedrich, and drove him from
      Bohemia last Year; and, for the rest, that Friedrich is ruined, and will
      either shirk out of Silesia, or be cut to ribbons there by the Austrian
      force this Summer. To which Valori hints dissent; but it is ill received.
      Valori sees the King; finds him, as expected, the fac-simile of Bruhl in
      this matter; Jesuit Guarini the like: how otherwise? They have his Majesty
      in their leash, and lead him as they please.
    </p>
    <p>
      "At four every morning, this Guarini, Jesuit Confessor to the King and
      Queen, comes to Bruhl; Bruhl settles with him what his Majesty shall
      think, in reference to current business, this day; Guarini then goes,
      confesses both Majesties; confesses, absolves, turns in the due way to
      secular matters. At nine, Bruhl himself arrives, for Privy Council: 'What
      is your Majesty pleased to think on these points of current business?'
      Majesty serenely issues his thoughts, in the form of orders; which are
      found correct to pattern. This is the process with his Majesty. A poor
      Majesty, taking deeply into tobacco; this is the way they have him
      benetted, as in a dark cocoon of cobwebs, rendering the whole world
      invisible to him. Which cunning arrangement is more and more perfected
      every year; so that on all roads he travels, be it to mass, to hunt, to
      dinner, any-whither in his Palace or out of it, there are faithful
      creatures keeping eye, who admit no unsafe man to the least glimpse of him
      by night or by day. In this manner he goes on; and before the end of him,
      twenty years hence, has carried it far. Nothing but disgust to be had out
      of business;&mdash;mutinous Polish Diets too, some forty of them, in his
      time, not one of which did any business at all, but ended in LIBERUM VETO,
      and Billingsgate conflagration, perhaps with swords drawn: [See Buchholz,
      154; &amp;c.]&mdash;business more and more disagreeable to him. What can
      Valori expect, on this heroic occasion, from such a King?
    </p>
    <p>
      "The Queen herself, Maria Theresa's Cousin, an ambitious hard-favored
      Majesty,&mdash;who had sense once to dislike Bruhl, but has been quite
      reconciled to him by her Jesuit Messenger of Heaven (which latter is an
      oily, rather stupid creature, who really wishes well to her, and loves a
      peaceable life at any price),&mdash;even she will not take the bait.
      Valori was in Dresden nine days (middle part of February, it is likely);
      never produced his big bait, his 60,000 men and other brilliancies, at
      all. He saw old Feldmarschall Konigseck passing from Vienna towards the
      Netherlands Camp; where he is to dry-nurse (so they irreverently call it,
      in time coming) his Royal Highness of Cumberland, that magnificent English
      Babe of War, and do feats with him this Summer." Konigseck, though Valori
      did not know it, has endless diplomacies to do withal; inspections of
      troops, advisings, in Hanover, in Holland, in Dresden here; [Anonymous,&mdash;Duke
      of Cumberland,&mdash;p. 186.]&mdash;and secures the Saxon Electoral-Vote
      for his Grand-Duke in passing. "The welcome given to Konigseck disgusted
      Valori; on the ninth day he left; said adieu, seeing them blind to their
      interest; and took post for Berlin,"&mdash;where he finds Friedrich much
      out of humor at the Saxon reception of his magnanimities. [Valori, i.
      211-219; <i>OEuvres de Frederic,</i> iii. 81-85. For details on Bruhl, see
      <i>Graf von Bruhl, Leben und Charakter</i> (1760, No Place): Anonymous, by
      one Justi, a noted Pamphleteer of the time: exists in English too, or
      partly exists; but is unreadable, except on compulsion; and totally
      unintelligible till after very much inquiry elsewhere.]
    </p>
    <p>
      This Saxon intricacy, indecipherable, formidable, contemptible, was the
      plague of Friedrich's life, one considerable plague, all through this
      Campaign. Perhaps nothing in the Diplomatic sphere of things caused him
      such perplexity, vexation, indignation. An insoluble riddle to him;
      extremely contemptible, yet,&mdash;with a huge Russia tacked to it, and
      looming minatory in the distance,&mdash;from time to time, formidable
      enough. Let readers keep it in mind, and try to imagine it. It cost
      Friedrich such guessing, computing, arranging, rearranging, as would weary
      the toughest reader to hear of in detail. How Friedrich did at last solve
      it (in December coming), all readers will see with eyes!&mdash;
    </p>
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    <h2>
      MIDDLE-RHINE ARMY IN A STAGGERING STATE; THE BAVARIAN INTRICACY SETTLES
      ITSELF, THE WRONG WAY.
    </h2>
    <p>
      Early in March it becomes surmisable that Maillebois's Middle-Rhine Army
      will not go a good road. Maillebois has been busy in those countries,
      working extensive discontent; bullying mankind "to join the Frankfurt
      Union," to join France at any rate, which nobody would consent to; and
      exacting merciless contributions, which everybody had to consent to and
      pay.&mdash;And now, on D'Ahremberg's mere advance, with that poor Fraction
      of Pragmatic Army, roused from its winter sleep, Maillebois, without
      waiting for D'Ahremberg's attack, rapidly calls in his truculent
      detachments, and rolls confusedly back into the Frankfurt regions.
      [Adelung, iv. 276-352 (December, 1744-March, 1745).] Upon which
      D'Ahremberg&mdash;if by no means going upon Maillebois's throat&mdash;sets,
      at least, to coercing Wilhelm of Hessen, our only friend in those parts;
      who is already a good deal disgusted with the Maillebois procedures, and
      at a loss what to do on the Kaiser's death, which has killed the Frankfurt
      Union too. Wise Wilhelm consents, under D'Ahremberg's menaces, to become
      Neutral; and recall his 6,000 out of Baiern,&mdash;wishes he had them home
      beside him even now!
    </p>
    <p>
      With an Election in the wind, it is doubly necessary for the French, who
      have not even a Candidate as yet, to stand supreme and minatory in the
      Frankfurt Country; and to King Friedrich it is painfully questionable,
      whether Maillebois can do it. "Do it we will; doubt not that, your
      Majesty!" answer Valori and the French;&mdash;and study to make
      improvements, reinforcements, in their Rhine Army. And they do, at least,
      change the General of their Middle-Rhine Army,&mdash;that is to say,
      recall Prince Conti out of Italy, where he has distinguished himself, and
      send Maillebois thither in his stead,&mdash;who likewise distinguishes
      himself THERE, if that could be a comfort to us! Whether the distinguished
      Conti will maintain that Frankfurt Country in spite of the Austrians and
      their Election movements, is still a question with Friedrich, though
      Valori continued assuring him (always till July came) that, it was beyond
      question. "Siege of Tournay, vigorous Campaign in the Netherlands (for
      behoof of Britannic George)!" this is the grand French program for the
      Year. This good intention was achieved, on the French part; but this, like
      Aaron's rod among the serpents, proved to have EATEN the others as it
      wriggled along!&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      Those Maillebois-D'Ahremberg affairs throw a damp on the Bavarian Question
      withal;&mdash;in fact, settle the Bavarian Question; her Hungarian
      Majesty, tired of the delays, having ordered Bathyani to shoulder arms
      again, and bring a decision. Bathyani, with Barenklau to right of him, and
      Browne (our old Silesian friend) to left, goes sweeping across those
      Seckendorf-Segur posts, and without difficulty tumbles everything to ruin,
      at a grand rate. The traitor Seckendorf had made such a choice of posts,&mdash;left
      unaltered by Drum Thorring;&mdash;what could French valor do? Nothing;
      neither French valor, nor Bavarian want of valor, could do anything but
      whirl to the right-about, at sight of the Austrian Sweeping-Apparatus; and
      go off explosively, as in former instances, at a rate almost unique in
      military annals. Finished within three weeks or so!&mdash;We glance only
      at two points of it. March 21st, Bathyani stood to arms (to BESOMS we
      might call it), Browne on the left, Barenklau on the right: it was March
      21st when Bathyani started from Passau, up the Donau Countries;&mdash;and
      within the week coming, see:&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "VILSHOFEN, 28th MARCH, 1745. Here, at the mouth of the Vils River
      (between Inn and Iser), is the first considerable Post; garrison some
      4,000; Hessians and Prince Friedrich the main part,&mdash;who have their
      share of valor, I dare say; but with such news out of Hessen, not to speak
      of the prospects in this Country, are probably in poorish spirits for
      acting. General Browne summons them in Vilshofen, this day; and, on their
      negative, storms in upon them, bursts them to pieces; upon which they beat
      chamade. But the Croats, who are foremost, care nothing for chamade: go
      plundering, slaughtering; burn the poor Town; butcher [in round numbers]
      3,000 of the poor Hessians; and wound General Browne himself, while he too
      vehemently interferes." [Adelung, iv. 356, and the half-intelligible
      Foot-note in Ranke, iii. 220.] This was the finale of those 6,000
      Hessians, and indeed their principal function, while in French pay;&mdash;and
      must have been, we can Judge how surprising to Prince Friedrich, and to
      his Papa on hearing of it! Note another point.
    </p>
    <p>
      Precisely about this time twelvemonth, "March 16th, 1746," the same Prince
      Friedrich, with remainder of those Hessians, now again completed to 6,000,
      and come back with emphasis to the Britannic side of things, was&mdash;marching
      out of Edinburgh, in much state, with streamers, kettle-drums, Highness's
      coaches, horses, led-horses, on an unexpected errand. [Henderson (Whig
      Eye-witness). <i>History of the Rebellion,</i> 1745 and 1746 (London,
      1748, reprint from the Edinburgh edition), pp. 104, 106, 107.] Toward
      Stirling, Perth; towards Killiecrankie, and raising of what is called "the
      Siege of Blair in Athol" (most minute of "sieges," but subtending a great
      angle there and then);&mdash;much of unexpected, and nearer home than
      "Tournay and the Netherlands Campaign," having happened to Britannic
      George in the course of this year, 1746! "Really very fine troops, those
      Hessians [observes my orthodox Whig friend]: they carry swords as well as
      guns and bayonets; their uniform is blue turned up with white: the Hussar
      part of them, about 500, have scimitars of a great length; small horses,
      mostly black, of Swedish breed; swift durable little creatures, with long
      tails." Honors, dinners, to his Serene Highness had been numerous, during
      the three weeks we had him in Edinburgh; "especially that Ball, February
      21st (o.s.), eve of his Consort the Princess Mary's Birthday [EVE of
      birthday, "let us dance the auspicious morning IN] was, for affluence of
      Nobility and Gentry of both sexes," a sublime thing...."
    </p>
    <p>
      PFAFFENHOFEN, APRIL 15th. "Unfortunate Segur, the Segur of Linz three
      years ago,&mdash;whose conduct was great, according to Valori, but
      powerless against traitors and fate!&mdash;was again, once more,
      unfortunate in those parts. Unfortunate Segur drew up at Pfaffenhofen
      (centre of the Country, many miles from Vilshofen) to defend himself, when
      fallen upon by Barenklau, in that manner; but could not, though with
      masterly demeanor; and had to retreat three days, with his face to the
      enemy, so to speak, fighting and manoeuvring all the way: no shelter for
      him either but Munchen, and that, a most temporary one. Instead of taking
      Straubingen, taking Passau, perhaps of pushing on to Vienna itself, this
      is what we have already come to. No Rhine Army, Middle-Rhine Army, Coigny,
      Maillebois, Conti, whoever it was, should send us the least reinforcement,
      when shrieked to. No outlook whatever but rapid withdrawal, retreat to the
      Rhine Army, since it will not stir to help us." [Adelung, iv. 360.]
    </p>
    <p>
      "The young Kur-Baiern is still polite, grateful [to us French], overwhelms
      us with politeness; but flies to Augsburg, as his Father used to do.
      Notable, however, his poor fat little Mother won't, this time: 'No, I will
      stay here, I for one, and have done with flying and running; we have had
      enough of that!' Seckendorf, quite gone from Court in this crisis,
      reappears, about the middle of April, in questionable capacity; at a place
      called Fussen, not far off, at the foot of the Tyrol Hills;&mdash;where
      certain Austrian Dignitaries seem also to be enjoying a picturesque
      Easter! Yes indeed: and, on APRIL 22d, there is signed a 'PEACE OF FUSSEN'
      there; general amicable AS-YOU-WERE, between Austria and Bavaria
      ('Renounce your Anti-Pragmatic moonshine forevermore, vote for our
      Grand-Duke; there is your Bavaria back, poor wretches!')&mdash;and
      Seckendorf, it is presumable, will get his Turkish arrears liquidated.
    </p>
    <p>
      "The Bavarian Intricacy, which once excelled human power, is settled,
      then. Carteret and Haslang tried it in vain [dreadful heterodox intentions
      of secularizing Salzburg, secularizing Passau, Regensburg, and loud
      tremulous denial of such];&mdash;Carteret and Wilhelm of Hesseu
      [Conferences of Hanau, which ruined Carteret], in vain; King Friedrich,
      and many Kings, in vain: a thing nobody could settle;&mdash;and it has at
      last settled itself, as the generality of ill-guided and unlucky things
      do, by collapse. Delirium once out, the law of gravity acts; and there the
      mad matter lies."
    </p>
    <p>
      "Bought by Austria, that old villain!" cry the French. Friedrich does not
      think the Austrians bought Seckendorf, having no money at present; but
      guesses they may have given him to understand that a certain large arrear
      of payment due ever since those Turkish Wars,&mdash;when Seckendorf,
      instead of payment, was lodged in the Fortress of Gratz, and almost got
      his head cut off,&mdash;should now be paid down in cash, or authentic
      Paper-money, if matters become amicable. [ <i>OEuvres de Frederic,</i>
      iii. 22; <i>Seckendorfs Leben,</i> pp. 367-376.] As they have done, in
      Friedrich's despite;&mdash;who seems angrier at the old stager for this
      particular ill-turn than for all the other many; and long remembers it, as
      will appear.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      Chapter VII.&mdash;FRIEDRICH IN SILESIA; UNUSUALLY BUSY.
    </h2>
    <p>
      Here, sure enough, are sad new intricacies in the Diplomatic, hypothetic
      sphere of things; and clouds piling themselves ahead, in a very minatory
      manner to King Friedrich. Let King Friedrich, all the more, get his
      Fighting Arrangements made perfect. Diplomacy is clouds; beating of your
      enemies is sea and land. Austria and the Gazetteer world consider
      Friedrich to be as good as finished: but that is privately far from being
      Friedrich's own opinion;&mdash;though these occurrences are heavy and
      dismal to him, as none of us can now fancy.
    </p>
    <p>
      Herr Ranke has got access, in the Archives, to a series of private
      utterances by Friedrich,&mdash;Letters from him, of a franker nature than
      usual, and letting us far deeper into his mind;&mdash;which must have been
      well worth reading in the original, in their fully dated and developed
      condition. From Herr Ranke's Fragmentary Excerpts, let us, thankful for
      what we have got, select one or two. The Letters are to Minister Podewils
      at Berlin; written from Silesia (Neisse and neighborhood), where, since
      the middle of March, Friedrich has been, personally pushing on his Army
      Preparations, while the above sinister things befell.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      KING FRIEDRICH TO PODEWILS, IN BERLIN (under various dates, March-April,
      1745).
    </h2>
    <p>
      NEISSE, 29th MARCH.... "We find ourselves in a great crisis. If we don't,
      by mediation of England, get Peace, our enemies from different sides
      [Saxony, Austria, who knows if not Russia withal!] will come plunging in
      against me. Peace I cannot force them to. But if they must have War, we
      will either beat them, or none of us will see Berlin again." [Ranke, iii.
      236 et seqq.]
    </p>
    <p>
      APRIL (no day given).... "In any case, I have my troops well together. The
      sicknesses are ceasing; the recruitments are coming in: shortly all will
      be complete. That does not hinder us from making Peace, if it will only
      come; but, in the contrary case, nobody can accuse me of neglecting what
      was necessary."
    </p>
    <p>
      APRIL 17th (still from Neisse).... "I toil day and night to improve our
      situation. The soldiers will do their duty. There is none among us who
      will not rather have his backbone broken than give up one foot-breadth of
      ground. They must either grant us a good Peace, or we will surpass
      ourselves by miracles of daring; and force the enemy to accept it from
      us."
    </p>
    <p>
      APRIL 20th. "Our situation is disagreeable; constrained, a kind of spasm:
      but my determination is taken. If we needs must fight, we will do it like
      men driven desperate. Never was there a greater peril than that I am now
      in. Time, at its own pleasure, will untie this knot; or Destiny, if there
      is one, determine the event. The game I play is so high, one cannot
      contemplate the issue with cold blood. Pray for the return of my good
      luck."&mdash;Two days hence, the poor young Kur-Baiern, deaf to the French
      seductions and exertions, which were intense, had signed his "Peace of
      Fussen" (22d April 1745),&mdash;a finale to France on the German Field, as
      may be feared! The other Fragments we will give a little farther on.
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich had left Berlin for Silesia March 15th; rather sooner than he
      counted on,&mdash;Old Leopold pleading to be let home. At Glogau, at
      Breslau, there had been the due inspecting: Friedrich got to Neisse on the
      23d (Bathyani just stirring in that Bavarian Business, Vilshofen and the
      Hessians close ahead); and on the 27th, had dismissed Old Leopold, with
      thanks and sympathies,&mdash;sent him home, "to recover his health."
      Leopold's health is probably suffering; but his heart and spirits still
      more. Poor old man, he has just lost&mdash;the other week, "5th February"
      last&mdash;his poor old Wife, at Dessau; and is broken down with grief.
      The soft silk lining of his hard Existence, in all parts of it, is torn
      away. Apothecary Fos's Daughter, Reich's Princess, Princess of Dessau,
      called by whatever name, she had been the truest of Wives; "used to attend
      him in all his Campaigns, for above fifty years back." "Gone, now, forever
      gone!"&mdash;Old Leopold had wells of strange sorrow in the rugged heart
      of him,&mdash;sorrow, and still better things,&mdash;which he does not
      wear on his sleeve. Here is an incident I never can forget;&mdash;dating
      twelve or thirteen years ago (as is computable), middle of July, 1732.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Louisa, Leopold's eldest Daughter, Wife of Victor Leopold, reigning
      Prince of Anhalt-Bernburg, lay dying of a decline." Still only
      twenty-three, poor Lady, though married seven years ago;&mdash;the end now
      evidently drawing nigh. "A few days before her death,&mdash;perhaps some
      attendant sorrowfully asking, 'Can we do nothing, then?'&mdash;she was
      heard to say, 'If I could see my Father at the head of his Regiment, yet
      once!'"&mdash;Halle, where the Regiment lies, is some thirty or more miles
      off; and King Friedrioh Wilhelm, I suppose, would have to be written to:&mdash;Leopold
      was ready the soonest possible; and, "at a set hour, marched, in all pomp,
      with banner flying, music playing, into the SCHLOSS-HOF (Palace Court) of
      Bernburg; and did the due salutations and manoeuvrings,&mdash;his poor
      Daughter sitting at her window, till they ended;"&mdash;figure them, the
      last glitter of those muskets, the last wail of that band-music!&mdash;"The
      Regiment was then marched to the Waisenhaus (ORPHAN-HOUSE), where the
      common men were treated with bread and beer; all the Officers dining at
      the Prince's Table. All the Officers, except Leopold alone, who stole away
      out of the crowd; sat himself upon the balustrade of the Saale Bridge, and
      wept into the river." [LEBEN (12mo; not Rannft's, but Anonymous like his),
      p. 234 n.]&mdash;Leopold is now on the edge of seventy; ready to think all
      is finished with him. Perhaps not quite, my tough old friend; recover
      yourself a little, and we shall see!
    </p>
    <p>
      Old Leopold is hardly home at Dessau, when new Pandour Tempests, tides of
      ravaging War, again come beating against the Giant Mountains, pouring
      through all passes; from utmost Jablunka, westward by Jagerndorf to Glatz,
      huge influx of wild riding hordes, each with some support of Austrian
      grenadiers, cannoniers; threatening to submerge Silesia. Precursors,
      Friedrich need not doubt, of a strenuous regular attempt that way,
      Hungarian Majesty's fixed intention, hope and determination is, To expel
      him straightway from Silesia. Her Patent circulates, these three months;
      calling on all men to take note of that fixed fact, especially on all
      Silesian men to note it well, and shift their allegiance accordingly.
      Silesian men, in great majority,&mdash;our friend the Mayor of Landshut,
      for example?&mdash;are believed to have no inclination towards change: and
      whoever has, had clearly better not show any till he see! [In Ranke (iii.
      234), there is vestige of some intended "voluntary subscription by the
      common people of Glatz," for Friedrich's behoof;&mdash;contrariwise, in
      Orlich (ii. 380, "6th February, 1745," from the Dessau Archives), notice
      of one individual, suspected of stirring for Austria, whom "you are to put
      under lock and key;"&mdash;but he runs off, and has no successor, that I
      hear of.]&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich's thousand-fold preliminary orderings, movements, rearrangings
      in his Army matters, must not detain us here;&mdash;still less his
      dealings with the Pandour element, which is troublesome, rather than
      dangerous. Vigilance, wise swift determination, valor drilled to its work,
      can deal with phenomena of that nature, though never so furious and
      innumerable. Not a cheering service for drilled valor, but a very needful
      one. Continual bickerings and skirmishings fell out, sometimes rising to
      sharp fight on the small scale:&mdash;Austrian grenadiers with cannon are
      on that Height to left, and also on this to right, meaning to cut off our
      march; the difficult landscape furnished out, far and wide, with Pandour
      companies in position: you must clash in, my Burschen; seize me that
      cannon-battery yonder; master such and such a post,&mdash;there is the
      heart of all that network of armed doggery; slit asunder that, the network
      wholly will tumble over the Hills again. Which is always done, on the part
      of the Prussian Burschen; though sometimes not, without difficulty.&mdash;His
      Majesty is forming Magazines at Neisse, Brieg, and the principal
      Fortresses in those parts; driving on all manner of preparations at the
      rapidest rate of speed, and looking with his own eyes into everything. The
      regiments are about what we may call complete, arithmetically and
      otherwise; the cavalry show good perfection in their new mode of
      manoeuvring;&mdash;it is to be hoped the Fighting Apparatus generally will
      give fair account of itself when the time comes. Our one anchor of hope,
      as now more and more appears.
    </p>
    <p>
      On the Pandour element he first tried (under General Hautcharmoi, with
      Winterfeld as chief active hand) a direct outburst or two, with a view to
      slash them home at once. But finding that it was of no use, as they always
      reappeared in new multitudes, he renounced that; took to calling in his
      remoter outposts; and, except where Magazines or the like remained to be
      cared for, let the Pandours baffle about, checked only by the fortified
      Towns, and more and more submerge the Hill Country. Prince Karl, to be
      expected in the form of lion, mysteriously uncertain on which side coming
      to invade us,&mdash;he, and not the innumerable weasel kind, is our
      important matter! By the end of April (news of the PEACE OF FUSSEN coming
      withal), Friedrich had quitted Neisse; lay cantoned, in Neisse Valley
      (between Frankenstein and Patschkau, "able to assemble in forty-eight
      hours"); studying, with his whole strength, to be ready for the mysterious
      Prince Karl, on whatever side he might arrive;&mdash;and disregarding the
      Pandours in comparison.
    </p>
    <p>
      The points of inrush, the tideways of these Pandour Deluges seem to be
      mainly three. Direct through the Jablunka, upon Ratibor Country, is the
      first and chief; less direct (partly supplied by REFLUENCES from Ratibor,
      when Ratibor is found not to answer), a second disembogues by Jagerndorf;
      a third, the westernmost, by Landshut. Three main ingresses: at each of
      which there fall out little Fights; which are still celebrated in the
      Prussian Books, and indeed well deserve reading by soldiers that would
      know their trade. In the Ratibor parts, the invasive leader is a General
      Karoly, with 12,000 under him, who are the wildest horde of all: "Karoly
      lodges in a wood: for himself there is a tent; his companions sleep under
      trees, or under the open sky, by the edge of morasses." [Ranke, iii. 244.]
      It was against this Karoly and his horde that Hautcharmoi's little
      expedition, or express attacking party to drive them home again, was shot
      out (8th-2lst April). Which did its work very prettily; Winterfeld, chief
      hand in it, crowning the matter by a "Fight of Wurbitz," [Orlich, ii. 136
      (21st April).]&mdash;where Winterfeld, cutting the taproot, in his usual
      electric way, tumbles Karoly quite INTO the morasses, and clears the
      country of him for a time. For a time; though for a time only;&mdash;Karoly
      or others returning in a week or two, to a still higher extent of
      thousands; mischievous as ever in those Ratibor-Namslau countries. Upon
      which, Friedrich, finding this an endless business, and nothing like the
      most important, gives it up for the present; calls in his remoter
      detachments; has his Magazines carted home to the Fortress Towns,&mdash;Karoly
      trying, once or so, to hinder in that operation, but only again getting
      his crown broken. ["Fight of Mocker," May 4th (Orlich, ii. 141).] Or if
      carting be too difficult, still do not waste your Magazine:&mdash;Margraf
      Karl, for instance, is ordered to Jagerndorf with his Detachment, "to eat
      the Magazine;" hungry Pandours looking on, till he finish. On which
      occasion a renowned little Fight took place (Fight of Neustadt, or of
      Jagerndorf-Neustadt), as shall be mentioned farther on.
    </p>
    <p>
      So that, for certain weeks to come, the Tolpatcheries had free course, in
      those Frontier parts; and were left to rove about, under check only of the
      Garrison Towns; Friedrich being obliged to look elsewhere after higher
      perils, which were now coming in view. In which favorable circumstances,
      Karoly and Consorts did, at last, make one stroke in those Ratibor
      countries; that of Kosel, which was greatly consolatory. [26th May, 1743
      (Orlich, ii. 156-158).] "By treachery of an Ensign who had deserted to
      them [provoked by rigor of discipline, or some intolerable thing], they
      glided stealthily, one night, across the ditches, into Kosel" (a
      half-fortified place, Prussian works only half finished): which, being the
      Key of the Oder in those parts, they reckoned a glorious conquest; of good
      omen and worthy of TE-DEUMS at Vienna. And they did eagerly, without the
      least molestation, labor to complete the Prussian works at Kosel: "One
      garrison already ours!"&mdash;which was not had from them without
      battering (and I believe, burning), when General von Nassau came to
      inquire after it; in Autumn next.
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich had always hoped that the Saxons, who are not yet in declared
      War with him, though bound by Treaty to assist the Queen of Hungary under
      certain conditions, would not venture on actual Invasion of his
      Territories; but in this, as readers anticipate, Friedrich finds himself
      mistaken. Weissenfels is hastening from the Leitmeritz northwestern
      quarter, where he has wintered, to join Prince Karl, who is gathering
      himself from Olmutz and his southeastern home region; their full intention
      is to invade Silesia together, and they hope now at length to make an end
      of Friedrich and it. These Pandour hordes, supported by the necessary
      grenadiers and cannoniers, are sent as vanguard; these cannot themselves
      beat him; but they may induce him (which they do not) to divide his Force;
      they may, in part, burn him away as by slow fire, after which he will be
      the easier to beat. Instead of which, Friedrich, leaving the Pandours to
      their luck, lies concentrated in Neisse Valley; watching, with all his
      faculties, Prince Karl's own advent (coming on like Fate, indubitable, yet
      involved in mysteries hitherto); and is perilously sensible that only in
      giving that a good reception is there any hope left him.
    </p>
    <p>
      Prince Karl "who arrived in Olmutz April 30th," commands in chief again,&mdash;saddened,
      poor man, by the loss of his young Wife, in December last; willing to
      still his grief in action for the cause SHE loved;&mdash;but old Traun is
      not with him this year: which is a still more material circumstance. Traun
      is to go this year, under cloak not of Prince Karl, but of Grand-Duke
      Franz, to clear those Frankfurt Countries for the KAISERWAHL and him.
      Prince Conti lies there, with his famous "Middle-Rhine Army" (D'Ahremberg,
      from the western parts, not nearly so diligent upon him as one could
      wish); and must, at all rates, be cleared away. Traun, taking command of
      Bathyani's Army (now that it has finished the Bavarian job), is preparing
      to push down upon Conti, while Bathyani (who is to supersede the laggard
      D'Ahremberg) shall push vigorously up;&mdash;and before summer is over, we
      shall hear of Traun again, and Conti will have heard!&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich's indignation, on learning that the Saxons were actually on
      march, and gradually that they intended to invade him, was great; and the
      whole matter is portentously enigmatic to him, as he lies vigilant in
      Neisse Valley, waiting on the When and the How. Indignation;&mdash;and yet
      there is need of caution withal. To be ready for events, the Old Dessauer
      has, as one sure measure, been requested to take charge, once more, of a
      "Camp of Observation" on the Saxon Frontier (as of old, in 1741); and has
      given his consent: ["April 25th" consents (Orlich, ii. 130).] "Camp of
      Magdeburg," "Camp of Dieskau;" for it had various names and figures;
      checkings of your hand, then layings of it on, heavier, lighter and again
      heavier, according to one's various READINGS of the Saxon Mystery; and we
      shall hear enough about it, intermittently, till December coming: when it
      ended in a way we shall not forget!&mdash;On which take this Note:&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "The Camp of Observation was to have begun May 1st; did begin somewhat
      later, 'near Magdeburg,' not too close on the Frontier, nor in too
      alarming strength; was reinforced to about 30,000; in which state [middle
      of August] it stept forward to Wieskau, then to Dieskau, close on the
      Saxon Border; and became,&mdash;with a Saxon Camp lying close opposite,
      and War formally threatened, or almost declared, on Saxony by Friedrich,&mdash;an
      alarmingly serious matter. Friedrich, however, again checked his hand; and
      did not consummate till November-December. But did then consummate;
      greatly against his will; and in a way flamingly visible to all men!"
      [Orlich, ii. 130, 209, 210: <i>Helden-Geschichte,</i> ii. 1224-1226; i.
      1117.]
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich's own incidental utterances (what more we have of Fractions from
      the Podewils Letters), in such portentous aspect of affairs, may now be
      worth giving. It is not now to Jordan that he writes, gayly unbosoming
      himself, as in the First War,&mdash;poor Jordan lies languishing, these
      many months; consumptive, too evidently dying:&mdash;Not to Jordan, this
      time; nor is the theme "GLOIRE" now, but a far different!
    </p>
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    <h2>
      FRIEDRICH TO PODEWILS (as before, April-May, 1745).
    </h2>
    <p>
      April 20th or so, Orders are come to Berlin (orders, to Podewils's horror
      at such a thought), Whitherward, should Berlin be assaulted, the Official
      Boards, the Preciosities and household gods are to betake themselves:&mdash;to
      Magdeburg, all these, which is an impregnable place; to Stettin, the Two
      Queens and Royal Family, if they like it better. Podewils in horror, "hair
      standing on end," writes thereupon to Eichel, That he hopes the
      management, "in a certain contingency," will be given to Minister Boden;
      he Podewils, with his hair in that posture, being quite unequal to it.
      Friedrich answers:&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "APRIL 26th.... 'I can understand how you are getting uneasy, you
      Berliners. I have the most to lose of you all; but I am quiet, and
      prepared for events. If the Saxons take part,' as they surely will, 'in
      the Invasion of Silesia, and we beat them, I am determined to plunge into
      Saxony. For great maladies, there need great remedies. Either I will
      maintain my all, or else lose my all. [Hear it, friend; and understand it,&mdash;with
      hair lying flat!] It is true, the disaffection of the Russian Court, on
      such trifling grounds, was not to be expected; and great misfortune can
      befall us. Well; a year or two sooner, a year or two later,&mdash;it is
      not worth one's while to bother about the very worst. If things take the
      better turn, our condition will be surer and firmer than it was before. If
      we have nothing to reproach ourselves with, neither need we fret and
      plague ourselves about bad events, which can happen to any man.'&mdash;'I
      am causing despatch a secret Order for Boden [on YOU know what], which you
      will not deliver him till I give sign.'"&mdash;On hearing of the Peace of
      Fussen, perhaps a day or so later, Friedrich again writes:&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "APRIL [no distinct date; Neisse still? QUITS Neisse, April 28th]. ...
      Peace of Fussen, Bavaria turned against me? 'I can say nothing to it,&mdash;except,
      There has come what had to come. To me remains only to possess myself in
      patience. If all alliances, resources, and negotiations fail, and all
      conjunctures go against me, I prefer to perish with honor, rather than
      lead an inglorious life deprived of all dignity. My ambition whispers me
      that I have done more than another to the building up of my House, and
      have played a distinguished part among the crowned heads of Europe. To
      maintain myself there, has become as it were a personal duty; which I will
      fulfil at the expense of my happiness and my life. I have no choice left:
      I will maintain my power, or it may go to ruin, and the Prussian name be
      buried under it. If the enemy attempt anything upon us, we will either
      beat him, or we will all be hewed to pieces, for the sake of our Country,
      and the renown of Brandenburg. No other counsel can I listen to.'"
