pleasanter and peacefuler occupation, and you health, satisfaction and whatever your heart desires.–F.” [
Frederic,
KING FRIEDRICH TO M. LE COMTE ALGAROTTI (gone on a journey).
“OTTMACHAU, 17th JANUARY, 1741 [same day as the above to Jordan]. I have begun to settle the Figure of Prussia: the outline will not be altogether regular; for the whole of Silesia is taken, except one miserable hamlet (BICOQUE), which perhaps I shall have to keep blockaded till next spring.
“Up to this time, the whole conquest has cost only Twenty Men, and Two Officers, one of whom is the poor De Rege, whom you have seen at Berlin,”–De Rege, Engineer Major, killed here at Ottmachau, in Schwerin’s late tussle.
“You are greatly wanting to me here. So soon as you have talked that business over, write to me about it. [What is the business? Whither is the dusky Swan of Padua gone?] In all these three hundred miles I have found no human creature comparable to the Swan of Padua. I would willingly give ten cubic leagues of ground for a genius similar to yours. But I perceive I was about entreating you to return fast, and join me again,–while you are not yet arrived where your errand was. Make haste to arrive, then; to execute your commission, and fly back to me. I wish you had a Fortunatus Hat; it is the only thing defective in your outfit.
“Adieu, dear Swan of Padua: think, I pray you, sometimes of those who are getting themselves cut in slices [ECHINER, chined] for the sake of glory here, and above all do not forget your friends who think a thousand times of you. “FREDERIC.” [
The object of the dear Swan’s journey, or even the whereabouts of it, cannot be discovered without difficulty; and is not much worth discovering. “Gone to Turin,” we at last make out, “with secret commissions:” [Denina,
(Berlin, 1790), i. 198. A poor vague Book; only worth consulting in case of extremity.] desirable to sound the Sardinian Majesty a little, who is Doorkeeper of the Alps, between France and Austria, and opens to the best bidder? No great things of a meaning in this mission, we can guess, or Algarotti had not gone upon it,–though he is handy, at least, for keeping it unnoticed by the Gazetteer species. Nor was the Swan successful, it would seem; the more the pity for our Swan! However, he comes back safe; attends Friedrich in Silesia; and in the course of next month readers will see him, if any reader wished it.
Chapter VI.
NEISSE IS BOMBARDED.
Neisse, which Friedrich calls a paltry hamlet (BICOQUE) is a pleasant strongly fortified Town, then of perhaps 6 or 8,000 inhabitants, now of double that number; stands on the right or south bank of the Neisse,–at this day, on both banks. Pleasant broad streets, high strong houses, mostly of stone. Pleasantly encircled by green Hills, northward buttresses of the Giant Mountains; itself standing low and level, on rich ground much inclined to be swampy. A lesser river, Biele, or Bielau, coming from the South, flows leisurely enough into the Neisse,–filling all the Fortress ditches, by the road. Orchard-growth and meadow- growth are lordly (HERRLICH); a land rich in fruit, and flowing with milk and honey. Much given to weaving, brewing, stocking- making; and, moreover, trades greatly in these articles, and above all in Wine. Yearly on St. Agnes Day, “21st January, if not a Sunday,” there is a Wine-fair here; Hungarian, of every quality from Tokay downward, is gathered here for distribution into Germany and all the Western Countries. While you drink your Tokay, know that it comes through Neisse. St. Agnes Day falls but unhandily this year; and I think the Fair will, as they say, AUSBLEIBEN, or not be held.
Neisse is a Nest of Priests (PFAFFEN-NEST), says Friedrich once; which came in this way. About 600 years ago, an ill-conditioned Heir-Apparent of the Liegnitz Sovereign to whom it then belonged, quarrelled with his Father, quarrelled slightly with the Universe; and, after moping about for some time, went into the Church. Having Neisse for an apanage already his own, he gave it to the Bishop of Breslau; whose, in spite of the old Father’s protestings, it continued, and continues. Bishops of Breslau are made very grand by it; Bishops of Breslau have had their own difficulties here. Thus once (in our Perkin-Warbeck time, A.D. 1497), a Duke of Oppeln, sitting in some Official Conclave or meeting of magnates here,–zealous for country privilege, and feeling himself insufferably put upon,–started up, openly defiant of Official men; glaring wrathfully into Duke Casimir of Teschen (Bohemian-Austrian Captain of Silesia), and into the Bishop of Breslau himself; nay at last, flashed out his sword upon those sublime dignitaries. For which, by and by, he had to lay his head on the block, in the great square here; and died penitent, we hope.
