Very dominant, our "Protestant Champion" yonder, on his Ziscaberg; bidding the enormous Pompadour-Theresa combinations, the French, Austrian, Swedish, Russian populations and dread sovereigns, check their proud waves, and hold at mid-flood. It is thought, had he in effect, "annihilated" the Austrian force at Prag, that day (Friday, 6th May, as he might have done by waiting till Saturday, 7th), he could then, with the due rapidity, rapidity being indispensable in the affair, have become master of Prag, which meant of Bohemia altogether; and have stormed forward, as his program bore, into the heart, of an Austria still terror-stricken, unrallied;—in which case, it is calculated, the French, the Russians, Swedes, much more the Reich and such like, would all have drawn bridle; and Austria itself have condescended to make Peace with a Neighbor of such quality, and consent to his really modest desire of being let alone! Possible, all this,—think Retzow and others. [See RETZOW, i. 100-108; &c. ] But the King had not waited till to-morrow; no persuasion could make him wait: and it is idle speculating on the small turns which here, as everywhere, can produce such deflections of course.

Beyond question, Prag is not captured, and may, as now garrisoned, require a great deal of capturing:—and perhaps it is but a PEAK, this high dominancy of Friedrich's, not a solid table-land, till much more have been done! Friedrich has nothing of the Gascon: but there may well be conceivable at this time a certain glow of internal pride, like that of Phoebus amid the piled tempests,—like that of the One Man prevailing, if but for a short season, against the Devil and All Men: "I have made good my bit, of resolution so far: here are the Austrians beaten at the set day, and Prag summoned to surrender, as per program!"—

Intrinsically, Prag is not a strong City: we have seen it, taken in few days; in one night;—and again, as in Belleisle's time, we have seen it making tough defence for a series of weeks. It depends on the garrison, what extent of garrison (the circuit of it being so immense), and what height of humor. There are now 46,000 men caged in it, known to have considerable magazines; and Friedrich, aware that it will cost trouble, bends all his strength upon it, and from his two camps, Ziscaberg, Weissenberg, due Bridges uniting, Keith and he batter it, violently, aiming chiefly at the Magazines (which are not all bomb-proof); and hope they may succeed before it is too late.

The Vienna people are in the depths of amazement and discouragement; almost of terror, had it not been for a few, or especially for one high heart among them. Feldmarschall Daun, on the news of May 6th, hastily fell back, joined by the wrecks of the right wing, which fled Sazawa way. Brunswick-Bevern, with a 20,000, is detached to look after Daun; finds Daun still on the retreat; greedily collecting reinforcements from the homeward quarter; and hanging back, though now double or so of Bevern's strength. Amazement and discouragement are the general feeling among Friedrich's enemies. Notable to see how the whole hostile world marching in upon him,—French, Russians, much more the Reich, poor faltering entity,—pauses, as with its breath taken away, at news of Prag; and, arrested on the sudden, with lifted foot, ceases to stride forward; and merely tramp-tramps on the same place (nay in part, in the Reich part, visibly tramps backward), for above a month ensuing! Who knows whether, practically, any of them will come on; [See CORRESPONDANCE DU COMTE DE SAINT-GERMAIN, an Eye-witness, i. 108 (cited in Preuss, ii. 50); &c. &c.] and not leave Austria by itself to do the duel with Friedrich? If Prag were but got, and the 46,000 well locked away, it would be very salutary for Friedrich's affairs!—Week after week, the City holds out; and there seems no hope of it, except by hunger, and burning their Magazines by red-hot balls.



COLONEL MAYER WITH HIS "FREE-CORPS" PARTY MAKES A VISIT, OF DIDACTIC NATURE, TO THE REICH.

Friedrich, as we saw, on entering Bohmen, had shot off a Light Detachment under Colonel Mayer, southward, to seize any Austrian Magazines there were, especially one big Magazine at Pilsen:—which Mayer has handsomely done, May 2d (Pilsen "a bigger Magazine than Jung-Bunzlau, even"); after which Mayer is now off westward, into the Ober-Pfalz, into the Nurnberg Countries; to teach the Reich a small lesson, since they will not listen to Plotho. Prag Battle, as happens, had already much chilled the ardor of the Reich! Mayer has two Free-Corps, his own and another; about 1,300 of foot; to which are added a 200 of hussars. They have 5 cannon, carry otherwise a minimum of baggage; are swift wild fellows, sharp of stroke; and do, for the time, prove didactic to the Reich; bringing home to its very bosom the late great lesson of the Ziscaberg, in an applied form. Mayer made a pretty course of it, into the Ober-Pfalz Countries; scattering the poor Execution Drill-Sergeants and incipiencies of preparation, the deliberative County Meetings, KREIS-Convents: ransoming Cities, Nurnberg for one city, whose cries went to Friedrich on the Ziscaberg, and wide over the world. [In Helden-Geschichte, iv. 360-367, the Nurnberg Letter and Response (31st May-5th June, 1757): in Pauli, Leben grosser Helden (iii. 159 et seq.), Account of the Mayer Expedition; also in Militair-Lexikon, iii. 29 (quoting from Pauli).] Nurnberg would have been but too happy to "refuse its contingent to the Reich's Army," as many others would have been (poor Kur-Baiern hurrying off a kind of Embassy to Friedrich, great terror reigning among the wigs of Regensburg, and everybody drawing back that could),—had not Imperial menaces, and an Event that fell out by and by in Prag Country, forced compliance.

Mayer's Expedition made a loud noise in the Newspapers; and was truly of a shining nature in its kind; very perfectly managed on Mayer's part, and has traits in it which are amusing to read, had one time. Take one small glance from Pauli:—

"At Furth in Anspach, 1st June [after six days' screwing of Nurnberg from without, which we had no cannon to take], a Gratuity for the Prussian troops [amount not stated] was demanded and given: at Schwabach, farther up the Regnitz River, they took quarters; no exemption made, clergy and laity alike getting soldiers billeted. Meat and drink had to be given them: as also 100 carolines [guineas and better], and twenty new uniforms. Upon which, next day, they marched to Zirndorf, and the Reichsgraf Puckler's Mansion, the Schloss of Farrenbach there. Mayer took quarter in the Schloss itself. Here the noble owners got up a ball for Mayer's entertainment; and did all they could contrive to induce a light treatment from him." Figure it, the neighboring nobility and gentry in gala; Mayer too in his best uniform, and smiling politely, with those "bright little black eyes" of his! For he was a brilliant airy kind of fellow, and had much of the chevalier, as well as of the partisan, when requisite!

"Out of Farrenbach, the Mayer people circulated upon all the neighboring Lordships; at Wilhelmsdorf, the Reichs-Furst von Hohenlohe [a too busy Anti-Prussian] had the worst brunt to bear. The adjacent Baireuth lands [dear Wilhelmina, fancy her too in such neighborhood!] were to the utmost spared all billeting, and even all transit,"—though wandering sergeants of the Reich's Force, "one sergeant with the Wurzburg Herr Commissarius and eight common men, did get picked up on Baireuth ground: and this or the other Anspach Official (Anspach being disaffected), too busy on the wrong side, found himself suddenly Prisoner of War; but was given up, at Wilhelmina's gracious request. On Bamberg he was sharp as flint; and had to be; the Bambergers, reinforced at last by 'Circle-Militias (KREIS-TRUPPEN)' in quantity, being called out in mass against him; and at Vach an actual Passage of Fight had occurred."

Of the "Affair at Vach," pretty little Drawn-Battle (mostly an affair of art), Mayer VERSUS "Kreis-troops to the amount of 6,000, with twelve cannon, or some say twenty-four" (which they couldn't handle); and how Mayer cunningly took a position unassailable, "burnt Bridges of the Regnitz River," and, plying his five cannon against these ardent awkward people, stood cheerful on the other side; and then at last, in good time, whisked himself off to the Hill of Culmbach, with all his baggage, inexpugnable there for three days:—of all this, though it is set down at full length, we can say nothing. [Pauli, iii. 159, &c. (who gives Mayer's own LETTER, and others, upon Vach).] And will add only, that, having girt himself and made his packages, Mayer left the Hill of Culmbach; and deliberately wended home, by Coburg and other Countries where he had business, eating his way; and early in July was safe in the Metal Mountains again; having fluttered the Volscians in their Frankenland Corioli to an unexpected extent. It is one of five or six such sallies Friedrich made upon the Reich, sometimes upon the Austrians and Reich together, to tumble up their magazines and preparations. Rapid unexpected inroads, year after year; done chiefly by the Free-Corps; and famous enough to the then Gazetteers. Of which, or of their doers, as we can in time coming afford little or no notice, let us add this small Note on the Free-Corps topic, which is a large one in the Books, but must not interrupt us again:—

"Before this War was done," say my Authorities, "there came gradually to be twenty-one Prussian Free-Corps,"—foot almost all; there being already Hussars in quantity, ever since the first Silesian experiences. "Notable Aggregates they were of loose wandering fellows, broken Saxons, Prussians, French; 'Hungarian-Protestant' some of them, 'Deserters from all the Armies' not a few; attracted by the fame of Friedrich,—as the Colonels enlisting them had been; Mayer himself, for instance, was by birth a Vienna man; and had been in many services and wars, from his fifteenth year and onwards. Most miscellaneous, these Prussian Free-Corps; a swift faculty the indispensable thing, by no means a particular character: but well-disciplined, well-captained; who generally managed their work well.

"They were, by origin, of Anti-Tolpatch nature, got up on the diamond-cut-diamond principle; they stole a good deal, with order sometimes, and oftener without; but there was nothing of the old Mentzel-Trenck atrocity permitted them, or ever imputed to them; and they did, usually with good military talent, sometimes conspicuously good, what was required of them. Regular Generals, of a high merit, one or two of their Captains came to be: Wunsch, for example; Werner, in some sort; and, but for his sudden death, this Mayer himself. Others of them, as Von Hordt (Hard is his Swedish name); and 'Quintus Icilius' (by nature GUICHARD, of whom we shall hear a great deal in the Friedrich circle by and by), are distinguished as honorably intellectual and cultivated persons. [Count de Hordt's Memoirs (autobiographical, or in the first person: English Translation, London, 1806; TWO French Originals, a worse in 1789, and a better now at last), Preface, i-xii. In Helden-Geschichte, v. 102-104, 93, a detailed "List of the Free-Corps in 1758" (twelve of foot, two of horse, at that time): see Preuss, ii. 372 n.; Pauli (ubi supra), Life of Mayer.]