    </p>
    <p>
      SAME LETTER, OR ANOTHER? (Herr Ranke having his caprices!)... "You are a
      good man, my Podewils, and do what can be expected of you" (Podewils has
      been apologizing for his terrors; and referring hopefully "to
      Providence"): "Perform faithfully the given work on your side, as I on
      mine; for the rest, let what you call 'Providence' decide as it likes [UNE
      PROVIDENCE AVEUGLE? Ranke, who alone knows, gives "BLINDE VORSEHUNG." What
      an utterance, on the part of this little Titan! Consider it as exceptional
      with him, unusual, accidental to the hard moment, and perhaps not so
      impious as it looks!]&mdash;Neither our prudence nor our courage shall be
      liable to blame; but only circumstances that would not favor us....
    </p>
    <p>
      "I prepare myself for every event. Fortune may be kind or be unkind, it
      shall neither dishearten me nor uplift me. If I am to perish, let it be
      with honor, and sword in hand. What the issue is to be&mdash;Well, what
      pleases Heaven, or the Other Party (J'AI JETE LE BONNET PAR DESSUS LES
      MOULINS)! Adieu, my dear Podewils; become as good a philosopher as you are
      a politician; and learn from a man who does not go to Elsner's Preaching
      [fashionable at the time], that one must oppose to ill fortune a brow of
      iron; and, during this life, renounce all happiness, all acquisitions,
      possessions and lying shows, none of which will follow us beyond the
      grave." [Ranke, iii. pp. 238-241.]
    </p>
    <p>
      "By what points the Austrian-Saxon Armament will come through upon us?
      Together will it be, or separately? Saxons from the Lausitz, Austrians
      from Bohmen, enclosing us between two fires?"&mdash;were enigmatic
      questions with Friedrich; and the Saxons especially are an enigma. But
      that come they will, that these Pandours are their preliminary
      veiling-apparatus as usual, is evident to him; and that he must not spend
      himself upon Pandours; but coalesce, and lie ready for the main wrestle.
      So that from April 28th, as above noticed, Friedrich has gone into
      cantonments, some way up the Neisse Valley, westward of Neisse Town; and
      is calling in his outposts, his detachments; emptying his Frontier
      Magazines;&mdash;abandoning his Upper-Silesian Frontier more and more, and
      in the end altogether, to the Pandour hordes; a small matter they,
      compared to the grand Invasion which is coming on. Here, with shiftings up
      the Neisse Valley, he lies till the end of May; watching Argus-like, and
      scanning with every faculty the Austrian-Saxon motions and intentions,
      until at length they become clear to him, and we shall see how he deals
      with them.
    </p>
    <p>
      His own lodging, or head-quarter, most of this time (4th May-27th May), is
      in the pleasant Abbey of Camenz (mythic scene of that BAUMGARTEN-SKIRMISH
      business, in the First Silesian War). He has excellent Tobias Stusche for
      company in leisure hours; and the outlook of bright Spring all round him,
      flowering into gorgeous Summer, as he hurries about on his many occasions,
      not of an idyllic nature. [Orlich, ii. 139; Ranke, iii. 242-249.] But his
      Army is getting into excellent completeness of number, health, equipment,
      and altogether such a spirit as he could wish. May 22d, here is another
      snatch from some Note to Podewils, from this balmy Locality, potential
      with such explosions of another kind. CAMENZ, MAY 22d.... "The Enemies are
      making movements; but nothing like enough as yet for our guessing their
      designs. Till we see, therefore, the thunder lies quiet in us (LA FOUDRE
      REPOSE EN MES MAINS). Ah, could we but have a Day like that May Eleventh!"
      [Ranke, iii. 248 n.]
    </p>
    <p>
      What "that May Eleventh" is or was? Readers are curious to know;
      especially English readers, who guess FONTENOY. And Historic Art, if she
      were strict, would decline to inform them at any length; for really the
      thing is no better than a "Victory on the Scamander, and a Siege of Pekin"
      (as a certain observer did afterwards define it), in reference to the
      matter now on hand! Well, Pharsalia, Arbela, the Scamander, Armageddon,
      and so many Battles and Victories being luminous, by study, to cultivated
      Englishmen, and one's own Fontenoy such a mystery and riddle,&mdash;Art,
      after consideration, reluctantly consents to be indulgent; will produce
      from her Paper Imbroglios a slight Piece on the subject, and print instead
      of burning.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      Chapter VIII.&mdash;THE MARTIAL BOY AND HIS ENGLISH versus THE LAWS OF
      NATURE.
    </h2>
    <p>
      "Glorious Campaign in the Netherlands, Siege of Tournay, final ruin of the
      Dutch Barrier!" this is the French program for Season 1745,&mdash;no
      Belleisle to contradict it; Belleisle secure at Windsor, who might have
      leant more towards German enterprises. And to this his Britannic Majesty
      (small gain to him from that adroitness in the Harz, last winter!) has to
      make front. And is strenuously doing so, by all methods; especially by
      heroic expenditure of money, and ditto exposure of his Martial Boy. Poor
      old Wade, last year,&mdash;perhaps Wade did suffer, as he alleged, from
      "want of sufficient authority in that mixed Army"? Well, here is a Prince
      of the Blood, Royal Highness of Cumberland, to command in chief. With a
      Konigseck to dry-nurse him, may not Royal Highness, luck favoring, do very
      well? Luck did not favor; Britannic Majesty, neither in the Netherlands
      over seas, nor at home (strange new domestic wool, of a tarry HIGHLAND
      nature, being thrown him to card, on the sudden!), made a good Campaign,
      but a bad. And again a bad (1746) and again (1747), ever again, till he
      pleased to cease altogether. Of which distressing objects we propose that
      the following one glimpse be our last.
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    <h2>
      BATTLE OF FONTENOY (11th May, 1745).
    </h2>
    <p>
      ... "In the end of April, Marechal de Saxe, now become very famous for his
      sieges in the Netherlands, opened trenches before Tournay; King Louis,
      with his Dauphin, not to speak of mistresses, play-actors and cookery
      apparatus (in wagons innumerable), hastens to be there. A fighting Army,
      say of 70,000, besides the garrisons; and great things, it is expected,
      will be done; Tournay, in spite of strong works and Dutch garrison of
      9,000, to be taken in the first place.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Of the Siege, which was difficult and ardent, we will remember nothing,
      except the mischance that befell a certain 'Marquis de Talleyrand' and his
      men, in the trenches, one night. Night of the 8th-9th May, by carelessness
      of somebody, a spark got into the Marquis's powder, two powder-barrels
      that there were; and, with horrible crash, sent eighty men, Marquis
      Talleyrand and Engineer Du Mazis among them, aloft into the other world;
      raining down their limbs into the covered way, where the Dutch were very
      inhuman to them, and provoked us to retaliate. [Espagnac, ii. 27.] Du
      Mazis I do not know; but Marquis de Talleyrand turns out, on study of the
      French Peerages, to be Uncle of a lame little Boy, who became Right
      Reverend Tallyrand under singular conditions, and has made the name very
      current in after-times!&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "Hearing of this Siege, the Duke of Cumberland hastened over from England,
      with intent to raise the same. Mustered his 'Allied Army' (once called
      'Pragmatic'),&mdash;self at the head of it; old Count Konigseck, who was
      NOT burnt at Chotusitz, commanding the small Austrian quota [Austrians
      mainly are gone laggarding with D'Ahremberg up the Rhine]; and a Prince of
      Waldeck the Dutch,&mdash;on the plain of Anderlecht near Brussels, May
      4th; [Anonymous, <i>Life of Cumberland,</i> p. 180; Espagnac, ii. 26.] and
      found all things tolerably complete. Upon which, straightway, his Royal
      Highness, 60,000 strong let us say, set forth; by slowish marches, and a
      route somewhat leftward of the great Tournay Road [no place on it, except
      perhaps STEENKERKE, ever heard of by an English reader]; and on Sunday,
      9th May, [Espagnac, ii. 27.] precisely on the morrow after poor Talleyrand
      had gone aloft, reached certain final Villages: Vezon, Maubray, where he
      encamps, Briffoeil to rear; Camp looking towards Tournay and the setting
      sun,&mdash;with Fontenoy short way ahead, and Antoine to left of it, and
      Barry with its Woods to right:&mdash;small peaceable Villages, which
      become famous in the Newspapers shortly after. [Patch of Map at p. 440.]
      Royal Highness, resting here at Vezon, is but some six or seven miles from
      Tournay; in low undulating Country, woody here and there, not without
      threads of running water, and with frequent Villages and their adjuncts:
      the part of it now interesting to us lies all between the Brussels-Tournay
      Road and the Scheld River,&mdash;all in immediate front of his Royal
      Highness,&mdash;to southeastward from beleaguered Tournay, where said Road
      and River intersect. How shall he make some impression on the Siege of
      Tournay? That is now the question; and his Royal Highness struggles to
      manoeuvre accordingly.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Marechal de Saxe, whose habit is much that of vigilance, forethought,
      sagacious precaution, singular in so dissolute a man, has neglected
      nothing on this occasion. He knows every foot of the ground, having sieged
      here, in his boyhood, once before. Leaving the siege-trenches at Tournay,
      under charge of a ten or fifteen thousand, he has taken camp here; still
      with superior force (56,000 as they count, Royal Highness being only
      50,000 ranked), barring Royal Highness's way. Tournay, or at least the
      Marechal's trenches there, are on the right bank of the Scheld; which
      flows from southeast, securing all on that hand. The broad Brussels
      Highway comes in to him from the east;&mdash;north of that he has nothing
      to fear, the ground being cut with bogs; no getting through upon him, that
      way, to Tournay and what he calls the 'Under Scheld.' The 'Upper Scheld'
      too, avail them nothing. There is only that triangle to the southeast,
      between Road and River, where the Enemy is now manoeuvring in front of
      him, from which damage can well come; and he has done his best to be
      secure there. Four villages or hamlets, close to the Scheld and onwards to
      the Great Road,&mdash;Antoine, Fontenoy, Barry, Ramecroix, with their
      lanes and boscages,&mdash;make a kind of circular base to his triangle;
      base of some six or eight miles; with hollows in it, brooks, and northward
      a considerable Wood [BOIS DE BARRY, enveloping Barry and Ramecroix, which
      do not prove of much interest to us, though the BOIS does of a good deal].
      In and before each of those villages are posts and defences; in Antoine
      and Fontenoy elaborate redoubts, batteries, redans connecting: in the Wood
      (BOIS DE BARRY), an abattis, or wall of felled trees, as well as cannon;
      and at the point of the Wood, well within double range of Fontenoy, is a
      Redoubt, called of Eu (REDOUTE D'EU, from the regiment occupying it),
      which will much concern his Royal Highness and us. Saxe has a hundred
      pieces of cannon [say the English, which is correct], consummately
      disposed along this space; no ingress possible anywhere, except through
      the cannon's throat; torrents of fire and cross-fire playing on you. He is
      armed to the teeth, as they say; and has his 56,000 arranged according to
      the best rules of tactics, behind this murderous line of works. If his
      Royal Highness think of breaking in, he may count on a very warm reception
      indeed.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Saxe is only afraid his Royal Highness will not. Outside of these lines,
      with a 50,000 dashing fiercely round us, under any kind of leading;
      pouncing on our convoys; harassing and sieging US,&mdash;our siege of
      Toumay were a sad outlook. And this is old Austrian Konigseck's opinion,
      too; though, they say, Waldeck and the Dutch (impetuous in theory at
      least) opined otherwise, and strengthened Royal Highness's view. Two young
      men against one old: 'Be it so, then!' His Royal Highness, resolute for
      getting in, manoeuvres and investigates, all Monday 10th; his cannon is
      not to arrive completely till night; otherwise he would be for breaking in
      at once: a fearless young man, fearless as ever his poor Father was;
      certainly a man SANS PEUY, this one too; whether of much AVIS, we shall
      see anon.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Tuesday morning early, 11th May, 1745, cannon being up, and dispositions
      made, his Royal Highness sallies out; sees his men taking their ground:
      Dutch and Austrians to the left, chiefly opposite Antoine; English, with
      some Hanoverians, in the centre and to the right; infantry in front,
      facing Fontenoy, cavalry to rear flanking the Wood of Barry,&mdash;Konigseck,
      Ligonier and others able, assisting to plant them advantageously; cannon
      going, on both sides, the while; radiant enthusiasm, SANS PEUR ET SANS
      AVIS, looking from his Royal Highness's face. He has been on horseback
      since two in the morning; cannon started thundering between five and six,&mdash;has
      killed chivalrous Grammont over yonder (the Grammont of Dettingen), almost
      at the first volley. And now about the time when ploughers breakfast
      (eight A.M., no ploughing hereabouts to-day!), begins the attack,
      simultaneously or in swift succession, on the various batteries which it
      will be necessary to attack and storm.
    </p>
    <p>
      "The attacks took place; but none of them succeeded. Dutch and Austrians,
      on the extreme left, were to have stormed Antoine by the edge of the
      River; that was their main task; right skirt of them to help US meanwhile
      with Fontenoy. And they advanced, accordingly; but found the shot from
      Antoine too fierce: especially when a subsidiary battery opened from
      across the River, and took them in flank, the Dutch and Austrians felt
      astonished; and hastily drew aside, under some sheltering mound or
      earthwork they had found for themselves, or prudently thrown up the night
      before. There, under their earthwork, stood the Dutch and Austrians;
      patiently expecting a fitter time,&mdash;which indeed never occurred; for
      always, the instant they drew out, the batteries from Antoine, and from
      across the River, instantly opened upon them, and they had to draw in
      again. So that they stood there, in a manner, all day; and so to speak did
      nothing but patiently expect when it should be time to run. For which they
      were loudly censured, and deservedly. Antoine is and remains a total
      failure on the part of the Dutch and Austrians.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Royal Highness in person, with his English, was to attack Fontenoy;&mdash;and
      is doing so, by battery and storm, at various points; with emphasis,
      though without result. As preliminary, at an early stage he had sent
      forward on the right, by the Wood of Barry, a Brigadier Ingoldsby 'with
      Semple's Highlanders' and other force, to silence 'that redoubt yonder at
      the point of the Wood,'&mdash;redoubt, fort, or whatever it be (famous
      REDOUTE D'EU, as it turned out!),&mdash;which guards Fontenoy to north,
      and will take us in flank, nay in rear, as we storm the cannon of the
      Village. Ingoldsby, speed imperative on him, pushed into the Wood; found
      French light-troops ('God knows how many of them!') prowling about there;
      found the Redoubt a terribly strong thing, with ditch, drawbridge, what
      not; spent thirty or forty of his Highlanders, in some frantic attempt on
      it by rule of thumb;&mdash;and found 'He would need artillery' and other
      things. In short, Ingoldsby, hasten what he might, could not perfect the
      preparations to his mind, had to wait for this and for that; and did not
      storm the Redoubt d'Eu at all; but hung fire, in an unaccountable manner.
      For which he had to answer (to Court-Martial, still more to the
      Newspapers) afterwards; and prove that it was misfortune merely, or
      misfortune and stupidity combined. Too evident, the REDOUTE D'EU was not
      taken, then or thenceforth; which might have proved the saving of the
      whole affair, could Ingoldsby have managed it. Royal Highness attacked
      Fontenoy, and re-attacked, furiously, thrice over; and had to desist, and
      find Fontenoy impossible on those terms.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Here is a piece of work. Repulsed at all those points; and on the left
      and on the right, no spirit visible but what deserves repulse! His Royal
      Highness blazes into resplendent PLATT-DEUTSCH rage, what we may call
      spiritual white-heat, a man SANS PEUR at any rate, and pretty much SANS
      AVIS; decides that he must and will be through those lines, if it please
      God; that he will not be repulsed at his part of the attack, not he for
      one; but will plunge through, by what gap there is [900 yards Voltaire
      measures it (<i>OEuvres,</i> xxviii. 150 (SIECLE DE LOUIS QUINZE, c. xv.
      "BATAILLE DE FONTENOI,"&mdash;elaborately exact on all such points).)]
      between Fontenoy and that Redoubt with its laggard Ingoldsby; and see what
      the French interior is like! He rallies rapidly, rearranges; forms himself
      in thin column or columns [three of them, I think,&mdash;which gradually
      got crushed into one, as they advanced, under cannon-shot on both hands),&mdash;wheeling
      his left round, to be rear, his right to be head of said column or
      columns. In column, the cannon-shot from Fontenoy on the left, and Redoubt
      d'Eu on our right, will tell less on us; and between these two
      death-dealing localities, by the hollowest, least shelterless way
      discoverable, we mean to penetrate: (Forward, my men, steady and swift,
      till we are through the shot-range, and find men to grapple with, instead
      of case-shot and projectile iron!' Marechal de Saxe owned afterwards, 'He
      should have put an additional redoubt in that place, but he did not think
      any Army would try such a thing' (cannon batteries playing on each hand at
      400 yards distance);&mdash;nor has any Army since or before!
    </p>
    <p>
      "These columns advance, however; through bushy hollows, water-courses,
      through what defiles or hollowest grounds there are; endure the
      cannon-shot, while they must; trailing their own heavy guns by hand, and
      occasionally blasting out of them where the ground favors;&mdash;and do,
      with indignant patience, wind themselves through, pretty much beyond
      direct shot-range of either d'Eu or Fontenoy. And have actually got into
      the interior mystery of the French Line of Battle,&mdash;which is not a
      little astonished to see them there! It is over a kind of blunt ridge, or
      rising ground, that they are coming: on the crown of this rising ground,
      the French regiment fronting it (GARDES FRANCAISES as it chanced to be)
      notices, with surprise, field-cannon pointed the wrong way; actual British
      artillery unaccountably showing itself there. Regiment of GARDES rushes up
      to seize said field-pieces: but, on the summit, perceives with amazement
      that it cannot; that a heavy volley of musketry blazes into it (killing
      sixty men); that it will have to rush back again, and report progress:
      Huge British force, of unknown extent, is readjusting itself into column
      there, and will be upon us on the instant. Here is news!
    </p>
    <p>
      "News true enough. The head of the English column comes to sight, over the
      rising ground, close by: their officers doff their hats, politely saluting
      ours, who return the civility: was ever such politeness seen before? It is
      a fact; and among the memorablest of this Battle. Nay a certain English
      Officer of mark&mdash;Lord Charles Hay the name of him, valued surely in
      the annals of the Hay and Tweeddale House&mdash;steps forward from the
      ranks, as if wishing something. Towards whom [says the accurate Espagnac]
      Marquis d'Auteroche, grenadier-lieutenant, with air of polite
      interrogation, not knowing what he meant, made a step or two: 'Monsieur,'
      said Lord Charles (LORD CHARLES-HAY), 'bid your people fire (FAITES TIRER
      VOS GENS)!' 'NON, MONSIEUR, NOUS NE TIRONS JAMAIS LES PREMIERS (We never
      fire first).' [Espagnac, ii. 60 (of the ORIGINAL, Toulouse, 1789); ii. 48
      of the German Translation (Leipzig, 1774), our usual reference. Voltaire,
      endlessly informed upon details this time, is equally express: "MILORD
      CHARLES HAY, CAPITAINE AUX GARDES ANGLAISES, CRIA: 'MESSIEURS DES GARDES
      FRANCAISES, TIREZ!' To which Count d'Auteroche with a loud voice answered"
      &amp;c. (<i>OEuvres,</i> vol. xxviii. p. 155.) See also <i>Souvenirs du
      Marquis de Valfons</i> (edited by a Grand-Nephew, Paris, 1860), p. 151;&mdash;a
      poor, considerably noisy and unclean little Book; which proves
      unexpectedly worth looking at, in regard to some of those poor Battles and
      personages and occurrences: the Bohemian Belleisle-Broglio part, to my
      regret, if to no other person's, has been omitted, as extinct, or
      undecipherable by the Grand-Nephew.] After YOU, Sirs! Is not this a bit of
      modern chivalry? A supreme politeness in that sniffing pococurante kind;
      probably the highest point (or lowest) it ever went to. Which I have often
      thought of."
    </p>
    <p>
      It is almost pity to disturb an elegant Historical Passage of this kind,
      circulating round the world, in some glory, for a century past: but there
      has a small irrefragable Document come to me, which modifies it a good
      deal, and reduces matters to the business form. Lord Charles Hay,
      "Lieutenant-Colonel," practical Head, "of the First Regiment of
      Foot-guards," wrote, about three weeks after (or dictated in sad spelling,
      not himself able to write for wounds), a Letter to his Brother, of which
      here is an Excerpt at first hand, with only the spelling altered:... "It
      was our Regiment that attacked the French Guards: and when we came within
      twenty or thirty paces of them, I advanced before our Regiment; drank to
      them [to the French, from the pocket-pistol one carries on such
      occasions], and told them that we were the English Guards, and hoped that
      they would stand till we came quite up to them, and not swim the Scheld as
      they did the Mayn at Dettingen [shameful THIRD-BRIDGE, not of wood, though
      carpeted with blue cloth there]! Upon which I immediately turned about to
      our own Regiment; speeched them, and made them huzza,"&mdash;I hope with a
      will. "An Officer [d'Auteroche] came out of the ranks, and tried to make
      his men huzza; however, there were not above three or four in their
      Brigade that did." ["Ath, May ye 20th, o.s." (to John, Fourth Marquis of
      Tweeddale, last "Secretary of State for Scotland," and a man of figure in
      his day): Letter is at Yester House, East Lothian; Excerpt PENES ME.]...
    </p>
    <p>
      Very poor counter-huzza. And not the least whisper of that sublime "After
      you, Sirs!" but rather, in confused form, of quite the reverse; Hay having
      been himself fired into ("fire had begun on my left;" Hay totally ignorant
      on which side first),&mdash;fired into, rather feebly, and wounded by
      those D'Auteroche people, while he was still advancing with shouldered
      arms;&mdash;upon which, and not till which, he did give it them: in
      liberal dose; and quite blew them off the ground, for that day. From all
      which, one has to infer, That the mutual salutation by hat was probably a
      fact; that, for certain, there was some slight preliminary talk and
      gesticulation, but in the Homeric style, by no means in the
      Espagnac-French,&mdash;not chivalrous epigram at all, mere rough banter,
      and what is called "chaffing;"&mdash;and in short, that the French
      Mess-rooms (with their eloquent talent that way) had rounded off the thing
      into the current epigrammatic redaction; the authentic business-form of it
      being ruggedly what is now given. Let our Manuscript proceed.
    </p>
    <p>
      "D'Auteroche declining the first fire,"&mdash;or accepting it, if ever
      offered, nobody can say,&mdash;"the three Guards Regiments, Lord Charles's
      on the right, give it him hot and heavy, 'tremendous rolling fire;' so
      that D'Auteroche, responding more or less, cannot stand it; but has at
      once to rustle into discontinuity, he and his, and roll rapidly out of the
      way. And the British Column advances, steadily, terribly, hurling back all
      opposition from it; deeper and deeper into the interior mysteries of the
      French Host; blasting its way with gunpowder;&mdash;in a magnificent
      manner. A compact Column, slowly advancing,&mdash;apparently of some
      16,000 foot. Pauses, readjusts itself a little, when not meddled with;
      when meddled with, has cannon, has rolling fire,&mdash;delivers from it,
      in fact, on both hands such a torrent of deadly continuous fire as was
      rarely seen before or since. 'FEU INFERNAL,' the French call it. The
      French make vehement resistance. Battalions, squadrons, regiment after
      regiment, charge madly on this terrible Column; but rush only on
      destruction thereby. Regiment This storms in from the right, regiment That
      from the left; have their colonels shot, 'lose the half of their people;'
      and hastily draw back again, in a wrecked condition. The cavalry-horses
      cannot stand such smoke and blazing; nor indeed, I think, can the
      cavaliers. REGIMENT DU ROI rushing on, full gallop, to charge this Column,
      got one volley from it [says Espagnac] which brought to the ground 460
      men. Natural enough that horses take the bit between their teeth; likewise
      that men take it, and career very madly in such circumstances!
    </p>
    <p>
      MAP Chap. VIII, Book 15, PAGE 440 GOES ABOUT HERE&mdash;&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "The terrible Column with slow inflexibility advances; cannon (now in
      reversed position) from that Redoubt d'Eu ('Shame on you, Ingoldsby!'),
      and irregular musketry from Fontenoy side, playing upon it; defeated
      regiments making barriers of their dead men and firing there; Column
      always closing its gapped ranks, and girdled with insupportable fire. It
      ought to have taken Fontenoy and Redoubt d'Eu, say military men; it ought
      to have done several things! It has now cut the French fairly in two;&mdash;and
      Saxe, who is earnestly surveying it a hundred paces ahead, sends word,
      conjuring the King to retire instantly,&mdash;across the Scheld, by
      Calonne Bridge and the strong rear-guard there,&mdash;who, however, will
      not. King and Dauphin, on horseback both, have stood 'at the Justice
      (GALLOWS, in fact) of our Lady of the Woods,' not stirring much,
      occasionally shifting to a windmill which is still higher,&mdash;ye
      Heavens, with what intrepidity, all day!&mdash;'a good many country-folk
      in trees close behind them.' Country-folk, I suppose, have by this time
      seen enough, and are copiously making off: but the King will not, though
      things do look dubious.
    </p>
    <p>
      "In fact, the Battle hangs now upon a hair; the Battle is as good as lost,
      thinks Marechal de Saxe. His battle-lines torn in two in that manner,
      hovering in ragged clouds over the field, what hope is there in the
      Battle? Fontenoy is firing blank, this some time; its cannon-balls done.
      Officers, in Antoine, are about withdrawing the artillery,&mdash;then
      again (on new order) replacing it awhile. All are looking towards the
      Scheld Bridge; earnestly entreating his Majesty to withdraw. Had the
      Dutch, at this point of time, broken heartily in, as Waldeck was urging
      them to do, upon the redoubts of Antoine; or had his Royal Highness the
      Duke, for his own behoof, possessed due cavalry or artillery to act upon
      these ragged clouds, which hang broken there, very fit for being swept,
      were there an artillery-and-horse besom to do it,&mdash;in either of these
      cases the Battle was the Duke's. And a right fiery victory it would have
      been; to make his name famous; and confirm the English in their mad method
      of fighting, like Baresarks or Janizaries rather than strategic human
      creatures. [See, in Busching's <i>Magazin,</i> xvi. 169 ("Your illustrious
      'Column,' at Fontenoy? It was fortuitous, I say; done like janizaries;"
      and so forth), a Criticism worth reading by soldiers.]
    </p>
    <p>
      "But neither of these contingencies had befallen. The Dutch-Austrian wing
      did evince some wish to get possession of Antoine; and drew out a little;
      but the guns also awoke upon them; whereupon the Dutch-Austrians drew in
      again, thinking the time not come. As for the Duke, he had taken with him
      of cannon a good few; but of horse none at all (impossible for horse,
      unless Fontenoy and the Redoubt d'Eu were ours!)&mdash;and his horse have
      been hanging about, in the Wood of Barry all this while, uncertain what to
      do; their old Commander being killed withal, and their new a dubitative
      person, and no orders left. The Duke had left no orders; having indeed
      broken in here, in what we called a spiritual white-heat, without asking
      himself much what he would do when in: 'Beat the French, knock them to
      powder if I can!'&mdash;Meanwhile the French clouds are reassembling a
      little: Royal Highness too is readjusting himself, now got '300 yards
      ahead of Fontenoy,'&mdash;pauses there about half an hour, not seeing his
      way farther.
    </p>
    <p>
      "During which pause, Duc de Richelieu, famous blackguard man, gallops up
      to the Marechal, gallops rapidly from Marechal to King; suggesting, 'were
      cannon brought AHEAD of this close deep Column, might not they shear it
      into beautiful destruction; and then a general charge be made?' So
      counselled Richelieu: it is said, the Jacobite Irishman, Count Lally of
      the Irish Brigade, was prime author of this notion,&mdash;a man of tragic
      notoriety in time coming. ["Thomas Arthur Lally Comte de Tollendal,"
      patronymically "O'MULALLY of TULLINDALLY" (a place somewhere in Connaught,
      undiscoverable where, not material where): see our dropsical friend (in
      one of his wheeziest states), <i>King James's Irish Army-List</i> (Dublin,
      1855), pp. 594-600.] Whoever was author of it, Marechal de Saxe adopts it
      eagerly, King Louis eagerly: swift it becomes a fact. Universal rally,
      universal simultaneous charge on both flanks of the terrible Column: this
      it might resist, as it has done these two hours past; but cannon ahead,
      shearing gaps through it from end to end, this is what no column can
      resist;&mdash;and only perhaps one of Friedrich's columns (if even that)
      with Friedrich's eye upon it, could make its half-right-about (QUART DE
      CONVERSION), turn its side to it, and manoeuvre out of it, in such
      circumstances. The wrathful English column, slit into ribbons, can do
      nothing at manoeuvring; blazes and rages,&mdash;more and more clearly in
      vain; collapses by degrees, rolls into ribbon-coils, and winds itself out
      of the field. Not much chased,&mdash;its cavalry now seeing a job, and
      issuing from the Wood of Barry to cover the retreat. Not much chased;&mdash;yet
      with a loss, they say, in all, of 7,000 killed and wounded, and about
      2,000 prisoners; French loss being under 5,000.
    </p>
    <p>
      "The Dutch and Austrians had found that the fit time was now come, or
      taken time by the forelock,&mdash;their part of the loss, they said, was a
      thousand and odd hundreds. The Battle ended about two o'clock of the day;
      had begun about eight. Tuesday, 11th May, 1745: one of the hottest
      half-day's works I have known. A thing much to be meditated by the English
      mind.&mdash;King Louis stept down from the Gallows-Hill of Our Lady; and
      KISSED Marechal de Saxe. Saxe was nearly dead of dropsy; could not sit on
      horseback, except for minutes; was carried about in a wicker bed; has had
      a lead bullet in his mouth, all day, to mitigate the intolerable thirst.
      Tournay was soon taken; the Dutch garrison, though strong, and in a strong
      place, making no due debate.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Royal Highness retired upon Ath and Brussels; hovered about, nothing
      daunted, he or his: 'Dastard fellows, they would not come out into the
      open ground, and try us fairly!' snort indignantly the Gazetteers and
      enlightened Public. [Old Newspapers.] Nothing daunted;&mdash;but, as it
      were, did not do anything farther, this Campaign; except lose Gand, by
      negligence VERSUS vigilance, and eat his victuals,&mdash;till called home
      by the Rebellion Business, in an unexpected manner! Fontenoy was the
      nearest approach he ever made to getting victory in a battle; but a miss
      too, as they all were. He was nothing like so rash, on subsequent
      occasions; but had no better luck; and was beaten in all his battles&mdash;except
      the immortal Victory of Culloden alone. Which latter indeed, was it not
      itself (in the Gazetteer mind) a kind of apotheosis, or lifting of a man
      to the immortal gods,&mdash;by endless tar-barrels and beer, for the time
      being?
    </p>
    <p>
      "Old Marechal de Noailles was in this Battle; busy about the redans, and
      proud to see his Saxe do well. Chivalrous Grammont, too, as we saw, was
      there,&mdash;-killed at the first discharge. Prince de Soubise too (not
      killed); a certain Lord George Sackville (hurt slightly,&mdash;perhaps had
      BETTER have been killed!)&mdash;and others known to us, or that will be
      known. Army-Surgeon La Mettrie, of busy brain, expert with his tourniquets
      and scalpels, but of wildly blusterous heterodox tongue and ways, is
      thrice-busy in Hospital this night,&mdash;'English and French all one to
      you, nay, if anything, the English better!' those are the Royal orders:&mdash;La
      Mettrie will turn up, in new capacity, still blusterous, at Berlin, by and
      by.
    </p>
    <p>
      "The French made immense explosions of rejoicing over this Victory of
      Fontenoy; Voltaire (now a man well at Court) celebrating it in prose and
      verse, to an amazing degree (21,000 copies sold in one day); the whole
      Nation blazing out over it into illuminations, arcs of triumph and
      universal three-times-three:&mdash;in short, I think, nearly the heartiest
      National Huzza, loud, deep, long-drawn, that the Nation ever gave in like
      case. Now rather curious to consider, at this distance of time. Miraculous
      Anecdotes, true and not true, are many. Not to mention again that
      surprising offer of the first fire to us, what shall we say of the 'two
      camp-sutlers whom I noticed,' English females of the lowest degree; 'one
      of whom was busy slitting the gold-lace from a dead Officer, when a
      cannon-ball came whistling, and shore her head away. Upon which, without
      sound uttered, her neighbor snatched the scissors, and deliberately
      proceeded.' [De Hordt, <i>Memoires,</i> i. 108. A FRENCH OFFICER'S ACCOUNT
      (translated in <i>Gentleman's Magazine,</i> 1745; where, pp. 246, 250,
      291, 313, &amp;c., are many confused details and speculations on this
      subject).] A deliberate gloomy people;&mdash;unconquerable except by
      French prowess, glory to that same!"
