Book: History of Friedrich II of Prussia V 20

T >> Thomas Carlyle >> History of Friedrich II of Prussia V 20




Near by, too, farther rightwards, if in the bewildering
indistinctness I might guess where (but the where is not so
important to us), Baireuth Dragoons, they of the 67 standards at
Striegau long since, plunged into the Austrian Battalions at an
unsurpassable rate; tumbled four regiments of them (Regiment
KAISER, Regiment NEIPPERG,--nobody now cares which four) heels over
head, and in few minutes took the most of them prisoners;
bringing them home too, like Dalwig, through crowds of rescuers.
Eastward, again, or Elbe-ward, Holstein has found such intricacies
of ground, such boggy depths and rough steeps, his Cavalry could
come to no decisive sabring with the Austrian; but stood exchanging
shot;--nothing to be done on that right wing of Daun.

Daun's left flank, however, does appear, after Three such Attacks,
to be at last pretty well ruined: Tempelhof says, "Daun's whole
Front Line was tumbled to pieces; disorder had, sympathetically,
gone rearward, even in those eastern parts; and on the western and
northwestern the Prussian Horse Regiments were now standing in its
place." But, indeed, such charging and recharging, pulsing and
repulsing, has there been hereabouts for hours past, the rival
Hosts have got completely interpenetrated; Austrian parties, or
whole regiments, are to rear of those Prussians who stand ranked
here, and in victorious posture, as the Night sinks. Night is now
sinking on this murderous day: "Nothing more to be made of it;
try it again to-morrow!" thinks the King; gives Hulsen charge of
bivouacking and re-arranging these scattered people; and rides with
escort northwestward to Elsnig, north of Neiden, well to rear of
this bloody arena,--in a mood of mind which may be figured as
gloomy enough.

Daun, too, is home to Torgau,--1 think, a little earlier,--to have
his wound dressed, now that the day seems to him secure.
Buccow, Daun's second, is killed; Daun's third is an Irish Graf
O'Donnell, memorable only on this one occasion; to this O'Donnell,
and to Lacy, who is firm on his ground yonder, untouched all day,
the charge of matters is left. Which cannot be a difficult one,
hopes Daun. Daun, while his wound is dressing, speeds off a courier
to Vienna. Courier did enter duly there, with glorious trumpeting
postilions, and universal Hep-hep-hurrah; kindling that ardently
loyal City into infinite triumph and illumination,--for the space
of certain hours following.

Hulsen meanwhile has been doing his best to get into proper bivouac
for the morrow; has drawn back those eastward horse regiments,
drawn forward the infantry battalions; forward, I think, and well
rightward, where, in the daytime, Daun's left flank was. On the
whole, it is northwestward that the general Prussian Bivouac for
this night is; the extremest SOUTHwestern-most portion of it is
Infantry, under General Lestwitz; a gallant useful man, who little
dreams of becoming famous this dreary uncertain night.

It is 6 o'clock. Damp dusk has thickened down into utter darkness,
on these terms:--when, lo, cannonade and musketade from the south,
audible in the Lestwitz-Hulsen quarters: seriously loud; red glow
of conflagration visible withal,--some unfortunate Village going up
("Village of Siptitz, think you?"); and need of Hulsen at his
fastest! Hulsen, with some readiest Foot Regiments, circling round,
makes thitherward; Lestwitz in the van. Let us precede him thither,
and explain a little what it was.

Ziethen, who had stood all day making idle noises,--of what a fatal
quality we know, if Ziethen did not,--waiting for the King's
appearance, must have been considerably displeased with himself at
nightfall, when the King's fire gradually died out farther and
farther north, giving rise to the saddest surmises.
Ziethen's Generals, Saldern and the Leuthen Mollendorf, are full of
gloomy impatience, urgent on him to try something. "Push westward,
nearer the King? Some stroke at the enemy on their south or
southwestern side, where we have not molested them all day?
No getting across the Rohrgraben on them, says your Excellenz?
Siptitz Village, and their Battery there, is on our side of the
Rohrgraben:--UM GOTTES WILLEN, something, Herr General!"
Ziethen does finally assent: draws leftward, westward;
unbuckles Saldern's people upon Siptitz; who go like sharp hounds
from the slip; fasten on Siptitz and the Austrians there, with a
will; wrench these out, force them to abandon their Battery, and to
set Siptitz on fire, while they run out of it. Comfortable bit of
success, so far,--were not Siptitz burning, so that we cannot get
through. "Through, no: and were we through, is not there the
Rohrgraben?" thinks Ziethen, not seeing his way.