"Poor Mayer died within two years hence (5th January, 1759); of fever, caught by unheard-of exertions and over fatigues; after many exploits, and with the highest prospect, opening on him. A man of many adventures, of many qualities; a wild dash of chivalry in him all along, and much military and other talent crossed in the growing. In the dull old Books I read one other fact which is vivid to me, That Wilhelmina, as sequel of those first Franconian exploits and procedures, 'had given him her Order of Knighthood, ORDER OF SINCERITY AND FIDELITY,'"—poor dear Princess, what an interest to Wilhelmina, this flash of her Brother's thunder thrown into those Franconian parts, and across her own pungent anxieties and sorrowfully affectionate thoughts, in these weeks!—

Shortly after Mayer, about the time when Mayer was wending homeward, General von Oldenburg, a very valiant punctual old General, was pushed out westward upon Erfurt, a City of Kur-Mainz's, to give Kur-Mainz a similar monition. And did it handsomely, impressively upon the Gazetteer world at least and the Erfurt populations,—though we can afford it no room in this place. Oldenburg's force was but some 2,000; Pirna Saxons most of them:—such a winter Oldenburg has had with these Saxons; bursting out into actual musketry upon him once; Oldenburg, volcanically steady, summoning the Prussian part, "To me, true Prussian Bursche!"—and hanging nine of the mutinous Saxons. And has coerced and compesced them (all that did not contrive to desert) into soldierly obedience; and, 20th June, appears at the Gate of Erfurt with them, to do his delicate errand there. Sharply conclusive, though polite and punctual. "Send to Kur-Mainz say you? Well, as to your Citadel, and those 1,400 soldiers all moving peaceably off thither,—Yes. As to your City: within one hour, Gate open to us, or we open it!" [In Helden-Geschichte (v. 371-384) copious Account, with the Missives to and from, the Reichs-Pleadings that followed, the &c. &c. Militair-Lexikon,? Oldenburg.] And Oldenburg marches in, as vice-sovereign for the time:—but, indeed, has soon to leave again; owing to what Event in the distance will be seen!

If Prag Siege go well, these Mayer-Oldenburg expeditions will have an effect on the Reich: but if it go ill, what are they, against Austria with its force of steady pressure? All turns on the issue of Prag Siege:—a fact extremely evident to Friedrich too! But these are what in the interim can be done. One neglects no opportunity, tries by every method.



OF THE SINGULAR QUASI-BEWITCHED CONDITION OF ENGLAND; AND WHAT IS TO BE HOPED FROM IT FOR THE COMMON CAUSE, IF PRAG GO AMISS.

On the Britannic side, too, the outlooks are not good;—much need Friedrich were through his Prag affair, and "hastening with forty thousand to help his Allies,"—that is, Royal Highness of Cumberland and Britannic Purse, his only allies at this moment. Royal Highness and Army of Observation (should have been 67,000, are 50 to 60,000, hired Germans; troops good enough, were they tolerably led) finds the Hanover Program as bad as Schmettau and Friedrich ever represented it; and, already,—unless Prag go well,—wears, to the understanding eye, a very contingent aspect. D'Estrees outnumbers him; D'Estrees, too, is something of a soldier,—a very considerable advantage in affairs of war.

D'Estrees, since April, is in Wesel; gathering in the revenues, changing the Officialities: much out of discipline, they say;—"hanging" gradually "1,000 marauders;" in round numbers 1,000 this Year. [Stenzel, v. 65; Retzow, i. 173.] D'Estrees does not yet push forward, owing to Prag. If he do—It is well known how Royal Highness fared when he did, and what a Campaign Royal Highness made of it this Year 1757! How the Weser did prove wadable, as Schmettau had said to no purpose; wadable, bridgable; and Royal Highness had to wriggle back, ever back; no stand to be made, or far worse than none: back, ever back, till he got into the Sea, for that matter, and to the END of more than one thing! Poor man, friends say he has an incurable Hanover Ministry, a Program that is inexecutable. As yet he has not lost head, any head he ever had: but he is wonderful, he;—and his England is! We shall have to look at him once again; and happily once only. Here, from my Constitutional Historian, are some Passages which we may as well read in the present interim of expectation. I label, and try to arrange:—

1. ENGLAND IN CRISIS. "England is indignant with its Hero of Culloden and his Campaign 1757; but really has no business to complain. Royal Highness of Cumberland, wriggling helplessly in that manner, is a fair representative of the England that now is. For years back, there has been, in regard to all things Foreign or Domestic, in that Country, by way of National action, the miserablest haggling as to which of various little-competent persons shall act for the Nation. A melancholy condition indeed!—

"But the fact is, his Grace of Newcastle, ever since his poor Brother Pelham died (who was always a solid, loyal kind of man, though a dull; and had always, with patient affection, furnished his Grace, much UNsupplied otherwise, with Common sense hitherto), is quite insecure in Parliament, and knows not what hand to turn to. Fox is contemptuous of him; Pitt entirely impatient of him; Duke of Cumberland (great in the glory of Culloden) is aiming to oust him, and bear rule with his Young Nephew, the new Rising Sun, as the poor Papa and Grandfather gets old. Even Carteret (Earl Granville as they now call him, a Carteret much changed since those high-soaring Worms-Hanau times!) was applied to. But the answer was—what could the answer be? High-soaring Carteret, scandalously overset and hurled out in that Hanau time, had already tried once (long ago, and with such result!) to spring in again, and 'deliver his Majesty from factions;' and actually had made a 'Granville Ministry;' Ministry which fell again in one day. ["11th February, 1746" (Thackeray, Life of Chatham, i. 146).] To the complete disgust of Carteret-Granville;—who, ever since, sits ponderously dormant (kind of Fixture in the Privy Council, this long while back); and is resigned, in a big contemptuous way, to have had his really considerable career closed upon him by the smallest of mankind; and, except occasional blurts of strong rugged speech which come from him, and a good deal of wine taken into him, disdains making farther debate with the world and its elect Newcastles. Carteret, at this crisis, was again applied to, 'Cannot you? In behalf of an afflicted old King?' But Carteret answered, No. [Ib. i. 464.]

"In short, it is admitted and bewailed by everybody, seldom was there seen such a Government of England (and England has seen some strange Governments), as in these last Three Years. Chaotic Imbecility reigning pretty supreme. Ruler's Work,—policy, administration, governance, guidance, performance in any kind,—where is it to be found? For if even a Walpole, when his Talking-Apparatus gets out of gear upon him, is reduced to extremities, though the stoutest of men,—fancy what it will be, in like case, and how the Acting-Apparatuses and Affairs generally will go, with a poor hysterical Newcastle, now when his Common Sense is fatally withdrawn! The poor man has no resource but to shuffle about in aimless perpetual fidget; endeavoring vainly to say Yes and No to all questions, Foreign and Domestic, that may rise. Whereby, in the Affairs of England, there has, as it were, universal St.-Vitus's dance supervened, at an important crisis: and the Preparations for America, and for a downright Life-and-Death Wrestle with France on the JENKINS'S-EAR QUESTION, are quite in a bad way. In an ominously bad. Why cannot we draw a veil over these things!"—

2. PITT, AND THE HOUR OF TIDE. "The fidgetings and shufflings, the subtleties, inane trickeries, and futile hitherings and thitherings of Newcastle may be imagined: a man not incapable of trick; but anxious to be well with everybody; and to answer Yes and No to almost everything,—and not a little puzzled, poor soul, to get through, in that impossible way! Such a paralysis of wriggling imbecility fallen over England, in this great crisis of its fortunes, as is still painful to contemplate: and indeed it has been mostly shaken out of mind by the modern Englishman; who tries to laugh at it, instead of weeping and considering, which would better beseem. Pitt speaks with a tragical vivacity, in all ingenious dialects, lively though serious; and with a depth of sad conviction, which is apt to be slurred over and missed altogether by a modern reader. Speaks as if this brave English Nation were about ended; little or no hope left for it; here a gleam of possibility, and there a gleam, which soon vanishes again in the fatal murk of impotencies, do-nothingisms. Very sad to the heart of Pitt. A once brave Nation arrived at its critical point, and doomed to higgle and puddle there till it drown in the gutters: considerably tragical to Pitt; who is lively, ingenious, and, though not quitting the Parliamentary tone for the Hebrew-Prophetic, far more serious than the modern reader thinks.

"In Walpole's Book [Memoirs of the Last Ten Years of George II.] there is the liveliest Picture of this dismal Parliamentary Hellbroth,—such a Mother of Dead Dogs as one has seldom looked into! For the Hour is great; and the Honorable Gentlemen, I must say, are small. The hour, little as you dream of it, my Honorable Friends, is pregnant with questions that are immense. Wide Continents, long Epochs and AEons hang on this poor jargoning of yours; the Eternal Destinies are asking their much-favored Nation, 'Will you, can you?'—much-favored Nation is answering in that manner. Astonished at its own stupidity, and taking refuge in laughter. The Eternal Destinies are very patient with some Nations; and can disregard their follies, for a long while; and have their Cromwell, have their Pitt, or what else is essential, ready for the poor Nation, in a grandly silent way!

"Certain it is,—though how could poor Newcastle know it at all!—here is again the hour of tide for England. Tide is full again; has been flowing long hundreds of years, and is full: certain, too, that time and tide wait on no man or nation. In a dialect different from Cromwell's or Pitt's, but with a sense true to theirs, I call it the Eternal Destinies knocking at England's door again: 'Are you ready for the crisis, birth-point of long Ages to you, which is now come?' Greater question had not been, for centuries past. None to be named with it since that high Spiritual Question (truly a much higher, and which was in fact the PARENT of this and of all of high and great that lay ahead), which England and Oliver Cromwell were there to answer: 'Will you hold by Consecrated Formulas, then, you English, and expect salvation from traditions of the elders; or are you for Divine Realities, as the one sacred and indispensable thing?' Which they did answer, in what way we know. Truly the Highest Question; which if a Nation can answer WELL, it will grow in this world, and may come to be considerable, and to have many high Questions to answer,—this of Pitt's, for example. And the Answers given do always extend through coming ages; and do always bear harvests, accursed or else blessed, according as the Answers were. A thing awfully true, if you have eye for it;—a thing to make Honorable Gentlemen serious, even in the age of percussion-caps! No, my friend, Newcastleisms, impious Poltrooneries, in a Nation, do not die:—neither (thank God) do Cromwellisms and pious Heroisms; but are alive for the poor Nation, even in its somnambulancies, in its stupidest dreams. For Nations have their somnambulancies; and, at any rate, the questions put to Nations, in different ages, vary much. Not in any age, or turning-point in History, had England answered the Destinies in such a dialect as now under its Newcastle and National Palaver."