    </p>
    <p>
      Britannic Majesty is not successful this season; Highland Rebellions
      rising on him, and much going awry. He is founding his National Debt, poor
      Majesty; nothing else to speak of. His poor Army, fighting never so well
      in Foreign quarrels,&mdash;and generally itself standing the brunt, with
      the co-partners looking on till it is time to run (as at Roucoux again
      next season, and at Lauffeld next),&mdash;can win nothing but hard knocks
      and losses. And is defined by mankind,&mdash;in phraseology which we have
      heard again since then!&mdash;as having "the heart of a Lion and the head
      of an Ass." [Old Pamphlets, SOEPIUS.] Portentous to contemplate!&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      Cape Breton was besieged this Summer, in a creditable manner; and taken.
      The one real stroke done upon France this Year, or indeed (except at sea)
      throughout the War. "Ruin to their Fisheries, and a clear loss of
      1,400,000 pounds a year." Compared with which all these fine "Victories in
      Flanders" are a bottle of moonshine. This was actually a kind of stroke;&mdash;and
      this, one finds, was accomplished, under presidency of a small squadron of
      King's ships, by ('New-England Volunteers," on funds raised by
      subscription, in the way of joint-stock. A shining Colonial feat; said to
      be very perfectly done, both scrip part of it, and fighting part;)
      [Adelung, v. 32-35 ("27th June, 1745, after a siege of forty-nine days"):
      see "Gibson, <i>Journal of the Siege;"</i> "Mr. Prince (of the South
      Church, Boston), THANKSGIVING SERMON (price fourpence);" &amp;c. &amp;c.:
      in the Old Newspapers, 1745, 1748, multifarious Notices about it, and then
      about the "repayment" of those excellent "joint-stock" people.]&mdash;and
      might have yielded, what incalculable dividends in the Fishery way! But
      had to be given up again, in exchange for the Netherlands, when Peace
      came. Alas, your Majesty! Would it be quite impossible, then, to go direct
      upon your own sole errand, the JENKINS'S-EAR one, instead of stumbling
      about among the Foreign chimney-pots, far and wide, under nightmares, in
      this terrible manner?&mdash;Let us to Silesia again.
    </p>
    <p>
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    <h2>
      Chapter IX.&mdash;THE AUSTRIAN-SAXON ARMY INVADES SILESIA, ACROSS THE
      MOUNTAINS.
    </h2>
    <p>
      Valori, who is to be of Friedrich's Campaign this Year, came posting off
      directly in rear of the glorious news of Fontenoy; found Friedrich at
      Camenz, rather in spirits than otherwise; and lodged pleasantly with Abbot
      Tobias and him, till the Campaign should begin. Two things surprise
      Valori: first, the great strength, impregnable as it were, to which Neisse
      has been brought since he saw it last,&mdash;superlative condition of that
      Fortress, and of the Army itself, as it gathers daily more and more about
      Frankenstein here:&mdash;and then secondly, and contrariwise, the
      strangely neglected posture of mountainous or Upper Silesia, given up to
      Pandours. Quite submerged, in a manner: Margraf Karl lies quiet among them
      at Jagerndorf, "eating his magazine;" General Hautcharmoi (Winterfeld's
      late chief in that Wurben affair), with his small Detachment, still hovers
      about in those Ratibor parts, "with the Strong Towns to fall-back upon,"
      or has in effect fallen back accordingly; and nothing done to coerce the
      Pandours at all. While Prince Karl and Weissenfels are daily coming on, in
      force 100,000, their intention certain; force, say, about 100,000 regular!
      Very singular to Valori.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Sire, will not you dispute the Passes, then?" asks Valori, amazed: "Not
      defend your Mountain rampart, then?" "MON CHER; the Mountain rampart is
      three or four hundred miles long; there are twelve or twenty practicable
      roads through it. One is kept in darkness, too; endless Pandour doggery
      shutting out your daylight:&mdash;ill defending such a rampart," answers
      Friedrich. "But how, then," persists Valori; "but&mdash;?" "One day the
      King answered me," says Valori, "'MON AMI, if you want to get the mouse,
      don't shut, the trap; leave the trap open (ON LAISSE LA SOURICIERE
      OUVERTE)!'" Which was a beam of light to the inquiring thought of Valori,
      a military man of some intelligence. [See VALORI, i. 222, 224, 228.]
    </p>
    <p>
      That, in fact, is Friedrich's purpose privately formed. He means that the
      Austrians shall consider him cowed into nothing, as he understands they
      already do; that they shall enter Silesia in the notion of chasing him;
      and shall, if need be, have the pleasure of chasing him,&mdash;till
      perhaps a right moment arrive. For he is full of silent finesse, this
      young King; soon sees into his man, and can lead him strange dances on
      occasion. In no man is there a plentifuler vein of cunning, nor of a finer
      kind. Lynx-eyed perspicacity, inexhaustible contrivance, prompt ingenuity,&mdash;a
      man very dangerous to play with at games of skill. And it is cunning
      regulated always by a noble sense of honor, too; instinctively abhorrent
      of attorneyism and the swindler element: a cunning, sharp as the vulpine,
      yet always strictly human, which is rather beautiful to see. This is one
      of Friedrich's marked endowments. Intellect sun-clear, wholly practical
      (need not be specially deep), and entirely loyal to the fact before it;
      this&mdash;if you add rapidity and energy, prompt weight of stroke, such
      as was seldom met with&mdash;will render a man very dangerous to his
      adversary in the game of war.&mdash;Here is the last of our Pandour
      Adventures for the present:&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "From May 12th, Friedrich had been gathering closer and closer about
      Frankenstein; by the end of the month (28th, as it proved) he intends that
      all Detachments shall be home, and the Army take Camp there. The most are
      home; Margraf Karl, at Jagerndorf, has not yet done eating his magazine;
      but he too must come home. Summon the Margraf home:&mdash;it is not
      doubted he will cut himself through, he and his 12,000; but such is the
      swarm of Pandours hovering between him and us, no estafette, or cleverest
      letter-bearer, can hope to get across to him. Ziethen with 500 Hussars, he
      must take the Letter; there is no other way. Ziethen mounts; fares swiftly
      forth, towards Neustadt, with his Letter; lodges in woods; dodges the
      thick-crowding Tolpatcheries (passes himself off for a Tolpatchery, say
      some, and captures Hungarian Staff-Officers who come to give him orders
      [Frau van Blumenthal, <i>Life of De Ziethen,</i> pp. 171-181 (extremely
      romantic; now given up as mythical, for most part): see Orlich (ii. 150);
      but also Ranke (iii. 245), Preuss, &amp;c.]); is at length found out, and
      furiously set upon, 'Ziethen, Hah!'&mdash;but gets to Jagerndorf, Margraf
      Karl coming out to the rescue, and delivers his Letter. 'Home, then, all
      of us to-morrow!' And so, Saturday, 22d May, before we get to Neustadt on
      the way home, there is an authentic passage of arms, done very brilliantly
      by Margraf Karl against Pandours and others.
    </p>
    <p>
      "To right of us, to left, barring our road, the enemy, 20,000 of them,
      stand ranked on heights, in chosen positions; cannon-batteries,
      grenadiers, dragoons of Gotha and infinite Pandours: military jungle
      bristling far and wide. And you must push it heartily, and likewise cut
      the tap-root of it (seize its big guns), or it will not roll away. Margraf
      Karl shoots forth his steady infantry ('Silent till you see the whites of
      their eyes!'),&mdash;his cavalry with new manoeuvres; whose behavior is
      worthy of Ziethen himself:&mdash;in brief, the jungle is struck as by a
      whirlwind, the tap-root of it cut, and rolls simultaneously out of range,
      leaving only the Regiment of Gotha, Regiment of Ogilvy and some Regulars,
      who also get torn to shreds, and utterly ruined. Seeing which, the Pandour
      jungle plunges wholly into the woods, uttering horrible cries (EN POUSSANT
      DES CRIS TERRIBLES), says Friedrich. [ <i>OEuvres de Frederic,</i> iii.
      106. More specially BERICHTE VON DER AM 22 MAI, 1745 BEY NEUSTADT IN
      OBER-SCHLESIEN VORGEFALLENER ACTION (Seyfarth, <i>Beylage,</i> i.
      159-166).] Our new cavalry-manoeuvres deserve praise. Margraf Karl had the
      honor to gain his Cousin's approbation this day; and to prove himself,
      says the Cousin, (worthy of the grandfather he came from,'&mdash;my own
      great-grandfather; Great Elector, Friedrich-Wilhelm; whose style of motion
      at Fehrbellin, or on the ice of the Frische Haf (soldiers all in sledges,
      tearing along to be at the Swedes), was probably somewhat of this
      kind."...
    </p>
    <p>
      "Some days ago, Winterfeld had been pushed out to Landshut, with
      Detachment of 2,000, to judge a little for himself which way the Austrians
      were coming, and to scare off certain Uhlans (the SAXON species of
      Tolpatchery), who were threatening to be mischievous thereabouts. The
      Uhlans, at sound of Winterfeld, jingled away at once: but, in a day or
      two, there came upon him, on the sudden, Pandour outburst in quite other
      force;&mdash;and in the very hours while Ziethen was struggling into
      Jagerndorf, and still more emphatically next day, while Margraf Karl was
      handling his Pandours,&mdash;Colonel Winterfeld, a hundred miles to
      westward lapped among the Mountains, chanced to be dealing again with the
      same article. Very busy with it, from 4 o'clock this morning; likely to
      give a good account of the job. Steadily defending Landshut and himself,
      against the grenadier battalions, cannon and furious overplus of Pandours
      (8,000 or 9,000, it is said, six to one or so in the article of cavalry),
      which General Nadasti, a scientific leader of men or Pandours, skilfully
      and furiously hurls upon Landshut and him, in an unexpected manner.
      Colonel Winterfeld had need of all his heart and energy, in the intricate
      ground; against the furious overplus well manoeuvred: but in him too there
      are manoeuvres; if he fall back here, it is to rush on double strong
      there; hour after hour he inexpugnably defends himself,&mdash;till General
      Stille, Friedrich's old Tutor, our worthy writing friend, whom we
      occasionally quote, comes up with help; and Nadasti is at once brushed
      home again, with sore smart of failure, and 'the loss of 600 killed,'
      among other items. [<i>Bericht von der am 21 Mai, 1745 bey Landshut
      rorgefallener Action, in Feldzuge,</i> i. 302-305 (or in Seyfarth, <i>Beylage,</i>
      i. 155-158); <i>OEuvres de Frederic,</i> iii. 105; Stille, pp. 120-124
      (who misdates, "23d May" for 22d).] Colonel Winterfeld was made
      Major-General next day, for this action. Colonel Winterfeld is cutting out
      a high course for himself, by his conduct in these employments; solidity,
      brilliant effectuality, shining through all he does; his valor and value,
      his rapid just insight, fiery energy and nobleness of mind more and more
      disclosing themselves,&mdash;to one who is a judge of men, and greatly
      needs for his own use the first-rate quality in that article."
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich has left the mouse-trap open;&mdash;and latterly has been
      baiting it with a pleasant spicing of toasted cheese. One of his Spies,
      reporting from Prince Karl's quarters, Friedrich has at this time
      discovered to be a Double-Spy, reporting thither as well. Double-Spy,
      there is an ugly fact;&mdash;perhaps not quite convenient to abolish it by
      hemp and gibbet; perhaps it could be turned to use, as most facts can?
      "Very good, my expert Herr von Schonfeld [that was the knave's name]; and
      now of all things, whenever the Prince does get across,&mdash;instant word
      to us of that! Nothing so important to us. If he should get BETWEEN us and
      Breslau, for example, what would the consequence be!" To this purport
      Friedrich instructs his Double-Spy; sends him off, unhanged, to Prince
      Karl's Camp, to blab this fresh bit of knowledge. "We likewise," says
      Friedrich, "ordered some repairs on the roads leading to Breslau;"&mdash;last
      turn of the hand to our bit of toasted fragrancy. And Prince Karl is
      actually striding forward, at an eager pace:&mdash;and Nadasti VERSUS
      Winterfeld, the other day, could Winterfeld have guessed it, was the
      actual vanguard of the march; and will be up again straightway! Whereupon
      Winterfeld too is called home; and all eyes are bent on the Landshut side.
    </p>
    <p>
      Prince Karl, under these fine omens, had been urgent on the Saxons to be
      swift; Saxons under Weissenfels did at last "get their cannon up," and we
      hear of them for certain, in junction with the Austrians, at Schatzlar, on
      the Bohemian side of the Giant-Mountains; climbing with diligence those
      wizard solitudes and highland wastes. In a word, they roll across into
      Silesia, to Landshut (29th May); nothing doubting but Friedrich has
      cowered into what retreats he has, as good as desperate of Silesia, and
      will probably be first heard of in Breslau, when they get thither with
      their sieging guns. No cautious sagacious old Feldmarschall Traun is in
      that Host at present; nothing but a Prince Karl, and a poor Duke of
      Weissenfels; who are too certain of several things;&mdash;very capable of
      certainty, and also of doubt, the wrong way of the facts. Their force is,
      by strict count, 75,000; and they march from Landshut, detained a little
      by provender concerns, on the last day of May. [Orlich, ii. 146; Ranke,
      iii. 247; Stenzel, iv. 245.]
    </p>
    <p>
      May 28th, Friedrich had encamped at Frankenstein; May 30th, he sets forth
      northwestward, to be nearer the new scene; encamps at Reichenbach, that
      night; pushes forward again, next day, for Schweidnitz, for Striegau (in
      all, a shift northwest of some forty miles);&mdash;and from June 1st, lies
      stretched out between Schweidnitz and Striegau, nine miles long; well
      hidden in the hollows of the little Rivers thereabouts (Schweidnitz Water,
      Striegau Water), with their little knolls and hills; watching Prince
      Karl's probable place of egress from the Mountain Country opposite. His
      main Camp is from Schweidnitz to Jauernik, some five miles long; but he
      has his vanguard up as far as Striegau, Dumoulin and Winterfeld as
      vanguard, in good strength, a little way behind or westward of that Town
      and Stream; Nassau and his Division are screened in the Wood called
      Nonnenbusch (NUN'S BUSH), and there are outposts sprinkled all about, and
      vedettes watching from the hill-tops, from the Stanowitz Foxhill; the
      Zedlitz "Cowhill," "Winchill:" an Army not courting observation, but
      intent very much to observe. Nadasti has appeared again; at Freyburg, few
      miles off, on this side of the Mountains; goes out scouting,
      reconnoitring; but is "fired at from the growing corn," and otherwise
      hoodwinked by false symptoms, and makes little of that business.
      Friedrich's Army we will compute at 70,000. [General-Lieutenant Freiherr
      Leo von Lutzow, <i>Die Schlacht von Hohenfriedbeg</i> (Potsdam, 1845), pp.
      18, 21.] Not quite equal in number to Prince Karl's; and, in other
      particulars, willing and longing that Prince Karl would arrive, and try
      its quality.
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich's head-quarter is at Jauernik: he goes daily riding hither,
      thither; to the top of the Fuchsberg (FOXHILL at Stanowitz) with eager
      spy-glass; daily many times looks with his spy-glass to the ragged peaks
      about Bolkenhayn, Kauder, Rohnstock; expecting the throw of the dice from
      that part. On Thursday, 3d June: Do you notice that cloud of dust rising
      among the peaks over yonder? Dust-cloud mounting higher and higher. There
      comes the big crisis, then! There are the combined Weissenfels and Karl
      with their Austrian Saxons, issuing proudly from their stone labyrinth;
      guns, equipments, baggages, all perfectly brought through; rich Silesian
      plain country now fairly at their feet, Breslau itself but a few marches
      off:&mdash;at sight of all which, the Austrian big host bursts forth into
      universal field-music, and shakes out its banners to the wind. Thursday,
      3d June, 1745; a dramatic Entry of something quite considerable on the
      Stage of History.
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich, with Nassau and generals round, stands upon the Fuchsberg,&mdash;his
      remarks not given, his looks or emotions not described to us, his thought
      well known,&mdash;and looks at it through his TUBUS (or spy-glass): There
      they are, then, and the big moment is come! Friedrich had seen the dust
      and the manoeuvring of them, deeper in the Hills, from this same Fuchsberg
      yesterday, and inferred what was coming; calculated by what roads or
      hill-tracks they could issue: and how he, in each case, was to deal with
      them; his march-routes are all settled, plank-bridges repaired, all
      privately is ready for these proud Austrian musical gentlemen, here in the
      hollow. Friedrich has been upon this Fuchsberg with his TUBUS daily, many
      times since Monday last: it is our general observatorium, says Stille, and
      commands a fine view into the interior of these Hills. A Fuchsberg which
      has become notable in the Prussian maps: "the Stanowitz Fuchsberg," east
      side of Striegau Water,&mdash;let no tourist mistake himself; for there
      are two or even three other Fuchsbergs, a mile or so northward on the
      western side of that Stream, which need to be distinguished by epithets,
      as the Striegau Fuchsberg, the Graben Fuchsberg, and perhaps still others:
      comparable to the FOUR Neisse rivers, three besides the one we know, which
      occur in this piece of Country! Our German cousins, I have often sorrowed
      to find, have practically a most poor talent for GIVING NAMES; and indeed
      much, for ages back, is lying in a sad state of confusion among them. Many
      confused things, rotting far and wide, in contradiction to the plainest
      laws of Nature; things as well as names! All the welcomer this Prussian
      Army, this young Friedrich leading it; they, beyond all earthly entities
      of their epoch, are not in a state of confusion, but of most strict
      conformity to the laws of Arithmetic and facts of Nature: perhaps a very
      blessed phenomenon for Germany in the long-run.
    </p>
    <p>
      Prince Karl with Weissenfels, General Berlichingen and many plumed
      dignitaries, are dining on the Hill-top near Hohenfriedberg: after having
      given order about everything, they witness there, over their wine, the
      issue of their Columns from the Mountains; which goes on all afternoon,
      with field-music, spread banners; and the oldest General admits he never
      saw a finer review-manoeuvre, or one better done, if so well. Thus sit
      they on the Hill-top (GALGENBERG, not far from the gallows of the place,
      says Friedrich), in the beautiful June afternoon. Silesia lying
      beautifully azure at their feet; the Zobtenberg, enchanted Mountain, blue
      and high on one's eastern horizon; Prussians noticeable only in weak
      hussar parties four or five miles off, which vanish in the hollow grounds
      again. All intending for Breslau, they, it is like;&mdash;and here, red
      wine and the excellent manoeuvre going on. "The Austrian-and-Saxon Army
      streamed out all afternoon," says a Country Schoolmaster of those parts,
      whose Day-book has been preserved, [In Lutzow, pp. 123-132.] "each
      regiment or division taking the place appointed it; all afternoon, till
      late in the night, submerging the Country as in a deluge," five miles long
      of them; taking post at the foot of the Hills there, from Hohenfriedberg
      round upon Striegau, looking towards the morrow's sunrise. To us poor
      country-folk not a beautiful sight; their light troops flying ahead, and
      doing theft and other mischief at a sad rate.
    </p>
    <p>
      On the other hand, the Austrian and Saxon gentlemen, from their
      Gallows-Hill at Hohenfriedberg, notice, four or five miles in the
      distance, opposite them, or a little to the left of opposite, a Body of
      Prussian horse and foot, visibly wending northward; like a long glittering
      serpent, the glitter of their muskets flashing back yonder on the
      afternoon sun and us, as they mount from hollow to height. Ten or twelve
      thousand of them; making for Striegau, to appearance. Intending to bivouac
      or billet there, and keep some kind of watch over us; belike with an eye
      to being rear-guard, on the retreat towards Breslau to-morrow? Or will
      they retreat without attempting mischief? Serenity of Weissenfels engages
      to seize the heights and proper posts, over yonder, this night yet; and
      will take Striegau itself, the first thing, to-morrow morning.
    </p>
    <p>
      Yes, your Serenities, those are Prussians in movement: Vanguard Corps of
      Dumoulin, Winterfeld;&mdash;Rittmeister Seydlitz rides yonder:&mdash;and
      it is not their notion to retreat without mischief. For there stands, not
      so far off, on the Stanowitz Fuchsberg, a brisk little Gentleman, if you
      could notice him; with his eyes fixed on you, and plans in the head of him
      now getting nearly mature. For certain, he is pushing out that column of
      men; and all manner of other columns are getting order to push out, and
      take their ground; and to-morrow morning&mdash;you will not find him in
      retreat! Such are the phenomena in that Striegau-Hohenfriedberg region,
      while the sun is bending westward, on Thursday, 3d June, 1745.
    </p>
    <p>
      "From Hohenfriedberg, which leans against the higher Mountains, there may
      be, across to Striegau northeast, which stands well apart from them, among
      lower Hills of its own, a distance of about five English miles. The
      intervening country is of flat, though upland nature: the first broad
      stage, or STAIR-STEP, so to speak, leading down into the general interior
      levels of Silesia in those parts. A tract which is now tolerably dried by
      draining, but was then marshy as well as bushy:&mdash;flat to the eye, yet
      must be imperceptibly convexed a little, for the line of watershed is
      hereabouts: walk from Hohenfriedberg to Striegau, the water on your left
      hand flows, though mainly in ditches or imperceptible oozings, to the
      north and west,&mdash;there to fall into an eastern fork of the Roaring
      Neisse [one of our three new Neisses, which is a very quiet stream here;
      runs close by the Mountain base, fed by many torrents, and must get its
      name, WUTHENDE or Roaring, from the suddenness of its floods]: into this,
      bound northward and westward, run or ooze all waters on your left hand, as
      you go to Striegau. Right hand, again, or to eastward, you will find all
      sauntering, or running in visible brooks into Striegau Water [little River
      notable to us], which comes circling from the Mountains, past
      Hohenfriedberg, farther south; and has got to some force as a stream
      before it reaches Striegau, and turns abruptly eastward;&mdash;eastward,
      to join Schweidnitz Water, and form with it the SECOND stair-step
      downwards to the Plain Country. Has its Fuchsbergs, Kuhbergs and little
      knolls and heights interspersed, on both sides of it, in the conceivable
      way.
    </p>
    <p>
      "So that, looking eastward from the heights of Hohenfriedberg, our broad
      stage or stair-step has nothing of the nature of a valley, but rather is a
      kind of insensibly swelling plain between two valleys, or hollows, of
      small depth; and slopes both ways. Both ways; but MORE towards the
      Striegau-Water valley or hollow; and thence, in a lazily undulating
      manner, to other hollows and waters farther down. Friedrich's Camp lies in
      the next, the Schweidnitz-Water hollow; and is five, or even nine miles
      long, from Schweidnitz northward;&mdash;much hidden from the
      Austrian-Saxon gentlemen at present. No hills farther, mere flat country,
      to eastward of that. But to the north, again, about Striegau, the hollow
      deepens, narrows; and certain Hills," much notable at present, "rise to
      west of Striegau, definite peaked Hills, with granite quarries in them and
      basalt blocks atop:&mdash;Striegau, it appears, is, in old Czech dialect,
      TRZIZA, which means TRIPLE HILL, the 'Town of the Three Hills.' [Lutzow,
      p. 28.] An ancient quaint little Town, of perhaps 2,000 souls: brown-gray,
      the stones of it venerably weathered; has its wide big market-place,
      piazza, plain-stones, silent enough except on market-days: nestles itself
      compactly in the shelter of its Three Hills, which screen it from the
      northwest; and has a picturesque appearance, its Hills and it, projected
      against the big Mountain range beyond, as you approach it from the Plain
      Country.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Hohenfriedberg, at the other corner of our battle-stage, on the road to
      Landshut, is a Village of no great compass; but sticks pleasantly
      together, does not straggle in the usual way; climbs steep against its
      Gallows-Hill (now called 'SIEGESBERG, Victory Hill,' with some tower or
      steeple-monument on it, built by subscription); and would look better, if
      trimmed a little and habitually well swept. The higher Mountain summits,
      Landshut way, or still more if you look southeastward, Glatz-ward, rise
      blue and huge, remote on your right; to left, the Roaring Neisse range
      close at hand, is also picturesque, though less Alpine in type."
      [Tourist's Note (1858).]... And of all Hills, the notablest, just now to
      us, are those "Three" at Striegau.
    </p>
    <p>
      Those Three Hills of Striegau his Serenity of Weissenfels is to lay hold
      of, this night, with his extreme left, were it once got deployed and
      bivouacked. Those Hills, if he can: but Prussian Dumoulin is already on
      march thither; and privately has his eye upon them, on Friedrich's part!&mdash;For
      the rest, this upland platform, insensibly sloping two ways, and as yet
      undrained, is of scraggy boggy nature in many places; much of it damp
      ground, or sheer morass; better parts of it covered, at this season, with
      rank June grass, or greener luxuriance of oats and barley. A humble
      peaceable scene; peaceable till this afternoon; dotted, too, with six or
      seven poor Hamlets, with scraggy woods, where they have their fuel; most
      sleepy littery ploughman Hamlets, sometimes with a SCHLOSS or Mansion for
      the owner of the soil (who has absconded in the present crisis of things),
      their evening smoke rising rather fainter than usual; much cookery is not
      advisable with Uhlans and Tolpatchcs flying about. Northward between
      Striegau and the higher Mountains there is an extensive TEICHWIRTHSCHAFT,
      or "Pond-Husbandry" (gleaming visible from Hohenfriedberg Gallows-Hill
      just now); a combination of stagnant pools and carp-ponds, the ground much
      occupied hereabouts with what they name Carp-Husbandry. Which is all
      drained away in our time, yet traceable by the studious:&mdash;quaggy
      congeries of sluices and fish-ponds, no road through them except on
      intricate dams; have scrubby thickets about the border;&mdash;this also is
      very strong ground, if Weissenfels thought of defence there.
    </p>
    <p>
      Which Weissenfels does not, but only of attack. He occupies the ground
      nevertheless, rearward of this Carp-Husbandry, as becomes a strategic man;
      gradually bivouacking all round there, to end on the Three Hills, were his
      last regiments got up. The Carp-Husbandry is mainly about Eisdorf Hamlet:&mdash;in
      Pilgramshayn, where Weissenfels once thought of lodging, lives our Writing
      Schoolmaster. The Mountains lie to westward; flinging longer shadows, as
      the invasive troops continually deploy, in that beautiful manner; and coil
      themselves strategically on the ground, a bent rope, cordon, or line
      (THREE lines in depth), reaching from the front skirts of Hohenfriedberg
      to the Hills at Striegau again,&mdash;terrible to behold.
    </p>
    <p>
      In front of Hohenfriedberg, we say, is the extremity or right wing of the
      Austrian-Saxon bivouac, or will be when the process is complete; five
      miles to northeast, sweeping round upon Striegau region, will be their
      left, where mainly are the Saxons,&mdash;to nestle upon those Three Hills
      of Striegau: whitherward however, Dumoulin, on Friedrich's behalf, is
      already on march. Austrian-Saxon bivouac, as is the way in regulated
      hosts, can at once become Austrian-Saxon order-of-battle: and then,
      probably, on the Chord of that Arc of five miles, the big Fight will roll
      to-morrow; Striegau one end of it, Hohenfriedbcrg the other. Flattish,
      somewhat elliptic upland, stair-step from the Mountains, as we called it;
      tract considerably cut with ditches, carp-husbandries, and their tufts of
      wood; line from Striegau to Hohenfriedberg being axis or main diameter of
      it, and in general the line of watershed: there, probably, will the tug of
      war be. Friedrich, on his Fuchsberg, knows this; the Austrian-Saxon
      gentlemen, over their wine on the Gallows-Hill, do not yet know it, but
      will know.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was about four in the afternoon, when Valori, with a companion, waiting
      a good while in the King's Tent at Jauernik, at last saw his Majesty
      return from the Fuchsberg observatory. Valori and friend have great news:
      "Tournay fallen; siege done, your Majesty!" Valori's friend is one De
      Latour; who had brought word of Fontenoy ("important victory on the
      Scamander," as Friedrich indignantly defined it to himself); and was bid
      wait here till this Siege-of-Tournay consummation ("as helpful to me as
      the Siege of Pekin!") should supervene. They hasten to salute his Majesty
      with the glorious tidings, Hmph! thinks Friedrich: and we are at
      death-grips here, little to be helped by your taking Pekin! However, he
      lets wit of nothing. "I make my compliments; mean to fight to-morrow."
      [Valori, i. 228.] Valori, as old soldier and friend, volunteers to be
      there and assist:&mdash;Good.
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich, I presume, at this late hour of four, may bc snatching a morsel
      of dinner; his orderlies are silently speeding, plans taken, orders given:
      To start all, at eight in the evening, for the Bridge of Striegau; there
      to cross, and spread to the right and to the left. Silent, not a word
      spoken, not a pipe lighted: silently across the Striegau Water there. A
      march of three miles for the nearest, who are here at Jauernik; of nine
      miles for the farthest about Schweidnitz; at Schweidnitz leave all your
      baggage, safe under the guns there. To the Bridge of Striegau, diligently,
      silently march along; Bridge of Striegau, there cross Striegau Water, and
      deploy to right and to left, in the way each of you knows. These are
      Friedrich's orders.
    </p>
    <p>
      Late in the dusk, Dumoulin and Winterfeld, whom we saw silently on march
      some hours ago, have silently glided past Striegau, and got into the
      Three-Hill region, which is some furlong or so farther north:&mdash;to his
      surprise, Dumoulin finds Saxon parties posting themselves thereabouts. He
      attacks said Saxon parties; and after some slight tussle, drives them
      mostly from their Three Hills; mostly, not altogether; one Saxon Hill is
      precipitous on our hither side of it, and we must leave that till the dawn
      break. Of the other Heights Dumoulin takes good possession, with cannon
      too, to be ready against dawn;&mdash;and ranks himself out to leftward
      withal, along the plain ground; for he is to be right wing, had the other
      troops come up. These are now all under way; astir from Jauernik and
      Schweidnitz, silently streaming along; and Dumoulin bivouacs here,&mdash;very
      silent he: not so silent the Saxons; who are still marching in, over
      yonder, to westward of Dumoulin, their rear-guard groping out its posts as
      it best can in the dark. Elsewhere, miles and miles along the foot of the
      Mountains, Austrian-Saxon watch-fires flame through the ambrosial night;
      and it is an impressive sight for Dumoulin,&mdash;still more for the poor
      Schoolmaster at Pilgramshayn and others, less concerned than Dumoulin. "It
      was beautiful," says Stille, who was there, "to see how the plain about
      Rohnstock, and all over that way, was ablaze with thousands of watch-fires
      (TAUSEND UND ABER TAUSEND); by the light of these, we could clearly
      perceive the enemy's troops continually defile from the Hills the whole
      night through." [Cited in Seyfarth, i. 630.]
    </p>
    <p>
      Serenity of Weissenfels, after all, does not lodge at Pilgramshayn; far in
      the night, he goes to sleep at Rohnstock, a Schloss and Hamlet on that
      fork of Roaring Neisse, by the foot of the Mountains; three or four miles
      off, yet handy enough for picking up Striegau the first thing to-morrow.
      His Highness Prince Karl lies in Hausdorf, tolerable quarters, pretty much
      in the centre of his long bivouac; day's business well done, and bottle
      (as one's wont rather is) well enjoyed. Nadasti has been out scouting; but
      was pricked into by hussar parties, fired into from the growing corn; and
      could make out little, but the image of his own ideas. Nadasti's ultimate
      report is, That the Prussians are perfectly quiet in their camp; from
      Jauernik to Schweidnitz, watch-fires all alight, sentries going their
      rounds. And so they are, in fact; sentries and watch-fires,&mdash;but now
      nothing else there, a mere shell of a camp; the men of it streaming
      steadily along, without speech, without tobacco; and many of them are
      across Striegau Bridge by this time!&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      It was past eleven, so close and continuous went this march, before Valori
      and his Latour, with their carriages and furnitures, could find an
      interval, and get well into it. Never will Valori forget the discipline of
      these Prussians, and how they marched. Difficult ways; the hard road is
      for their artillery; the men march on each side, sometimes to mid-leg in
      water,&mdash;never mind. Wholly in order, wholly silent; Valori followed
      them three leagues close, and there was not one straggler. Every private
      man, much more every officer, knows well what grim errand they are on; and
      they make no remarks. Steady as Time; and, except that their shoes are not
      of felt, silent as he. The Austrian watch-fires glow silent manifold to
      leftward yonder; silent overhead are the stars:&mdash;the path of all
      duty, too, is silent (not about Striegau alone) for every well-drilled
      man. To-morrow;&mdash;well, to-morrow?
    </p>
    <p>
      A grimmish feeling against the Saxons is understood to be prevalent among
      these men. Bruhl, Weissenfels himself, have been reported talking high,&mdash;"Reduce
      our King to the size of an Elector again," and other foolish things;&mdash;indeed,
      grudges have been accumulating for some time. "KEIN PARDON (No quarter)!"
      we hear has been a word among the Saxons, as they came along; the
      Prussians growl to one another, "Very well then, None!" Nay Friedrich's
      general order is, "No prisoners, you cavalry, in the heat of fight;
      cavalry, strike at the faces of them: you infantry, keep your fire till
      within fifty steps; bayonet withal is to be relied on." These were
      Friedrich's last general orders, given in the hollow of the night, near
      the foot of that Fuchsberg where he had been so busy all day; a widish
      plain space hereabouts, Striegau Bridge now near: he had lain snme time in
      his cloak, waiting till the chief generals, with the heads of their
      columns, could rendezvous here. He then sprang on horseback; spoke briefly
      the essential things (one of them the above);&mdash;"Had meant to be more
      minute, in regard to positions and the like; but all is so in darkness,
      embroiled by the flare of the Austrian watch-fires, we can make nothing
      farther of localities at present: Striegau for right wing, left wing
      opposite to Hohenfriedberg,&mdash;so, and Striegau Water well to rear of
      us. Be diligent, exact, all faculties awake: your own sense, and the Order
      of Battle which you know, must do the rest. Forward; steady: can I doubt
      but you will acquit yourselves like Prussian men?" And so they march,
      across the Bridge at Striegau, south outskirt of the Town,&mdash;plank
      Bridge, I am afraid;&mdash;and pour themselves, to right and to left,
      continually the livelong night.