How lucky that, at this moment, Mollendorf comes in, with a
discovery to westward; discovery of our old friend "the Butter-
Street,"--it is nothing more,--where Ziethen should have marched
this morning: there would he have found a solid road across the
Rohrgraben, free passage by a bridge between two bits of ponds, at
the SCHAFEREI (Sheep-Farm) of Siptitz yonder. "There still,"
reports Mollendorf, "the solid road is; unbeset hitherto, except by
me Mollendorf!" Thitherward all do now hasten, Austrians,
Prussians: but the Prussians are beforehand; Mollendorf is master
of the Pass, deploying himself on the other side of it, and Ziethen
and everybody hastening through to support him there, and the
Austrians making fierce fight in vain. The sound of which has
reached Hulsen, and set Lestwitz and him in motion thither.

For the thing is vital, if we knew it. Close ahead of Mollendorf,
when he is through this Pass, close on Mollendorf's left, as he
wheels round on the attacking Austrians, is the southwest corner of
Siptitz Height. Southwest corner, highest point of it; summit and
key of all that Battle area; rules it all, if you get cannon
thither. It hangs steepish on the southern side, over the
Rohrgraben, where this Mollendorf-Austrian fight begins; but it is
beautifully accessible, if you bear round to the west side,--a fine
saddle-shaped bit of clear ground there, in shape like the outside
or seat of a saddle; Domitsch Wood the crupper part; summit of this
Height the pommel, only nothing like so steep:--it is here (on tho
southern saddle-flap, so to speak), gradually mounting westward to
the crupper-and-pommel part, that the agony now is.

And here, in utter darkness, illuminated only by the musketry and
cannon blazes, there ensued two hours of stiff wrestling in its
kind: not the fiercest spasm of all, but the final which decided
all. Lestwitz, Hulsen, come sweeping on, led by the sound and the
fire; "beating the Prussian march, they," sharply on all their
drums,--Prussian march, rat-tat-tan, sharply through the gloom of
Chaos in that manner; and join themselves, with no mistake made, to
Mollendorf's, to Ziethen's left and the saddle-flap there, and fall
on. The night is pitch-dark, says Archenholtz; you cannot see your
hand before you. Old Hulsen's bridle-horses were all shot away,
when he heard this alarm, far off: no horse left; and he is old,
and has his own bruises. He seated himself on a cannon; and so
rides, and arrives; right welcome the sight of him, doubt not!
And the fight rages still for an hour or more.

To an observant Mollendorf, watching about all day, the importance
and all-importance of Siptitz Summit, if it can be got, is probably
known; to Daun it is alarmingly well known, when he hears of it.
Daun is zealously urgent on Lacy, on O'Donnell; who do try what
they can; send reinforcements, and the like; but nothing that
proves useful. O'Donnell is not the man for such a crisis:
Lacy, too, it is remarked, has always been more expert in ducking
out of Friedrich's way than in fighting anybody. [Archenholtz's
sour remark.] In fine, such is the total darkness, the difficulty,
the uncertainty, most or all of the reinforcements sent halted
short, in the belly of the Night, uncertain where; and their poor
friends got altogether beaten and driven away.