3. OF WALPOLE, AS RECORDING ANGEL. "Walpole's George the Second is a Book of far more worth than is commonly ascribed to it; almost the one original English Book yet written on those times,—which, by the accident of Pitt, are still memorable to us. But for Walpole,—burning like a small steady light there, shining faithfully, if stingily, on the evil and the good,—that sordid muddle of the Pelham Parliaments, which chanced to be the element of things now recognizable enough as great, would be forever unintelligible. He is unusually accurate, punctual, lucid; an irrefragable authority on English points. And if, in regard to Foreign, he cannot be called an understanding witness, he has read the best Documents accessible, has conversed with select Ambassadors (Mitchell and the like, as we can guess); and has informed himself to a degree far beyond most of his contemporaries. In regard to Pitt's Speeches, in particular, his brief jottings, done rapidly while the matter was still shining to him, are the only Reports that have the least human resemblance. We may thank Walpole that Pitt is not dumb to us, as well as dark. Very curious little scratchings and etchings, those of Walpole; frugal, swift, but punctual and exact; hasty pen-and-ink outlines; at first view, all barren; bald as an invoice, seemingly; but which yield you, after long study there and elsewhere, a conceivable notion of what and how excellent these Pitt Speeches may have been. Airy, winged, like arrow-flights of Phoebus Apollo; very superlative Speeches indeed. Walpole's Book is carefully printed,—few errors in it like that 'Chapeau' for CHASOT," which readers remember:—"but, in respect to editing, may be characterized as still wanting an Editor. A Book UNedited; little but lazy ignorance of a very hopeless type, thick contented darkness, traceable throughout in the marginal part. No attempt at an Index, or at any of the natural helps to a reader now at such distance from it. Nay, till you have at least marked, on the top of each page, what Month and Year it actually is, the Book cannot be read at all,—except by an idle creature, doing worse than nothing under the name of reading!"

4. PITT'S SPEECHES, FORESHADOWING WHAT. "It is a kind of epoch in your studies of modern English History when you get to understand of Pitt's Speeches, that they are not Parliamentary Eloquences, but things which with his whole soul he means, and is intent to DO. This surprising circumstance, when at last become undeniable, makes, on the sudden, an immense difference for the Speeches and you! Speeches are not a thing of high moment to this Editor; it is the Thing spoken, and how far the speaker means to do it, that this Editor inquires for. Too many Speeches there are, which he hears admired all round, and has privately to entertain a very horrid notion of! Speeches, the finest in quality (were quality really 'fine' conceivable in such case), which WANT a corresponding fineness of source and intention, corresponding nobleness of purport, conviction, tendency; these, if we will reflect, are frightful instead of beautiful. Yes;—and always the frightfuler, the 'finer' they are; and the faster and farther they go, sowing themselves in the dim vacancy of men's minds. For Speeches, like all human things, though the fact is now little remembered, do always rank themselves as forever blessed, or as forever unblessed. Sheep or goats; on the right hand of the Final Judge, or else on the left. There are Speeches which can be called true; and, again, Speeches which are not true:—Heavens, only think what these latter are! Sacked wind, which you are intended to SOW,—that you may reap the whirlwind! After long reading, I find Chatham's Speeches to be what he pretends they are: true, and worth speaking then and there. Noble indeed, I can call them with you: the highly noble Foreshadow, necessary preface and accompaniment of Actions which are still nobler. A very singular phenomenon within those walls, or without!

"Pitt, though nobly eloquent, is a Man of Action, not of Speech; an authentically Royal kind of Man. And if there were a Plutarch in these times, with a good deal of leisure on his hands, he might run a Parallel between Friedrich and Chatham. Two radiant Kings: very shining Men of Action both; both of them hard bested, as the case often is. For your born King will generally have, if not "all Europe against him," at least pretty much all the Universe. Chatham's course to Kingship was not straight or smooth,—as Friedrich, too, had his well-nigh fatal difficulties on the road. Again, says the Plutarch, they are very brave men both; and of a clearness and veracity peculiar among their contemporaries. In Chatham, too, there is something of the flash of steel; a very sharp-cutting, penetrative, rapid individual, he too; and shaped for action, first of all, though he has to talk so much in the world. Fastidious, proud, no King could be prouder, though his element is that of Free-Senate and Democracy. And he has a beautiful poetic delicacy, withal; great tenderness in him, playfulness, grace; in all ways, an airy as well as a solid loftiness of mind. Not born a King,—alas, no, not officially so, only naturally so; has his kingdom to seek. The Conquering of Silesia, the Conquering of the Pelham Parliaments—But we will shut up the Plutarch with time on his hands.

"Pitt's Speeches, as I spell them from Walpole and the other faint tracings left, are full of genius in the vocal kind, far beyond any Speeches delivered in Parliament: serious always, and the very truth, such as he has it; but going in many dialects and modes; full of airy flashings, twinkles and coruscations. Sport, as of sheet-lightning glancing about, the bolt lying under the horizon; bolt HIDDEN, as is fit, under such a horizon as he had. A singularly radiant man. Could have been a Poet, too, in some small measure, had he gone on that line. There are many touches of genius, comic, tragic, lyric, something of humor even, to be read in those Shadows of Speeches taken down for us by Walpole....

"In one word, Pitt, shining like a gleam of sharp steel in that murk of contemptibilities, is carefully steering his way towards Kingship over it. Tragical it is (especially in Pitt's case, first and last) to see a Royal Man, or Born King, wading towards his throne in such an element. But, alas, the Born King (even when he tries, which I take to be the rarer case) so seldom can arrive there at all;—sinful Epochs there are, when Heaven's curse has been spoken, and it is that awful Being, the Born Sham-King, that arrives! Pitt, however, does it. Yes; and the more we study Pitt, the more we shall find he does it in a peculiarly high, manful and honorable as well as dexterous manner; and that English History has a right to call him 'the acme and highest man of Constitutional Parliaments; the like of whom was not in any Parliament called Constitutional, nor will again be.'"

Well, probably enough; too probably! But what it more concerns us to remember here, is the fact, That in these dismal shufflings which have been, Pitt—in spite of Royal dislikes and Newcastle peddlings and chicaneries—has been actually in Office, in the due topmost place, the poor English Nation ardently demanding him, in what ways it could. Been in Office;—and is actually out again, in spite of the Nation. Was without real power in the Royal Councils; though of noble promise, and planting himself down, hero-like, evidently bent on work, and on ending that unutterable "St.-Vitus's-dance" that had gone so high all round him. Without real power, we say; and has had no permanency. Came in 11th-19th November, 1756; thrown out 5th April, 1757. After six months' trial, the St. Vitus finds that it cannot do with him; and will prefer going on again. The last act his Royal Highness of Cumberland did in England was to displace Pitt: "Down you, I am the man!" said Royal Highness; and went to the Weser Countries on those terms.

Would the reader wish to see, in summary, what Pitt's Offices have been, since he entered on this career about thirty years ago? Here, from our Historian, is the List of them in order of time; STAGES OF PITT'S COURSE, he calls it:—

1. "DECEMBER, 1734, Comes into Parliament, age now twenty-six; Cornet in the Blues as well; being poor, and in absolute need of some career that will suit. APRIL, 1736, makes his First Speech:—Prince Frederick the subject,—who was much used as battering-ram by the Opposition; whom perhaps Pitt admired for his madrigals, for his Literary patronizings, and favor to the West-Wickham set. Speech, full of airy lightning, was much admired. Followed by many, with the lightning getting denser and denser; always on the Opposition side [once on the JENKINS'S-EAR QUESTION, as we saw, when the Gazetteer Editor spelt him Mr. Pitts]: so that Majesty was very angry, sulky Public much applausive; and Walpole was heard to say, 'We must muzzle, in some way, that terrible Cornet of Horse!'—but could not, on trial; this man's 'price,' as would seem, being awfully high! AUGUST-OCTOBER, 1744, Sarah Duchess of Marlborough bequeathed him 10,000 pounds as Commissariat equipment in this his Campaign against the Mud-gods, [Thackeray, i. 138.]—glory to the old Heroine for so doing! Which lifted Pitt out of the Cornetcy or Horse-guards element, I fancy; and was as the nailing of his Parliamentary colors to the mast.

2. "FEBRUARY 14th, 1746, Vice-Treasurer for Ireland: on occasion of that Pelham-Granville 'As-you-were!' (Carteret Ministry, which lasted One Day), and the slight shufflings that were necessary. Now first in Office,—after such Ten Years of colliding and conflicting, and fine steering in difficult waters. Vice-Treasurer for Ireland: and 'soon after, on Lord Wilmington's death,' PAYMASTER OF THE FORCES. Continued Paymaster about nine years. Rejects, quietly and totally, the big income derivable from Interest of Government Moneys lying delayed in the Paymaster's hand ('Dishonest, I tell you!')—and will none of it, though poor. Not yet high, still low over the horizon, but shining brighter and brighter. Greatly contemptuous of Newcastle and the Platitudes and Poltrooneries; and still a good deal in the Opposition strain, and NOT always tempering the wind to the shorn lamb. For example, Pitt (still Paymaster) to Newcastle on King of the Romans Question (1752 or so): 'You engage for Subsidies, not knowing their extent; for Treaties, not knowing the terms!'—'What a bashaw!' moan Newcastle and the top Officials. 'Best way is, don't mind it,' said Mr. Stone [one of their terriers,—a hard-headed fellow, whose brother became Primate of Ireland by and by].

3. "NOVEMBER 20th, 1755, Thrown out:—on Pelham's death, and the general hurly-burly in Official regions, and change of partners with no little difficulty, which had then ensued! Sir Thomas Robinson," our old friend, "made Secretary,—not found to answer. Pitt sulkily looking on America, on Minorca; on things German, on things in general; warily set on returning, as is thought; but How? FOX to Pitt: 'Will you join ME?'—PITT: 'No,'—with such politeness, but in an unmistakable way! Ten months of consummate steering on the part of Pitt; Chancellor Hardwicke coming as messenger, he among others; Pitt's answer to him dexterous, modestly royal. Pitt's bearing, in this grand juncture and crisis, is royal, his speakings and also his silences notably fine. OCTOBER 20th, 1756: to Newcastle face to face, 'I will accept no situation under your Grace!'—and, about that day month, comes IN, on his own footing. That is to say,

"NOVEMBER 19th, 1756, to England's great comfort, Sees himself Secretary of State (age now just forty-eight). Has pretty much all England at his back; but has, in face of him, Fox, Newcastle and Company, offering mere impediment and discouragement; Royal Highness of Cumberland looking deadly sour. Till finally,

"APRIL 5th, 1757, King bids him resign; Royal Highness setting off for Germany the second day after. Pitt had been IN rather more than Four months. England, at that time a silent Country in comparison, knew not well what to do; took to offering him Freedoms of Corporations in very great quantity. Town after Town, from all the four winds, sympathetically firing off, upon a misguided Sacred Majesty, its little Box, in this oblique way, with extraordinary diligence. Whereby, after six months bombardment by Boxes, and also by Events, JUNE 29th, 1757"—We will expect June 29th. [Thackeray, i. 231, 264; Almon, Anecdotes of Pitt (London, 1810), i. 151, 182, 218.]