    </p>
    <p>
      To describe the Battle which ensued, Battle named of Striegau or
      Hohenfriedberg, excels the power of human talent,&mdash;if human talent
      had leisure for such employment. It is the huge shock and clash of 70,000
      against 70,000, placed in the way we said. An enormous furious SIMALTAS
      (or "both-at-once," as the Latins phrase it), spreading over ten square
      miles. Rather say, a wide congeries of electric simultaneities; all
      ELECTRIC, playing madly into one another; most loud, most mad: the aspect
      of which is smoky, thunderous, abstruse; the true SEQUENCES of which, who
      shall unravel? There are five accounts of it, all modestly written, each
      true-looking from its own place: and a thrice-diligent Prussian Officer,
      stationed on the spot in late years, has striven well to harmonize them
      all. [Five Accounts: 1. The Prussian Official Account, in <i>Helden-Geschichte,</i>
      i. 1098-1102. 2. The Saxon, ib. 1103-1108. 3. The Austrian, ib. 1109-1115.
      4. Stille's (ii. 125-133, of English Translation). 5. Friedrich's own, <i>OEuvres,</i>
      iii. 108-118. Lutzow, above cited, is the harmonizer. Besides which, two
      of value, in <i>Feldzuge,</i> i. 310-323, 328-336; not to mention
      Cogniazzo, <i>Confessions of an Austrian Veeran</i> (Breslau, 1788-1791:
      strictly Anonymous at that time, and candid, or almost more, to Prussian
      merit;&mdash;still worth reading, here and throughout), ii. 123-135; &amp;c.
      &amp;c.] Well worth the study of military men;&mdash;who might make tours
      towards this and the other great battle-field, and read such things, were
      they wise. For us, a feature or two, in the huge general explosion, to
      assist the reader's fancy in conceiving it a little, is all that can be
      pretended to.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      Chapter X.&mdash;BATTLE OF HOHENFRIEDBERG.
    </h2>
    <p>
      With the first streak of dawn, the dispute renewed itself between those
      Prussians and Saxons who are on the Heights of Striegau. The two Armies
      are in contact here; they lie wide apart as yet at the other end.
      Cannonading rises here, on both sides, in the dim gray of the morning, for
      the possession of these Heights. The Saxons are out-cannonaded and
      dislodged, other Saxons start to arms in support: the cry "To arms!"
      spreads everywhere, rouses Weissenfels to horseback; and by sunrise a
      furious storm of battle has begun, in this part. Hot and fierce on both
      sides; charges of horse, shock after shock, bayonet-charges of foot; the
      great guns going like Jove's thunder, and the continuous tearing storm of
      small guns, very loud indeed: such a noise, as our poor Schoolmaster, who
      lives on this spot, thinks he will hear only once again, when the Last
      Trumpet sounds! It did indeed, he informs us, resemble the dissolution of
      Nature: "For all fell dark too;" a general element of sulphurous
      powder-smoke, streaked with dull blazes; and death and destruction very
      nigh. What will become of poor pacific mortals hereabouts? Rittmeister
      Seydlitz, Winterfeld his patron ride, with knit brows, in these
      horse-charges; fiery Rothenburg too; Truchsess von Waldburg, at the head
      of his Division,&mdash;poor Truchsess known in London society, a
      cannon-ball smites the life out of him, and he ended here.
    </p>
    <p>
      At the first clash of horse and foot, the Saxons fancied they rather had
      it; at the second, their horse became distressed; at the third, they
      rolled into disorderly heaps. The foot also, stubborn as they were, could
      not stand that swift firing, followed by the bayonet and the sabre; and
      were forced to give ground. The morning sun shone into their eyes, too,
      they say; and there had risen a breath of easterly wind, which hurled the
      smoke upon them, so that they could not see. Decidedly staggering
      backwards; getting to be taken in flank and ruined, though poor
      Weissenfels does his best. About five in the morning, Friedrich came
      galloping hitherward; Valori with him: "MON AMI, this is looking well!
      This will do, won't it?" The Saxons are fast sinking in the scale; and did
      nothing thenceforth but sink ever faster; though they made a stiff
      defence, fierce exasperation on both sides; and disputed every inch. Their
      position, in these scraggy Woods and Villages, in these Morasses and
      Carp-Husbandries, is very strong.
    </p>
    <p>
      It had proved to be farther north, too, than was expected; so that the
      Prussians had to wheel round a little (right wing as a centre, fighting
      army as radius) before they could come parallel, and get to work: a
      delicate manoeuvre, which they executed to Valori's admiration, here in
      the storm of battle; tramp, tramp, velocity increasing from your centre
      outwards, till at the end of the radius, the troops are at treble-quick,
      fairly running forward, and the line straight all the while. Admirable to
      Valori, in the hot whirlwind of battle here. For the great guns go, in
      horrid salvos, unabated, and the crackling thunder of the small guns;
      "terrible tussling about those Carp-ponds, that quaggy Carp-husbandry,"
      says the Schoolmaster, "and the Heavens blotted out in sulphurous
      fire-streaked smoke. What had become of us pacific? Some had run in time,
      and they were the wisest; others had squatted, who could find a nook
      suitable. Most of us had gathered into the Nursery-garden at the foot of
      our Village; we sat quaking there,&mdash;our prayers grown tremulously
      vocal;&mdash;in tears and wail, at least the women part. Enemies made
      reconcilement with each other," says he, "and dear friends took farewell."
      [His Narrative, in Lutzow, UBI SUPRA.] One general Alleleu; the Last Day,
      to all appearance, having come. Friedrich, seeing things in this good
      posture, gallops to the left again, where much urgently requires attention
      from him.
    </p>
    <p>
      On the Austrian side, Prince Karl, through his morning sleep at Hausdorf,
      had heard the cannonading: "Saxons taking Striegau!" thinks he; a pleasant
      lullaby enough; and continues to sleep and dream. Agitated messengers rush
      in, at last; draw his curtains: "Prussians all in rank, this side Striegau
      Water; Saxons beaten, or nearly so, at Striegau: we must stand to arms,
      your Highness!"&mdash;"To arms, of course," answers Karl; and hurries now,
      what he can, to get everything in motion. The bivouac itself had been in
      order of battle; but naturally there is much to adjust, to put in trim;
      and the Austrians are not distinguished for celerity of movement. All the
      worse for them just now.
    </p>
    <p>
      On Friedrich's side, so far as I can gather, there have happened two cross
      accidents. First, by that wheeling movement, done to Valori's admiration
      in the Striegau quarter, the Prussian line has hitched itself up towards
      Striegau, has got curved inward, and covers less ground than was counted
      on; so that there is like to be some gap in the central part of;&mdash;as
      in fact there was, in spite of Friedrich's efforts, and hitchings of
      battalions and squadrons: an indisputable gap, though it turned to rich
      profit for Friedrich; Prince Karl paying no attention to it. Upon such
      indisputable gap a wakeful enemy might have done Friedrich some perilous
      freak; but Karl was in his bed, as we say;&mdash;in a terrible flurry,
      too, when out of bed. Nothing was done upon the gap; and Friedrich had his
      unexpected profit by it before long.
    </p>
    <p>
      The second accident is almost worse. Striegau Bridge (of planks, as I
      feared), creaking under such a heavy stream of feet and wheels all night,
      did at last break, in some degree, and needed to be mended; so that the
      rearward regiments, who are to form Friedrich's left wing, are in painful
      retard;&mdash;and are becoming frightfully necessary, the Austrians as yet
      far outflanking us, capable of taking us in flank with that right wing of
      theirs! The moment was agitating to a General-in-chief: Valori will own
      this young King's bearing was perfect; not the least flurry, though under
      such a strain. He has aides-de-camp, dashing out every-whither with
      orders, with expedients; Prince Henri, his younger Brother: galloping the
      fastest; nay, at last, he begs Valori himself to gallop, with orders to a
      certain General Gessler, in whose Brigade are Dragoons. Which Valori does,&mdash;happily
      without effect on Gessler; who knows no Valori for an aide-de-camp, and
      keeps the ground appointed him; rearward of that gap we talked of.
    </p>
    <p>
      Happily the Austrian right wing is in no haste to charge. Happily Ziethen,
      blocked by that incumbrance of the Bridge mending, "finds a ford higher
      up," the assiduous Ziethen; splashes across, other regiments following;
      forms in line well leftward; and instead of waiting for the Austrian
      charge, charges home upon them, fiercely through the difficult grounds, No
      danger of the Austrians outflanking us now; they are themselves likely to
      get hard measure on their flank. By the ford and by the Bridge, all
      regiments, some of them at treble-quick, get to their posts still in time.
      Accident second has passed without damage. Forward, then; rapid, steady;
      and reserve your fire till within fifty paces!&mdash;Prinoe Ferdinand of
      Brunswick (Friedrich's Brother-in-law, a bright-eyed steady young man, of
      great heart for fight) tramps forth with his Division:&mdash;steady!&mdash;all
      manner of Divisions tramp forth; and the hot storm, Ziethen and cavalry
      dashing upon that right wing of theirs, kindles here also far and wide.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Austrian cavalry on this wing and elsewhere, it is clear, were ill
      off. "We could not charge the Prussian left wing, say they, partly because
      of the morasses that lay between us; and partly [which is remarkable]
      because they rushed across and charged us." [Austrian report, <i>Helden-Geschichte,</i>
      i. 1113.] Prince Karl is sorry to report such things of his cavalry; but
      their behavior was bad and not good. The first shock threw them wavering;
      the second,&mdash;nothing would persuade them to dash forth and meet it.
      High officers commanded, obtested, drew out pistols, Prince Karl himself
      shot a fugitive or two,&mdash;it was to no purpose; they wavered worse at
      every new shock; and at length a shock came (sixth it was, as the reporter
      counts) which shook them all into the wind. Decidedly shy of the Prussians
      with their new manoeuvres, and terrible way of coming on, as if sure of
      beating. In the Saxon quarter, certain Austrian regiments of horse would
      not charge at all; merely kept firing from their carbines, and when the
      time came ran.
    </p>
    <p>
      As for the Saxons, they have been beaten these two hours; that is to say,
      hopeless these two hours, and getting beaten worse and worse. The Saxons
      cannot stand, but neither generally will they run; they dispute every
      ditch, morass and tuft of wood, especially every village. Wrecks of the
      muddy desperate business last, hour after hour. "I gave my men a little
      rest under the garden walls," says one Saxon Gentleman, "or they would
      have died, in the heat and thirst and extreme fatigue: I would have given
      100 gulden [10 pounds Sterling] for a glass of water." [ <i>Helden-Geschichte,</i>
      ubi supra.] The Prussians push them on, bayonet in back; inexorable, not
      to be resisted; slit off whole battalions of them (prisoners now, and
      quarter given); take all their guns, or all that are not sunk in the
      quagmires;&mdash;in fine, drive them, part into the Mountains direct, part
      by circuit thither, down upon the rear of the Austrian fight: through
      Hausdorf, Seifersdorf and other Mountain gorges, where we hear no more of
      them, and shall say no more of them. A sore stroke for poor old
      Weissenfels; the last public one he has to take, in this world, for the
      poor man died before long. Nobody's blame, he says; every Saxon man did
      well; only some Austrian horse-regiments, that we had among us, were too
      shy. Adieu to poor old Weissenfels. Luck of war, what else,&mdash;thereby
      is he in this pass.
    </p>
    <p>
      And now new Prussian force, its Saxons being well abolished, is pressing
      down upon Prince Karl's naked left flank. Yes;&mdash;Prince Karl too will
      have to go. His cavalry is, for most part, shaken into ragged clouds;
      infantry, steady enough men, cannot stand everything. "I have observed,"
      says Friedrich, "if you step sharply up to an Austrian battalion [within
      fifty paces or so], and pour in your fire well, in about a quarter of an
      hour you see the ranks beginning to shake, and jumble towards
      indistinctness;" [<i>Military Instructions.</i> ] a very hopeful symptom
      to you!
    </p>
    <p>
      It was at this moment that Lieutenant-General Gessler, under whom is the
      Dragoon regiment Baireuth, who had kept his place in spite of Valori's
      message, determined on a thing,&mdash;advised to it by General Schmettau
      (younger Schmettau), who was near. Gessler, as we saw, stood in the rear
      line, behind that gap (most likely one of several gaps, or wide spaces,
      left too wide, as we explained); Gessler, noticing the jumbly condition of
      those Austrian battalions, heaped now one upon another in this part,&mdash;motions
      to the Prussian Infantry to make what farther room is needful; then dashes
      through, in two columns (self and the Dragoon-Colonel heading the one,
      French Chasot, who is Lieutenant-Colonel, heading the other), sabre in
      hand, with extraordinary impetus and fire, into the belly of these jumbly
      Austrians; and slashes them to rags, "twenty battalions of them," in an
      altogether unexampled manner. Takes "several thousand prisoners," and such
      a haul of standards, kettle-drums and insignia of honor, as was never got
      before at one charge. Sixty-seven standards by the tale, for the regiment
      (by most All-Gracious Permission) wears, ever after, "67" upon its
      cartridge-box, and is allowed to beat the grenadier march; [Orlich, ii.
      179 (173 n., 179 n., slightly wrong); <i>Militair-Lexikon,</i> ii. 9, iv.
      465, 468. See Preuss, i. 212; <i>OEuvres de Frederic;</i> &amp;c. &amp;c.]&mdash;how
      many kettle-drums memory does not say.
    </p>
    <p>
      Prince Karl beats retreat, about 8 in the morning; is through
      Hohenfriedberg about 10 (cannon covering there, and Nadasti as
      rear-guard): back into the Mountains; a thoroughly well-beaten man.
      Towards Bolkenhayn, the Saxons and he; their heavy artillery and baggage
      had been left safe there. Not much pursued, and gradually rearranging
      himself; with thoughts,&mdash;no want of thoughts! Came pouring down,
      triumphantly invasive, yesterday; returns, on these terms, in about
      fifteen hours. Not marching with displayed banners and field-music, this
      time; this is a far other march. The mouse-trap had been left open, and we
      rashly went in!&mdash;Prince Karl's loss, including that of the Saxons
      (which is almost equal, though their number in the field was but HALF), is
      9,000 dead and wounded, 7,000 prisoners, 66 cannon, 73 flags and
      standards; the Prussian is about 5,000 dead and wounded. [In Orlich (ii.
      182) all the details.] Friedrich, at sight of Valori, embraces his GROS
      VALORI; says, with a pious emotion in voice and look, "My friend, God has
      helped me wonderfully this day!" Actually there was a kind of devout
      feeling visible in him, thinks Valori: "A singular mixture, this Prince,
      of good qualities and of bad; I never know which preponderates." [Valori,
      SOEPIUS.] As is the way with fat Valoris, when they come into such
      company.
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich is blamed by some military men, and perhaps himself thought it
      questionable, that he did not pursue Prince Karl more sharply. He says his
      troops could not; they were worn out with the night's marching and the
      day's fighting. He himself may well be worn out. I suppose, for the last
      four-and-twenty hours he, of all the contemporary sons of Adam, has
      probably been the busiest. Let us rest this day; rest till to-morrow
      morning, and be thankful. "So decisive a defeat," writes he to his Mother
      (hastily, misdating "6th" June for 4th), "has not been since Blenheim"
      [Letter in <i>OEuvres de Frederic,</i> xxvi. 71.] (which is tolerably
      true); and "I have made the Princes sign their names," to give the good
      Mother assurance of her children in these perils of war. Seldom has such a
      deliverance come to a man.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      Chapter XI.&mdash;CAMP OF CHLUM: FRIEDRICH CANNOT ACHIEVE PEACE.
    </h2>
    <p>
      Friedrich marched, on the morrow, likewise to Bolkenhayn; which the enemy
      have just left; our hussars hanging on their rear, and bickering with
      Nadasti. Then again on the morrow, Sunday,&mdash;"twelve hours of
      continuous rain," writes Valori; but there is no down-pour, or distress,
      or disturbance that will shake these men from their ranks, writes Valori.
      And so it goes on, march after march, the Austrians ahead, Dumoulin and
      our hussars infesting their rear, which skilfully defended itself: through
      Landshut down into Bohemia; where are new successive marches, the Prussian
      quarterstaff stuck into the back of defeated Austria, "Home with you;
      farther home!"&mdash;and shogging it on,&mdash;without pause, for about a
      fortnight to come. And then only with temporary pause; that is to say,
      with intricate manoeuvrings of a month long, which shove it to
      Konigsgratz, its ultimatum, beyond which there is no getting it. The
      stages and successive campings, to be found punctually in the old Books
      and new, can interest only military readers. Here is a small theological
      thing at Landshut, from first hand:&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      JUNE 8th, 1745. "The Army followed Dumoulin's Corps, and marched upon
      Landshut. On arriving in that neighborhood, the King was surrounded by a
      troop of 2,000 Peasants,"&mdash;of Protestant persuasion very evidently!
      (which is much the prevailing thereabouts),&mdash;"who begged permission
      of him 'to massacre the Catholics of these parts, and clear the country of
      them altogether.' This animosity arose from the persecutions which the
      Protestants had suffered during the Austrian domination, when their
      churches used to be taken from them and given to the Popish priests,"&mdash;churches
      and almost their children, such was the anxiety to make them orthodox. The
      patience of these peasants had run over; and now, in the hour of hope,
      they proposed the above sweeping measure. "The King was very far from
      granting them so barbarous a permission. He told them, 'They ought rather
      to conform to the Scripture precept, to bless those that cursed them, and
      pray for those that despitefully used them; such was the way to gain the
      Kingdom of Heaven.' The peasants," rolling dubious eyes for a moment,
      "answered, His Majesty was right; and desisted from their cruel
      pretension." [<i>OEuvres de Frederic,</i> ii.218.]...&mdash;"On
      Hohenfriedberg Day," says another Witness, "as far as the sound of the
      cannon was heard, all round, the Protestants fell on their knees, praying
      for victory to the Prussians;" [In Ranke, iii. 259.] and at Breslau that
      evening, when the "Thirteen trumpeting Postilions" came tearing in with
      the news, what an enthusiasm without limit!
    </p>
    <p>
      Prince Karl has skill in choosing camps and positions: his Austrians are
      much cowed; that is the grievous loss in his late fight. So, from June
      8th, when they quit Silesia,&mdash;by two roads to go more readily,&mdash;all
      through that month and the next, Friedrich spread to the due width, duly
      pricking into the rear of them, drives the beaten hosts onward and onward.
      They do not think of fighting; their one thought is to get into positions
      where they can have living conveyed to them, and cannot be attacked; for
      the former of which objects, the farther homewards they go, it is the
      better. The main pursuit, as I gather, goes leftward from Landshut, by
      Friedland,&mdash;the Silesian Friedland, once Wallenstein's. Through rough
      wild country, the southern slope of the Giant Mountains, goes that slow
      pursuit, or the main stream of it, where Friedrich in person is; intricate
      savage regions, cut by precipitous rocks and soaking quagmires, shaggy
      with woods: watershed between the Upper Elbe and Middle Oder; Glatz on our
      left,&mdash;with the rain of its mountains gathering to a Neisse River,
      eastward, which we know; and on their west or hither side, to a Mietau,
      Adler, Aupa and other many-branched feeders of the Elbe. Most complex
      military ground, the manoeuvrings on it endless,&mdash;which must be left
      to the reader's fancy here.
    </p>
    <p>
      About the end of June, Karl and his Austrians find a place suitable to
      their objects: Konigsgratz, a compact little Town, in the nook between the
      Elbe and Adler; covered to west and to south by these two streams; strong
      enough to east withal; and sure and convenient to the southern roads and
      victual. Against which Friedrich's manoeuvres avail nothing; so that he at
      last (20th July) crosses Elbe River; takes, he likewise, an inexpugnable
      Camp on the opposite shore, at a Village called Chlum; and lies there,
      making a mutual dead-lock of it, for six weeks or more. Of the prior
      Camps, with their abundance of strategic shufflings, wheelings, pushings,
      all issuing in this of Chlum, we say nothing: none of them,&mdash;except
      the immediately preceding one, called of Nahorzan, called also of Drewitz
      (for it was in parts a shifting entity, and flung the LIMBS of it about,
      strategically clutching at Konigsgratz),&mdash;had any permanency: let us
      take Chlum (the longest, and essentially the last in those parts) as the
      general summary of them, and alone rememberable by us. ["Camp of
      Gross-Parzitz [across the Mietau, to dislodge Prince Karl from his shelter
      behind that stream], June 14th:" "Camp of Nahorzan, June 18th [and
      abstruse manoeuvrings, of a month, for Konigsgratz]: 20th July," cross
      Elbe for Chlum; and lie, yourself also inexpugnable, there. See <i>OEuvres
      de Frederic,</i> (iii. 120 et seq.); especially see Orlich (ii. pp. 193,
      194, 203, &amp;c. &amp;c.),&mdash;with an amplitude of inorganic details,
      sufficient to astonish the robustest memory!]
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich's purposes, at Chlum or previously, are not towards conquests in
      Bohemia, nor of fighting farther, if he can help it. But, in the mean
      while, he is eating out these Bohemian vicinages; no invasion of Silesia
      possible from that quarter soon again. That is one benefit: and he hopes
      always his enemies, under screw of military pressure with the one hand,
      and offer of the olive-branch with the other, will be induced to grant him
      Peace. Britannic Majesty, after Fontenoy and Hohenfriedberg, not to
      mention the first rumors of a Jacobite Rebellion, with France to rear of
      it, is getting eager to have Friedrich settled with, and withdrawn from
      the game again;&mdash;the rather, as Friedrich, knowing his man, has
      ceased latterly to urge him on the subject. Peace with George the
      Purseholder, does not that mean Peace with all the others? Friedrich knows
      the high Queen's indignation; but he little guesses, at this time, the
      humor of Bruhl and the Polish Majesty. He has never yet sent the Old
      Dessauer in upon them; always only keeps him on the slip, at Magdeburg;
      still hoping actualities may not be needed. He hopes too, in spite of her
      indignation, the Hungarian Majesty, with an Election on hand, with the
      Netherlands at such a pass, not to speak of Italy and the Middle Rhine,
      will come to moderate views again. On which latter points, his reckoning
      was far from correct! Within three months, Britannic Majesty and he did
      get to explicit Agreement (CONVENTION OF HANOVER, 26th August): but in
      regard to the Polish Majesty and the Hungarian there proved to be no such
      result attainable, and quite other methods necessary first!
    </p>
    <p>
      "Of military transactions in this Camp of Chlum, or in all these
      Bohemian-Silesian Camps, for near four months, there is nothing, or as
      good as nothing: Chlum has no events; Chlum vigilantly guards itself; and
      expects, as the really decisive to it, events that will happen far away.
      We are to conceive this military business as a dead-lock; attended with
      hussar skirmishes; attacks, defences, of outposts, of provision-wagons
      from Moravia or Silesia:&mdash;Friedrich has his food from Silesia
      chiefly, by several routes, 'convoys come once in the five days.' His
      horse-provender he forages; with Tolpatches watching him, and continual
      scufflings of fight: 'for hay and glory,' writes one Prussian Officer, 'I
      assure you we fight well!' Endless enterprising, manoeuvring,
      counter-manoeuvring there at first was; and still is, if either party
      stir: but here, in their mutually fixed camps, tacit mutual observances
      establish themselves; and amid the rigorous armed vigilantes, there are
      traits of human neighborship. As usual in such cases. The guard-parties do
      not fire on one another, within certain limits: a signal that there are
      dead to bury, or the like, is strictly respected. On one such occasion it
      was (June 30th, Camp-of-Nahorzan time) that Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick&mdash;Prince
      Ferdinand, with a young Brother Albert volunteering and learning his
      business here, who are both Prussian&mdash;had a snatch of interview with
      a third much-loved Brother, Ludwig, who is in the Austrian service. A
      Prussian officer, venturing beyond the limits, had been shot; Ferdinand's
      message, 'Grant us burial of him!' found, by chance, Brother Ludwig in
      command of that Austrian outpost; who answers: 'Surely;&mdash;and beg that
      I may embrace my Brothers!' And they rode out, those three, to the space
      intermediate; talked there for half an hour, till the burial was done.
      [Mauvillon, <i>Geschichte Ferdinands von Braunschweig-Luneburg,</i> i.
      118.] Fancy such an interview between the poor young fellows, the soul of
      honor each, and tied in that manner!
    </p>
    <p>
      "Trenck of the Life-guard was not quite the soul of honor. It was in the
      Nahorzan time too that Trenck, who had, in spite of express order to the
      contrary, been writing to his Cousin the indigo Pandour, was put under
      arrest when found out. 'Wrote merely about horses: purchase of horses, so
      help me God!' protests the blusterous Life-guardsman, loud as lungs will,&mdash;whether
      with truth in them, nobody can say. 'Arrest for breaking orders!' answers
      Friedrich, doubting or disbelieving the horses; and loud Trenck is packed
      over the Hills to Glatz; to Governor Fouquet, or Substitute;&mdash;where,
      by not submitting and repenting, by resisting and rebelling, and ever
      again doing it, he makes out for himself, with Fouquet and his other
      Governors, what kind of life we know! 'GARDEZ E'TROITEMENT CE DROLE-LA, IL
      A VOULU DEVENIR PANDOUR AUPRES DE SON ONCLE (Keep a tight hold of this
      fine fellow; he wanted to become Pandour beside his Uncle)!' writes
      Friedrich:&mdash;'Uncle' instead of 'Cousin,' all one to Friedrich. This
      he writes with his own hand, on the margin: 28th June, 1745; the
      inexorable Records fix that date. [Rodenbeck. iii. 381. Copy of the
      Warrant, once PENES ME.] Which I should not mention, except for another
      inexorable date (30th September), that is coming; and the perceptible
      slight comfort there will be in fixing down a loud-blustering, extensively
      fabulous blockhead, still fit for the Nurseries, to one undeniable
      premeditated lie, and tar-marking him therewith, for benefit of more
      serious readers." As shall be done, were the 30th of September come!
    </p>
    <p>
      Here is still something,&mdash;if it be not rather nothing, by a great
      hand! Date uncertain; Camp-of-Chlum time, pretty far on:... "There are
      continual foragings, on both sides; with parties mutually dashing out to
      hinder the same. The Prussians have a detached post at Smirzitz; which is
      much harassed by Hungarians lurking about, shooting our sentry and the
      like. An inventive head contrives this expedient. Stuff a Prussian uniform
      with straw; fix it up, by aid of ropes and check-strings, to stand with
      musket shouldered, and even to glide about to right and left, on judicious
      pulling. So it is done: straw man is made; set upon his ropes, when the
      Tolpatches approach; and pensively saunters to and fro,&mdash;his living
      comrades crouching in the bushes near by. Tolpatches fire on the walking
      straw sentry; straw sentry falls flat; Tolpatches rush in, esurient,
      triumphant; are exploded in a sharp blast of musketry from the bushes all
      round, every wounded man made prisoner;&mdash;and come no more back to
      that post." Friedrich himself records this little fact: "slight pleasantry
      to relieve the reader's mind," says he, in narrating it. [<i>OEuvres,</i>
      iii. 123.]&mdash;Enough of those small matters, while so many large are
      waiting.
    </p>
    <p>
      June 26th, a month before Chlum, General Nassau had been detached, with
      some 8 or 10,000, across Glatz Country, into Upper Silesia, to sweep that
      clear again. Hautcharmoi, quitting the Frontier Towns, has joined, raising
      him to 15,000; and Nassau is giving excellent account of the multitudinous
      Pandour doggeries there; and will retake Kosel, and have Upper Silesia
      swept before very long. [Kosel, "September 5th:" Excellent, lucid and even
      entertaining Account of Nassau's Expedition, in the form of DIARY (a
      model, of its kind), in <i>Feldzuge,</i> iv. 257, 371, 532.] On the other
      hand, the Election matter (KAISERWAHL, a most important point) is
      obviously in threatening, or even in desperate state! That famed
      Middle-Rhine Army has gone to the&mdash;what shall we say?
    </p>
    <p>
      JULY 5th-19th, MIDDLE-RHINE COUNTRY. "The first Election-news that reaches
      Friedrich is from the Middle-Rhine Country, and of very bad complexion.
      Readers remember Traun, and his Bathyanis, and his intentions upon Conti
      there. In the end of May, old Traun, things being all completed in
      Bavaria, had got on march with his Bavarian Army, say 40,000, to look into
      Prince Conti down in those parts; a fact very interesting to the Prince.
      Traun held leftward, westward, as if for the Neckar Valley,&mdash;'Perhaps
      intending to be through upon Elsass, in those southern undefended portions
      of the Rhine?' Conti, and his Segur, and Middle-Rhine Army stood
      diligently on their guard; got their forces, defences, apparatuses,
      hurried southward, from Frankfurt quarter where they lay on watch, into
      those Neckar regions. Which seen to be done, Traun whirled rapidly to
      rightward, to northward; crossed the Mayn at Wertheim, wholly leaving the
      Neckar and its Conti; having weighty business quite in the other
      direction,&mdash;on the north side of the Mayn, namely; on the Kinzig
      River, where Bathyani (who has taken D'Ahremberg's command below
      Frankfurt, and means to bestir himself in another than the D'Ahremberg
      fashion) is to meet him on a set day. Traun having thus, by strategic
      suction, pulled the Middle-Rhine Army out of his and Bathyani's way, hopes
      they two will manage a junction on the Kinzig; after junction they will be
      a little stronger than Conti, though decidedly weaker taken one by one.
      Traun, in the long June days, had such a march, through the Spessart
      Forest (Mayn River to his left, with our old friends Dettingen,
      Aschaffenburg, far down in the plain), as was hardly ever known before:
      pathless wildernesses, rocky steeps and chasms; the sweltering June sun
      sending down the upper snows upon him in the form of muddy slush; so that
      'the infantry had to wade haunch-deep in many of the hollow parts, and
      nearly all the cavalry lost its horse-shoes.' A strenuous march; and a
      well-schemed. For at the Kinzig River (Conti still far off in the Neckar
      country), Bathyani punctually appeared, on the opposite shore; and Traun
      and he took camp together; July 5th, at Langen-Selbord (few miles north of
      Hanau, which we know);&mdash;and rest there; calculating that Conti is now
      a manageable quantity;&mdash;and comfortably wait till the Grand-Duke
      arrives. [Adelung, iv. 421; v. 36.] For this is, theoretically, HIS Army;
      Grand-Duke Franz being the Commander's Cloak, this season; as Karl was
      last,&mdash;a right lucky Cloak he, while Traun lurked under him, not so
      lucky since! July 13th, Franz arrived; and Traun, under Franz, instantly
      went into Conti (now again in those Frankfurt parts); clutched at Conti,
      Briareus-like, in a multiform alarming manner: so that Conti lost head;
      took to mere retreating, rushing about, burning bridges;&mdash;and in
      fine, July 19th, had flung himself bodily across the Rhine (clouds of
      Tolpatches sticking to him), and left old Traun and his Grand-Duke supreme
      lord in those parts. Who did NOT invade Elsass, as was now expected; but
      lay at Heidelberg, intending to play pacifically a surer card. All French
      are out of Teutschland again; and the game given up. In what a premature
      and shameful manner! thinks Friedrich.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Nominally it was the Grand-Duke that flung Conti over the Rhine; and
      delivered Teutschland from its plagues. After which fine feat, salvatory
      to the Cause of Liberty, and destructive to French influence, what is to
      prevent his election to the Kaisership? Friedrich complains aloud: 'Conti
      has given it up; you drafted 15,000 from him (for imaginary uses in the
      Netherlands),&mdash;you have given it up, then! Was that our bargain?' 'We
      have given it up,' answers D'Argenson the War-minister, writing to Valori;
      'but,'&mdash;And supplies, instead of performance according to the laws of
      fact, eloquent logic; very superfluous to Friedrich and the said laws!&mdash;Valori,
      and the French Minister at Dresden, had again been trying to stir up the
      Polish Majesty to stand for Kaiser; but of course that enterprise, eager
      as the Polish Majesty might be for such a dignity, had now to collapse,
      and become totally hopeless. A new offer of Friedrich's to co-operate had
      been refused by Bruhl, with a brevity, a decisiveness&mdash;'Thinks me
      finished (AUX ABOIS),' says Friedrich; 'and not worth giving terms to, on
      surrendering!' The foolish little creature; insolent in the wrong
      quarter!" [ <i>OEuvres de Frederic,</i> iii. 128.]