MAP FACING PAGE 527, BOOK XX--------


About 9 at night, all the Austrians are rolling off, eastward,
eastward. Prussians goading them forward what they could (firing
not quite done till 10); and that all-important pommel of the
saddle is indisputably won. The Austrians settled themselves, in a
kind of half-moon shape, close on the suburbs of Torgau;
the Prussians in a parallel half-moon posture, some furlongs behind
them. The Austrians sat but a short time; not a moment longer than
was indispensable. Daun perceives that the key of his ground is
gone from him; that he will have to send a second Courier to
Vienna. And, above all things, that he must forthwith get across
the Elbe and away. Lucky for him that he has Three Bridges (or
Four, including the Town Bridge), and that his Baggage is already
all across and standing on wheels. With excellent despatch and
order Daun winds himself across,--all of him that is still
coherent; and indeed, in the distant parts of the Battle-field,
wandering Austrian parties were admonished hitherward by the
River's voice in the great darkness,--and Daun's loss in prisoners,
though great, was less than could have been expected: 8,000 in all.

Till towards one in the morning, the Prussians, in their half-moon,
had not learned what he was doing. About one they pushed into
Torgau, and across the Town Bridge; found 26 pontoons,--all the
rest packed off except these 26;--and did not follow farther.
Lacy retreated by the other or left bank of the River, to guard
against attempts from that side. Next day there was pursuit of
Lacy; some prisoners and furnitures got from him, but nothing of
moment: Daun and Lacy joined at Dresden; took post, as usual,
behind their inaccessible Plauen Chasms. Sat there, in view of the
chasing Prussians, without farther loss than this of Torgau, and of
a Campaign gone to water again. What an issue, for the third time!
[Tempelhof, iv. 291-318,; Archenholtz, ii. 159-174; Retzow, ii. 299
et seq.; UMSTANDLICHE BESCHREIBUNG DES &C, (in Seyfarth,
Beylagen, ii. 823-848): in Helden-Geschichte,
or in Anonymous of Hamburg (iv.
245-300), the Daun DESPATCHES, the Lists, &c.]--

On Torgau-field, behind that final Prussian half-moon, there
reigned, all night, a confusion which no tongue can express.
Poor wounded men by the hundred and the thousand, weltering in
their blood, on the cold wet ground; not surgeons or nurses, but
merciless predatory sutlers, equal to murder if necessary, waiting
on them and on the happier that were dead. "Unutterable!" says
Archenholtz; who, though wounded, had crawled or got carried to
some village near. The living wandered about in gloom and
uncertainty; lucky he whose haversack was still his, and a crust of
bread in it: water was a priceless luxury, almost nowhere
discoverable. Prussian Generals roved about with their Staff-
Officers, seeking to re-form their Battalions; to little purpose.
They had grown indignant, in some instances, and were vociferously
imperative and minatory; but in tbe dark who needed mind them?--
they went raving elsewhere, and, for the first time, Prussian word-
of-command saw itself futile. Pitch darkness, bitter cold, ground
trampled into mire. On Siptitz Hill there is nothing that will
burn: farther back, in the Domitsch Woods, are numerous fine fires,
to which Austrians and Prussians alike gather: "Peace and truce
between us; to-morrow morning we will see which are prisoners,
which are captors." So pass the wild hours, all hearts longing for
the dawn, and what decision it will bring.

Friedrich, at Elsnig, found every hut full of wounded, and their
surgeries, and miseries silent or loud. He himself took shelter in
the little Church; passed the night there. Busy about many things;
--"using the altar," it seems, "by way of writing-table [self or
secretaries kneeling, shall we fancy, on those new terms?], and the
stairs of it as seat." Of the final Ziethen-Lestwitz effort he
would scarcely hear the musketry or cannonade, being so far away
from it. At what hour, or from whom first, he learned that the
Battle of Torgau had become Victory in the night-time, I know not:
the Anecdote-Books send him out in his cloak, wandering up and down
before daybreak; standing by the soldiers' fires; and at length,
among the Woods, in the faint incipiency of dawn, meeting a Shadow
which proves to be Ziethen himself in the body, with embraces and
congratulations:--evidently mythical, though dramatic. Reach him
the news soon did; and surely none could be welcomer.
Head-quarters change from the altar-steps in Elsnig Church to
secular rooms in Torgau. Ziethen has already sped forth on the
skirts of Lacy; whole Army follows next day; and, on the War-
theatre it is, on the sudden, a total change of scene.
Conceivable to readers without the details.