In these sad circumstances, Preparations so called have been making for Hanover, for America;—such preparations as were never seen before. Take only one instance; let one be enough:—

"By the London Gazette, well on in February, 1756, we learn that Lord Loudon, a military gentleman of small faculty, but of good connections, has been nominated to command the Forces in America; and then, more obscurely, some days after, that another has been nominated:—one of them ought certainly to make haste out, if he could; the French, by account, have 25,000 men in those countries, with real officers to lead them! Haste out, however, is not what this Lord Loudon or his rival can make. In March, we learn that Lord Loudon has been again nominated; in an improved manner, this time;—and still does not look like going. 'Again nominated, why again?' Alas, reader, there have been hysterical fidgetings in a high quarter; internal shiftings and shufflings, contradictions, new proposals, one knows not what. [Gentleman's Magazine for 1756, pp. 92, 150, 359, 450.] One asks only: How is the business ever to be done, if you cannot even settle what imbecile is to go and try it?

"Seldom had Country more need of a Commander than America now. America itself is of willing mind; and surely has resources, in such a Cause; but is full of anarchies as well: the different States and sections of it, with their discrepant Legislatures, their half-drilled Militias, pulling each a different way, there is, as in the poor Mother Country, little result except of the St.-Vitus kind. In some Legislatures are anarchic Quakers, who think it unpermissible to fight with those hectoring French, and their tail of scalping Indians; and that the 'method of love' ought to be tried with them. What is to become of those poor people, if not even a Lord Loudon can get out?"

The result was, Lord Loudon had not in his own poor person come to hand in America till August, 1756, Season now done; and could only write home, "All is St. Vitus out here! Must have reinforcement of 10,000 men!" "Yes," answers Pitt, who is now in Office: "you shall have them; and we will take Cape Breton, please Heaven!"—but was thrown out; and by the wrigglings that ensued, nothing of the 10,000 reached Lord Loudon till Season 1757 too was done. Nor did they then stead his Lordship much, then or afterwards; who never took Cape Breton, nor was like doing it;—but wriggled to and fro a good deal, and revolved on his axis, according to pattern given. And set (what chiefly induces us to name him here) his not reverent enough Subordinate, Lord Charles Hay, our old Fontenoy friend, into angry impatient quizzing of him;—and by and by into Court-Martial for such quizzing. [Peerage Books,? Tweeddale.] Court-Martial, which was much puzzled by the case; and could decide nothing, but only adjourn and adjourn;—as we will now do, not mentioning Lord Loudon farther, or the numerous other instances at all. ["1st May, 1760, Major-General Lord Charles Hay died" (Gentleman's Magazine of Year); and his particular Court-Martial could adjourn for the last time.—"I wrote something for Lord Charles," said the great Johnson once, many years afterwards; "and I thought he had nothing to fear from a Court-Martial. I suffered a great loss when he died: he was a mighty pleasing man in conversation, and a reading man" (Boswell's Life of Johnson: under date, "3d April, 1776").]

Pitt, we just saw, far from being confirmed and furthered, has been thrown out by Royal Highness of Cumberland, the last thing before crossing to that exquisite Weser Problem. "Nothing now left at home to hinder us and our Hanover and Weser Problem!" thinks Royal Highness. No, indeed: a comfortable pacific No-government, or Battle of the Four Elements, left yonder; the Anarch Old waggling his addle head over it; ready to help everybody, and bring fire and water, and Yes and No, into holy matrimony, if he could!—Let us return to Prag. Only one remark more; upon "April 5th." That was the Day of Pitt's Dismissal at St. James's: and I find, at Schonbrunn it is likewise the day when REICHS-HOFRATH (Kaiser in Privy Council) decides, in respect to Friedrich, that Ban of the Reich must be proceeded with, and recommends Reich's Diet to get through with the same. [Helden-Geschichte (Reichs-Procedures, UBI SUPRA).] Official England ordering its Pitt into private life, and Official Teutschland its Friedrich into outlawry ("Be quiet henceforth, both of YOU!")—are, by chance, synchronous phenomena.



PHENOMENA OF PRAG SIEGE:—PRAG SIEGE IS INTERRUPTED.

Friedrich's Siege of Prag proved tedious beyond expectation. In four days he had done that exploit in 1744; but now, to the world's disappointment, in as many weeks he cannot. Nothing was omitted on his part: he seized all egresses from Prag, rapidly enough; had beset them with batteries, on the very night or morrow of the Battle; every egress beset, cannon and ruin forbidding any issue there. On the 9th of May, cannonading began; proper siege-cannon and ammunition, coming up from Dresden, were completely come May 19th; after which the place is industriously battered, bombarded with red-hot balls; but except by hunger, it will not do. Prag as a fortress is weak, but as a breastwork for 50,000 men it is strong. The Austrians tried sallies; but these availed nothing,—very ill-conducted, say some. The Prussians, more than once, had nearly got into the place by surprisal; but, owing to mere luck of the Austrians, never could,—say the same parties. [Archenholtz, i. 85, 87.]

A DIARIUM of Prag Siege is still extant, Two DIARIUMS; punctual diurnal account, both Austrian and Prussian: [In Helden-Geschichte, iv. 42-56, Prussian DIARIUM; ib. 73-86, Austrian.] which it is far from our intention to inflict on readers, in this haste. Siege lasted six weeks; four weeks extremely hot,—from May 19th, when the proper artilleries, in complete state, got up from Dresden. Line of siege-works, or intermittent series of batteries, is some twelve miles long; from Branik southward to beyond the Belvedere northward, on both sides of the Moldau. King's Camp is on the Ziscaberg; Keith's on the Lorenz Berg, embracing and commanding the Weissenberg; there are two Bridges of communication, Branik and Podoli: King lodges in the Parsonage of Michel,—the busiest of all the sons of Adam; what a set of meditations in that Parsonage! The Besieged, 46,000 by count, offer to surrender Prag on condition of "Free withdrawal:" "No; you shall engage, such of you as won't enlist with us, not to serve against me for six years." Here are some select Specimens; Prussian chiefly, in an abridged state:—

"MAY 19th, No sooner was our artillery come (all the grounds and beds for it had been ready beforehand), than as evening fell, it began to play in terrific fashion."

"NIGHT OF THE 23d-24th MAY, There broke out a furious sally; their first, and much their hottest, say the Prussians: a very serious affair;—which fell upon Keith's quarter, west side of the Moldau. Sally, say something like 10,000 strong; picked men all, and strengthened with half a pound of horse-flesh each" (unluckily without salt): judge what the common diet must have been, when that was generous! "No salt to it; but a fair supplement of brandy. Browne, from his bed of pain (died 26th June), had been strongly urgent. Aim is, To force the Prussian lines, by determination and the help of darkness, in some weak point: the whole Army, standing ranked on the walls, shall follow, if things go well; and storm itself through,—away Daun-wards, across the River by Podoli Bridge.

"Sally broke out between 1 and 2 A.M.; but we had wind of it, and were on the alert. Sally tried on this place and on that; very furious in places, but could not anywhere prevail. The tussling lasted for near six hours (Prince Ferdinand" of Preussen, King's youngest Brother, "and others of us, getting hurts and doing exploits),—till, about 7 A.M., it was wholly swept in, with loss of 1,000 dead. Upon which, their whole Army retired to its quarters, in a hopeless condition. Escape impossible. Near 50,000 of them; but in such a posture. Provision of bread, the spies say, is not scarce, unless the Prussians can burn it, which they are industriously trying (diligent to learn where the Magazines are, and to fire incessantly upon the same): plenty of meal hitherto; but for butcher's-meat, only what we saw. Forage nearly done, and 12,000 horses standing in the squares and market-places,—not even stabling for them, not to speak of food or work,—slaughtering and salting [if one but had salt!] the one method. Horse-flesh two kreutzers a pound; rises gradually to double that value.

"MAY 29th, About sunset there came a furious burst of weather: rain-torrents mixed with battering hail;—some flaw of water-spout among the Hills; for it lasted hour on hour, and Moldau came down roaring double-deep, above a hundred yards too wide each way; with cargoes of ruin, torn-up trees, drowned horses; which sorely tried our Bridge at Branik. Bridge, half of it, did break away (Friedrich's half, forty-four pontoons; Keith's people got their end of the Bridge doubled in and saved): the Austrians, in Prag, fished out twenty-four of Friedrich's pontoons; the other twenty we caught at our Bridge of Podoli, farther down. A most wild night for the Prussian Army in tents; and indeed for Prag itself, the low parts of which were all under water; unfortunate individuals getting drowned in the cellars; and, still more important, a great deal of Austrian meal, which had been carried thither, to be safe from the red-hot balls.

"It was thought the Austrians, our Bridge being down, might try a sally again. To prevent which, hardly was the rain done, when, on our part, a rocket flew aloft; and there began on the City, from all sides, a deluge of bombs and red hot balls. So that the still-dripping City was set fire to, in various parts: and we could hear [what this Editor never can forget] the WEH-KLAGEN (wail) of the Townsfolk as they tried to quench it, and it always burst out again. The fire-deluge lasted for six hours."—Human WEH-KLAGEN, through the hollow of Night, audible to the Prussians and us: "Woe's me! water-deluges, then fire-deluges; death on every hand!" According to the Austrian accounts, there perished, by bursting of bomb-shells, falling of walls, by hunger and other misery and hurts, "above 9,000 Townsfolk in this Siege." Yes, my Imperial friends; War is not a thing of streamering and ornamental trumpeting alone; War is an inexorable, dangerously incalculable thing. Is it not a terrible question, at whose door lies the beginning of a War!

"JUNE 5th, 12,000 poor people of Prag were pushed out: 'Useless mouths, will you contrive to disappear some way!' But, after haggling about all day, they had to be admitted in again, under penalty of being shot.

"JUNE 8th, City looking black and ruinous, whole of the Neustadt in ashes; few houses left in the Jew Town; in the Altstadt the fire raged on (WUTHETE FORT). Nothing but ruin and confusion over there; population hiding in cellars, getting killed by falling buildings. Burgermeister and Townsfolk besiege Prince Karl, 'For the Virgin's sake, have pity on us, Your Serenity!' Poor Prince Karl has to be deaf, whatever his feelings.

"He was diligent in attending mass, they say: he alone of the Princes, of whom there were several; two Saxon Princes among others, Prince Xavier the elder of them, who will be heard of again. A profane set, these, lodging in the CLEMENTINUM [vast Jesuit Edifice, which had been cleared out for them, and "the windows filled with dung outside," against balls]: there, with wines of fine vintage, and cookeries plentiful and exquisite, that know nothing of famine outside, they led an idle disorderly life,—ran races in the long corridors [not so bad a course], dressed themselves in Priests' vestures [which are abundant in such locality], and made travesties and mummeries of Holy Religion; the wretched creatures, defying despair, as buccaneers might when their ship is sinking. To surrender, everything forbids; of escape, there is no possibility. [Archenholtz i. 86; Helden-Geschichte, iv. 73-84.]

"JUNE 9th, The bombardment abates; a LABORATORIUM of our own flew aloft by some spark or accident; and killed thirteen men.

"JUNE 15th, From the King's Camp a few bombs [King himself now gone] kindled the City in three places:"—but there is, by this time, new game afield; Prag Siege awaiting its decision not at Prag, but some way off.