    </p>
    <p>
      'The German Burden, then,&mdash;which surely was mutual, at lowest, and
      lately was French altogether,&mdash;the French have thrown it off; the
      French have dropped their end of the BEARING-POLES (so to speak), and left
      Friedrich by himself, to stand or stagger, under the beweltered broken
      harness-gear and intolerable weight! That is one's payment for cutting the
      rope from their neck last year!&mdash;Long since, while the present
      Campaign was being prepared for, under such financial pressures, Friedrich
      had bethought him, "The French might, at least give me money, if they can
      nothing else?"&mdash;and he had one day penned a Letter with that object;
      but had thrown it into his desk again, "No; not till the very last
      extremity, that!" Friedrich did at last despatch the unpleasant missive:
      "Service done you in Elsass, let us say little of it; but the repayment
      has been zero hitherto: your Bavarian expenses (poor Kaiser gone, and
      Peace of Fussen come!) are now ended:&mdash;A round sum, say of 600,000
      pounds, is becoming indispensable here, if we are to keep on our feet at
      all!" Herr Ranke, who has seen the Most Christian King's response (though
      in a capricious way), finds "three or four successive redactions" of the
      difficult passage; all painfully meaning, "Impossible, alas!"&mdash;painfully
      adding, "We will try, however!" And, after due cunctations, Friedrich
      waiting silent the while,&mdash;Louis, Most Christian King, who had failed
      in so many things towards Friedrich, does empower Valori To offer him a
      subsidy of 600,000 livres a month, till we see farther. Twenty thousand
      pounds a month; he hopes this will suffice, being himself run terribly
      low. Friedrich's feeling is to be guessed: "Such a dole might answer to a
      Landgraf of Hessen-Darmstadt; but to me is not in the least suitable;"&mdash;and
      flatly refuses it; FIEREMENT, says Valori. [Ranke, iii. 235, 299 n. (not
      the least of DATE allowed us in either case); Valori. i. 240.]
    </p>
    <p>
      MON GROS VALORI, who could not himself help all this, poor soul, "falls
      now into complete disgrace;" waits daily upon Friedrich at the giving out
      of the parole, "but frequently his Majesty does not speak to me at all."
      Hardly looks at me, or only looks as if I had suddenly become Zero
      Incarnate. It is now in these days, I suppose, that Friedrich writes about
      the "Scamander Battle" (of Fontenoy), and "Capture of Pekin," by way of
      helping one to fight the Austrians according to Treaty. And has a touch of
      bitter sarcasm in uttering his complaints against, such treatment,&mdash;the
      heart of him, I suppose, bitter enough. Most Christian King has felt this
      of the Scamander, Friedrich perceives; Louis's next letter testifies
      pique;&mdash;and of course we are farther from help, on that side, than
      ever. "From the STANDE of the Kur-Mark [Brandenburg] Friedrich was offered
      a considerable subsidy instead; and joyfully accepted the same, 'as a
      loan:'"&mdash;paid it punctually back, too; and never, all his days,
      forgot it of those STANDE. [Stenzel, iv. 255; Ranke, &amp;c.]
    </p>
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    <h2>
      CAMP OF DIESKAU: BRITANNIC MAJESTY MAKES PEACE, FOR HIMSELF, WITH
      FRIEDRICH; BUT CANNOT FOR AUSTRIA OR SAXONY.
    </h2>
    <p>
      About the middle of August, there are certain Saxon phenomena which awaken
      dread expectation in the world. Friedrich, watching, Argus-like, near and
      far, in his Chlum observatory, has noticed that Prince Karl is getting
      reinforced in Konigsgratz; 10,000 lately, 7,000 more coming;&mdash;and
      contrariwise that the Saxons seem to be straggling off from him; ebbing
      away, corps after corps,&mdash;towards Saxony, can it be? There are
      whispers of "Bavarian auxiliaries" being hired for them, too. And little
      Bruhl's late insolence; Bruhl's evident belief that "we are finished (AUX
      ABOIS)"? Putting all this together, Friedrich judges&mdash;with an
      indignation very natural&mdash;that there is again some insidious Saxon
      mischief, most likely an attack on Brandenburg, in the wind. Friedrich
      orders the Old Dessauer, "March into them, delay no longer!" and publishes
      a clangorously indignant Manifesto (evidently his own writing, and coming
      from the heart): [In Adelung, v. 64-71 (no date; "middle of August," say
      the Books).] "How they have, not bound by their Austrian Treaty, wantonly
      invaded our Silesia; have, since and before, in spite of our forbearance,
      done so many things:&mdash;and, in fact, have finally exhausted our
      patience; and are forcing us to seek redress and safety by the natural
      methods," which they will see how they like!&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      Old Leopold advances straightway, as bidden, direct for the Saxon
      frontier. To whom Friedrich shoots off detachments,&mdash;Prince Dietrich,
      with so many thousands, to reinforce Papa; then General Gessler with so
      many,&mdash;till Papa is 30,000 odd; and could eat Saxony at a mouthful;
      nothing whatever being yet ready there on Bruhl's part, though he has such
      immense things in the wind!&mdash;Nevertheless Friedrich again paused; did
      not yet strike. The Saxon question has Russian bug-bears, no end of
      complications. His Britannic Majesty, now at Hanover, and his prudent
      Harrington with him, are in the act of laboring, with all earnestness, for
      a general Agreement with Friedrich. Without farther bitterness,
      embroilment and bloodshed: how much preferable for Friedrich! Old
      Dessauer, therefore, pauses: "Camp of Dieskau," which we have often heard
      of, close on the Saxon Border; stands there, looking over, as with sword
      drawn, 30,000 good swords,&mdash;but no stroke, not for almost three
      months more. In three months, wretched Bruhl had not repented; but, on the
      contrary, had completed his preparations, and gone to work;&mdash;and the
      stroke did fall, as will be seen. That is Bruhl's posture in the matter.
      [Ranke, iii. 231, 314.]
    </p>
    <p>
      To Britannic George, for a good while past, it has been manifest that the
      Pragmatic Sanction, in its original form, is an extinct object; that
      reconquest of Silesia, and such like, is melancholy moonshine; and that,
      in fact, towards fighting the French with effect, it is highly necessary
      to make peace with Friedrich of Prussia again. This once more is George's
      and his Harrington's fixed view. Friedrich's own wishes are known, or used
      to be, ever since the late Kaiser's death,&mdash;though latterly he has
      fallen silent, and even avoids the topic when offered (knowing his man)!
      Herrington has to apply formally to Friedrich's Minister at Hanover. "Very
      well, if they are in earnest this time," so Friedrich instructs his
      Minister: "My terms are known to you; no change admissible in the terms;&mdash;do
      not speak with me on it farther: and, observe, within four weeks, the
      thing finished, or else broken off!" [Ranke, iii. 277-281.] And in this
      sense they are laboring incessantly, with Austria, with Saxony,&mdash;without
      the least success;&mdash;and Excellency Robinson has again a panting
      uncomfortable time. Here is a scene Robinson transacts at Vienna, which
      gives us a curious face-to-face glimpse of her Hungarian Majesty, while
      Friedrich is in his Camp at Chlum.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      SCHONBRUNN, 2d AUGUST, 1745, ROBINSON HAS AUDIENCE OF HER HUNGARIAN
      MAJESTY.
    </h2>
    <p>
      Robinson, in a copious sonorous speech (rather apt to be copious, and to
      fall into the Parliamentary CANTO-FERMO), sets forth how extremely ill we
      Allies are faring on the French hand; nothing done upon Silesia either; a
      hopeless matter that,&mdash;is it not, your Majesty? And your Majesty's
      forces all lying there, in mere dead-lock; and we in such need of them!
      "Peace with Prussia is indispensable."&mdash;To which her Majesty
      listened, in statuesque silence mostly; "never saw her so reserved before,
      my Lord."...
    </p>
    <p>
      ROBINSON.... "'Madam, the Dutch will be obliged to accept Neutrality' [and
      plump down again, after such hoisting]!
    </p>
    <p>
      QUEEN. "'Well, and if they did, they? It would be easier to accommodate
      with France itself, and so finish the whole matter, than with Prussia." My
      Army could not get to the Netherlands this season. No General of mine
      would undertake conducting it at this day of the year. Peace with Prussia,
      what good could it do at present?'
    </p>
    <p>
      ROBINSON. "'England has already found, for subsidies, this year, 1,178,753
      pounds. Cannot go on at that rate. Peace with Prussia is one of the
      returns the English Nation expects for all it has done.'
    </p>
    <p>
      QUEEN. "'I must have Silesia again: without Silesia the Kaiserhood were an
      empty title. "Or would you have us administer it under the guardiancy of
      Prussia!"'...
    </p>
    <p>
      ROBINSON. "'In Bohemia itself things don't look well; nothing done on
      Friedrich: your Saxons seem to be qnarrelling with you, and going home.'
    </p>
    <p>
      QUEEN. "'Prince Karl is himself capable of fighting the Prussians again.
      Till that, do not speak to me of Peace! Grant me only till October!'
    </p>
    <p>
      ROBINSON. "'Prussia will help the Grand-Duke to Kaisership.'
    </p>
    <p>
      QUEEN. "'The Grand-Duke is not so ambitions of an empty honor as to engage
      in it under the tutelage of Prussia. Consider farther: the Imperial
      dignity, is it compatible with the fatal deprivation of Silesia? "One
      other battle, I say! Good God, give me only till the month of October!"'
    </p>
    <p>
      ROBINSON. "'A battle, Madam, if won, won't reconquer Silesia; if lost,
      your Majesty is ruined at home.'
    </p>
    <p>
      QUEEN. "'DUSSE'JE CONCLURE AVEC LUI LE LENDEMAIN, JE LUI LIVRERAIS
      BATAILLE CE SOIR (Had I to agree with him to-morrow, I would try him in a
      battle this evening)!'" [Robinson's Despatch, 4th August, 1745. Ranke,
      iii. 287; Raumer, pp. 161, 162.]
    </p>
    <p>
      Her Majesty is not to be hindered; deaf to Robinson, to her Britannic
      George who pays the money. "Cruel man, is that what you call keeping the
      Pragmatic Sanction; dismembering me of Province after Province, now in
      Germany, then in Italy, on pretext of necessity? Has not England money,
      then? Does not England love the Cause of Liberty? Give me till October!"
      Her Majesty did take till October, and later, as we shall see; poor George
      not able to hinder, by power of the purse or otherwise: who can hinder
      high females, or low, when they get into their humors? Much of this
      Austrian obstinacy, think impartial persons, was of female nature. We
      shall see what profit her Majesty made by taking till October.
    </p>
    <p>
      As for George, the time being run, and her Majesty and Saxony
      unpersuadable, he determined to accept Friedrich's terms himself, in hope
      of gradually bringing the others to do it. August 26th, at Hanover, there
      is signed a CONVENTION OF HANOVER between Friedrich and him: "Peace on the
      old Breslau-Berlin terms,&mdash;precisely the same terms, but Britannic
      Majesty to have them guaranteed by All the Powers, on the General Peace
      coming,&mdash;so that there be no snake-procedure henceforth." Silesia
      Friedrich's without fail, dear Hanover unmolested even by a thought of
      Friedrich's;&mdash;and her Hungarian Majesty to be invited, nay urged by
      every feasible method, to accede. [Adelung, v. 75; is "in Rousset, xix.
      441;" in &amp;c. &amp;c.] Which done, Britannic Majesty&mdash;for there
      has hung itself out, in the Scotch Highlands, the other day ("Glenfinlas,
      August 12th"), a certain Standard "TANDEM TRIUMPHANS," and unpleasant
      things are imminent!&mdash;hurries home at his best pace, and has his
      hands full there, for some time. On Austria, on Saxony, he could not
      prevail: "By no manner of means!" answered they; and went their own road,&mdash;jingling
      his Britannic subsidies in their pocket; regardless of the once Supreme
      Jove, who is sunk now to a very different figure on the German boards.
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich's outlook is very bad: such a War to go on, and not even finance
      to do it with. His intimates, his Rothenburg one time, have "found him
      sunk in gloomy thought." But he wears a bright face usually. No wavering
      or doubting in him, his mind made up; which is a great help that way.
      Friedrich indicates, and has indicated everywhere, for many months, that
      Peace, precisely on the old footing, is all he wants: "The Kaiser being
      dead, whom I took up arms to defend, what farther object is there?" says
      he. "Renounce Silesia, more honestly than last time; engage to have it
      guaranteed by everybody at the General Peace (or perhaps Hohenfriedberg
      will help to guarantee it),&mdash;and I march home!" My money is running
      down, privately thinks he; guarantee Silesia, and I shall be glad to go.
      If not, I must raise money somehow; melt the big silver balustrades at
      Berlin, borrow from the STANDE, or do something; and, in fact, must stand
      here, unless Silesia is guaranteed, and struggle till I die.
    </p>
    <p>
      That latter withal is still privately Friedrich's thought. Under his light
      air, he carries unspoken that grimly clear determination, at all times,
      now and henceforth; and it is an immense help to the guidance of him. An
      indispensable, indeed. No king or man, attempting anything considerable in
      this world, need expect to achieve it except, tacitly, on those same
      terms, "I will achieve it or die!" For the world, in spite of rumors to
      the contrary, is always much of a bedlam to the sanity (so far as he may
      have any) of every individual man. A strict place, moreover; its very
      bedlamisms flowing by law, as do alike the sudden mud-deluges, and the
      steady Atlantic tides, and all things whatsoever: a world inexorable,
      truly, as gravitation itself;&mdash;and it will behoove you to front it in
      a similar humor, as the tacit basis for whatever wise plans you lay. In
      Friedrich, from the first entrance of him on the stage of things, we have
      had to recognize this prime quality, in a fine tacit form, to a complete
      degree; and till his last exit, we shall never find it wanting. Tacit
      enough, unconscious almost, not given to articulate itself at all;&mdash;and
      if there be less of piety than we could wish in the silence of it, there
      is at least no play-actor mendacity, or cant of devoutness, to poison the
      high worth of it. No braver little figure stands on the Earth at that
      epoch. Ready, at the due season, with his mind silently made up;&mdash;able
      to answer diplomatic Robinsons, Bartensteins and the very Destinies when
      they apply. If you will withdraw your snakish notions, will guarantee
      Silesia, will give him back his old Treaty of Berlin in an irrefragable
      shape, he will march home; if not, he will never march home, but be
      carried thither dead rather. That is his intention, if the gods permit.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      GRAND-DUKE FRANZ IS ELECTED KAISER (13TH SEPTEMBER, 1745); FRIEDRICH, THE
      SEASON AND FORAGE BEING DONE, MAKES FOR SILESIA.
    </h2>
    <p>
      There occurred at Frankfurt&mdash;the clear majority, seven of the nine
      Electors, Bavaria itself (nay Bohemia this time, "distaff" or not), and
      all the others but Friedrich and Kur-Pfalz, being so disposed or so
      disposable, Traun being master of the ground&mdash;no difficulty about
      electing Grand-Duke Franz Stephan of Tuscany? Joint-King of Bohemia, to be
      Kaiser of the Holy Romish Reich. Friedrich's envoy protested;&mdash;as did
      Kur-Pfalz's, with still more vehemence, and then withdrew to Hanau: the
      other Seven voted September 13th 1745: and it was done. A new Kaiser,
      Franz Stephan, or Franz I.,&mdash;with our blessing on him, if that can
      avail much. But I fear it cannot. Upon such mendacious Empty-Case of
      Kaiserhood, without even money to feed itself, not to speak of governing,
      of defending and coercing; upon such entities the blessings of man avail
      little; the gods, having warned them to go, do not bless them for staying!&mdash;However,
      tar-barrels burn, the fountains play (wine in some of them, I hope); Franz
      is to be crowned in a fortnight hence, with extraordinary magnificence. At
      this last part of it Maria Theresa will, in her own high person, attend;
      and proceeds accordingly towards Frankfurt, in the end of September (say
      the old Books), so soon as the Election is over.
    </p>
    <p>
      Hungarian Majesty's bearing was not popular there, according to Friedrich,&mdash;who
      always admires her after a sort, and always speaks of her like a king and
      gentleman:&mdash;but the High Lady, it is intimated, felt somewhat too
      well that she was high. Not sorry to have it known, under the due veils,
      that her Kaiser-Husband is but of a mimetic nature; that it is she who has
      the real power; and that indeed she is in a victorious posture at present.
      Very high in her carriage towards the Princes of the Reich, and their
      privileges:&mdash;poor Kur-Pfalz's notary, or herald, coming to protest (I
      think, it was the second time) about something, she quite disregarded his
      tabards, pasteboards, or whatever they were, and clapt him in prison. The
      thing was commented upon; but Kur-Pfalz got no redress. Need we repeat,&mdash;lazy
      readers having so often met him, and forgotten him again,&mdash;this is a
      new younger Kur-Pfalz: Karl Theodor, this one; not Friedrich Wilhelm's old
      Friend, but his Successor, of the Sulzbach line; of whom, after thirty
      years or so, we may again hear. He can complain about his violated tabard;
      will get his notary out of jail again, but no redress.
    </p>
    <p>
      Highish even towards her friends, this "Empress-Queen" (KAISERIN-KONIGIN,
      such her new title), and has a kind of "Thank-you-for-Nothing" air towards
      them. Prussian Majesty, she said, had unquestionable talents; but, oh,
      what a character! Too much levity, she said, by far; heterodox too, in the
      extreme; a BOSER MANN;&mdash;and what a neighbor has he been! As to
      Silesia, she was heard to say, she would as soon part with her petticoat
      as part with it. [<i>OEuvres de Frederic,</i> iii. 126, 128.]&mdash;So
      that there is not the least prospect of peace here? "None," answer
      Friedrich's emissaries, whom he had empowered to hint the thing. Which is
      heavy news to Friedrich.
    </p>
    <p>
      Early in August, not long after that Audience of Robinson's, her Majesty,
      after repeated written messages to Prince Karl, urging him to go into
      fight again or attempt something, had sent two high messengers: Prince
      Lobkowitz, Duke d'Ahremberg, high dignitaries from Court, have come to
      Konigsgratz with the latest urgencies, the newest ideas; and would fain
      help Prince Karl to attempt something. Daily they used to come out upon a
      little height, in view of Friedrich's tent, and gaze in upon him, and
      round all Nature, "with big tubes," he says, "as if they had been
      astronomers;" but never attempted anything. We remember D'Ahremberg, and
      what part he has played, from the Dettingen times and onward. "A debauched
      old fellow," says Friedrich; "gone all to hebetude by his labors in that
      line; agrees always with the last speaker." Prince Karl seems to have
      little stomach himself; and does not see his way into (or across) another
      Battle. Lobkowitz, again, is always saying: "Try something! We are now
      stronger than they, by their detachings, by our reinforcings" (indeed,
      about twice their number, regular and irregular), though most of the
      Saxons are gone home. After much gazing through their tubes, the Austrians
      (August 23d) do make a small shift of place, insignificant otherwise; the
      Prussians, next day, do the like, in consequence; quit Chlum, burning
      their huts; post themselves a little farther up the Elbe,&mdash;their left
      at a place called Jaromirz, embouchure of the Aupa into Elbe, [ <i>OEuvres
      de Frederic,</i> iii. 129.]&mdash;and are again unattackable.
    </p>
    <p>
      The worst fact is the multitude of Pandours, more and more infesting our
      provision-roads; and that horse-forage itself is, at last, running low.
      Detachments lie all duly round to right and left, to secure our
      communications with Silesia, especially to left, out of Glatz, where runs
      one of the chief roads we have. But the service is becoming daily more
      difficult. For example:&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "NEUSTADT, 8th SEPTEMBER. In that left-hand quarter, coming out of Glatz
      at a little Bohemian Town called Neustadt, the Prussian Commander,
      Tauenzien by name, was repeatedly assaulted; and from September 8th, had
      to stand actual siege, gallantly repulsing a full 10,000 with their big
      artillery, though his walls were all breached, for about a week, till
      Friedrich sent him relief. Prince Lobkowitz, our old anti-Belleisle
      friend, who is always of forward fiery humor, had set them on this
      enterprise; which has turned out fruitless. The King is much satisfied
      with Tauenzien; [Ib. 132.] of whom we shall hear again. Who indeed becomes
      notable to us, were it only for getting one Lessing as secretary, by and
      by: Gotthold Ephraim Lessing, whose fame has since gone into all
      countries; the man having been appointed a 'Secretary' to the very
      Destinies, in some sort; that is to say, a Writer of Books which have
      turned out to have truth in them! Tauenzien, a grimmish aquiline kind of
      man, of no superfluous words, has distinguished himself for the present by
      defending Neustadt, which the Austrians fully counted to get hold of."
    </p>
    <p>
      Let us give another little scene; preparatory to quitting this Country, as
      it is evident the King and we will soon have to do; Country being quite
      eaten out, Pandours getting ever rifer, and the Season done:&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      JAROMIRZ, "EARLY IN SEPTEMBER," 1745. "Jaromirz is a little Bohemian Town
      on the Aupa, or between the Aupa and Metau branches of the Upper Elbe;
      four or five miles north of Semonitz, where Friedrich's quarter now is.
      Valori, so seldom spoken to, is lodged in a suburb there: 'Had not you
      better go into the town itself?' his Majesty did once say; but Valori,
      dreading nothing, lodged on,&mdash;'Landlord a Burgher whom I thought
      respectable.' Respectable, yes he; but his son had been dealing with
      Franquini the Pandour, and had sold Valori,&mdash;night appointed,
      measures all taken; a miracle if Valori escape. Franquini, chief of 30,000
      Pandours, has come in person to superintend this important capture; and
      lies hidden, with a strong party, in the woods to rearward. Prussians
      about 200, scattered in posts, occupy the hedges in front, for guard of
      the ovens; to rear, Jaromirz being wholly ours, there is no suspicion.
    </p>
    <p>
      "In the dead of the night, Franquini emerges from the woods; sends forward
      a party of sixty, under the young Judas; who, by methods suitable, gets
      them stealthily conducted into Papa's Barn, which looks across a courtyard
      into Valori's very windows. From the Barn it is easy, on paws of velvet,
      to get into the House, if you have a Judas to open it. Which you have:&mdash;bolts
      all drawn for you, and even beams ready for barricading if you be meddled
      with. 'Upstairs is his Excellency asleep; Excellency's room is&mdash;to
      right, do you remember; or to left'&mdash;'Pshaw, we shall find it!' The
      Pandours mount; find a bedroom, break it open,&mdash;some fifteen or
      sixteen of them, and one who knows a little French;&mdash;come crowding
      forward: to the horror and terror of the poor inhabitant.' 'QUE
      VOULEZ-VOUS DONC?' 'His Excellency Valori!' 'Well, no violence; I am your
      prisoner: let me dress!' answers the supposed Excellency,&mdash;and
      contrives to secrete portfolios, and tear or make away with papers. And is
      marched off, under a select guard, who leave the rest to do the pillage.
      And was not Valori at all; was Valori's Secretary, one D'Arget, who had
      called himself Valori on this dangerous occasion! Valori sat quaking
      behind his partition; not till the Pandours began plundering the stables
      did the Prussian sentry catch sound of them, and plunge in."
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich had his amusement out of this adventure; liked D'Arget, the
      clever Secretary; got D'Arget to himself before long, as will be seen;&mdash;and,
      in quieter times, dashed off a considerable Explosion of Rhyme, called LE
      PALLADION (Valori as Prussia's "Palladium," with Devils attempting to
      steal him, and the like), which was once thought an exquisite Burlesque,&mdash;Kings
      coveting a sight of it, in vain,&mdash;but is now wearisome enough to
      every reader. [Valori, i. 242; <i>OEuvres de Frederic,</i> iii. 130: for
      the Fact. Exquisite Burlesque, PALLADION itself, is in <i>OEuvres,</i> xi.
      192-271 (see IB. 139): a bad copy of that very bad Original, JEANNE D'ARC,&mdash;the
      only thing now good in it, Friedrich's polite yet positive refusal to
      gratify King Louis and his Pompdour with a sight of it (see IB. PREFACE,
      x-xiv, Friedrich's Letter to Louis; date of request and of refusal, March,
      1750).]&mdash;Let us attend his Majesty's exit from Bohemia.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      Chapter XII.&mdash;BATTLE OF SOHR.
    </h2>
    <p>
      The famed beautiful Elbe River rises in romantic chasms, terrible to the
      picturesque beholder, at the roots of the Riesengebirge; overlooked by the
      Hohe-Kamms, and highest summits of that chain. "Out of eleven wells," says
      gentle Dulness, "EILF or ELF QUELLEN, whence its name, Elbe for ELF." Sure
      enough, it starts out of various wells; [Description, in Zollner, <i>Briefe
      uber Schlesien,</i> ii. 305; in &amp;c. &amp;c.] rushes out, like a great
      peacock's or pasha's tail, from the roots of the Giant Mountains
      thereabouts; and hurries southward,&mdash;or even rather eastward, at
      first; for (except the Iser to westward, which does not fall in for a
      great while) its chief branches come from the eastern side: Aupa, Metau,
      Adler, the drainings of Glatz, and of that rugged Country where Friedrich
      has been camping and manoeuvring all summer. On the whole, its course is
      southward for the first seventy or eighty miles, washing Jaromirz,
      Konigshof, Konigsgratz, down to Pardubitz: at Pardubitz it turns abruptly
      westward, and holds on so, bending even northward, by hill and plain,
      through the rest of its five or six hundred miles.
    </p>
    <p>
      Its first considerable branch, on that eastern or left bank, is the Aupa,
      which rises in the Pass of Schatzlar (great struggling there, for convoys,
      just now); goes next by Trautenau, which has lately been burnt; and joins
      the Elbe at Jaromirz, where Valori was stolen, or nearly so, from under
      the Prussian left wing. The Aupa runs nearly straight south; the Elbe,
      till meeting it, has run rather southeast; but after joining they go south
      together, augmented by the Metau, by the Adler, down to Pardubitz, where
      the final turn to west occurs. Jaromirz, which lies in the very angle of
      Elbe and Aupa, is the left wing of Friedrich's Camp; main body of the Camp
      lies on the other side of the Elbe, but of course has bridges (as at
      Smirzitz, where that straw sentry did his pranks lately); bridges are
      indispensable, part of our provision coming always by that BOHEMIAN
      Neustadt, from the northeast quarter out of Silesia; though the main
      course of our meal (and much fighting for it) is direct from the north, by
      the Pass of Schatzlar,&mdash;"Chaslard," as poor Valori calls it.
    </p>
    <p>
      Thus Friedrich lay, when Valori escaped being stolen; when Tauenzien was
      assailed by the 10,000 Pandours with siege artillery, and stood
      inexpugnable in the breach till Friedrich relieved him. Those Pandours
      "had cut away his water, for the last two days;" so that, except for
      speedy relief, all valor had been in vain. Water being gone, not
      recoverable without difficulties, Neustadt was abandoned (September 16th,
      as I guess);&mdash;one of our main Silesian roads for meal has ceased. We
      have now only Schatzlar to depend on; where Franquini&mdash;lying westward
      among the glens of the Upper Elbe, and possessed of abundant talent in the
      Tolpatch way (witness Valori's narrow miss lately)&mdash;gives us trouble
      enough. Friedrich determines to move towards Schatzlar. Homewards, in
      fact; eating the Country well as he goes.
    </p>
    <p>
      Saturday, 18th September, Friedrich crosses the Elbe at Jaromirz. Entirely
      unopposed; the Austrians were all busy firing FEU-DE-JOIE for the Election
      of their Grand-Duke: Election done five days ago at Frankfurt, and the
      news just come. So they crackle about, and deliver rolling fire, at a
      great rate; proud to be "IMPERIAL Army" henceforth, as if that could do
      much for them. There was also vast dining, for three days, among the high
      heads, and a great deal of wine spent. That probably would have been the
      chance to undertake something upon them, better than crossing the Elbe,
      says Friedrich looking back. But he did not think of it in time; took
      second-best in place of best.
    </p>
    <p>
      He is now, therefore, over into that Triangular piece of Country between
      Elbe and Aupa (if readers will consult their Map); in that triangle, his
      subsequent notable operations all lie. He here proposes to move northward,
      by degrees,&mdash;through Trautenau, Schatzlar, and home; well eating this
      bit of Country too, the last uneaten bit, as he goes. This well eaten,
      there will be no harbor anywhere for Invasion, through the Winter coming.
      One of my old Notes says of it, in the topographic point of view:&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "It is a triangular patch of Country, which has lain asleep since the
      Creation of the World; traversed only by Boii (BOI-HEIM-ERS, Bohemians),
      Czechs and other such populations, in Human History; but which Friedrich
      has been fated to make rather notable to the Moderns henceforth. Let me
      recommend it to the picturesque tourist, especially to the military one.
      Lovers of rocky precipices, quagmires, brawling torrents and the
      unadulterated ruggedness of Nature, will find scope there; and it was the
      scene of a distinguished passage of arms, with notable display of human
      dexterity and swift presence of mind. For the rest, one of the wildest,
      and perhaps (except to the picturesque tourist) most unpleasant regions in
      the world. Wild stony upland; topmost Upland, we may say, of Europe in
      general, or portion of such Upland; for the rainstorms hereabouts run
      several roads,&mdash;into the German Ocean and Atlantic by the Elbe, into
      the Baltic by the Oder, into the Black Sea by the Donau;&mdash;and it is
      the waste Outfield whither you rise, by long weeks-journeys, from many
      sides.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Much of it, towards the angle of Elbe and Aupa, is occupied by a huge
      waste Wood, called 'Kingdom Forest' (KONIGREICH SYLVA or WALD, peculium of
      Old Czech Majesties, I fancy); may be sixty square miles in area, the
      longer side of which lies along the Elbe. A Country of rocky defiles;
      lowish hills chaotically shoved together, not wanting their brooks and
      quagmires, straight labyrinthic passages; shaggy with wild wood. Some poor
      Hamlets here and there, probably the sleepiest in Nature, are scattered
      about; there may be patches ploughable for rye [modern Tourist says
      snappishly, There are many such; whole region now drained; reminded me of
      Yorkshire Highlands, with the Western Sun gilding it, that fine afternoon!]&mdash;ploughable
      for rye, buckwheat; boggy grass to be gathered in summer; charcoaling to
      do; pigs at least are presumable, among these straggling outposts of
      humanity in their obscure Hamlets: poor ploughing, moiling creatures, they
      little thought of becoming notable so soon! None of the Books (all intent
      on mere soldiering) take the least notice of them; not at the pains to
      spell their Hamlets right: no more notice than if they also had been
      stocks and moss-grown stones. Nevertheless, there they did evidently live,
      for thousands of years past, in a dim manner;&mdash;and are much terrified
      to have become the seat of war, all on a sudden. Their poor Hamlets, Sohr,
      Staudentz, Prausnitz, Burgersdorf and others still send up a faint smoke;
      and have in them, languidly, the live-coal of mysterious human existence,
      in those woods,&mdash;to judge by the last maps that have come out. A
      thing worth considering by the passing tourist, military or other."
    </p>
    <p>
      It is in this Kingdom Forest (which he calls ROYAUME DE SILVA, instead of
      SYLVA DE ROYAUME) that Friedrich now marches; keeping the body of the
      Forest well on his left, and skirting the southern and eastern sides of
      it. Rough marching for his Majesty; painfully infested by Nadastian
      Tolpatches; who run out on him from ambushes, and need to be scourged; one
      ambush in particular, at a place called Liebenthal (second day's march,
      and near the end of it),&mdash;where our Prussian Hussars, winding like
      fiery dragons on the dangerous precipices, gave them better than they
      brought, and completely quenched their appetite for that day. After
      Liebenthal, the march soon ends; three miles farther on, at the dim
      wold-hamlet of Staudentz: here a camp is pitched; here, till the Country
      is well eaten out, or till something else occur, we propose to tarry for a
      time.
    </p>
    <p>
      Horse-forage abounds here; but there is no getting of it without
      disturbance from those dogs; you must fight for every truss of grass: if a
      meal-train is coming, as there does every five days, you have to detach
      8,000 foot and 3,000 horse to help it safe in. A fretting fatiguing time
      for regular troops. Our bakery is at Trautenau,&mdash;where Valori is now
      lodging. The Tolpatchery, unable to take Trautenau, set fire to it, though
      it is their own town, their own Queen's town; thatchy Trautenau, wooden
      too in the upper stories of it, takes greedily to the fire; goes all aloft
      in flame, and then lies black. A scandalous transaction, thinks Friedrich.
      The Prussian corn lay nearly all in cellars; little got, even of the
      Prussians, by such an atrocity: and your own poor fellow-subjects, where
      are they? Valori was burnt out here; again exploded from his quarters,
      poor man;&mdash;seems to have thought it a mere fire in his own lodging,
      and that he was an unfortunate diplomatist. Happily he got notice
      (PRIVATISSIME, for no officer dare whisper in such cases) that there is an
      armed party setting out for Silesia, to guard meal that is coming: Valori
      yokes himself to this armed party, and gets safe over the Hills with it,&mdash;then
      swift, by extra post, to Breslau and to civilized (partially civilized)
      accommodation, for a little rest after these hustlings and tossings.