Hopes there were of getting back Dresden itself; but that, on
closer view, proved unattemptable. Daun kept his Plauen Chasm, his
few square miles of ground beyond; the rest of Saxony was
Friedrich's, as heretofore. Loudon had tried hard on Kosel for a
week; storming once, and a second time, very fiercely, Goltz being
now near; but could make nothing of it; and, on wind of Goltz, went
his way. [HOFBERICHT VON DER BELAGERUNG VON KOSEL, IM OCTOBER 1760
(Seyfarth, Beylagen, ii. 798-804): began
"October 21st;" ended "at daybreak, October 27th."] The Russians,
on sound of Torgau, shouldered arms, and made for Poland. Daun, for
his own share, went to Vienna this Winter; in need of surgery, and
other things. The population there is rather disposed to be grumbly
on its once heroic Fabius; wishes the Fabius were a little less
cunctatory. But Imperial Majesty herself, one is proud to relate,
drove out, in Old Roman spirit, some miles, to meet him, her
defeated ever-honored Daun, and to inquire graciously about his
health, which is so important to the State. [Archenholtz, ii. 179.]

Torgau was Daun's last Battle: Daun's last battle; and, what is
more to the joy of readers and their Editor here, was Friedrich's
last,--so that the remaining Two Campaigns may fairly be condensed
to an extreme degree; and a few Chapters more will deliver us
altogether from this painful element!--

Daun lost at Torgau, by his own account, "about 11,000 men,"--
should have said, according to Tempelhof, and even to neutral
persons, "above 12,000 killed and wounded, PLUS 8,000 prisoners,
45 cannon, 29 flags, 1 standard (or horse-flag)," [Tempelhof, iv.
213; Kausler, p. 726.] which brings him to at least 20,000 minus;--
the Prussian loss, heavy enough too, being, by Tempelhof's
admission, "between 13 and 14,000, of whom 4,000 prisoners."
The sore loss, not so computable in arithmetic,--but less sore to
Daun, perhaps, than to most people,--is that of being beaten, and
having one's Campaign reduced to water again. No Conquest of
Saxony, any more than of Silesia, possible to Daun, this Year.
In Silesia, thanks to Loudon, small thanks to Loudon's Chief, they
have got Glatz: Kosel they could not get; fiery Loudon himself
stormed and blazed to no purpose there, and had to hurry home on
sight of Goltz and relief. Glatz is the net sum-total. Daun knows
all this; but in a stoical arithmetical manner, and refuses to be
flurried by it.

Friedrich, as we said, had hoped something might be done in Saxony
on the defeated Daun;--perhaps Dresden itself be got back from him,
and his Army altogether sent to winter in Bohemia again? But it
proved otherwise. Daun showed not the least disposition to quit his
Plauen Chasm, or fall into discouragement: and after some weeks of
diligent trial, on Friedrich's part, and much running about in
those central and Hill-ward parts, Friedrich found he would have to
be content with his former allotment of Saxon territory, and to
leave the Austrians quiet in theirs. Took winter-quarters
accordingly, and let the Enemy take. Cantoned himself, in that
Meissen-Freyberg Country, in front of the Austrians and their
impassable Plauens and Chasms:--pretty much as in the past Year,
only that the Two Armies lay at a greater distance, and were more
peaceable, as if by mutual consent.

Head-quarter of the King is Leipzig; where the King did not arrive
till December 8th,--such adjusting and arranging has he had, and
incessant running to and fro. He lived in the "Apel House, NEW
Neumarkt, No. 16;" [Rodenbeck, ii. 65.] the same he had occupied in
1757, in the Rossbach time. "ACH! how lean your Majesty has grown!"
said the Mistress of it, at sight of him again (mythically, I
should fancy, though it is in the Anecdote-Books). "Lean, JA WOHL,"
answered he: "and what wonder, with Three Women [Theresa, Czarina,
Pompadour] hanging on the throat of me all this while!" But we
propose to look in upon him ourselves, in this Apel House, on more
authentic terms, by and by. Read, meanwhile, these Two bits of
Autograph, thrown off incidentally, at different places, in the
previous busy journeyings over Meissen-Freyberg country:--


1. FRIEDRICH TO MARQUIS D'ARGENS (at Berlin).

"MEISSEN, 10th November, 1760.