Friedrich has been doing his utmost; diligent, by all methods, to learn where the Austrian Magazines were, that is, on what special edifices and localities shot might be expended with advantage; and has fired into these "about 12,000 bombs." Here is a small thing still remembered:—

"Spies being, above all, essential in this business, Friedrich had bethought him of one Kasebier, a supreme of House-breakers, whom he has, safe with a ball at his ankle, doing forced labor at Spandau [in Stettin, if it mattered]. Kasebier was actually sent for, pardon promised him if he could do the State a service. Kasebier smuggled himself twice, perhaps three times, into Prag; but the fourth time he did not come back." [Retzow, i. 108. n.] Another Note says: "Kasebier was a Tailor, and Son of a Tailor, in Halle; and the expertest of Thieves. Had been doing forced labor, in Stettin, since 1748; twice did get into Prag; third time, vanished. A highly celebrated Prussian thief; still a myth among the People, like Dick Turpin or Cartouche, except that his was always theft without violence." [Preuss, ii. 57 n.]

We learn vaguely that the price of horse-flesh in Prag has risen to double; famine very sore: but still one hears nothing of surrender. And again there is vague rumor that the City may be as it will; but that the Garrison has meal, after all we have ruined, which will last till October. Such a Problem has this King: soluble within the time; or not soluble? Such a question for the whole world, and for himself more than any.

MAP GOES IN HERE—fACING PAGE 446, BOOK xviii



Chapter IV.—BATTLE OF KOLIN.

On and after June 9th, the bombardment at Prag abated, and never rose to briskness again; the place of trial for decision of that Siege having flitted else-whither, as we said. About that time, rumors came in, not so favorable, from the Duke of Bevern; which Friedrich, strong in hope, strove visibly to disbelieve, but at last could not. Bevern reports that Daun is actually coming on, far too strong for his resisting;—in other terms, that the Siege of Prag will not decide itself by bombardment, but otherwise and elsewhere. Of which we must now give some account; brief as may be, especially in regard to the preliminary or marching part.

Daun, whose light troops plundered Brandeis (almost within wind of the Prussian Rear) on the day while Prag Battle was fighting, had, on that fatal event, gradually drawn back to Czaslau, a place we used to know fifteen years ago; and there, or in those neighborhoods, defensively manoeuvring, and hanging upon Kuttenberg, Kolin, especially upon his Magazine of Suchdol, Daun, always rather drawing back, with Brunswick-Bevern vigilantly waiting on him, has continued ever since; diligently recruiting himself; ranking the remains of the right wing defeated at Prag; drawing regiments out of Mahren, or whencesoever to be had. Till, by these methods, he is grown 60,000 strong; nearly thrice superior to Bevern; though being a "Fabius Cunctator" (so called by and by), he as yet attempts nothing. Forty thousand in Prag, with Sixty here in the Czaslau Quarter, [Tempelhof, i. 196; Retzow (i. 107, 109) counts 46,000+66,000.] that makes 100,000; say his Prussian Majesty has two-thirds of the number: can the Fabius Cunctator attempt nothing, before Prag utterly famish?

Order comes to him from Vienna: "Rescue Prag; straightway go upon it, cost what it like!" Daun does go upon it; advances visibly towards Prag, Bevern obliged to fall back in front of him. Sunday, 12th June, Daun despatches several Officers to Prince Karl at Prag, with notice that, "On the 20th, Monday come a week, he will be in the neighborhood of Prag with this view:—they, of course, to sally out, and help from rearward." "Several Officers, under various disguises," go with that message, June 12th; but none of them could get into the City; and some of them, I judge, must have fallen into the Prussian Hussar Parties:—at any rate, the news they carried did get into the Prussian circuit, and produced an instant resolution there. Early next morning, Monday 13th, King Friedrich, with what disposable force is on the spot,—10,000 capable of being spared from siege-work, and 4,000 more that will be capable of following, under Prince Moritz, in two days,—sets forth in all speed. Joins Bevern that same night; at Kaurzim, thirty-five miles off, which is about midway from Prag to Czaslau, and only three miles or so from Daun's quarters that night,—had the King known it, which he did not.

Daun must be instantly gone into; and shall,—if he is there at all, and not fallen back at the first rumor of us, as Friedrich rather supposes. In any case, there are preliminaries indispensable: the 4,000 of Prince Moritz still to come up; secondly, bread to be had for us, which is baking at Nimburg, across the Elbe, twenty miles off; lastly (or rather firstly, and most indispensable of all), Daun to be reconnoitred. Friedrich reconnoitres Daun with all diligence; pushes on everything according to his wont; much obstructed in the reconnoitring by Pandour clouds, under which Daun has veiled himself, which far outnumber our small Hussar force. Daun, as usual,—showing always great skill in regard to camps and positions,—has planted himself in difficult country: a little river with its boggy pools in front; behind and around, an intricate broken country of knolls and swamps, one ridge in it which they even call a BERG or Hill, Kamhayek Berg; not much of a Hill after all, but forming a long backbone to the locality, west end of it straight behind Daun's centre, at present. Friedrich's position is from north to south; like Daun's, taking advantage of what heights and brooks there are; and edging northward to be near his bread-ovens: right wing still holds by Kaurzim, left wing looking down on Planian, a little Town on the High Road (KAISER-STRASSE) from Prag to Vienna. Little Town destined to get up its name in a day or two,—next little Town to which, twelve miles farther on, is Kolin, secretly destined to become and continue still more famous among mankind. Kolin is close to the Elbe, left or south bank; Elbe hereabouts strikes into his long northwestern course (to Wittenberg all the way; Pirna, say 150 miles off, is his half-way house in that direction);—strikes off northward hereabouts, making for Nimburg, among other places: Planian, right south of Nimburg, is already fifteen good miles from Elbe.

This is Friedrich's position, Wednesday, June 15th and the day following; somewhat nearer his ovens than yesterday. Daun is yet parallel to him, has his centre behind Swoyschitz, an insignificant Village at the foot of those Kamhayek Heights, which is, ever since, to be found in Maps. Friday, 17th, Friedrich's bread-wagons and 4,000 having come in, as doubtless the Pandours report in the proper place, Daun does not quite like his strong position any more, but would prefer a stronger. Friday about sunset, "great clouds of dust" rise from Daun: changing his position, the Prussians see, if for Pandours and gathering darkness they can at present see little else. Daun, truly, observing the King to have in that manner edged up, towards Planian, is afraid of his right wing from such a neighbor. So that the reader must take his Map again. Or, if he care not for such things, let him skip, and leave me solitary to my sad function; till we can meet on easier ground, and report the battle which ensued. Daun hustles his right wing back out of that dangerous proximity; wheels his whole right wing and centre ninety degrees round, so as to reach out now towards Kolin, and lie on the north slope of the Kamhayek ridge; places his left wing EN POTENCE (gibbet-wise), hanging round the western end of said Kamhayek, its southern extremity at Swoyschitz, its northern at Hradenin, where (not a mile from Planian) his right wing had formerly been;—with other intricate movements not worth following, under my questionable guidance, on a Map with unpronounceable names. Enough to say that Daun's right wing is now far east at Krzeczhorz, well beyond Chotzemitz, whereabouts his centre now comes to stand (and most of his horse THERE, both the wings being hilly and rough, unfit for horse);—and that, this being nearly the last of Daun's shiftings and hustlings for the present, or indeed in essential respects the very last, readers may as well note the above main points in it.

Hustled into this still stronger place, with wheeling and shoving, which lasted to a late hour, Daun composes himself for the night. He lies now, with centre and right looking northward, pretty much parallel to the Planian-Kolin or Prag-Vienna Highway, and about a mile south of the same; extreme posts extending almost to Kolin on that side; left wing well planted EN POTENCE; Kamhayek ridge, north face and west end of it, completely his on both the exposed or Anti-Prussian faces. Friedrich feels uncertain whether he has not gone his ways altogether; but proposes to ascertain by break of day.

By break of day Friedrich starts, having cleared off certain Pandour swarms visible in places of difficulty, who go on first notice, and without shot fired. [Lloyd, i. 61 et seq. (or Tempelhof's Translation, i. 151-164); Tempelhof's own Account is, i. 179-196; Retzow's, i. 120-149 (fewer errors of detail than usual); Kutzen, Der Tag von Kolin (Breslau, 1857), a useful little compilation from many sources. Very incorrect most of the common accounts are; Kausler's Schlachten, Jomini, and the like.] Marches through Planian in two columns, along the Kolin Highway and to north of it; marches on, four or five miles farther, nothing visible but the skirts of retiring Pandours,—"Daun's rear-guard probably?"—Friedrich himself is with Ziethen, who has the vanguard, as Friedrich's wont is, eagerly enough looking out; reaches a certain Inn on the wayside (WIRTHSHAUS "of Slatislunz or GOLDEN-SUN," say the Modern Books,—though I am driven to think it Novomiesto, nearer Planian; but will not quarrel on the subject); Inn of good height for one thing; and there, mounting to the top-story or perhaps the leads, descries Daun, stretching far and wide, leant against the Kamhayek, in the summer morning. What a sight for Friedrich: "Big game SHALL be played, then; death sure, this day, to thousands of men: and to me—? Well!"

Friedrich calls halt: rest here a little; to consider, examine, settle how. A hot close morning; rest for an hour or two, till our rear from Kaurzim come up: horses and men will be the better for it,—horses can have a mouthful of grass, mouthful of water; some of them "had no drink last night, so late in getting home." Poor quadrupeds, they also have to get into a blaze of battle-rage this day, and be blown to pieces a great many of them,—in a quarrel not of their seeking! Horse and rider are alike satisfied on that latter point; silently ready for the task THEY have; and deaf on questions that are bottomless.

At this Hostelry of Novomiesto (not of Slatislunz or "GOLDEN-SUN" at all, which is a "Sun" fallen dismally eclipsed in other ways ["The Inn of Slati-Slunz was burnt, about twenty years ago; nothing of it but the stone walls now dates from Friedrich's time. It is a biggish solid-looking House of two stories (whether ever of three, I could not learn); stands pleasantly, at the crown of a long rise from Kolin;—and inwardly, alas, in our day, offers little but bad smells and negative quantities! Only the ground-floor is now inhabited. From the front, your view northward, Nimburg way, across the Elbe Valley, is fertile, wide-waving, pretty: but rearward, upstairs,—having with difficulty got permission,—you find bare balks, tattered feathers, several hundredweight of pigeon's dung, and no outlook at all, except into walls of office-houses and the overhanging brow of Heights,—fatal, clearly, to any view of Daun, even from a third story!" (TOURIST'S NOTE, 1858.)—Tempelhof (UBI SUPRA) seems to have known the right, place; not, Retzow, or almost anybody since: and indeed the question, except for expressly Military people, is of no moment.]), Friedrich halted for three hours and more; saw Daun developing himself into new Order of Battle, "every part of his position visible;" considered with his whole might what was to be tried upon him;—and about noon, having made up his mind, called his Generals, in sight of the phenomenon itself there, to give them their various orders and injunctions in regard to the same. The Plan of Fight, which was thought then, and is still thought by everybody, an excellent one,—resting on the "oblique order of attack," Friedrich's favorite mode,—was, if the reader will take his Map, conceivable as follows.