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich had lain at Staudentz, in this manner, bickering continually for
      his forage, and eating the Country, for about ten days: and now, as the
      latter process is well on, and the season drawing to a close: he
      determines on a shift northward. Thursday, 30th September next, let there
      be one other grand forage, the final one in this eaten tract, then
      northward to fresh grounds. That, it appears, was the design. But, on
      Wednesday, there came in an Austrian deserter; who informs us that Prince
      Karl is not now in Konigsgratz, but in motion up the Elbe; already some
      fifty miles up; past Jaromirz: his rear at Konigshof, his van at Arnau,&mdash;on
      a level with burnt Trautenau, and farther north than we ourselves are.
      This is important news. "Intending to block us out from Schatzlar? Hmh!"
      Single scouts, or small parties, cannot live in this Kingdom Wood,
      swarming with Pandours: Friedrich sends out a Colonel Katzler, with 500
      light horse, to investigate a little. Katzler pushes forward, on such lane
      or forest road-track as there is, towards Konigshof; beats back small
      hussar parties;&mdash;comes, in about an hour's space, not upon hussars
      merely, but upon dense masses of heavy horse winding through the forest
      lanes; and, with that imperfect intelligence, is obliged to return. The
      deserter spake truth, apparently; and that is all we can know. Forage
      scheme is given up; the order is, "Baggage packed, and MARCH to-morrow
      morning at ten." Long before ten, there had great things befallen on the
      morrow!&mdash;Try to understand this Note a little:&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "The Camp of Staudentz-which two persons (the King, and General Stille, a
      more careful reporter, who also was an eye-witness) have done their best
      to describe&mdash;will, after all efforts, and an Ordnance Map to help,
      remain considerably unintelligible to the reader; as is too usual in such
      cases. A block of high-lying ground; Friedrich's Camp on it, perhaps two
      miles long, looks to the south; small Village of Staudentz in front;
      hollow beyond that, and second small Village, Deutsch Prausnitz, hanging
      on the opposite slope, with shaggy heights beyond, and the Kingdom Forest
      there beginning: on the left, defiles, brooks and strait country, leading
      towards the small town of Eypel: that is our left and front aspect, a
      hollow well isolating us on those sides. Hollow continues all along the
      front; hollow definite on our side of it, and forming a tolerable defence:&mdash;though
      again, I perceive, to rightward at no great distance, there rise High
      Grounds which considerably overhang us." A thing to be marked! "These we
      could not occupy, for want of men; but only maintain vedettes upon them.
      Over these Heights, a mile or two westward of this hollow of ours, runs
      the big winding hollow called Georgengrund (GEORGE'S BOTTOM), which winds
      up and down in that Kingdom Forest, and offers a road from Konigshof to
      Trautenau, among other courses it takes.
    </p>
    <p>
      "From the crown of those Heights on our right flank here, looking to the
      west, you might discern (perhaps three miles off, from one of the
      sheltering nooks in the hither side of that Georgengrund), rising faintly
      visible over knolls and dingles, the smoke of a little Forest Village.
      That Village is Sohr; notable ever since, beyond others, in the Kingdom
      Wood. Sohr, like the other Villages, has its lane-roads; its road to
      Trautenau, to Konigshof, no doubt; but much nearer you, on our eastern
      slope of the Heights, and far hitherward of Sohr, which is on the western,
      goes the great road [what is now the great road], from Konigshof to
      Trautenau, well visible from Friedrich's Camp, though still at some
      distance from it. Could these Heights between us and Sohr, which lie
      beyond the great road, be occupied, we were well secured; isolated on the
      right too, as on the other sides, from Kingdom Forest and its ambushes.
      'Should have been done,' admits Friedrich; 'but then, as it is, there are
      not troops enough:' with 18,000 men you cannot do everything!"
    </p>
    <p>
      Here, however, is the important point. In Sohr, this night, 29th
      September, in a most private manner, the Austrians, 30,000 of them and
      more, have come gliding through the woods, without even their pipe lit,
      and with thick veil of hussars ahead! Outposts of theirs lie squatted in
      the bushes behind Deutsch Prausnitz, hardly 500 yards from Friedrich's
      Camp. And eastward, leftward of him, in the defiles about Eypel, lie
      Nadasti and Ruffian Trenck, with ten or twelve thousand, who are to take
      him in rear. His "Camp of Staudentz" will be at a fine pass to-morrow
      morning. The Austrian Gentlemen had found, last week, a certain bare
      Height in the Forest (Height still known), from which they could use their
      astronomer tubes day after day; [Orlich, ii. 225.] and now they are about
      attempting something!
    </p>
    <p>
      Thursday morning, very early, 30th September, 1745, Friedrich was in his
      tent, busy with generals and march-routes,&mdash;when a rapid orderly
      comes in, from that Vedette, or strong Piquet, on the Heights to our
      right: "Austrians visibly moving, in quantity, near by!" and before he has
      done answering, the officer himself arrives: "Regular Cavalry in great
      force; long dust-cloud in Kingdom Forest, in the gray dawn; and, so far as
      we can judge, it is their Army coming on." Here is news for a poor man, in
      the raw of a September morning, by way of breakfast to him! "To arms!" is,
      of course, Friedrich's instant order; and he himself gallops to the Piquet
      on the Heights, glass in hand. "Austrian Army sure enough, thirty to
      thirty-five thousand of them, we only eighteen. [<i>OEuvres de Frederic,</i>
      iii. 139.] Coming to take us on the right flank here; to attack our Camp
      by surprise: will crush us northward through the defiles, and trample us
      down in detail? Hmh! To run for it, will never do. We must fight for it,
      and even attack THEM, as our way is, though on such terms. Quick, a plan!"
      The head of Friedrich is a bank you cannot easily break by coming on it
      for plans: such a creature for impromptu plans, and unexpected dashes
      swift as the panther's, I have hardly known,&mdash;especially when you
      squeeze him into a corner, and fancy he is over with it! Friedrich gallops
      down, with his plan clear enough; and already the Austrians, horse and
      foot, are deploying upon those Heights he has quitted; Fifty Squadrons of
      Horse for left wing to them, and a battery of Twenty-eight big Guns is
      establishing itself where Friedrich's Piquet lately stood.
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich's right flank has to become his front, and face those formidable
      Austrian Heights and Batteries; and this with more than Prussian velocity,
      and under the play of those twenty-eight big guns, throwing case-shot
      (GRENADES ROYALES) and so forth, all the while. To Valori, when he heard
      of the thing, it is inconceivable how mortal troops could accomplish such
      a movement; Friedrich himself praises it, as a thing honorably well done.
      Took about half an hour; case-shot raining all the while; soldier
      honorably never-minding: no flurry, though a speed like that of
      spinning-tops. And here we at length are, Staudentz now to rear of us,
      behind our centre a good space; Burgersdorf in front of us to right, our
      left reaching to Prausnitz: Austrian lines, three deep of them, on the
      opposite Height; we one line only, which matches them in length.
    </p>
    <p>
      They, that left wing of horse, should have thundered down on us, attacking
      us, not waiting our attack, thinks Friedrich; but they have not done it.
      They stand on their height there, will perhaps fire carbines, as their
      wont is. "You, Buddenbrock, go into them with your Cuirassiers!"
      Buddenbrock and the Cuirassiers, though it is uphill, go into them at a
      furious rate; meet no countercharge, mere sputter of carbines;&mdash;tumble
      them to mad wreck, back upon their second line, back upon their third:
      absurdly crowded there on their narrow height, no room to manoeuvre; so
      that they plunge, fifty squadrons of them, wholly into the Georgengrund
      rearward, into the Kingdom Wood, and never come on again at all.
      Buddenbrock has done his job right well.
    </p>
    <p>
      Seeing which, our Infantry of the right wing, which stood next to
      Buddenbrock, made impetuous charge uphill, emulous to capture that Battery
      of Twenty-eight; but found it, for some time, a terrible attempt. These
      Heights are not to be called "hills," still less "mountains" (as in some
      careless Books); but it is a stiff climb at double-quick, with
      twenty-eight big guns playing in the face of you. Storms of case-shot
      shear away this Infantry, are quenching its noble fury in despair;
      Infantry visibly recoiling, when our sole Three Regiments of Reserve hurry
      up to support. Round these all rallies; rushes desperately on, and takes
      the Battery,&mdash;of course, sending the Austrian left wing rapidly
      adrift, on loss of the same.
    </p>
    <p>
      This, I consider, is the crisis of the Fight; the back of the Austrian
      enterprise is already broken, by this sad winging of it on the left. But
      it resists still; comes down again,&mdash;the reserve of their left wing
      seen rapidly making for Burgersdorf, intending an attack there; which we
      oppose with vigor, setting Burgersdorf on fire for temporary screen; and
      drive the Austrian reserve rapidly to rearward again. But there is rally
      after rally of them. They rank again on every new height, and dispute
      there; loath to be driven into Kingdom Wood, after such a flourish of
      arms. One height, "bushy steep height," the light-limbed valiant Prince,
      little Ferdinand of Brunswick, had the charge of attacking; and he did it
      with his usual impetus and irresistibility:&mdash;and, strangely enough,
      the defender of it chanced to be that Brother of his, Prince Ludwig, with
      whom he had the little Interview lately. Prince Ludwig got a wound, as
      well as lost his height. The third Brother, poor Prince Albrecht, who is
      also here, as volunteer apprentice, on the Prussian side, gets killed.
      There will never be another Interview, for all three, between the Camps!
      Strange times for those poor Princes, who have to seek soldiering for
      their existence.
    </p>
    <p>
      Meanwhile the Cavalry of Buddenbrock, that is to say of the right wing,
      having now no work in that quarter, is despatched to reinforce the left
      wing, which has stood hitherto apart on its own ground; not attacked or
      attacking,&mdash;a left wing REFUSED, as the soldiers style it. Reinforced
      by Buddenbrock, this left wing of horse does now also storm forward;&mdash;"near
      the Village of Prausnitz" (Prausnitz a little way to rear of it),
      thereabouts, is the scene of its feat. Feat done in such fashion that the
      Austrians opposite will not stand the charge at all; but gurgle about in a
      chaotic manner; then gallop fairly into Kingdom Wood, without stroke
      struck; and disappear, as their fellows had done. Whereupon the Prussian
      horse breaks in upon the adjoining Infantry of that flank (Austrian right
      flank, left bare in this manner); champs it also into chaotic whirlpools;
      cuts away an outskirt of near 2,000 prisoners, and sets the rest running.
      This seems to have been pretty much the COUP-DE-GRACE of the Fight; and to
      have brought the Austrian dispute to finis. From the first, they had
      rallied on the heights; had struggled and disputed. Two general rallies
      they made, and various partial, but none had any success. They were driven
      on, bayonet in back, as the phrase is: with this sad slap on their right,
      added to that old one on their left, what can they now do but ebb rapidly;
      pour in cataracts into Kingdom Wood, and disappear there? [ <i>OEuvres de
      Frederic,</i> iii. 135-143; Stille, pp. 144-163; Orlich, ii. 227-243; <i>Feldzuge,</i>
      i. 357, 363, 374.]
    </p>
    <p>
      Prince Karl's scheme was good, says Friedrich; but it was ill executed. He
      never should have let us form; his first grand fault was that he waited to
      be attacked, instead of attacking. Parts of his scheme were never executed
      at all. Duke d'Ahremberg, for instance, it is said, had so dim a notion of
      the ground, that he drew up some miles off, with his back to the
      Prussians. Such is the rumor,&mdash;perhaps only a rumor, in mockery of
      the hebetated old gentleman fallen unlucky? On the other hand, that
      Nadasti made a failure which proved important, is indubitable. Nadasti,
      with some thousands of Tolpatchery, was at Liebenthal, four miles to
      southeast of the action; Ruffian Trenck lay behind Eypel, perhaps as far
      to east, of it: Trenck and Nadasti were to rendezvous, to unite, and
      attack the Prussian Camp on its rear,&mdash;"Camp," so ran the order, for
      it was understood the Prussians would all be there, we others attacking it
      in front and both flanks;&mdash;which turned out otherwise, not for
      Nadasti alone!
    </p>
    <p>
      Nadasti came to his rendezvous in time; Ruffian Trenck did not: Nadasti
      grew tired of waiting for Trenck, and attacked the Camp by himself:&mdash;Camp,
      but not any men; Camp being now empty, and the men all fighting, ranked at
      right angles to it, furlongs and miles away. Nadasti made a rare hand of
      the Camp; plundered everything, took all the King's Camp-furniture, ready
      money, favorite dog Biche,&mdash;likewise poor Eichel his Secretary, who,
      however, tore the papers first. Tolpatchery exultingly gutted the Camp;
      and at last set fire to it,&mdash;burnt even some eight or ten poor
      Prussian sick, and also "some women whom they caught. We found the limbs
      of these poor men and women lying about," reports old General Lehwald; who
      knew about it. A doggery well worthy of the gallows, think Lehwald and I.
      "Could n't help it; ferocity of wild men," says Nadasti. "Well; but why
      not attack, then, with your ferocity?" Confused Court-martial put these
      questions, at Vienna subsequently; and Ruffian Trenck, some say, got
      injustice, Nadasti shuffling things upon him; for which one cares almost
      nothing. Lehwald, lying at Trautenau, had heard the firing at sunrise; and
      instantly marched to help: he only arrived to give Nadasti a slash or two,
      and was too late for the Fight. One Schlichtling, on guard with a weak
      party, saved what was in the right wing of the Camp,&mdash;small thanks to
      him, the Main Fight being so near: Friedrich's opinion is, an Officer, in
      Schlichtling's place, ought to have done more, and not have been so
      helpless.
    </p>
    <p>
      This was the Battle of Sohr; so called because the Austrians had begun
      there, and the Prussians ended there. The Prussian pursuit drew bridle at
      that Village; unsafe to prosecute Austrians farther, now in the deeps of
      Kingdom Forest. The Battle has lasted five hours. It must be now getting
      towards noon; and time for breakfast, if indeed any were to be had; but
      that is next to impossible, Nadasti having been so busy. Not without
      extreme difficulty is a manchet of bread, with or without a drop of wine,
      procured for the King's Majesty this day. Many a tired hero will have
      nothing but tobacco, with spring-water, to fall back upon. Never mind!
      says the King, says everybody. After all, it is a cheap price to pay for
      missing an attack from Pandours in the rear, while such crisis went on
      ahead.
    </p>
    <p>
      Lying COUSIN Trenck, of the Life-guard, who is now in Glatz, gives vivid
      eye-witness particulars of these things, time of the morning and so on;
      says expressly he was there, and what he did there, [Frederic Baron de
      Trenck, <i>Memoires, traduits par lui-meme</i> (Strasburg and Paris,
      1789), i. 74-78, 79.]&mdash;though in Glatz under lock and key, three good
      months before. "How could I help mistakes," said he afterwards, when
      people objected to this and that in his blusterous mendacity of a Book: "I
      had nothing but my poor agitated memory to trust to!" A man's memory, when
      it gets the length of remembering that he was in the Battle of Sohr while
      bodily absent, ought it not to&mdash;in fact, to strike work; to still its
      agitations altogether, and call halt? Trenck, some months after, got
      clambered out of Glatz, by sewers, or I forget how; and leaped, or
      dropped, from some parapet into the River Neisse,&mdash;sinking to the
      loins in tough mud, so that he could not stir.
    </p>
    <p>
      MAP TO GO HERE&mdash;&mdash;BOOK 15&mdash;page 499&mdash;&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "Fouquet let me stand there half a day, before he would pick me out
      again." Rigorous Bouquet, human mercy forbidding, could not let him stand
      there in permanence,&mdash;as we, better circumstanced, may with advantage
      try to do, in time coming!
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich lay at Sohr five days; partly for the honor of the thing, partly
      to eat out the Country to perfection. Prince Karl, from Konigshof, soon
      fell back to Konigsgratz; and lay motionless there, nothing but his
      Tolpatcheries astir, Sohr Country all eaten, Friedrich, in the due
      Divisions, marched northward. Through Trautenau, Schatzlar, his own
      Division, which was the main one;&mdash;and, fencing off the Tolpatches
      successfully with trouble, brings all his men into Silesia again. A good
      job of work behind them, surely! Cantons them to right and left of
      Landshut, about Rohnstock and Hohenfriedberg, hamlets known so well; and
      leaving the Young Dessauer to command, drives for Berlin (30th October),&mdash;rapidly,
      as his wont is. Prince Karl has split up his force at Konigsgratz; means,
      one cannot doubt, to go into winter-quarters. If he think of invading,
      across that eaten Country and those bad Mountains,&mdash;well, our troops
      can all be got together in six hours' time.
    </p>
    <p>
      At Trautenau, a week after Sohr, Friedrich had at last received the
      English ratification of that Convention of Hanover, signed 26th August,
      almost a month ago; not ratified till September 22d. About which there had
      latterly been some anxiety, lest his Britannic Majesty himself might have
      broken off from it. With Austria, with Saxony, Britannic Majesty has been
      entirely unsuccessful:&mdash;"May not Sohr, perhaps, be a fresh
      persuasive?" hopes Friedrich;&mdash;but as to Britannic Majesty's breaking
      off, his thoughts are far from that, if we knew! Poor Majesty: not long
      since, Supreme Jove of Germany; and now&mdash;is like to be swallowed in
      ragamuffin street-riots; not a thunder-bolt within clutch of him
      (thunder-bolts all sticking in the mud of the Netherlands, far off), and
      not a constable's staff of the least efficacy! Consider these dates in
      combination. Battle of Sohr was on THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 30th:&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "SUNDAY preceding, SEPTEMBER 26th, was such a Lord's-Day in the City of
      Edinburgh, as had not been seen there,&mdash;not since Jenny Geddes's
      stool went flying at the Bishop's head, above a hundred years before. Big
      alarm-bell bursting out in the middle of divine service; emptying all the
      Churches ('Highland rebels just at hand!')&mdash;into General Meeting of
      the Inhabitants, into Chaos come again, for the next forty hours. Till, in
      the gaunt midnight, Tuesday, 2 A.M., Lochiel with about 1,000 Camerons,
      waiting slight opportunity, crushed in through the Netherbow Port; and"&mdash;And,
      about noon of that day, a poor friend of ours, loitering expectant in the
      road that leads by St. Anthony's Well, saw making entry into paternal
      Holyrood,&mdash;the Young Pretender, in person, who is just being
      proclaimed Prince of Wales, up in the High-street yonder! "A tall slender
      young man, about five feet ten inches high; of a ruddy complexion,
      high-nosed, large rolling brown eyes; long-visaged, red-haired, but at
      that time wore a pale periwig. He was in a Highland habit [coat]; over the
      shoulder a blue sash wrought with gold; red velvet breeches; a green
      velvet bonnet, with white cockade on it and a gold lace. His speech seemed
      very like that of an Irishman; very sly [how did you know, my poor
      friend?];&mdash;spoke often to O'Sullivan [thought to be a person of some
      counsel; had been Tutor to Maillebois's Boys, had even tried some
      irregular fighting under Maillebois]&mdash;to O'Sullivan and" [Henderson,
      <i>Highland Rebellion,</i> p. 14.]... And on Saturday, in short, came
      PRESTONPANS. Enough of such a Supreme Jove; good for us here as a
      timetable chiefly, or marker of dates!
    </p>
    <p>
      Sunday, 3d October, King's Adjutant, Captain Mollendorf, a young Officer
      deservedly in favor, arrives at Berlin with the joyful tidings of this
      Sohr business ("Prausnitz" we then called it): to the joy of all
      Prussians, especially of a Queen Mother, for whom there is a Letter in
      pencil. After brief congratulation, Mollendorf rushes on; having next to
      give the Old Dessauer notice of it in his Camp at Dieskau, in the Halle
      neighborhood. Mollendorf appears in Halle suddenly next morning, Monday,
      about ten o'clock, sixteen postilions trumpeting, and at their swiftest
      trot, in front of him;&mdash;shooting, like a melodious morning-star,
      across the rusty old city, in this manner,&mdash;to Dieskau Camp, where he
      gives the Old Dessauer his good news. Excellent Victory indeed; sharp
      striking, swift self-help on our part. Halle and the Camp have enough to
      think of, for this day and the next. Whither Mollendorf went next, we will
      not ask: perhaps to Brunswick and other consanguineous places?&mdash;Certain
      it is,
    </p>
    <p>
      "On Wednesday, the 6th, about two in the afternoon, the Old Dessauer has
      his whole Army drawn out there, with green sprigs in their hats, at
      Dieskau, close upon the Saxon Frontier; and, after swashing and
      manoeuvring about in the highest military style of art, ranks them all in
      line, or two suitable lines, 30,000 of them; and then, with clangorous
      outburst of trumpet, kettle-drum and all manner of field-music, fires off
      his united artillery a first time; almost shaking the very hills by such a
      thunderous peal, in the still afternoon. And mark, close fitted into the
      artillery peal, commences a rolling fire, like a peal spread out in
      threads, sparkling strangely to eye and ear; from right to left, long
      spears of fire and sharp strokes of sound, darting aloft, successive
      simultaneous, winding for the space of miles, then back by the rear line,
      and home to the starting-point: very grand indeed. Again, and also again,
      the artillery peal, and rolling small-arms fitted into it, is repeated; a
      second and a third time, kettle-drums and trumpets doing what they can.
      That was the Old Dessauer's bonfiring (what is called FEU-DE-JOIE), for
      the Victory of Sohr; audible almost at Leipzig, if the wind were westerly.
      Overpowering to the human mind; at least, to the old Newspaper reporter of
      that day. But what was strangest in the business," continues he "(DAS
      CURIEUSESTE DABEY), was that the Saxon Uhlans, lying about in the villages
      across the Border, were out in the fields, watching the sight, hardly 300
      yards off, from beginning to end; and little dreamed that his High
      Princely Serenity," blue of face and dreadful in war, "was quite close to
      them, on the Height called Bornhock; condescending to 'take all this into
      High-Serene Eye-shine there; and, by having a white flag waved, deigning
      to give signal for the discharges of the artillery.'" [<i>Helden-Geschichte,</i>
      i. 1124.]
    </p>
    <p>
      By this the reader may know that the Old Dessauer is alive, ready for
      action if called on; and Bruhl ought to comprehend better how riskish his
      game with edge-tools is. Bruhl is not now in an unprepared state:&mdash;here
      are Uhlans at one's elbow looking on. Rutowski's Uhlans; who lies
      encamped, not far off, in good force, posted among morasses; strongly
      entrenched, and with schemes in his head, and in Bruhl's, of an
      aggressive, thrice-secret and very surprising nature! I remark only that,
      in Heidelberg Country, victorious old Traun is putting his people into
      winter-quarters; himself about to vanish from this History, [Went to
      SIEBENBURGEN (Transylvania) as Governor; died there February, 1748, age
      seventy-one (<i>Maria Theresiens Leben,</i> p. 56 n.).]&mdash;and has
      detached General Grune with 10,000 men; who left Heidelberg October 9th,
      on a mysterious errand, heeded by nobody; and will turn up in the next
      Chapter.
    </p>
    <p>
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    <h2>
      Chapter XIII.&mdash;SAXONY AND AUSTRIA MAKE A SURPRISING LAST ATTEMPT.
    </h2>
    <p>
      After this strenuous and victorious Campaign, which has astonished all
      public men, especially all Pragmatic Gazetteers, and with which all Europe
      is disharmoniously ringing, Friedrich is hopeful there will be Peace,
      through England;&mdash;cannot doubt, at least, but the Austrians have had
      enough for one year;&mdash;and looks forward to certain months, if not of
      rest, yet of another kind of activity. Negotiation, Peace through England,
      if possible; that is the high prize: and in the other case, or in any
      case, readiness for next Campaign;&mdash;which with the treasury
      exhausted, and no honorable subsidy from France, is a difficult problem.
    </p>
    <p>
      That was Friedrich's, and everybody's, program of affairs for the months
      coming: but in that Friedrich and everybody found themselves greatly
      mistaken. Bruhl and the Austrians had decided otherwise. "Open
      mouse-trap," at Striegau; claws of the sleeping cat, at Sohr: these were
      sad experiences; ill to bear, with the Sea-Powers grumbling on you, and
      the world sniffing its pity on you;&mdash;but are not conclusive, are only
      provoking and even maddening, to the sanguine mind. Two sad failures; but
      let us try another time. "A tricky man; cunning enough, your King of
      Prussia!" thinks Bruhl, with a fellness of humor against Friedrich which
      is little conceivable to us now: "Cunning enough. But it is possible
      cunning may be surpassed by deeper cunning!"&mdash;and decides,
      Bartenstein and an indignant Empress-Queen assenting eagerly, That there
      shall, in the profoundest secrecy till it break out, be a third, and much
      fiercer trial, this Winter yet. The Bruhl-Bartenstein plan (owing mainly
      to the Russian Bugbear which hung over it, protective, but with whims of
      its own) underwent changes, successive redactions or editions; which the
      reader would grudge to hear explained to him. [Account of them in Orlich,
      ii. 273-278 (from various RUTOWSKI Papers; and from the contemporary
      satirical Pamphlet, "MONDSCHEINWURFE, Mirror-castings of Moonshine, by
      ZEBEDAUS Cuckoo,) beaten Captain of a beaten Army."] Of the final or acted
      edition, some loose notion, sufficient for our purpose, may be collected
      from the following fractions of Notes:&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      NOVEMBER 17th (INTERIOR OF GERMANY).... "Feldmarschall-Lieutenant von
      Grune, a General of mark, detached by Traun not long since, from the Rhine
      Country, with a force of 10,000 men, why is he marching about: first to
      Baireuth Country, 'at Hof, November 9th,' as if for Bohemia; then north,
      to Gera ('lies at Gera till the 17th'), as if for Saxony Proper? Prince
      Karl, you would certainly say, has gone into winter-quarters; about
      Konigsgratz, and farther on? Gone or going, sure enough, is Prince Karl,
      into the convenient Bohemian districts,&mdash;uncertain which particular
      districts; at least the Young Dessauer, watching him from the Silesian
      side, is uncertain which. Better be vigilant, Prince Leopold!&mdash;Grune,
      lying at Gera yonder, is not intending for Prince Karl, then? No, not
      thither. Then perhaps towards Saxony, to reinforce the Saxons? Or
      some-whither to find fat winter-quarters: who knows? Indeed, who cares
      particularly, for such inconsiderable Grune and his 10,000!&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "The Saxons quitted their inexpugnable Camp towards Halle, some time ago;
      went into cantonments farther inland;&mdash;the Old Dessauer (middle of
      October) having done the like, and gone home: his force lies rather
      scattered, for convenience of food and forage. From the Silesian side,
      again, Prince Leopold, whose head-quarters are about Striegau, intimates,
      That he cannot yet say, with certainty, what districts Prince Karl will
      occupy for winter-quarters in Bohemia. Prince Karl is vaguely roving
      about; detaching Pandours to the Silesian Mountains, as if for checking
      our victorious Nassau there;&mdash;always rather creeping northward;
      skirting Western Silesia with his main force; 30,000 or better, with
      Lobkowitz and Nadasti ahead. Meaning what? Be vigilant, my young friend.
    </p>
    <p>
      "The private fact is, Prince Karl does not mean to go into winter-quarters
      at all. In private fact, Prince Karl is one of Three mysterious Elements
      or Currents, sent on a far errand: Grune is another: Rutowski's Saxon Camp
      (now become Cantonment) is a third. Three Currents instinct with fire and
      destruction, but as yet quite opaque; which have been launched,&mdash;whitherward
      thinks the reader? On Berlin itself, and the Mark of Brandenburg; there to
      collide, and ignite in a marvellous manner. There is their meeting-point:
      there shall they, on a sudden, smite one another into flame; and the
      destruction blaze, fiery enough, round Friedrich and his own Brandenburg
      homesteads there!&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "It is a grand scheme; scheme at least on a grand scale. For the LEGS of
      it, Grune's march and Prince Karl's, are about 600 miles long! Plan due
      chiefly, they say, to the yellow rage of Bruhl; aided by the contrivance
      of Rutowski, and the counsel of Austrian military men. For there is much
      consulting about it, and redacting of it; Polish Majesty himself very
      busy. To Bruhl's yellow rage it is highly solacing and hopeful. 'Rutowski,
      lying close in his Cantonments, and then suddenly springing out, will
      overwhelm the Old Dessauer, who lies wide;&mdash;can do it, surely; and
      Grune is there to help if necessary. Dessauer blown to pieces, Grune, with
      Rutowski combined, push in upon Brandenburg,&mdash;Grune himself upon
      Berlin,&mdash;from the west and south, nobody expecting him. Prince Karl,
      not taking into winter-quarters in Bohemia, as they idly think; but
      falling down the Valley of the Bober, or Bober and Queiss, into the
      Lausitz (to Gorlitz, Guben, where we have Magazines for him), comes upon
      it from the southeast,&mdash;nobody expecting any of them. Three
      simultaneous Armies hurled on the head of your Friedrich; combustible
      deluges flowing towards him, as from the ends of Germany; so opaque,
      silent, yet of fire wholly: will not that surprise him!' thinks Bruhl.
      These are the schemes of the little man."
    </p>
    <p>
      Bruhl, having constituted himself rival to Friedrich, and fallen into pale
      or yellow rage by the course things took, this Plan is naturally his chief
      joy, or crown of joys; a bubbling well of solace to him in his parched
      condition. He should, obviously, have kept it secret; thrice-secret, the
      little fool;&mdash;but a poor parched man is not always master of his
      private bubbling wells in that kind! Wolfstierna is Swedish Envoy at
      Dresden; Rudenskjold, Swedish Envoy at Berlin, has run over to see him in
      the dim November days. Swedes, since Ulrique's marriage, are friendly to
      Prussia. Bruhl has these two men to dinner; talks with them, over his
      wine, about Friedrich's insulting usage of him, among other topics.
      "Insulting; how, your Excellency?" asks Rudenskjold, privately a friend of
      Friedrich. Bruhl explains, with voice quivering, those cuts in the
      Friedrich manifesto of August last, and other griefs suffered; the two
      Swedes soothing him with what oil they have ready. "No matter!" hints
      Bruhl; and proceeds from hint to hint, till the two Swedes are fully aware
      of the grand scheme: Grune, Prince Karl; and how Destruction, with legs
      500 miles long, is steadily advancing to assuage one with just revenge.
      "Right, your Excellency!"&mdash;only that Rudenskjold proceeds to Berlin;
      and there straightway ("8th November") punctually makes Friedrich also
      aware. [Stenzel, iv. 262; Ranke, iii. 317-323; Friedrich's own narrative
      of it, <i>OEuvres,</i> iii. 148.] Foolish Bruhl: a man that has a secret
      should not only hide it, but hide that he has it to hide.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      FRIEDRICH GOES OUT TO MEET HIS THREE-LEGGED MONSTER; CUTS ONE LEG OF IT IN
      TWO (Fight of Hennersdorf, 23d November, 1745).
    </h2>
    <p>
      Friedrich, having heard the secret, gazes into it with horror and
      astonishment: "What a time I have! This is not living; this is being
      killed a thousand times a day!" [Ranke (iii. 321 n.): TO whom said, we are
      not told.]&mdash;with horror and astonishment; but also with what most
      luminous flash of eyesight is in him; compares it with Prince Karl's
      enigmatic motions, Grune's open ones and the other phenomena;&mdash;perceives
      that it is an indisputable fact, and a thrice-formidable; requiring to be
      instantly dealt with by the party interested! Whereupon, after hearty
      thanks to Rudenskjold, there occur these rapidly successive phases of
      activity, which we study to take up in a curt form.
    </p>
    <p>
      FIRST (probably 9th or 10th November), there is Council held with Minister
      Podewils and the Old Dessauer; Council from which comes little benefit, or
      none. Podewils and Old Leopold stare incredulous; cannot be made to
      believe such a thing. "Impossible any Saxon minister or man would
      voluntarily bring the theatre of war into his own Country, in this
      manner!" thinks the Old Dessauer, and persists to think,&mdash;on what
      obstinate ground Friedrich never knew. To which Podewils, "who has
      properties in the Lausitz, and would so fain think them safe,"
      obstinately, though more covertly, adheres. "Impossible!" urge both these
      Councillors; and Friedrich cannot even make them believe it. Believe it;
      and, alas, believing it is not the whole problem!
    </p>
    <p>
      Happily Friedrich has the privilege of ordering, with or without their
      belief. "You, Podewils, announce the matter to foreign Courts. You, Serene
      Highness of Anhalt, at your swiftest, collect yonder, and encamp again.
      Your eye well on Grune and Rutowski; and the instant I give you signal&mdash;!
      I am for Silesia, to look after Prince Karl, the other long leg of this
      Business." Old Leopold, according to Friedrich's account, is visibly glad
      of such opportunity to fight again before he die: and yet, for no reason
      except some senile jealousy, is not content with these arrangements;
      perversely objects to this and that. At length the King says,&mdash;think
      of this hard word, and of the eyes that accompany it!&mdash;"When your
      Highness gets Armies of your own, you will order them according to your
      mind; at present, it must be according to mine." On, then; and not a
      moment lost: for of all things we must be swift!