... "I drove the enemy to the Gates of Dresden; they occupy their
Camp of last Year; all my skill is not enough to dislodge them,"--
[Chasm of Plauen, "a place impregnable, were it garrisoned by
chimney-sweeps," says the King once]. "We have saved our reputation
by the Day of Torgau: but don't imagine our enemies are so
disheartened as to desire Peace. Duke Ferdinand's affairs are not
in a good way [missed Wesel, of which presently;--and, alas also,
George II. died, this day gone a fortnight, which is far worse for
us, if we knew it!]--I fear the French will preserve through Winter
the advantages they gained during the Campaign.

"In a word, I see all black, as if I were at the bottom of a tomb.
Have some compassion on the situation I am in; conceive that I
disguise nothing from you, and yet that I do not detail to you all
my embarrassments, my apprehensions and troubles. Adieu, dear
Marquis; write to me sometimes,--don't forget a poor devil, who
curses ten times a day his fatal existence, and could wish he
already were in those Silent Countries from which nobody returns
with news." [ OEuvres de Frederic, xix.
204, 205.]

2. The Second, of different complexion, is a still more interesting
little Autograph, date elsewhere, farther on, in those wanderings.
Madam Camas, Widow of the Colonel Camas whom we knew twenty years
ago, is "Queen's OBER-HOFMEISTERINN (Lady in Chief),"--to whom the
King's Letters are always pretty:--

FREIDRICH TO MADAM CAMAS (at Magdeburg, with the Queen's Majesty.

"NEUSTADT, 18th November, 1760.

"I am exact in answering, and eager to satisfy you [in that matter
of the porcelain: you shall have a breakfast-set, my good Mamma;
six coffee-cups, very pretty, well diapered, and tricked out with
all the little embellishments which increase their value.
On account of some pieces which they are adding to the set, you
will have to wait a few days; but I flatter myself this delay will
contribute to your satisfaction, and produce for you a toy that
will give you pleasure, and make you remember your old Adorer.
It is curious how old people's habits agree. For four years past I
have given up suppers, as incompatible with the Trade I am obliged
to follow; and in marching days, my dinner consists of a cup
of chocolate.

"We hurried off, like fools, quite inflated with our Victory, to
try if we could not chase the Austrians out of Dresden: they made a
mockery of us from the tops of their mountains. So I have
withdrawn, like a bad little boy, to conceal myself, out of spite,
in one of the wretchedest villages in Saxony. And here the first
thing will be to drive the Circle gentlemen, [Reichs Army] out of
Freyberg into Chemnitz, and get ourselves room to quarter and
something to live upon. It is, I swear to you, a dog of a life [or
even a she-dog, CHIENNE DE VIE], the like of which nobody but Don
Quixote ever led before me. All this tumbling and toiling, and
bother and confusion that never ceases, has made me so old, that
you would scarcely know me again. On the right side of my head the
hair is all gray; my teeth break and fall out; I have got my face
wrinkled like the falbalas of a petticoat; my back bent like a
fiddle-bow; and spirit sad and downcast like a monk of La Trappe.
I forewarn you of all this, lest, in case we should meet again in
flesh and bone, you might feel yourself too violently shocked by my
appearance. There remains to me nothing but the heart,--which has
undergone no change, and which will preserve, so long as I breathe,
its feelings of esteem and of tender friendship for my good Mamma.
Adieu." [ OEuvres de Frederic, XVIII. 144.]--
To which add only this on Duke Ferdinand, "whose affairs," we just
heard, "are not in a good way:"--


FIGHT OF KLOSTER KAMPEN (Night of October 15th-16th);
WESEL NOT TO BE HAD BY DUKE FERDINAND.