Daun has by this time deployed himself; in three lines, or two lines and a reserve; on the high-lying Champaign south of the Planian-Kolin Great Road; south, say a mile, and over the crests of the rising ground, or Kamhayek ridge, so that from the Great Road you can see nothing of him. His line, swaying here and there a little, to take advantage of its ground, extends nearly five miles, from east to west; pointing towards Planian side, the left wing of it; from Planian, eastward, the way Friedrich has marched, Daun's left wing may be four miles distant. On the other side, Daun's right wing—main line always pretty parallel to the Highway, and pointing rather southward of Kolin—reaches to the small Hamlet of Krzeczhorz, which is two miles off Kolin. In front of his centre is a Village called Chotzemitz (from which for a while, in those months, the Battle gets its name, "Battle of Chotzemitz," by Daun's christening): in front of him, to right or to left of Chotzemitz, are some four or even six other Villages (dim rustic Hamlets, invisible from the High Road), every Village of which Daun has well beset with batteries, with good infantry, not to speak of Croat parties hovering about, or dismounted Pandours squatted in the corn. That easternmost Village of his is spelt "Krzeczhorz" (unpronounceable to mankind), a dirty little place; in and round which the Battle had its hinge or cardinal point: the others, as abstruse of spelling, all but equally impossible to the human organs, we will forbear to name, except in case of necessity. Half a mile behind Krzeczhorz (let us write it Kreczor, for the future: what can we do?), is a thin little Oak-wood, bushes mainly, but with sparse trees too, which is now quite stubbed out, though it was then important enough, and played a great part in the result of this day's work. Radowesnitz, a pronounceable little Village, half a mile farther or southward of the Oak-bush, is beyond the extremity of Daun's position; low down on a marshy little Brook, which oozes through lakes and swamps towards Kolin, in the northerly direction.

Most or all of these Villages are on little Brooks (natural thirst so leading them): always some little runlet of water, not so swampy when there is any fall for it; in general lively when it gets over the ridge, and becomes visible from this Highway. And it is curious to see what a considerable dell, or green ascending chasm, this little thread of water, working at all moments for thousands of years, has hollowed out for itself in the sloping ground; making a great military obstacle, if you are mounting to attack there. Poor Czech Hamlets all of them, dirty, dark, mal-odorous, ignorant, abhorrent of German speech;—in what nook those inarticulate inhabitants, diving underground at a great rate this morning, have hidden themselves to-day, I know not. The country consists of knolls and slopes, with swamps intermediate; rises higher on the Planian side; but except the top of that Kamhayek ridge on the Planian side, and "Friedrich's-Berg" on the Kolin side, there is nothing that you could think of calling a Hill, though many Books (and even Friedrich's Book) rashly say otherwise. Friedrich's-Berg, now so called, is on the north side of the Highway: half a mile northeastward of Slatislunz, the mal-odorous Inn. A conical height of perhaps a hundred and fifty feet; rises rather suddenly from the still-sloping ground, checking the slope there; on which the Austrian populations have built some memorial lately, notable to Tourists. Here Friedrich "stood during the Battle," say they; and the Prussians "had a battery there." Which remains uncertain to me, at least the battery part of it: that Friedrich himself was there, now and then, can be believed; but not that he kept "standing there" for long together. Friedrich's-Berg does command some view of the Kreczor scene, which at times was cardinal, at others not: but Friedrich did not stand anywhere: "oftenest in the thick of the fire," say those who saw.

Friedrich, from his Inn near Planian, seeing how Daun deploys himself, considers him impregnable on the left wing; impregnable, too, in front: not so on the Kreczor side, right flank and rear; but capable of being rolled together, if well struck at there. Thither therefore; that is his vulnerable point. March along his front: quietly parallel in due Order of Battle, till we can bend round, and plunge in upon that. The Van, which consists of Ziethen's Horse and Hulsen's Infantry; Van, having faced to right at the proper moment and so become Left Wing, will attack Kreczor; probably carry it; each Division following will in like manner face to right when it arrives there, and fall on in regular succession in support of Hulsen (at Hulsen's right flank, if Hulsen be found prospering): our Right Wing is to refuse itself, and be as a Reserve,—no fighting on the road, you others, but steady towards Hulsen, in continual succession, all you; no facing round, no fighting anywhere, till we get thither:—"March!"

The word is given about 2 P.M.; and all, on the instant, is in motion; rolls steadily eastward, in two columns, which will become First Line and Second. One along the Highway, the second at due distance leftward on the green ground, no hedge or other obstacle obstructing in that part of the world. Daun's batteries, on the right, spit at them in passing, to no purpose; sputters of Pandour musketry, from coverts, there may be: Prussians finely disregarding, pass along; flowing tide-like towards THEIR goal and place of choice. An impressive phenomenon in the sunny afternoon; with Daun expectant of them, and the Czech populations well hidden underground!—

Ziethen, vanmost of all, finds Nadasti and his Austrian squadrons drawn across the Highway, hitherward of the Kreczor latitude: Ziethen dashes on Nadasti; tumbles his squadrons and him away; clears the Road, and Kreczor neighborhood, of Nadasti: drives him quite into the hollow of Radowesnitz, where he stood inactive for the rest of the day. Hulsen now at the level of Kreczor (in the latitude of Kreczor, as we phrased it), halts, faces to right; stiffly presses up, opens his cannon-thunders, his bayonet-charges and platoon-fires upon Kreczor. Stiffly pressing up, in spite of the violent counter-thunders, Hulsen does manage Kreczor without very much delay, completely enough, and like a workman; takes the battery, two batteries; overturns the Infantry;—in a word, has seized Kreczor, and, as new tenant, swept the old, and their litter, quite out. Of all which Ziethen has now the chase, and by no means will neglect that duty. Ziethen, driving the rout before him, has driven it in some minutes past the little Oak-wood above mentioned; and, or rather BUT,—what is much to be noted,—is there taken in flank with cannon-shot and musketry, Daun having put batteries and Croat parties in the Oak-wood; and is forced to draw bridle, and get out of range again.

Hulsen, advancing towards this little Oak-wood, is surprised to discover, not the wood alone, but a strong Austrian force, foot and horse, to rear of it;—such had been Daun's and Nadasti's precaution, on view of those Friedrich phenomena, flowing on from Planian, guessed to be hitherward. At sight of which Wood and foot-party, Hulsen, no new Battalion having yet arrived to second him, pauses, merely cannonading from the distance, till new Battalions shall arrive. Unhappily they did not arrive, or not in due quantity at the set time,—for what reason, by what strange mistake? men still ask themselves. Probably by more mistakes than one. Enough, Hulsen struggling here all day, with reinforcements never adequate, did take the Wood, and then lose it; did take and lose this and that;—but was unable to make more of it than keep his ground thereabouts. A resolute man, says Retzow, but without invention of his own, or head to mend the mistakes of others. In and about Kreczor, Hulsen did maintain himself with more and more tenacity, till the general avalanche, fruit of sad mistakes swept HIM, quite spasmodically struggling at that period, off to the edge of it, and all the others clean away! Mistakes have been to rightwards, one or even two, the fruit of which, small at first, suffices to turn the balance, and ends in an avalanche, or precipitous descent of ruin on the Prussian side

One mistake there was, miles westward on the right wing; due to Mannstein, our too impetuous Russian friend, Mannstein well to right, while marching forward according to order, has Croat musketry spitting upon him from amid the high corn, to an inconvenient extent: such was the common lot, which others had borne and disregarded: perhaps it was beyond the average on Mannstein, or Mannstein's patience was less infinite; any way it provoked Mannstein to boil over; and in an evil moment he said, "Extinguish me that Croat canaille, then!" Regiment Bornstedt faced to right, accordingly; took to extinguishing the Croat canaille, which of course fled at once, or squatted closer, but came back with reinforcements; drew Mannstein deeper in, fatally delayed Bornstedt, and proved widely ruinous. For now he stopped the way to those following him: regiments marching on to rear of Mannstein see Mannstein halted, volleying with the Austrians; ask themselves "How? Is there new order come? Attack to be in this point?" And successively fall on to support Mannstein, as the one clear point in such dubiety. So that the whole right wing from Regiment Bornstedt westward is storming up the difficult steeps, in hot conflict with the Austrians there, where success against them had been judged impracticable;—and there is now no reserve force anywhere to be applied to in emergency, for Hulsen's behoof or another's; and the Plan of Battle from Mannstein westward has been fatally overturned. Poor Mannstein, there is no doubt, committed this error, being too fiery a man. Surely to him it was no luxury, and he paid the smart for it in skin and soul: "badly wounded in this business;" nay, in direct sequel, not many weeks after, killed by it, as we shall see!—

To Mannstein's mistake, Friedrich himself, in his account of Kolin, mainly imputes the disaster that followed; and such, then and afterwards, was the universal judgment in military circles; loading the memory of too impetuous Mannstein with the whole. [See Retzow, i. 135; Templehof, i. 214, 220.] Much talk there was in Prussian military circles; but there must also have been an admirable silence on the part of some. To Three Persons it was known that another strange incident had happened far ahead, far eastward, of Mannstein's position: incident which did not by any means tend to alleviate, which could only strengthen and widen, the evil results of Mannstein; and which might have lifted part of the load from Mannstein's memory! Not till the present Century, after the lapse of almost fifty years, was this secret slowly dug out of silence, and submitted to modern curiosity.

The incident is this;—never whispered of for near fifty years (so silent were the three); and endlessly tossed about since that; the sense of it not understood till almost now. [See Retzow, i. 126; Berenhorst; &c. &c.;—then FINALLY Kutzen, pp. 99, 217.] The three parties were: King Friedrich; Moritz of Dessau, leading on the centre here; Moritz's young Nephew Franz, Heir of Dessau, a brisk lad of seventeen, learning War here as Aide-de-camp to Moritz: the exact spot is not known to me,—probably the ground near that Inn of Slatislunz, or Golden-Sun; between the foot of Friedrich's-Berg and that:—fact indubitable, though kept dark so long. Moritz is marching with the centre, or main battle, that way, intending to wheel and turn hillwards, Kreczor-wise, as per order, certain furlongs ahead; when Friedrich (having, so I can conceive it, seen from his Hill-top, how Hulsen had done Kreczor, altogether prosperous there; and what endless capability there was of prospering to all lengths and speeding the general winning, were Hulsen but supported soon enough, were there any safe short-cut to Hulsen) dashed from his Hill-top in hot haste towards Prince Moritz, General of the centre, intending to direct him upon such short-cut; and hastily said, with Olympian brevity and fire, "Face to right HERE!" With Jove-like brevity, and in such blaze of Olympian fire as we may imagine. Moritz himself is of brief, crabbed, fiery mind, brief in temper; and answers to the effect, "Impossible to attack the enemy here, your Majesty; postured as they are; and we with such orders gone abroad!"—"Face to right, I tell you!" said the King, still more Olympian, and too emphatic for explaining. Moritz, I hope, paused, but rather think he did not, before remonstrating the second time; neither perhaps was his voice so low as it should have been: it is certain Friedrich dashed quite up to Moritz at this second remonstrance, flashed out his sword (the only time he ever drew his sword in battle); and now, gone all to mere Olympian lightning and thundertone, asks in THIS attitude, "WILL ER (Will He) obey orders, then?"—Moritz, fallen silent of remonstrance, with gloomy rapidity obeys.