    </p>
    <p>
      Old Leopold goes accordingly. Friedrich himself goes in a week hence.
      Orders, correspondences from Podewils and the rest, are flying right and
      left;&mdash;to Young Leopold in Silesia, first of all. Young Leopold draws
      out his forces towards the Silesian-Lausitz border, where Prince Karl's
      intentions are now becoming visible. And,&mdash;here is the second phase
      notable,&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "On Monday, 15th, ["18th," <i>Feldzuge,</i> i. 402 (see Rodenbeck, i.
      122).] at 7 A.M.," Friedrich rushes off, by Crossen, full speed for
      Liegnitz; "with Rothenburg, with the Prince of Prussia and Ferdinand of
      Brunswick accompanying." With what thoughts,&mdash;though, in his face,
      you can read nothing; all Berlin being already in such tremor! Friedrich
      is in Liegnitz next day; and after needful preliminaries there, does, on
      the Thursday following, "at Nieder-Adelsdorf," not far off, take actual
      command of Prince Leopold's Army, which had lain encamped for some days,
      waiting him. And now with such force in hand,&mdash;35,000, soldiers every
      man of them, and freshened by a month's rest,&mdash;one will endeavor to
      do some good upon Prince Karl. Probably sooner than Prince Karl supposes.
      For there is great velocity in this young King; a panther-like suddenness
      of spring in him: cunning, too, as any Felis of them; and with claws like
      the Felis Leo on occasion. Here follows the brief Campaign that ensued,
      which I strive greatly to abridge.
    </p>
    <p>
      Prince Karl's intentions towards Frankfurt-on-Oder Country, through the
      Lausitz, are now becoming practically manifest. There is a Magazine for
      him at Guben, within thirty miles of Frankfurt; arrangements getting ready
      all the way. A winter march of 150 miles;&mdash;but what, say the spies,
      is to hinder? Prince Karl dreams not that Friedrich is on the ground, or
      that anybody is aware. Which notion Friedrich finds that it will be
      extremely suitable to maintain in Prince Karl. Friedrich is now at
      Adelsdorf, some thirty miles eastward of the Lausitz Border, perhaps forty
      or more from the route Prince Karl will follow through that Province.
    </p>
    <p>
      "It is a high-lying irregularly hilly Country; hilly, not mountainous.
      Various streams rise out of it that have a long course,&mdash;among
      others, the Spree, which washes Berlin;&mdash;especially three Valleys
      cross it, three Rivers with their Valleys: Bober, Queiss, Neisse (the
      THIRD Neisse we have come upon); all running northward, pretty much
      parallel, though all are branches of the Oder. This is Neisse THIRD, we
      say; not the Neisse of Neisse City, which we used to know at the north
      base of the Giant Mountains, nor the Roaring Neisse, which we have seen at
      Hohenfriedberg; but a third [and the FOURTH and last, "Black Neisse,"
      thank Heaven, is an upper branch of this, and we have, and shall have,
      nothing to do with it!]&mdash;third Neisse, which we may call the Lausitz
      Neisse. On which, near the head of it, there is a fine old spinning,
      linen-weaving Town called Zittau,&mdash;where, to make it memorable, one
      Tourist has read, on the Town-house, an Inscription worth repeating: 'BENE
      FACERE ET MALE AUDIRE REGIUM EST, To do good and have evil said of you, is
      a kingly thing.' Other Towns, as Gorlitz, and seventy miles farther the
      above-said Guben, lie on this same Neisse,&mdash;shall we add that
      Herrnhuth stands near the head of it? The wondrous Town of Herrnhuth
      (LORD'S-KEEPING), founded by Count Zinzendorf, twenty years before those
      dates; ["In 1722, the first tree felled" (LIVES of Zinzendorf).] where are
      a kind of German Methodist-Quakers to this day, who have become very
      celebrated in the interim. An opulent enough, most silent, strictly
      regular, strange little Town. The women are in uniform; wives, maids,
      widows, each their form of dress. Missionaries, speaking flabby English,
      who have been in the West Indies or are going thither, seem to abound in
      the place; male population otherwise, I should think, must be mainly doing
      trade elsewhere; nothing but prayers, preachings, charitable
      boarding-schooling and the like, appeared to be going on. Herrnhuth is 'a
      Sabbath Petrified; Calvinistic Sabbath done into Stone,' as one of my
      companions called it." [Tourist's Note (Autumn, 1852).]
    </p>
    <p>
      Herrnhuth, of which all Englishmen have heard, stands near the head of
      this our third Neisse; as does Zittau, a few miles higher up. I can do
      nothing more to give it mark for them. Bober Valley, then Queiss Valley,
      which run parallel though they join at last, and become Bober wholly
      before getting into the Oder,&mdash;these two Valleys and Rivers lie in
      Friedrich's own Territory; and are between him and the Lausitz, Queiss
      River being the boundary of Silesia and the Lausitz here. It is down the
      Neisse that Prince Karl means to march. There are Saxons already gathering
      about Zittau; and down as far as Guben they are making Magazines and
      arrangements,&mdash;for it is all their own Country in those years, though
      most of it is Prussia's now. Prince Karl's march will go parallel to the
      Bober and the Queiss; separated from the Queiss in this part by an
      undulating Hill-tract of twenty miles or more.
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich has had somewhat to settle for the Southern Frontier of Silesia
      withal, which new doggeries of Pandours are invading,&mdash;to lie ready
      for Prince Karl on his return thither, whose grand meaning all this while
      (as Friedrich well knows), is "Silesia in the lump" again, had he once cut
      us off from Brandenburg and our supplies! General Nassau, far eastward,
      who is doing exploits in Moravia itself,&mdash;him Friedrich has ordered
      homeward, westward to his own side of the Mountains, to attend these new
      Pandour gentlemen; Winterfeld he has called home, out of those Southern
      mountains, as likely to be usefuler here on this Western frontier.
      Winterfeld arrived in Camp the same day with Friedrich; and is sent
      forward with a body of 3,000 light troops, to keep watch about the Lausitz
      Frontier and the River Queiss; "careful not to quit our own side of that
      stream,"&mdash;as we mean to hoodwink Prince Karl, if we can!
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich lies strictly within his own borders, for a day or two; till
      Prince Karl march, till his own arrangements are complete. Friedrich
      himself keeps the Bober, Winterfeld the Queiss; "all pass freely out of
      the Lausitz; none are allowed to cross into it: thereby we hear notice of
      Prince Karl, he none of us." Perfectly quiescent, we, poor creatures, and
      aware of nothing! Thus, too, Friedrich&mdash;in spite of his warlike
      Manifesto, which the Saxons are on the eve of answering with a formal
      Declaration of War&mdash;affects great rigor in considering the Saxons as
      not yet at war with him: respects their frontier, Winterfeld even punishes
      hussars "for trespassing on Lausitz ground." Friedrich also affects to
      have roads repaired, which he by no means intends to travel:&mdash;the
      whole with a view of lulling Prince Karl; of keeping the mouse-trap open,
      as he had done in the Striegau case. It succeeded again, quite as
      conspicuously, and at less expense.
    </p>
    <p>
      Prince Karl&mdash;whose Tolpatch doggery Winterfeld will not allow to pass
      the Queiss, and to whom no traveller or tidings can come from beyond that
      River&mdash;discerns only, on the farther shore of it, Winterfeld with his
      3,000 light troops. Behind these, he discerns either nothing, or nothing
      immediately momentous; but contentedly supposes that this, the superficies
      of things, is all the solid-content they have. Prince Karl gets under way,
      therefore, nothing doubting; with his Saxons as vanguard. Down the Neisse
      Valley, on the right or Queiss-ward side of it: Saturday, 20th November,
      is his first march in Lusatian territory. He lies that night spread out in
      three Villages, Schonberg, Schonbrunn, Kieslingswalde; [<i>Feldzuge,</i>
      i. 407 (Bericht von der Action bey Katholisch-Hennersdorf, &amp;c.).] some
      ten miles long; parallel to the Neisse River, and about four miles from
      it, east or Queiss-ward of it. Karl himself is rear, at Schonberg; fierce
      Lobkowitz is centre; the Saxons are vanguard, 6,000 in all, posted in
      Villages, which again are some ten or twelve miles ahead of Prince Karl's
      forces; the Queiss on their right hand, and the Naumburg Bridge of Queiss,
      where Winterfeld now is, about fifteen miles to east. Their Uhlans
      circulate through the intervening space (were much patrolling needed, in
      such quiet circumstances), and maintain the due communication. There lies
      Prince Karl, on Saturday night, 20th November, 1745; an Army of perhaps
      40,000, dnngerously straggling out above twenty miles long; and appears to
      see no difficulty ahead. The Saxons, I think, are to continue where they
      are; guarding the flank, while the Prince and Lobkowitz push forward,
      closer by Neisse River. In four marches more, they can be in Brandenburg,
      with Guben and their Magazines at hand.
    </p>
    <p>
      Seeing which state of matters, Winterfeld gives Friedrich notice of it;
      and that he, Winterfeld, thinks the moment is come. "Pontoons to Naumburg,
      then!" orders Friedrich. Winterfeld, at the proper moment, is to form a
      Bridge there. One permanent Bridge there already is; and two fords, one
      above it, one below: with a second Bridge, there will be roadway for four
      columns, and a swift transit when needful. Sunday, 21st, Friedrich quits
      the Bober, diligently towards Naumburg; marches Sunday, Monday; Tuesday,
      23d, about eleven A.M., begins to arrive there; Winterfeld and passages
      all ready. Forward, then, and let us drive in upon Prince Karl; and either
      cut him in two, or force him to fight us; he little thinks where or on
      what terms. Sure enough, in the worst place we can choose for him!
      Friedrich begins crossing in four columns at one P.M.; crosses
      continuously for four hours; unopposed, except some skirmishing of Uhlans,
      while his Cavalry is riding the Fords to right and left; Uhlans were
      driven back swiftly, so soon as the Cavalry got over. At five in the
      evening, he has got entirely across, 35,000 horse and foot: Ziethen is
      chasing the Uhlans at full speed; who at least will show us the way,&mdash;for
      by this time a mist has begun falling, and the brief daylight is done.
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich himself, without waiting for the rear of his force, and some
      while before this mist fell (as I judge), is pushing forward, "a miller
      lad for his guide," across to Hennersdorf,&mdash;Katholisch-Hennersdorf, a
      long straggling Village, eight or ten miles off, and itself two miles
      long,&mdash;where he understands the Saxons are. Miller lad guides us,
      over height and hollow, with his best skill, at a brisk pace;&mdash;through
      one hollow, where he has known the cattle pasture in summer time; but
      which proves impassable, and mere quagmire, at this season. No getting
      through it, you unfortunate miller lad (GARCON DE MEUNIER). Nevertheless,
      we did find passage through the skirts of it: nay this quagmire proved the
      luck of us; for the enemy, trusting to it, had no outguard there, never
      expecting us on that side. So that the vanguard, Ziethen and rapid
      Hussars, made an excellent thing of it. Ziethen sends us word, That he has
      got into the body of Hennersdorf,&mdash;"found the Saxon Quartermaster
      quietly paying his men;"&mdash;that he, Ziethen, is tolerably master of
      Hennersdorf, and will amuse the enemy till the other force come up.
    </p>
    <p>
      Of course Friedrich now pushes on, double speed; detaches other force,
      horse and foot: which was lucky, says my informant; for the Ziethen
      Hussars, getting good plunder, had by no means demolished the Saxons; but
      had left them time to draw up in firm order, with a hedge in front, a
      little west of the Village;&mdash;from which post, unassailable by
      Ziethen, they would have got safe off to the main body, with little but an
      affront and some loss of goods. The new force&mdash;a rapid Katzler with
      light horse in the van, cuirassiers and foot rapidly following him&mdash;sweeps
      past the long Village, "through a thin wood and a defile;" finds the enemy
      firmly ranked as above said; cavalry their left, infantry on right,
      flanked by an impenetrable hedge; and at once strikes in. At once, Katzler
      does, on order given; but is far too weak. Charges, he; but is
      counter-charged, tumbled back; the Saxons, horse and foot, showing
      excellent fight. At length, more Prussian force coming up, cuirassiers
      charge them in front, dragoons in flank, hussars in rear; all attacking at
      once, and with a will; and the poor Saxon Cavalry is entirely cut to
      shreds.
    </p>
    <p>
      And now there remains only the Infantry, perhaps about 1,000 men (if one
      must guess); who form a square; ply vigorously their field-pieces and
      their fire-arms; and cannot be broken by horse-charges. In fact, these
      Saxons made a fierce resistance;&mdash;till, before long, Prussian
      Infantry came up; and, with counter field-pieces and musketries, blasted
      gaps in them; upon which the Cavalry got admittance, and reduced the
      gallant fellows nearly wholly to annihilation either by death or capture.
      There are 914 Prisoners in this Action, 4 big guns, and I know not how
      many kettle-drums, standards and the like,&mdash;all that were there, I
      suppose. The number of dead not given. [Orlich, ii. 291; <i>Feldzuge,</i>i.
      400-413.] But, in brief, this Saxon Force is utterly cut to pieces; and
      only scattered twos and threes of it rush through the dark mist;
      scattering terror to this hand and that. The Prussians take their post at
      and round Hennersdorf that night;&mdash;bivouacking, though only in sack
      trousers, a blanket each man:&mdash;"We work hard, my men, and suffer all
      things for a day or two, that it may save much work afterwards," said the
      King to them; and they cheerfully bivouacked.
    </p>
    <p>
      This was the Action of Katholisch-Hennersdorf, fought on Tuesday, 23d
      November, 1745; and still celebrated in the Prussian Annals, and reckoned
      a brilliant passage of war. KATHOLISCH-Hennersdorf, some ten miles
      southwest of Naumburg ON THE QUEISS (for there are, to my knowledge,
      Twenty-five other Villages called Hennersdorf, and Three several Towns of
      Naumburg, and many Castles and Hamlets so named in dear Germany of the
      Nomenclatures):&mdash;Katholisch-Hennersdorf is the place, and Tuesday
      about dusk the time. A sharp brush of fighting; not great in quantity, but
      laid in at the right moment, in the right place. Like the prick of a
      needle, duly sharp, into the spinal marrow of a gigantic object; totally
      ruinous to such object. Never, or rarely, in the Annals of War, was as
      much good got of so little fighting. You may, with labor and peril, plunge
      a hundred dirks into your boaconstrictor; hack him with axes, bray him
      with sledge-hammers; that is not uncommon: but the one true prick in the
      spinal marrow, and the Artist that can guide you well to that, he and it
      are the notable and beneficent phenomena.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      PRINCE KARL, CUT IN TWO, TUMBLES HOME AGAIN DOUBLE-QUICK.
    </h2>
    <p>
      Next morning, Wednesday, 24th, the Prussians are early astir again;
      groping, on all manner of roads, to find what Prince Karl is doing, in a
      world all covered in thick mist. They can find nothing of him, but broken
      tumbrils, left baggage-wagons, rumor of universal marching hither and
      marching thither;&mdash;evidences of an Army fallen into universal St.
      Vitus's-Dance; distractedly hurrying to and fro, not knowing whitherward
      for the moment, except that it must be homewards, homewards with velocity.
    </p>
    <p>
      Prince Karl's farther movements are not worth particularizing. Ordering
      and cross-ordering; march this way; no, back again: such a scene in that
      mist. Prince Karl is flowing homeward; confusedly deluging and gurgling
      southward, the best he can. Next afternoon, near Gorlitz, and again one
      other time, he appears drawn up, as if for fighting; but has himself no
      such thought; flies again, without a shot; leaves Gorlitz to capitulate,
      that afternoon; all places to capitulate, or be evacuated. We hear he is
      for Zittau; Winterfeld with light horse hastens after him, gets sight of
      him on the Heights at Zittau yonder, [ <i>OEuvres de Frederic,</i> iii.
      157; Orlich, ii. 296.] "about two in the morning:" but the Prince has not
      the least notion to fight. Prince leaves Zittau to capitulate,&mdash;quits
      silently the Heights of Zittau at two A.M. (Winterfeld, very lively in the
      rear of him, cutting off his baggage);&mdash;and so tumbles, pell-mell,
      through the Passes of Gabel, home to Bohemia again. Let us save this poor
      Note from the fire:
    </p>
    <p>
      "On Saturday night, November 27th, the Prussians, pursuing Prince Karl,
      were cantoned in the Herrnhuth neighborhood,&mdash;my informant's regiment
      in the Town of Herrnhuth itself. [<i>Feldzuge,</i> i. ubi supra.] Yes,
      there lay the Prussians over Sunday; and might hear some weighty
      expounder, if they liked. Considerably theological, many of these poor
      Prussian soldiers; carrying a Bible in their knapsack, and devout Psalms
      in the heart of them. Two-thirds of every regiment are LANDESKINDER,
      native Prussians; each regiment from a special canton,&mdash;generally
      rather religious men. The other third are recruits, gathered in the Free
      Towns of the Reich, or where they can be got; not distinguished by
      devotion these, we may fancy, only trained to the uttermost by Spartan
      drill."
    </p>
    <p>
      Before the week is done, that "first leg" of the grand Enterprise (the
      Prince-Karl leg) is such a leg as we see. "Silesia in the lump,"&mdash;fond
      dream again, what a dream! Old Dessauer getting signal, where now, too
      probably, is Saxony itself?&mdash;Ranking again at Aussig in Bohemia,
      Prince Karl&mdash;5,000 of his men lost, and all impetus and fire gone&mdash;falls
      gently down the Elbe, to join Rutowski at least; and will reappear within
      four weeks, out of Saxon Switzerland, still rather in dismal humor.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Prussian Troops, in four great Divisions, are cantoned in that Lausitz
      Country, now so quiet; in and about Bautzen and three other Towns of the
      neighborhood; to rest and be ready for the old Dessauer, when we hear of
      him. The "Magazine at Guben in 138 wagons," the Gorlitz and other
      Magazines of Prince Karl in the due number of wagons, supply them with
      comfortable unexpected provender. Thus they lie cantoned; and have with
      despatch effectually settled their part of the problem. Question now is,
      How will it stand with the Old Dessauer and his part? Or, better still,
      Would not perhaps the Saxons, in this humiliated state, accept Peace, and
      finish the matter?
    </p>
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    <h2>
      Chapter XIV.&mdash;BATTLE OF KESSELSDORF.
    </h2>
    <p>
      A "Correspondence" of a certain Excellency Villiers, English Minister at
      Dresden,&mdash;Sir Thomas Villiers, Grandfather of the present Earl of
      Clarendon,&mdash;was very famous in those weeks; and is still worth
      mention, as a trait of Friedrich's procedure in this crisis. Friedrich,
      not intoxicated with his swift triumph over Prince Karl, but calculating
      the perils and the chances still ahead,&mdash;miserably off for money too,&mdash;admits
      to himself that not revenge or triumph, that Peace is the one thing
      needful to him. November 29th, Old Leopold is entering Saxony; and in the
      same hours, Podewils at Berlin, by order of Friedrich, writes to Villiers
      who is in Dresden, about Peace, about mediating for Peace: "My King ready
      and desirous, now as at all times, for Peace; the terms of it known; terms
      not altered, not alterable, no bargaining or higgling needed or allowable.
      CONVENTION OF HANOVER, let his Polish Majesty accede honestly to that, and
      all these miseries are ended." ["CORRESPONDANCE DU ROI AVEC SIR THOMAS
      VILLIERS;" commences, on Podewils's part, 28th November; on Friedrich's,
      4th December; ends, on Villier's, 18th December; fourteen Pieces in all,
      four of them Friedrich's: Given in <i>OEuvres de Frederic,</i> iii.
      183-216 (see IB, 158), and in many other Books.]
    </p>
    <p>
      Villiers starts instantly on this beneficent business; "goes to Court, on
      it, that very night;" Villiers shows himself really diligent, reasonable,
      loyal; doing his very best now and afterwards; but has no success at all.
      Polish Majesty is obstinate,&mdash;I always think, in the way sheep are,
      when they feel themselves too much put upon;&mdash;and is deaf to
      everybody but Bruhl. Bruhl answers: "Let his Prussian Majesty retire from
      our Territory;&mdash;what is he doing in the Lausitz just now! Retire from
      our Territory; THEN we will treat!" Bruhl still refuses to be desperate of
      his bad game;&mdash;at any rate, Bruhl's rage is yellower than ever. That,
      very evening, while talking to Villiers, he has had preparations going on;&mdash;and
      next morning takes his Master, Polish Majesty August III., with some
      comfortable minimum of apparatus (cigar-boxes not forgotten), off to Prag,
      where they can be out of danger till the thing decide itself. Villiers
      follows to Prag; desists not from his eloquent Letters, and earnest
      persuasions at Prag; but begins to perceive that the means of persuading
      Bruhl will be a much heavier kind of artillery.
    </p>
    <p>
      On the whole, negotiations have yet done little. Britannic George, though
      Purseholder, what is his success here? As little is the Russian Bugbear
      persuasive on Friedrich himself. The Czarina of the Russias, a luxurious
      lady, of far more weight than insight, has just notified to him, with more
      emphasis than ever, That he shall not attack Saxony; that if he do, she
      with considerable vigor will attack him! That has always been a formidable
      puzzle for Friedrich: however, he reflects that the Russians never could
      draw sword, or be ready with their Army, in less than six months, probably
      not in twelve; and has answered, translating it into polite official
      terms: "Fee-faw-fum, your Czarish Majesty! Question is not now of
      attacking, but of being myself attacked!"&mdash;and so is now running his
      risks with the Czarina.
    </p>
    <p>
      Still worse was the result he got from Louis XV. Lately, "for form's
      sake," as he tells us, "and not expecting anything," he had (November
      15th) made a new appeal to France: "Ruin menacing your Most Christian
      Majesty's Ally, in this huge sudden crisis of invasive Austrian-Saxons;
      and for your Majesty's sake, may I not in some measure say?" To which
      Louis's Answer is also given. A very sickly, unpleasant Document;
      testifying to considerable pique against Friedrich;&mdash;Ranke says, it
      was a joint production, all the Ministers gradually contributing each his
      little pinch of irony to make it spicier, and Louis signing when it was
      enough;&mdash;very considerable pique against Friedrich; and something of
      the stupid sulkiness as of a fat bad boy, almost glad that the house is on
      fire, because it will burn his nimble younger brother, whom everybody
      calls so clever: "Sorry indeed, Sir my Brother, most sorry:&mdash;and so
      you have actually signed that HANOVER CONVENTION with our worst Enemy?
      France is far from having done so; France has done, and will do, great
      things. Our Royal heart grieves much at your situation; but is not
      alarmed; no, Your Majesty has such invention, vigor and ability, superior
      to any crisis, our clever younger Brother! And herewith we pray God to
      have you in his holy keeping." This is the purport of King Louis's Letter;&mdash;which
      Friedrich folds together again, looking up from perusal of it, we may
      fancy with what a glance of those eyes. [Louis's Original, in <i>OEuvres
      de Frederic,</i> iii. 173, 174 (with a much more satirical paraphrase than
      the above), and Friedrich's Answer adjoined,&mdash;after the events had
      come.]
    </p>
    <p>
      He is getting instructed, this young King, as to alliances, grand
      combinations, French and other. His third Note to Villiers intimates, "It
      being evident that his Polish Majesty will have nothing from us but
      fighting, we must try to give it him of the best kind we have." ["Bautzen,
      11th December, 1745" (UBI SUPRA).] Yes truly; it is the ULTIMATE
      persuasive, that. Here, in condensed form, are the essential details of
      the course it went, in this instance:&mdash;General Grune, on the road to
      Berlin, hearing of the rout at Hennersdorf, halted instantly,&mdash;hastened
      back to Saxony, to join Rutowski there, and stand on the defensive. Not
      now in that Halle-Frontier region (Rutowski has quitted that, and all the
      intrenchments and marshy impregnabilities there); not on that
      Halle-Frontier, but hovering about in the interior, Rutowski and Grune are
      in junction; gravitating towards Dresden;&mdash;expecting Prince Karl's
      advent; who ought to emerge from the Saxon Switzerland in few days, were
      he sharp; and again enable us to make a formidable figure. Be speedy, Old
      Dessauer: you must settle the Grune-Rutowski account before that junction,
      not after it!
    </p>
    <p>
      The Old Dessauer has been tolerably successful, and by no means thinks he
      has been losing time. November 29th, "at three in the morning," he stept
      over into Saxony with its impregnable camps; drove Rutowski's rear-guard,
      or remnant, out of the quagmires, canals and intrenchments, before
      daylight; drove it, that same evening, or before dawn of the morrow, out
      of Leipzig: has seized that Town,&mdash;lays heavy contribution on it,
      nearly 50,000 pounds (such our strait for finance), "and be sure you take
      only substantial men as sureties!" [Orlich, ii. 308.]&mdash;and will, and
      does after a two days' rest, advance with decent celerity inwards; though
      "One must first know exactly whither; one must have bread, and
      preparations and precautions; do all things solidly and in order," thinks
      the Old Dessauer. Friedrich well knows the whither; and that Dresden
      itself is, or may be made, the place for falling in with Rutowski.
      Friedrich is now himself ready to join, from the Bautzen region; the days
      and hours precious to him; and spurs the Old Dessauer with the sharpest
      remonstrances. "All solidly and in order, your Majesty!" answers the Old
      Dessauer: solid strong-boned old coach-horse, who has his own modes of
      trotting, having done many a heavy mile of it in his time; and whose skin,
      one hopes, is of the due thickness against undue spurring.
    </p>
    <p>
      Old Dessauer wishes two things: bread to live upon; and a sure Bridge over
      the Elbe whereby Friedrich may join him. Old Dessauer makes for Torgau,
      far north, where is both an Elbe Bridge and a Magazine; which he takes;
      Torgau and pertinents now his. But it is far down the Elbe, far off from
      Bautzen and Friedrich: "A nearer Bridge and rendezvous, your Highness!
      Meissen [where they make the china, only fifty miles from me, and twenty
      from Dresden], let that be the Bridge, now that you have got victual. And
      speedy; for Heaven's sake, speedy!" Friedrich pushes out General Lehwald
      from Bautzen, with 4,000 men, towards Meissen Bridge; Lehwald does not
      himself meddle with the Bridge, only fires shot across upon the Saxon
      party, till the Old Dessauer, on the other bank, come up;&mdash;and the
      Old Dessauer, impatience thinks, will never come. "Three days in Torgau,
      yes, Your Majesty: I had bread to bake, and the very ovens had to be
      built." A solid old roadster, with his own modes of trotting; needs
      thickness of skin. [Friedrich's Letters to Leopold, in Orlich, ii. 431,
      435 (6th-10th December, 1745).]
    </p>
    <p>
      At long last, on Sunday, 12th December, about two P.M., the Old Dessauer
      does appear; or General Gessler, his vanguard, does appear,&mdash;Gessler
      of the sixty-seven standards,&mdash;"always about an hour ahead." Gessler
      has summoned Meissen; has not got it, is haggling with it about terms,
      when, towards sunset of the short day, Old Dessauer himself arrives.
      Whereupon the Saxon Commandant quits the Bridge (not much breaking it);
      and glides off in the dark, clear out of Meissen, towards Dresden,&mdash;chased,
      but successfully defending himself. [See Plan, p. 10.] "Had he but stood
      out for two days!" say the Saxons,&mdash;"Prince Karl had then been up,
      and much might have been different." Well, Friedrich too would have been
      up, and it had most likely been the same on a larger scale. But the Saxon
      Commandant did not stand out; he glided off, safe; joined Rutowski and
      Grune, who are lying about Wilsdruf, six or seven miles on the hither side
      of Dresden, and eagerly waiting for Prince Karl. "Bridge and Town of
      Meissen are your Majesty's," reports the Old Dessauer that night: upon
      which Friedrich instantly rises, hastening thitherward. Lehwald comes
      across Meissen Bridge, effects the desired junction; and all Monday the
      Old Dessauer defiles through Meissen town and territory; continually
      advances towards Dresden, the Saxons harassing the flanks of him a little,&mdash;nay
      in one defile, being sharp strenuous fellows, they threw his rear into
      some confusion; cut off certain carts and prisoners, and the life of one
      brave General, Lieutenant-General Roel, who had charge there. "Spurring
      one's trot into a gallop! This comes of your fast marching, of your
      spurring beyond the rules of war!" thinks Old Leopold; and Friedrich, who
      knows otherwise, is very angry for a moment.
    </p>
    <p>
      But indeed the crisis is pressing. Prince Karl is across the Metal
      Mountains, nearing Dresden from the east; Friedrich strikes into march for
      the same point by Meissen, so soon as the Bridge is his. Old Leopold is
      advancing thither from the westward,&mdash;steadily hour by hour; Dresden
      City the fateful goal. There,&mdash;in these middle days of December, 1745
      (Highland Rebellion just whirling back from Derby again, "the London shops
      shut for one day"),&mdash;it is clear there will be a big and bloody game
      played before we are much older. Very sad indeed: but Count Bruhl is not
      persuadable otherwise. By slumbering and sluggarding, over their
      money-tills and flesh-pots; trying to take evil for good, and to say, "It
      will do," when it will not do, respectable Nations come at last to be
      governed by Bruhls; cannot help themselves;&mdash;and get their backs
      broken in consequence. Why not? Would you have a Nation live forever that
      is content to be governed by Bruhls? The gods are wiser!&mdash;It is now
      the 13th; Old Dessauer tramping forward, hour by hour, towards Dresden and
      some field of Fate.
    </p>
    <p>
      On Tuesday, 14th, by break of day, Old Dessauer gets on march again; in
      four columns, in battle order; steady all day,&mdash;hard winter weather,
      ground crisp, and flecked with snow. The Pass at Neustadt, "his cavalry
      went into it at full gallop;" but found nobody there. That night he
      encamps at a place called Rohrsdorf; which may be eight miles
      west-by-north from Dresden, as the crow flies; and ten or more, if you
      follow the highway round by Wilsdruf on your right. The real direct
      Highway from Meissen to Dresden is on the other side of the Elbe, and
      keeps by the River-bank, a fine level road; but on this western side,
      where Leopold now is, the road is inland, and goes with a bend. Leopold,
      of course, keeps command of this road; his columns are on both sides of
      it, River on their left at some miles distance; and incessantly expect to
      find Rutowski, drawn out on favorable ground somewhere. The country is of
      fertile, but very broken character; intersected by many brooks, making
      obliquely towards the Elbe (obliquely, with a leaning Meissen-wards);
      country always mounting, till here about Rohrsdorf we seem to have almost
      reached the watershed, and the brooks make for the Elbe, leaning Dresden
      way. Good posts abound in such broken country, with its villages and
      brooks, with its thickets, hedges and patches of swamp. But Rutowski has
      not appeared anywhere, during this Tuesday.
    </p>
    <p>
      Our four columns, therefore, lie all night, under arms, about Rohrsdorf:
      and again by morrow's dawn are astir in the old order, crunching far and
      wide the frozen ground; and advance, charged to the muzzle with potential
      battle. Slightly upwards always, to the actual watershed of the country;
      leaving Wilsdruf a little to their right. Wilsdruf is hardly past, when
      see, from this broad table-land, top of the country: "Yonder is Rutowski,
      at last;&mdash;and this new Wednesday will be a day!" Yonder, sure enough:
      drawn out three or four miles long; with his right to the Elbe, his left
      to that intricate Village of Kesselsdorf; bristling with cannon; deep
      gullet and swampy brook in front of him: the strongest post a man could
      have chosen in those parts.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Village of Kesselsdorf itself lies rather in a hollow; in the slight
      beginning, or uppermost extremity, of a little Valley or Dell, called the
      Tschonengrund,&mdash;which, with its quaggy brook of a Tschone, wends
      northeastward into the Elbe, a course of four or five miles: a little
      Valley very deep for its length, and getting altogether chasmy and
      precipitous towards the Elbe-ward or lower end. Kesselsdorf itself, as we
      said, is mainly in a kind of hollow: between Old Leopold and Kesselsdorf
      the ground rather mounts; and there is perceptibly a flat knoll or rise at
      the head of it, where the Village begins. Some trees there, and abundance
      of cannon and grenadiers at this moment. It is the southwestern or
      left-most point of Rutowski's line; impregnable with its cannon-batteries
      and grenadiers. Rightward Rutowski extends in long lines, with the
      quaggy-dell of Tschonengrund in front of him, parallel to him; Dell ever
      deepening as it goes. Northeastward, at the extreme right, or Elbe point
      of it, where Grune and the Austrians stand, it has grown so chasmy, we
      judge that Grune can neither advance nor be
    </p>
    <p>
      MAP/PLAN GOES HERE&mdash;book 15 continuation &mdash;page 10&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      advanced upon:e,&mdash;which he did all day, in a purely meditative
      posture. Rutowski numbers 35,000, now on this ground, with immensity of
      cannon; 32,000 we, with only the usual field-artillery, and such a
      Tschonengrund, with its half-frozen quagmires ahead. A ticklish case for
      the old man, as he grimly reconnoitres it, in the winter morning.