After WARBURG (July 31st, while Friedrich was on the eve of
crossing Elbe on new adventures, Dresden Siege having failed him),
Duke Ferdinand made no figure to the Gazetteers; fought no Battle
farther; and has had a Campaign, which is honorable only to judges
of a higher than the Gazetteer sort.

By Warburg Ferdinand had got the Diemel; on the north bank of which
he spread himself out, impassable to Broglio, who lay trying on the
opposite bank:--"No Hanover by this road." Broglio thereupon drew
back a little; pushed out circuitously from his right wing, which
reaches far eastward of Ferdinand, a considerable Brigade,--
circuitously, round by the Weser-Fulda Country, and beyond the
embouchure of Diemel,--to try it by that method. Got actually a few
miles into Hanoverian territory, by that method; laid hold of
Gottingen, also of Munden, which secures a road thither: and at
Gottingen there, "ever since August 4th," Broglio has been throwing
up works, and shooting out hussar-parties to a good distance;
intending, it would seem, to maintain himself, and to be
mischievous, in that post. Would, in fact, fain entice Ferdinand
across the Weser, to help Gottingen. "Across Weser, yes;--and so
leave Broglio free to take Lippstadt from me, as he might after a
short siege," thinks Ferdinand always; "which would beautifully
shorten Broglio's communication [quite direct then, and without
interruption, all the way to Wesel], and make Hanover itself,
Hanover and Brunswick, the central Seat of War!" Which Ferdinand,
grieved as he is for Gottingen, will by no means consent to.

Ferdinand, strong only as one to two, cannot hinder Broglio, though
he tries variously; and is much at a loss, seeing Broglio
irrepressibly busy this way, all through August and on into
September;--has heard, however, from Wesel, through secret
partisans there, that Wesel, considered altogether out of risk, is
left in a very weak condition; weak in garrison, weak even in
gunners. Reflecting upon which, in his difficulties, Ferdinand asks
himself, "A sudden stroke at Wesel, 200 miles away, might it not
astonish Broglio, who is so busy on us just here?"--and, September
22d, despatches the Hereditary Prince on that errand. A man likely
for it, if there be one in the world:--unable to do it, however, as
the issue told. Here is what I find noted.

"SEPTEMBER 22d, the Erbprinz, with a chosen Corps of 15,000, mostly
English, left these Diemel regions towards Wesel, at his speediest.
September 29th, Erbprinz and vanguard, Corps rapidly following, are
got to Dorsten, within 20 miles of Wesel. A most swift Erbprinz;
likely for such work. And it is thought by judges, Had he had
either siege-artillery or scaling apparatus, he might really have
attacked Wesel with good chance upon it. But he has not even a
ladder ready, much less a siege-gun. Siege-guns are at Bielefeld
[come from Bremen, I suppose, by English boating, up the Weser so
far]; but that is six score miles of wheel-carriage; roads bad, and
threatening to be worse, as it is equinoctial weather. There is
nothing for it but to wait for those guns.

"The Erbprinz, hopefully waiting, does his endeavor in the interim;
throws a bridge over the Rhine, pounces upon Cleve garrison
(prisoners, with their furnitures), pounces upon this and that;
'spreads terror' on the French thereabouts 'up to Dusseldorf and
Koln,--and on Broglio himself, so far off, the due astonishment.
'Wesel to be snatched,--ye Heavens! Our Netherlands road cut off:
Dusseldorf, Koln, our Rhine Magazines, all and sundry, fallen to
the hawks,--who, the lighter-winged of them, might pay visits in
France itself!' Broglio has to suspend his Gottingen operations,
and detach Marquis de Castries with (say ultimately, for Castries
is to grow and gather by the road) 35,000, to relieve Wesel.
Castries marches double-quick; weather very rainy;--arrives in
those parts OCTOBER 13th;--hardly a gun from Bielefeld come to hand
yet, Erbprinz merely filling men with terror. And so,

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