Prince Franz, the young Nephew of Moritz, alone witnessed this scene; scene to be locked in threefold silence. In his old age, Franz had whispered it to Berenhorst, his bastard Half-Uncle, a famed military Critic,—who is still in the highest repute that way (Berenhorst's KRIEGSKUNST, and other deep Books), and is recognizable, to LAY readers, for an abstruse strong judgment; with equal strength of abstruse temper hidden behind it, and very privately a deep grudge towards Friedrich, scarcely repressible on opportunity. From Berenhorst it irrepressibly oozed out; ["Heinrich van Berenhorst [a natural son of the Old Dessauer's], in his Betrachtungen uber die Kriegskunst, is the first that alludes to it in print. (Leipzig, 1797,—page in SECOND edition, 1798, is i. 219)."] much more to Friedrich's disadvantage than it now looks when wholly seen into. Not change of plan, not ruinous caprice on Friedrich's part, as Berenhorst, Retzow and others would have it; only excess of brevity towards Moritz, and accident of the Olympian fire breaking out. Friedrich is chargeable with nothing, except perhaps (what Moritz knows the evil of) trying for a short-cut! Such is now the received interpretation. Prince Franz, to his last day, refused to speak again on the subject; judiciously repentant, we can fancy, of having spoken at all, and brought such a matter into the streets and their pie-powder adjudications. [In KUTZEN, pp. 217-237, a long dissertation on it.] For the present, he is Adjutant to Moritz, busy obeying to the letter.

Friedrich, withdrawing to his Height again, and looking back on Moritz, finds that he is making right in upon the Austrian line; which was by no means Friedrich's meaning, had not he been so brief. Friedrich, doubtless with pain, remembers now that he had said only, "Face to right!" and had then got into Olympian tempest, which left things dark to Moritz. "HALB-LINKS, Half to left withal!" he despatches that new order to Moritz, with the utmost speed: "Face to right; THEN, forward half to left." Had Moritz, at the first, got that commentary to his order, there had probably been no remonstrance on Moritz's part, no Olympian scene to keep silent; and Moritz, taking that diagonal direction from the first, had hit in at or below Kreczor, at the very point where he was needed. Alas for overhaste; short-cuts, if they are to be good, ought at least to be made clear! Moritz, on the new order reaching him, does instantly steer half-left: but he arrives now above Kreczor, strikes the Austrian line on this side of Kreczor; disjoined from Hulsen, where he can do no good to Hulsen: in brief, Moritz, and now the whole line with him, have to do as Mannstein and sequel are doing, attack in face, not in flank; and try what, in the proportion of one to two, uphill, and against batteries, they can make of it in that fashion!

And so, from right wing to left, miles long, there is now universal storm of volleying, bayonet-charging, thunder of artillery, case-shot, cartridge-shot, and sulphurous devouring whirlwind; the wrestle very tough and furious, especially on the assaulting side. Here, as at Prag, the Prussian troops were one and all in the fire; each doing strenuously his utmost, no complaint to be made of their performance. More perfect soldiers, I believe, were rarely or never seen on any field of war. But there is no reserve left: Mannstein and the rest, who should have been reserve, and at a General's disposal, we see what they are doing! In vain, or nearly so, is Friedrich's tactic or manoeuvring talent; what now is there to manoeuvre? All is now gone up into one combustion. To fan the fire, to be here, there, fanning the fire where need shows: this is now Friedrich's function; "everywhere in the hottest of the fight," that is all we at present know of him, invisible to us otherwise. This death-wrestle lasted perhaps four hours; till seven or towards eight o'clock in the June evening; the sun verging downwards; issue still uncertain.

And, in fact, at last the issue turned upon a hair;—such the empire of Chance in War matters. Cautious Daun, it is well known, did not like the aspect of the thing; cautious Daun thinks to himself, "If we get pushed back into that Camp of yesternight, down the Kamhayek Heights, and right into the impassable swamps; the reverse way, Heights now HIS, not ours, and impassable swamps waiting to swallow us? Wreck complete, and surrender at discretion—!" Daun writes in pencil: "The retreat is to Suchdol" (Kuttenberg way, southward, where we have heights again and magazines); Daun's Aide-de-camp is galloping every-whither with that important Document; and Generals are preparing for retreat accordingly,—one General on the right wing has, visibly to Hulsen and us, his cannon out of battery, and under way rearwards; a welcome sight to Hulsen, who, with imperfect reinforcement, is toughly maintaining himself there all day.

And now the Daun Aide-de-camp, so Chance would have it, cannot find Nostitz the Saxon Commandant of Horse in that quarter; finds a "Saxon Lieutenant-Colonel B—-" ("Benkendorf" all Books now write him plainly), who, by another little chance, had been still left there: "Can the Herr Lieutenant-Colonel tell me where General Nostitz is?" Benkendorf can tell;—will himself take the message: but Benkendorf looks into the important Pencil Document; thinks it premature, wasteful, and that the contrary is feasible! persuades Nostitz so to think; persuades this regiment and that (Saxon, Austrian, horse and foot); though the cannon in retreat go trundling past them: "Merely shifting their battery, don't you see:—Steady!" And, in fine, organizes, of Saxon and Austrian horse and foot in promising quantity (Saxons in great fury on the Pirna score, not to say the Striegau, and other old grudges), a new unanimous assault on Hulsen.

The assault was furious, and became ever more so; at length irresistible to Hulsen. Hulsen's horse, pressing on as to victory, are at last hurled back; could not be rallied; [That of "RUCKER, WOLLT IHR EWIG LEBEN, Rascals, would you live forever?" with the "Fritz, for eight groschen, this day there has been enough!"—is to be counted pure myth; not unsuccessful, in its withered kind.] fairly fled (some of them); confusing Hulsen's foot,—foot is broken, instantly ranks itself, as the manner of Prussians is; ranks itself in impromptu squares, and stands fiercely defensive again, amid the slashing and careering: wrestle of extreme fury, say the witnesses. "This for Striegau!" cried the Saxon dragoons, furiously sabring. [Archenholtz, i. 100.] Yes; and is there nothing to account of Pirna, and the later scores? Scores unliquidated, very many still; but the end is, Hulsen is driven away; retreats, Parthian-like, down-hill, some space; whose sad example has to spread rightwards like a powder-train, till all are in retreat,—northward, towards Nimburg, is the road;—and the Battle of Kolin is finished.

Friedrich made vehement effort to rally the Horse, to rally this and that; but to no purpose: one account says he did collect some small body, and marched forth at the head of it against a certain battery; but, in his rear, man after man fell away, till Lieutenant-Colonel Grant (not "Le Grand," as some call him, and indeed there is an ACCENT of Scotch in him, still audible to us here) had to remark, "Your Majesty and I cannot take the battery ourselves!" Upon which Friedrich turned round; and, finding nobody, looked at the Enemy through his glass, and slowly rode away [Retzow, i. 139.]—on a different errand.

Seeing the Battle irretrievably lost, he now called Bevern and Moritz to him; gave them charge of the retreat—"To Nimburg; cross Elbe there [fifteen good miles away]; and in the defiles of Planian have especial care!" and himself rode off thitherward, his Garde-du-Corps escorting. Retzow says, "a swarm of fugitive horse-soldiers, baggage-people, grooms and led horses gathered in the train of him: these latter, at one point," Retzow has heard in Opposition circles, "rushed up, galloping: 'Enemy's hussars upon us!' and set the whole party to the gallop for some time, till they found the alarm was false." [Ib. i. 140.] Of Friedrich we see nothing, except as if by cloudy moonlight in an uncertain manner, through this and the other small Anecdote, perhaps semi-mythical, and true only in the essence of it.

Daun gave no chase anywhere; on his extreme left he had, perhaps as preparative for chasing, ordered out the cavalry; "General Stampach and cavalry from the centre," with cannon, with infantry and appliances, to clear away the wrecks of Mannstein, and what still stands, to right of him, on the Planian Highway yonder. But Stampach found "obstacles of ground," wet obstacles and also dry,—Prussian posts, smaller and greater, who would not stir a hand-breadth: in fact, an altogether deadly storm of Negative, spontaneous on their part, from the indignant regiments thereabouts, King's First Battalion, and two others; who blazed out on Stampach in an extraordinary manner, tearing to shreds every attempt of his, themselves stiff as steel: "Die, all of us, rather than stir!" And, in fact, the second man of these poor fellows did die there? [Kutzen, p. 138 (from the canonical, or "STAFF-OFFICER'S" enumeration: see SUPRA, p. 403 n.).] So that Bevern, Commander in that part, who was absent speaking with the King, found on his return a new battle broken out; which he did not forbid but encourage; till Stampach had enough, and withdrew in rather torn condition. This, if this were some preparative for chasing, was what Daun did of it, in the cavalry way; and this was all. The infantry he strictly prohibited to stir from their position,—"No saying, if we come into the level ground, with such an enemy!"—and passed the night under arms. Far on our left, or what was once our left, Ziethen with all his squadrons, nay Hulsen with most of his battalions, continued steady on the ground; and marched away at their leisure, as rear-guard.

"It seemed," says Tempelhof, in splenetic tone, "as if Feldmarschall Daun, like a good Christian, would not suffer the sun to go down on his wrath. This day, nearly the longest in the year, he allowed the Prussian cavalry, which had beaten Nadasti, to stand quiet on the field till ten at night [till nine]; he did not send a single hussar in chase of the infantry. He stood all night under arms; and next day returned to his old Camp, as if he had been afraid the King would come back. Arriving there himself, he could see, about ten in the morning, behind Kaurzim and Planian, the whole Prussian Baggage fallen into such a coil that the wagons were with difficulty got on way again; nevertheless he let it, under cover of the grenadier battalion Manteuffel, go in peace." [Tempelhof, i. 195.] A man that for caution and slowness could make no use of his victory!

The Austrian force in the Field this day is counted to have been 60,000; their losses in killed, wounded and missing, 8,114. The Prussians, who began 34,000 in strength, lost 13,773; of whom prisoners (including all the wounded), 5,380. Their baggage, we have seen, was not meddled with: they lost 45 cannon, 22 flags,—a loss not worth adding, in comparison to this sore havoc, for the second time, in the flower of the Prussian Infantry. [Retzow, i. 141 (whose numbers are apt to be inaccurate); Kutzen, p. 144 (who depends on the Canonical STAFF-OFFICER Account).]