    </p>
    <p>
      Grim Old Dessauer having reconnoitred, and rapidly considered, decides to
      try it,&mdash;what else?&mdash;will range himself on the west side of that
      Tschonengrund, horse and foot; two lines, wide as Rutowski opposite him;
      but means to direct his main and prime effort against Kesselsdorf, which
      is clearly the key of the position, if it can be taken. For which end the
      Old Dessauer lengthens himself out to rightward, so as to outflank
      Kesselsdorf;&mdash;neglecting Grune (refusing Grune, as the soldiers say):&mdash;"our
      horse of the right wing reached from the Wood called Lerchenbusoh
      (LARCH-BUSH) rightward as far as Freyberg road; foot all between that
      Lerchenbusch and the big Birch-tree on the road to Wilsdruf; horse of the
      left wing, from there to Roitsch." [Stille (p. 181), who was present. See
      Plan.] It was about two P.M. before the old man got all his deployments
      completed; what corps of his, deploying this way or that, came within wind
      of Kesselsdorf, were saluted with cannon, thirty pieces or more, which are
      in battery, in three batteries, on the knoll there; but otherwise no
      fighting as yet. At two, the Old Dessauer is complete; he reverently doffs
      his hat, as had always been his wont, in prayer to God, before going in. A
      grim fervor of prayer is in his heart, doubtless; though the words as
      reported are not very regular or orthodox: "O HERR GOTT, help me yet this
      once; let me not be disgraced in my old days! Or if thou wilt not help me,
      don't help those HUNDSVOGTE [damned Scoundrels, so to speak], but leave us
      to try it ourselves!" That is the Old Scandinavian of a Dessauer's prayer;
      a kind of GODUR he too, Priest as well as Captain: Prayer mythically true
      as given; mythically, not otherwise. [Ranke, iii. 334 n.] Which done, he
      waves his hat once, "On, in God's name!" and the storm is loose. Prussian
      right wing pushing grandly forward, bent in that manner, to take
      Kesselsdorf and its fire-throats in flank.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Prussians tramp on with the usual grim-browed resolution, foot in
      front, horse in rear; but they have a terrible problem at that
      Kesselsdorf, with its retrenched batteries, and numerous grenadiers
      fighting under cover. The very ground is sore against them; uphill, and
      the trampled snow wearing into a slide, so that you sprawl and stagger
      sadly. Thirty-one big guns, and about 9,000 small, pouring out mere death
      on you, from that knoll-head. The Prussians stagger; cannot stand it; bend
      to rightwards, and get out of shot-range; cannot manage it this bout.
      Rally, reinforce; try it again. Again, with a will; but again there is not
      a way. The Prussians are again repulsed; fall back, down this slippery
      course, in more disorder than the first time. Had the Saxons stood still,
      steadily handling arms, how, on such terms, could the Prussians ever have
      managed it?
    </p>
    <p>
      But at sight of this second repulse, the Saxon grenadiers, and especially
      one battalion of Austrians who were there (the only Austrians who fought
      this day), gave a shout "Victory!"&mdash;and in the height of their
      enthusiasm, rushed out, this Austrian battalion first and the Saxons after
      them, to charge these Prussians, and sweep the world clear of them. It was
      the ruin of their battle; a fatal hollaing before you are out of the
      woods. Old Leopold, quick as thought, noticing the thing, hurls cavalry on
      these victorious down-plunging grenadiers; slashes them asunder, into mere
      recoiling whirlpools of ruin; so that "few of them got back unwounded;"
      and the Prussians storming in along with them,&mdash;aided by ever new
      Prussians, from beyond the Tschonengrund even,&mdash;the place was at
      length carried; and the Saxon battle became hopeless.
    </p>
    <p>
      For, their right being in such hurricane, the Prussians from the centre,
      as we hint, storm forward withal; will not be held back by the
      Tschonengrund. They find the Tschonengrund quaggy in the extreme, "brook
      frozen at the sides, but waist-deep of liquid mud in the centre;" cross
      it, nevertheless, towards the upper part of it,&mdash;young Moritz of
      Dessau leading the way, to help his old Father in extremity. They climb
      the opposite side,&mdash;quite slippery in places, but "helping one
      another up;"&mdash;no Saxons there till you get fairly atop, which was an
      oversight on the Saxon part. Fairly atop, Moritz is saluted by the Saxons
      with diligent musket-volleys; but Moritz also has musket-volleys in him,
      bayonet-charges in him; eager to help his old Papa at this hard pinch. Old
      Papa has the Saxons in flank; sends more and ever more other cavalry in on
      them; and in fact, the right wing altogether storms violently through
      Kesselsdorf, and sweeps it clean. Whole regiments of the Saxons are made
      prisoners; Roel's Light Horse we see there, taking standards; cutting
      violently in to avenge Roel's death, and the affront they had at Meissen
      lately. Furious Moritz on their front, from across the Tschonengrund;
      furious Roel (GHOST of Roel) and others in their flank, through
      Kesselsdorf: no standing for the Saxons longer.
    </p>
    <p>
      About nightfall,&mdash;their horse having made poorish fight, though the
      foot had stood to it like men,&mdash;they roll universally away. The
      Prussian left wing of horse are summoned through the Tschonengrund to
      chase: had there remained another hour of daylight, the Saxon Army had
      been one wide ruin. Hidden in darkness, the Saxon Army ebbed confusedly
      towards Dresden: with the loss of 6,000 prisoners and 3,000 killed and
      wounded: a completely beaten Army. It is the last battle the Saxons fought
      as a Nation,&mdash;or probably will fight. Battle called of Kesselsdorf:
      Wednesday, 15th December, 1745.
    </p>
    <p>
      Prince Karl had arrived at Dresden the night before; heard all this
      volleying and cannonading, from the distance; but did not see good to
      interfere at all. Too wide apart, some say; quartered at unreasonably
      distant villages, by some irrefragable ignorant War-clerk of Bruhl's
      appointing,&mdash;fatal Bruhl. Others say, his Highness had himself no
      mind; and made excuses that his troops were tired, disheartened by the two
      beatings lately,&mdash;what will become of us in case of a third or
      fourth! It is certain, Prince Karl did nothing. Nor has Grime's corps, the
      right wing, done anything except meditate:&mdash;it stood there
      unattacked, unattacking; till deep in the dark night, when Rutowski
      remembered it, and sent it order to come home. One Austrian battalion,
      that of grenadiers on the knoll at Kesselsdorf, did actually fight;&mdash;and
      did begin that fatal outbreak, and quitting of the post there; "which lost
      the Battle to us!" say the Saxons.
    </p>
    <p>
      Had those grenadiers stood in their place, there is no Prussian but admits
      that it would have been a terrible business to take Kesselsdorf and its
      batteries. But they did not stand; they rushed out, shouting "Victory;"
      and lost us the battle. And that is the good we have got of the sublime
      Austrian Alliance; and that is the pass our grand scheme of Partitioning
      Prussia has come to? Fatal little Bruhl of the three hundred and
      sixty-five clothes-suits; Valet fatally become divine in Valet-hood,&mdash;are
      not you costing your Country dear!
    </p>
    <p>
      Old Dessauer, glorious in the last of his fields, lay on his arms all
      night in the posts about; three bullets through his roquelaure, no scratch
      of wound upon the old man. Young Moritz too "had a bullet through his
      coat-skirt, and three horses shot under him; but no hurt, the Almighty's
      grace preserving him." [<i>Feldzuge,</i>i. 434.] This Moritz is the Third
      of the Brothers, age now thirty-three; and we shall hear considerably
      about him in times coming. A lean, tall, austere man; and, "of all the
      Brothers, most resembled his Father in his ways." Prince Dietrich is in
      Leipzig at present; looking to that contribution of 50,000 pounds; to
      that, and to other contributions and necessary matters;&mdash;and has done
      all his fighting (as it chanced), though he survived his Brothers many
      years. Old Papa will now get his discharge before long (quite suddenly,
      one morning, by paralytic stroke, 7th April, 1747); and rest honorably
      with the Sons of Thor. [Young Leopold, the successor, died 16th December,
      1751, age fifty-two; Dietrich (who had thereupon quitted soldiering, to
      take charge of his Nephew left minor, and did not resume it), died 2d
      December, 1769; Moritz (soldier to the last), 11th April, 1760. See <i>Militair-Lexikon,</i>i.
      43, 34, 38,47.]
    </p>
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    <h2>
      Chapter XV.&mdash;PEACE OF DRESDEN: FRIEDRICH DOES MARCH HOME.
    </h2>
    <p>
      Friedrich himself had got to Meissen, Tuesday, 14th; no enemy on his road,
      or none to speak of: Friedrich was there, or not yet far across, all
      Wednesday; collecting himself, waiting, on the slip, for a signal from Old
      Leopold. Sound of cannon, up the Elbe Dresden-ward, is reported there to
      Friedrich, that afternoon: cannon, sure enough, notes Friedrich; and deep
      dim-rolling peals, as of volleying small-arms; "the sky all on fire over
      there," as the hoar-frosty evening fell. Old Leopold busy at it,
      seemingly. That is the glare of the Old Dessauer's countenance; who is
      giving voice, in that manner, to the earthly and the heavenly powers;
      conquering Peace for us, let us hope!
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich, as may be supposed, made his best speed next morning: "All
      well!" say the messengers; all well, says Old Leopold, whom he meets at
      Wilsdruf, and welcomes with a joyful embrace; "dismounting from his horse,
      at sight of Leopold, and advancing to meet him with doffed hat and open
      arms,"&mdash;and such words and treatments, that day, as made the old
      man's face visibly shine. "Your Highness shall conduct me!" And the two
      made survey together of the actual Field of Kesselsdorf; strewn with the
      ghastly wrecks of battle,&mdash;many citizens of Dresden strolling about,
      or sorrowfully seeking for their lost ones among the wounded and dead. No
      hurt to these poor citizens, who dread none; help to them rather: such is
      Friedrich's mind,&mdash;concerning which, in the Anecdote-Books, there are
      Narratives (not worth giving) of a vapidly romantic character, credible
      though inexact. [For the indisputable pa so we leave him standing therrt,
      see Orlich, ii. 343, 344; and <i>OEuvres de Frederic,</i> iii. 170.]
      Friedrich, who may well be profuse of thanks and praises, charms the Old
      Dessauer while they walk together; brave old man with his holed
      roquelaure. For certain, he has done the work there,&mdash;a great deal of
      work in his time! Joy looks through his old rough face, of gunpowder
      color: the Herr Gott has not delivered him to those damned Scoundrels in
      the end of his days.&mdash;On the morrow, Friday, Leopold rolled grandly
      forward upon Dresden; Rutowski and Prince Karl vanishing into the Metal
      Mountains, by Pirna, for Bohemia, at sound of him,&mdash;as he had
      scarcely hoped they would.
    </p>
    <p>
      On the Saturday evening, Dresden, capable of not the least defence, has
      opened all its gates, and Friedrich and the Prussians are in Dresden;
      Austrians and wrecked Saxons falling back diligently towards the Metal
      Mountains for Bohemia, diligent to clear the road for him. Queen and
      Junior Princes are here; to whom, as to all men, Friedrich is courtesy
      itself; making personal visit to the Royalties, appointing guards of
      honor, sacred respect to the Royal Houses; himself will lodge at the
      Princess Lubomirski's, a private mansion.
    </p>
    <p>
      "That ferocious, false, ambitious King of Prussia"&mdash;Well, he is not
      to be ruined in open fight, on the contrary is ruinous there; nor by the
      cunningest ambuscades, and secret combinations, in field or cabinet: our
      overwhelming Winter Invasion of him&mdash;see where it has ended! Bruhl
      and Polish Majesty&mdash;the nocturnal sky all on fire in those parts, and
      loud general doomsday come&mdash;are a much-illuminated pair of gentlemen.
    </p>
    <p>
      From the time Meissen Bridge was lost, Prince Karl too showing himself so
      languid, even Bruhl had discerned that the case was desperate. On the very
      day of Kesselsdorf,&mdash;not the day BEFORE, which would have been such a
      thrift to Bruhl and others!&mdash;Friedrich had a Note from Villiers,
      signifying joyfully that his Polish Majesty would accept Peace. Thanks to
      his Polish Majesty:&mdash;and after Kesselsdorf, perhaps the Empress-Queen
      too will! Friedrich's offers are precisely what they were, what they have
      always been: "Convention of Hanover; that, in all its parts; old treaty of
      Breslau, to be guaranteed, to be actually kept. To me Silesia sure;&mdash;from
      you, Polish Majesty, one million crowns as damages for the trouble and
      cost this Triple Ambuscade of yours has given me; one million crowns,
      150,000 pounds we will say; and all other requisitions to cease on the day
      of signature. These are my terms: accept these; then wholly, As you were,
      Empress-Queen and you, and all surviving creatures: and I march home
      within a week." Villiers speeds rapidly from Prag, with the due
      olive-branch; with Count Harrach, experienced Austrian, and full powers.
      Harrach cannot believe his senses: "Such the terms to be still granted,
      after all these beatings and rebeatings!"&mdash;then at last does believe,
      with stiff thankfulness and Austrian bows. The Negotiation need not occupy
      many hours.
    </p>
    <p>
      "His Majesty of Prussia was far too hasty with this Peace," says Valori:
      "he had taken a threap that he would have it finished before the Year was
      done:"&mdash;in fact, he knows his own mind, MON GROS VALORI, and that is
      what few do. You shear through no end of cobwebs with that fine implement,
      a wisely fixed resolution of your own. A Peace slow enough for Valori and
      the French: where could that be looked for?&mdash;Valori is at Berlin, in
      complete disgrace; his Most Christian King having behaved so like a Turk
      of late. Valori, horror-struck at such Peace, what shall he do to prevent
      it, to retard it? One effort at least. D'Arget his Secretary, stolen at
      Jaromirz, is safe back to him; ingenious, ingenuous D'Arget was always a
      favorite with Friedrich: despatch D'Arget to him. D'Arget is despatched;
      with reasons, with remonstrances, with considerations. D'Arget's Narrative
      is given: an ingenuous off-hand Piece;&mdash;poor little crevice, through
      which there is still to be had, singularly clear, and credible in every
      point, a direct glimpse of Friedrich's own thoughts, in that many-sounding
      Dresden,&mdash;so loud, that week, with dinner-parties, with operas,
      balls, Prussian war-drums, grand-parades and Peace-negotiations.
    </p>
    <p>
      THE SIEUR D'ARGET TO EXCELLENCY VALORI (at Berlin).
    </p>
    <p>
      "DRESDEN, 1745" (dateless otherwise, must be December, between 18th and
      25th).
    </p>
    <p>
      "MONSEIGNEUR,&mdash;I arrived yesterday at 7 P.M.; as I had the honor of
      forewarning you, by the word I wrote to the Abbe [never mind what Abbe;
      another Valori-Clerk] from Sonnenwalde [my half-way house between Berlin
      and this City]. I went, first of all, to M. de Vaugrenand," our Envoy
      here; "who had the goodness to open himself to me on the Business now on
      hand. In my opinion, nothing can be added to the excellent considerations
      he has been urging on the King of Prussia and the Count de Podewils.
    </p>
    <p>
      "At half-past 8, I went to his Prussian Majesty's; I found he was engaged
      with his Concert,"&mdash;lodges in the Lubomirski Palace, has his snatch
      of melody in the evening of such discordant days,&mdash;"and I could not
      see him till after half-past 9. I announced myself to M. Eichel; he was
      too overwhelmed with affairs to give me audience. I asked for Count
      Rothenburg; he was at cards with the Princess Lubomirski. At last, I did
      get to the King: who received me in the most agreeable way; but was just
      going to Supper; said he must put off answering till to-morrow morning,
      morning of this day. M. de Vaugrenand had been so good as prepare me on
      the rumors of a Peace with Saxony and the Queen of Hungary. I went to M.
      Podewils; who said a great many kind things to me for you. I could only
      sketch out the matter, at that time; and represented to Podewils the
      brilliant position of his Master, who had become Arbiter of the Peace of
      Europe; that the moment was come for making this Peace a General One, and
      that perhaps there would be room for repentance afterwards, if the
      opportunity were slighted. He said, his Master's object was that same; and
      thus closed the conversation by general questions.
    </p>
    <p>
      "This morning, I again presented myself at the King of Prussia's. I had to
      wait, and wait; in fine, it was not till half-past 5 in the evening that
      he returned, or gave me admittance; and I stayed with him till after 7,"&mdash;when
      Concert-time was at hand again. Listen to a remarkable Dialogue, of the
      Conquering Hero with a humble Friend whom he likes. "His Majesty
      condescended (A DAIGNE) to enter with me into all manner of details; and
      began by telling me,
    </p>
    <p>
      "That M. de Valori had done admirably not to come, himself, with that
      Letter from the King [Most Christian, OUR King; Letter, the sickly
      Document above spoken of]; that there could not have been an Answer
      expected,&mdash;the Letter being almost of ironical strain; his Majesty
      [Most Christian] not giving him the least hope, but merely talking of his
      fine genius, and how that would extricate him from the perilous
      entanglement, and inspire him with a wise resolution in the matter! That
      he had, in effect, taken a resolution the wisest he could; and was making
      his Peace with Saxony and the Queen of Hungary. That he had felt all the
      dangers of the difficult situations he had been in,"&mdash;sheer
      destruction yawning all round him, in huge imminency, more than once, and
      no friend heeding;&mdash;"that, weary of playing always double-or-quits,
      he had determined to end it, and get into a state of tranquillity, which
      both himself and his People had such need of. That France could not,
      without difficulty, have remedied his mishaps; and that he saw by the
      King's Letter, there was not even the wish to do it. That his,
      Friedrich's, military career was completed,"&mdash;so far as HE could
      foresee or decide! "That he would not again expose his Country to the
      Caprices of Fortune, whose past constancy to him was sufficiently
      astonishing to raise fears of a reverse (HEAR!). That his ambitions were
      fulfilled, in having compelled his Enemies to ask Peace from him in their
      own Capital, with the Chancellor of Bohemia [Harrach, typifying fallen
      Austrian pride] obliged to co-operate.
    </p>
    <p>
      "That he would always be attached to our King's interests, and set all the
      value in the world on his friendship; but that he had not been
      sufficiently assisted to be content. That, observing henceforth an exact
      neutrality, he might be enabled to do offices of mediation; and to carry,
      to the one side and to the other, words of peace. That he offered himself
      for that object, and would be charmed to help in it; but that he was fixed
      to stop there. That in regard to the basis of General Peace, he had Two
      Ideas [which the reader can attend to, and see where they differed from
      the Event, and where not]:&mdash;One was, That France should keep Ypres,
      Furnes, Tournay [which France did not], giving up the Netherlands
      otherwise, with Ostend, to the English [to the English!] in exchange for
      Cape Breton. The other was, To give up more of our Conquests [we gave them
      all up, and got only the glory, and our Cod-fishery, Cape Breton, back,
      the English being equally generous], and bargain for liberty to
      re-establish Dunkirk in its old condition [not a word of your Dunkirk;
      there is your Cape Breton, and we also will go home with what glory there
      is,&mdash;not difficult to carry!]. But that it was by England we must
      make the overtures, without addressing ourselves to the Court of Vienna;
      and put it in his, Friedrich's, power to propose a receivable Project of
      Peace. That he well conceived the great point was the Queen of Spain
      [Termagant and Jenkins's Ear; Termagant's Husband, still living, is a
      lappet of Termagant's self]: but that she must content herself with Parma
      and Piacenza for the Infant, Don Philip [which the Termagant did]; and
      give back her hold of Savoy [partial hold, of no use to her without the
      Passes] to the King of Sardinia." And of the JENKINS'S-EAR question,
      generous England will say nothing? Next to nothing; hopes a modicum of
      putty and diplomatic varnish may close that troublesome question,&mdash;which
      springs, meanwhile, in the centre of the world!&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "These kind condescensions of his Majesty emboldened me to represent to
      him the brilliant position he now held; and how noble it would be, after
      having been the Hero of Germany, to become, instead of one's own
      pacificator, the Pacificator of Europe. 'I grant you,' said he, (MON CHER
      D'Arget; but it is too dangerous a part for playing. A reverse brings me
      to the edge of ruin: I know too well the mood of mind I was in, last time
      I left Berlin with that Three-legged Immensity of Atropos, NOT yet mown
      down at Hennersdorf by a lucky cut), ever to expose myself to it again! If
      luck had been against me there, I saw myself a Monarch without throne; and
      my subjects in the cruelest oppression. A bad game that: always, mere
      CHECK TO YOUR KING; no other move;&mdash;I refer it to you, friend
      D'Arget:&mdash;in fine, I wish to be at peace.'
    </p>
    <p>
      "I represented to him that the House of Austria would never, with a
      tranquil eye, see his House in possession of Silesia. 'Those that come
      after me,' said he, 'will do as they like; the Future is beyond man's
      reach. Those that come after will do as they can. I have acquired; it is
      theirs to preserve. I am not in alarm about the Austrians;&mdash;and this
      is my answer to what you have been saying about the weakness of my
      guarantees. They dread my Army; the luck that I have. I am sure of their
      sitting quiet for the dozen years or so which may remain to me of life;&mdash;quiet
      till I have, most likely, done with it. What! Are we never to have any
      good of our life, then (NE DOIS-JE DONC JAMAIS JOUIR)? There is more for
      me in the true greatness of laboring for the happiness of my subjects,
      than in the repose of Europe. I have put Saxony out of a condition to do
      hurt. She owes 14,775,000 crowns of debt [two millions and a quarter
      sterling]; and by the Defensive Alliance which I form with her, I provide
      myself [but ask Bruhl withal!] a help against Austria. I would not
      henceforth attack a cat, except to defend myself.' ["These are his very
      words," adds D'Arget;&mdash;and well worth noting.] (Ambition (GLOIRE) and
      my interests were the occasion of my first Campaigns. The late Kaiser's
      situation, and my zeal for France [not to mention interests again], gave
      rise to these second: and I have been fighting always since for my own
      hearths,&mdash;for my very existence, I might say! Once more, I know the
      state I had got into:&mdash;if I saw Prince Karl at the gates of Paris, I
      would not stir.'&mdash;'And us at the gates of Vienna,' answered I
      promptly, 'with the same indifference?'&mdash;'Yes; and I swear it to you,
      D'Arget. In a word, I want to have some good of my life (VEUX JOUIR). What
      are we, poor human atoms, to get up projects that cost so much blood? Let
      us live, and help to live.'
    </p>
    <p>
      "The rest of the conversation passed in general talk, about Literature,
      Theatres and such objects. My reasonings and objectings, on the great
      matter, I need not farther detail: by the frank discourse his Prussian
      Majesty was kind enough to go into, you may gather perhaps that my
      arguments were various, and not ill-chosen;&mdash;and it is too evident
      they have all been in vain."&mdash;Your Excellency's (really in a very
      faithful way)&mdash; D'ARGET. [Valori, i. 290-294 (no date, except
      "Dresden, 1745,"&mdash;sleepy Editor feeling no want of any).]
    </p>
    <p>
      D'Arget, about a month after this, was taken into Friedrich's service;
      Valori consenting, whose occupation was now gone;&mdash;and we shall hear
      of D'Arget again. Take this small Note, as summary of him: "D'Arget (18th
      January, 1746) had some title, 'Secretary at Orders (SECRETAIRE DES
      COMMANDEMENTS),' bit of pension; and continued in the character of reader,
      or miscellaneous literary attendant and agent, very much liked by his
      Master, for six years coming. A man much heard of, during those years of
      office. March, 1752, having lost his dear little Prussian Wife, and got
      into ill health and spirits, he retired on leave to Paris; and next year
      had to give up the thought of returning;&mdash;though he still, and to the
      end, continued loyally attached to his old Master, and more or less in
      correspondence with him. Had got, before long, not through Friedrich's
      influence at Paris, some small Appointment in the ECOLE MILITAIRE there.
      He is, of all the Frenchmen Friedrich had about him, with the exception of
      D'Argens alone, the most honest-hearted. The above Letter, lucid,
      innocent, modest, altogether rational and practical, is a fair specimen of
      D'Arget: add to it the prompt self-sacrifice (and in that fine silent way)
      at Jaromirz for Valori, and readers may conceive the man. He lived at
      Paris, in meagre but contented fashion, RUE DE L'ECOLE MILITAIRE, till
      1778; and seems, of all the Ex-Prussian Frenchmen, to have known most
      about Friedrich; and to have never spoken any falsity against him.
      Duvernet, the 'M&mdash;&mdash;' Biographer of VOLTAIRE, frequented him a
      good deal; and any true notions, or glimmerings of such, that he has about
      Prussia, are probably ascribable to D'Arget." [See <i>OEuvres de Frederic,</i>
      xx. (p. xii of PREFACE to the D'ARGET CORRESPONDENCE there).]
    </p>
    <p>
      The Treaty of Dresden can be read in Scholl, Flassan, Rousset, Adelung;
      but, except on compulsion, no creature will now read it,&mdash;nor did
      this Editor, even he, find it pay. Peace is made. Peace of Dresden is
      signed, Christmas Day, 1745: "To me Silesia, without farther treachery or
      trick; you, wholly as you were." Europe at large, as Friedrich had done,
      sees "the sky all on fire about Dresden." The fierce big battles done
      against this man have, one and all of them, become big defeats. The
      strenuous machinations, high-built plans cunningly devised,&mdash;the
      utmost sum-total of what the Imperial and Royal Potencies can, for the
      life of them, do: behold, it has all tumbled down here, in loud crash; the
      final peal of it at Kesselsdorf; and the consummation is flame and smoke,
      conspicuous over all the Nations. You will let him keep his own
      henceforth, then, will you? Silesia, which was NOT yours nor ever shall
      be? Silesia and no afterthought? The Saxons sign, the high
      Plenipotentiaries all; in the eyes of Villiers, I am told, were seen
      sublimely pious tears. Harrach, bowing with stiff, almost incredulous,
      gratitude, swears and signs;&mdash;hurries home to his Sovereign Lady,
      with Peace, and such a smile on his face; and on her Imperial Majesty's
      such a smile!&mdash;readers shall conceive it.
    </p>
    <p>
      There are but Two new points in the Treaty of Dresden,&mdash;nay properly
      there is but One point, about which posterity can have the least care or
      interest; for that other, concerning "The Toll of Schidlo," and settlement
      of haggles on the Navigation of the Elbe there, was not kept by the
      Saxons, but continued a haggle still: this One point is the Eleventh
      Article. Inconceivably small; but liable to turn up on us again, in a
      memorable manner. That let us translate,&mdash;for M. de Voltaire's sake,
      and time coming! STEUER means Land-Tax; OBER-STEUER-EINNAHME will be
      something like Royal Exchequer, therefore; and STEUER-SCHEIN will be
      approximately equivalent to Exchequer Bill. Article Eleventh stipulates:
    </p>
    <p>
      "All subjects and servants of his Majesty the King of Prussia who hold
      bonds of the Saxon OBER-STEUER-EINNAHME shall be paid in full, capital and
      interest, at the times, and to the amount, specified in said
      STEUER-SCHEINE or Bonds." That is Article Eleventh.&mdash;"The Saxon
      Exchequer," says an old Note on it, "thanks to Bruhl's extravagance, has
      been as good as bankrupt, paying with inconvertible paper, with SCHEINE
      (Things to be SHOWN), for some time past; which paper has accordingly
      sunk, let us say, 25 per cent below its nominal amount in gold. All
      Prussian subjects, who hold these Bonds, are to be paid in gold; Saxons,
      and others, will have to be content with paper till things come round
      again, if things ever do." Yes;&mdash;and, by ill chance, the matter will
      attract M. de Voltaire's keen eye in the interim!
    </p>
    <p>
      Friedrich stayed eight days in Dresden, the loud theme of Gazetteers and
      rumors; the admired of two classes, in all Countries: of the many who
      admire success, and also of the few who can understand what it is to
      deserve success. Among his own Countrymen, this last Winter has kindled
      all their admirations to the flaming pitch. Saved by him from imminent
      destruction; their enemies swept home as if by one invincible; nay, sent
      home in a kind of noble shame, conquered by generosity. These feelings,
      though not encouraged to speak, run very high. The Dresdeners in private
      society found him delightful; the high ladies especially: "Could you have
      thought it; terrific Mars to become radiant Apollo in this manner!" From
      considerable Collections of Anecdotes illustrating this fact, in a way now
      fallen vapid to us,&mdash;I select only the Introduction:&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "Do readers recollect Friedrich's first visit to Dresden [in 1728],
      seventeen years ago; and a certain charming young Countess Flemming, at
      that time only fourteen; who, like a Hebe as she was, contrived beautiful
      surprises for him, and among other things presented him, so gracefully, on
      the part of August the Strong, with his first flute?"&mdash;No reader of
      this History can recollect it; nor indeed, except in a mythic sense,
      believe it! A young Countess Flemming (daughter of old Feldmarschall
      Flemming) doubtless there might be, who presented him a flute; but as to
      HIS FIRST flute&mdash;? "That same charming young Countess Flemming is
      still here, age now thirty-one; charming, more than ever, though now under
      a changed name; having wedded a Von Racknitz (Supreme Gentleman-Usher, or
      some such thing) a few years ago, and brought him children and the usual
      felicities. How much is changed! August the Strong, where is he; and his
      famous Three Hundred and Fifty-four, Enchantress Orzelska and the others,
      where are they? Enchantress Orzelska wedded, quarrelled, and is in a
      convent: her charming destiny concluded. Rutowski is not now in the
      Prussian Army: he got beaten, Wednesday last, at Kesselsdorf, fighting
      against that Army. And the Chevalier de Saxe, he too was beaten there;&mdash;clambering
      now across the Metal Mountains, ask not of him. And the Marechal de Saxe,
      he takes Cities, fights Battles of Fontenoy, 'mumbling a lead bullet all
      day;' being dropsical, nearly dead of debaucheries; the most dissolute (or
      probably so) of all the Sons of Adam in his day. August the Physically
      Strong is dead. August the Spiritually Weak is fled to Prag with his
      Bruhl. And we do not come, this time, to get a flute; but to settle the
      account of Victories, and give Peace to Nations. Strange, here as always,
      to look back,&mdash;to look round or forward,&mdash;in the mad huge whirl
      of that loud-roaring Loom of Time!&mdash;One of Countess Racknitz's Sons
      happened to leave MANUSCRIPT DIARIES [rather feeble, not too
      exact-looking], and gives us, from Mamma's reminiscences"... Not a word
      more. [Rodenbeck, <i>Beitrage,</i> i. 440, et seq.]
    </p>
    <p>
      The Peace, we said, was signed on Christmas-day. Next day, Sunday,
      Friedrich attended Sermon in the Kreuzkirche (Protestant High-Church of
      Dresden), attended Opera withal; and on Monday morning had vanished out of
      Dresden, as all his people had done, or were diligently doing. Tuesday, he
      dined briefly at Wusterhausen (a place we once knew well), with the Prince
      of Prussia, whose it now is; got into his open carriage again, with the
      said Prince and his other Brother Ferdinand; and drove swiftly homeward.
      Berlin, drunk with joy, was all out on the streets, waiting. On the Heath
      of Britz, four or five miles hitherward of Berlin, a body of young
      gentlemen ("Merchants mostly, who had ridden out so far") saluted him with
      "VIVAT FRIEDRICH DER GROSSE (Long live Friedrich THE GREAT)!" thrice over;&mdash;as
      did, in a less articulate manner, Berlin with one voice, on his arrival
      there; Burgher Companies lining the streets; Population vigorously
      shouting; Pupils of the Koln Gymnasium, with Clerical and School
      Functionaries in mass, breaking out into Latin Song:&mdash;
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     "VIVAT, VIVAT FRIDERICUS REX;
      VIVAT AUGUSTUS, MAGNUS, FELIX, PATER, PATRI-AE&mdash;!"
</pre>
    <p>
      &mdash;and what not. [Preuss, i. 220; who cites <i>Beschreibung</i>
      ("Description of his Majesty's Triumphant Entry, on the" &amp;c.) and
      other Contemporary Pamphlets. Rodenbeck, i. 124.] On reaching the Portal
      of the Palace, his Majesty stept down; and, glancing round the
      Schloss-Platz and the crowded windows and simmering multitudes, saluted,
      taking off his hat; which produced such a shout,&mdash;naturally the
      loudest of all. And so EXIT King, into his interior. Tuesday, 2-3 P.M.,
      28th December, 1745: a King new-christened in the above manner, so far as
      people could.
    </p>
    <p>
      Illuminated Berlin shone like noon, all that night (the beginning of a
      GAUDEAMUS which lasted miscellaneously for weeks):&mdash;but the King
      stole away to see a friend who was dying; that poor Duhan de Jaudun, his
      early Schoolmaster, who had suffered much for him, and whom he always much
      loved. Duhan died, in a day or two. Poor Jordan, poor Keyserling (the
      "Cesarion" of young days): them also he has lost; and often laments, in
      this otherwise bright time. (In <i>OEuvres,</i> xvii. 288; xviii. 141; IB.
      142&mdash;painfully tender Letters to Frau von Camas and others, on these
      events).
    </p></html>