The news reached Prag Camp at two in the morning (Sunday, 19th): to the sorrowful amazement of the Generals there; who "stood all silent; only the Prince of Prussia breaking out into loud lamentations and accusations," which even Retzow thinks unseemly. Friedrich arrived that Sunday evening: and the Siege was raised, next day; with next to no hindrance or injury. With none at all on the part of Daun; who was still standing among the heights and swamps of Planian,—busy singing, or shooting, universal TE-DEUM, with very great rolling fire and other pomp, that day while Friedrich gathered his Siege-goods and got on march.



THE MARIA-THERESA ORDER, NEW KNIGHTHOOD FOR AUSTRIA.

No tongue can express the joy of the Austrians over this victory,—vouchsafed them, in this manner, by Lieutenant-Colonel Benkendorf and the Powers above. Miraculously, behold, they are not upon the retreat to Suchdol, at double-quick, and in ragged ever-lengthening line; but stand here, keeping rank all night, on the Planian-Kolin upland of the Kamhayek:—behold, they have actually beaten Friedrich; for the first time, not been beaten by him. Clearly beaten that Friedrich, by some means or other. With such a result, too; consider it,—drawn sword was at our throat; and marvellously now it is turned round upon his (if Daun be alert), and we—let us rejoice to all lengths, and sing TE-DEUM and TE-DAUNUM with one throat, till the Heavens echo again.

There was quite a hurricane, or lengthened storm, of jubilation and tripudiation raised at Vienna on this victory: New ORDER OF MARIA THERESA, in suitable Olympian fashion, with no end of regulating and inaugurating,—with Daun the first Chief of it; and "Pensions to Merit" a conspicuous part of the plan, we are glad to see. It subsists to this day: the grandest Military Order the Austrians yet have. Which then deafened the world, with its infinite solemnities, patentings, discoursings, trumpetings, for a good while. As was natural, surely, to that high Imperial Lady with the magnanimous heart; to that loyal solid Austrian People with its pudding-head. Daun is at the top of the Theresa Order, and of military renown in Vienna circles;—of Lieutenant-Colonel Benkendorf I never heard that he got the least pension or recognition;—continued quietly a military lion to discerning men, for the rest of his days. ["Died at Dresden, General of Cavalry," 5th May, 1801 (Rodenbeck, i. 338, 339).]

Nay once, on Dauu's TE-DEUM day, he had a kind of recognition;—and even, by good accident, can tell us of it in his own words: [Kutzen (citing some BIOGRAPHY of Benkendorf), p. 143.]—

"I was sent for to head-quarters by a trumpeter,"—Benkendorf was,—"when all was ready for the TE-DEUM. Feldmarschall Daun was pleased to say at sight of me, 'That as I had had so much to do with the victory, it was but right I should thank our Herr Gott along with him.' Having no change of clothes,—as the servant, who was to have a uniform and some linens ready for me, had galloped off during the Fight, and our baggage was all gone to rearward,—I tried to hustle out of sight among the crowd of Imperial Officers all in gala: but the reigning Duke of Wurtemberg [Wilhelmina's Son-in-law, a perverse obstinate Herr, growing ever more perverse; one of Wilhelmina's sad afflictions in these days] called me to him, and said, 'He would give his whole wardrobe, could he wear that dusty coat with such honor as I!'"—yes; and tried hard, in his perverse way, for some such thing; but never could, as we shall see.

How lucky that Polish Majesty had some remains of Cavalry still at Warsaw in the Pirna time; that they were made into a Saxon Brigade, and taken into the Austrian service; Brigade of three Regiments, Nostitz for Chief, and this Benkendorf a Lieutenant-Colonel, among them;—and that Polish Majesty, though himself lost, has been the saving of Austria twice within one year!



Chapter V.—FRIEDRICH AT LEITMERITZ, HIS WORLD OF ENEMIES COMING ON.

Of Friedrich's night-thoughts at Nimburg; how he slept, and what his dreams were, we have no account. Seldom did a wearied heart sink down into oblivion on such terms. By narrow miss, the game gone; and with such results ahead. It was a right valiant plunge this that he made, with all his strength and all his skill, home upon the heart of his chief enemy. To quench his chief enemy before another came up: it was a valiant plan, and valiantly executed; and it has failed. To dictate peace from the walls of Vienna: that lay on the cards for him this morning; and at night—? Kolin is lost, the fruit of Prag Victory too is lost; and Schwerin and new tens of thousands, unreplaceable for worth in this world, are lost; much is lost! Courage, your Majesty, all is not lost, you not, and honor not.

To the young Graf von Anhalt, on the road to Nimburg, he is recorded to have said, "Don't you know, then, that every man must have his reverses (MAIS NE SAVEZ-VOUS DONC PAS QUE CHAQUE HOMME DOIT AVOIR SES REVERS)? It appears I am to have mine." [Rodenbeck, i. 309.] And more vaguely, in the Anecdote-Books, is mention of some stanch ruggedly pious old Dragoon, who brought, in his steel cap, from some fine-flowing well he had discovered, a draught of pure water to the King; old Mother Earth's own gift, through her rugged Dragoon, exquisite refection to the thirsty wearied soul; and spoke, in his Dragoon dialect,—"Never mind, your Majesty! DER ALLMACHTIGE and we; It shall be mended yet. 'The Kaiserin may get a victory for once; but does that send us to the Devil (DAVON HOLT UNS DER TEUFEL-NICHT)!'"—words of rough comfort, which were well taken.

Next morning, several Books, and many Drawings and Sculptures of a dim unsuccessful nature, give us view of him, at Kimburg; sitting silent "on a BRUNNEN-ROHR" (Fountain Apparatus, waste-pipe or feeding-pipe, too high for convenient sitting): he is stooping forward there, his eyes fixed on the ground, and is scratching figures in the sand with his stick, as the broken troops reassemble round him. Archenholtz says: "He surveyed with speechless feeling the small remnant of his Life-guard of Foot, favorite First Battalion; 1,000 strong yesterday morning, hardly 400 now;"—gone the others, in that furious Anti-Stampach outburst which ended the day's work! "All soldiers of this chosen Battalion were personally known to him; their names, their age, native place, their history [the pick of his Ruppin regiment was the basis of it]: in one day, Death had mowed them down; they had fought like heroes, and it was for him that they had died. His eyes were visibly wet, down his face rolled silent tears." [Archenholtz, i. 104, 101; Kutzen, pp. 259, 138; Retzow, i. 142.]

In public I never saw other tears from this King,—though in private I do not warrant him; his sensibilities, little as you would think it, being very lively and intense. "To work, however!" This King can shake away such things; and is not given overmuch to retrospection on the unalterable Past. "Like dewdrops from the lion's mane" (as is figuratively said); the lion swiftly rampant again! There was manifold swift ordering, considering and determining, at Nimburg, that day; and towards night Friedrich shot rapidly into Head-quarters at Prag, where, by order, there is, as the first thing of all, a very rapid business going on, well forward by the time he arrives.

To fold one's Siege-gear and Army neatly together from those Two Hill-tops, and march away with them safe, in sight of so many enemies: this has to be the first and rapidest thing; if this be found possible, as one calculates it may. After which, the world of enemies, held in the slip so long, will rush in from all the four winds,—unknown whitherward; one must wait to see whitherward and how.

Friedrich's History for the remaining six months of this Year falls, accordingly, into three Sections. Section FIRST: Waiting how and towards what objects his enemies, the Austrians first of all, will advance;—this lasts for about a month; Friedrich waiting mainly at Leitmeritz, on guard there both of Saxony and of Silesia, till this slowly declare itself. Slowly, perhaps almost stupidly, but by no means satisfactorily to Friedrich, as will be seen! After which, Section SECOND of his History lasts above two months; Friedrich's enemies being all got to the ground, and united in hope and resolution to overwhelm and abolish him; but their plans, positions, operations so extremely various that, for a long time (end of August to beginning of November), Friedrich cannot tell what to do with them; and has to scatter himself into thin threads, and roam about, chiefly in Thuringen and the West of Saxony, seeking something to fight with, and finding nothing; getting more and more impatient of such paltry misery; at times nigh desperate; and habitually drifting on desperation as on a lee shore in the night, despite all his efforts. Till, in Section THIRD, which goes from November 5th, through December 5th, and into the New Year, he does find what to do; and does it,—in a forever memorable way.

Three Sections; of which the reader shall successively have some idea, if he exert himself; though it is only in snatches, suggestive to an active fancy, that we can promise to dwell on them, especially on the First Two, which lie pretty much unsurveyable in those chaotic records, like a world-wide coil of thrums. Let us be swift, in Friedrich's own manner; and try to disimprison the small portions of essential! Here, partly from Eye-witnesses, are some Notes in regard to Section First: [Westphalen, Geschichte der Feldzuge des Herzogs Ferdinand (and a Private Journal of W.'s there), ii. 13-19; Retzow; &c.]—

"SUNDAY, 19th JUNE, At 2 A.M., Major Grant arrives at Prag [must have started instantly after that of "We two cannot take the battery, your Majesty!"]—goes to Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick, interim Commander on the Ziscaberg, with order To raise Siege. Consternation on the part of some; worse, on the Prince of Prussia's part; the others kept silence at least,—and set instantly to work. On both Hills, the cannons are removed (across Moldau the Zisca-Hill ones), batteries destroyed, Siege-gear neatly gathered up, to go in wagons to Leitmeritz, thence by boat to Dresden; all this lies ready done, the dangerous part of it done, when Friedrich arrives.

"MONDAY, 20th, before sunrise, Siege raised. At three in the morning Friedrich marches from the Ziscaberg; to eastward he, to Alt-Bunzlau, thence to Ah-Lissa,"—Nimburg way, with what objects we shall see. "Marshal Keith's fine performance. Keith, from the Weissenberg, does not march, such packing and loading still; all the baggages and artilleries being with Keith. Not till four in the afternoon did Keith march; but beautifully then; and folded himself away,—rear-guard under Schmettau 'retreating checkerwise,' nothing but Tolpatcheries attempting on him,—westward, Budin-ward, without loss of a linstock, not to speak of guns. Very prettily done on the part of Keith. By Budin, to Leitmeritz, he; where the King will join him shortly."

Friedrich's errand in Alt-Lissa, eastward, while Keith went westward, was, To be within due arm's-length of the Moritz-Bevern, or beaten Kolin Army, which is coming up that way; intending to take post, and do its best, in those parts, with Zittau Magazine and the Lausitz to rear of it. One of our Eye-witnesses, a Herr Westphalen, Ferdinand of Brunswick's Secretary,—who, with his Chief, got into wider fields before long,—yields these additional particulars face to face:—

"TUESDAY, 21st JUNE, 1757. King's Head-quarters in Lissa or neighborhood till Friday next; which is central for both these movements,—Thursday, orders seven regiments of horse to reinforce Keith. No symptom yet of pursuit anywhere.