This place, my Dryasdust informs me, had many accidents by floodage and by fire; was seized and re-seized in the Thirty-Years War especially, at a great rate: Saxon Arnheim, Austrian Holk, Swedish Torstenson; no end to the battering and burning poor Neisse had, to the big ransoms “in new Reichs-thalers and 300 casks of wine.” But it always rebuilt itself, and began business again. How happy when it could get under some effectual Protector, of the Liegnitz line, of the Austrian-Bohemian line, and this or the other battering, just suffered, was to be the last for some time!–Here again is a battering coming on it; the first of a series that are now imminent.
The reader is requested to look at Neisse; for besides the Tokay wine, there will things arrive there.–Neisse River, let us again mention, is one of four bearing that name, and all belonging to the Oder:–could not they be labelled, then, or NUMBERED, in some way? This Neisse, which we could call Neisse the FIRST (and which careful readers may as well make acquaintance with on their Map, where too they will find Neisse the SECOND, “the WUTHENDE or Roaring Neisse,” and two others which concern us less), rises in the “Western Snow-Mountains (SCHNEEGEBIRGE),” Southwestern or Glatz district of the Giant Mountains; drains Glatz County and grows big there; washes the Town of Glatz; then eastward by Ottmachau, by Neisse Town; whence turning rather abruptly north or northeast, it gets into the Oder not far south of Brieg.
Neisse as a Place of Arms, the chief Fortress of Silesia and the nearest to Austria, is extremely desirable for Friedrich; but there is no hope of it without some kind of Siege; and Friedrich determines to try in that way. From Ottmachau, accordingly, and from the other sides, the Siege-Artillery being now at hand, due force gathers itself round Neisse, Schwerin taking charge; and for above a week there is demonstrating and posting, summoning and parleying; and then, for three days, with pauses intervening, there is extremely furious bombardment, red-hot at times: “Will you yield, then?”–with steady negative from Neisse. Friedrich’s quarter is at Ottmachau, twelve miles off; from which he can ride over, to see and superintend. The fury of his bombardment, which naturally grieved him, testifies the intensity of his wish. But it was to no purpose. The Commandant, Colonel von Roth (the same who was proposed for Breslau lately, a wise head and a stout, famed in defences) had “poured water on his ramparts,” after well repairing them,–made his ramparts all ice and glass;–and done much else. Would the reader care to look for a moment? Here, from our waste Paper-masses, is abundance, requiring only to be abridged:–
“JANUARY, 1741: MONDAY, 9th-WEDNESDAY, 11th. Monday, 9th, day when that sputter at Ottmachau began,–Prussian light-troops appeared transiently on the heights about Neisse, for the first time. Directly on sight of whom, Commandant Roth assembled the Burghers of the place; took a new Oath of Fidelity from one and all; admonished them to do their utmost, as they should see him do. The able-bodied and likeliest of them (say about 400) he has had arranged into Militia Companies, with what drill there could be in the interim; and since his coming, has employed every moment in making ready. Wednesday, llth, he locks all the Gates, and stands strictly on his guard. The inhabitants are mostly Catholic; with sumptuous Bishops of Breslau, with KREUZHERREN (imaginary Teutsch or other Ritters with some reality of money), with Jesuit Dignitaries, Church and Quasi-Church Officialities, resident among them: population, high and low, is inclined by creed to the Queen of Hungary. Commandant Roth has only 1,200 regular soldiers; at the outside 1,600 men under arms: but he has gunpowder, he has meal; experience also and courage; and hopes these may suffice him for a time. One of the most determined Commandants; expert in the defence of strong places. A born Silesian (not Saxon, as some think),–and is of the Augsburg Confession; but that circumstance is not important here, though at Breslau Browne thought it was.
“THURSDAY, 12th. The Prussians, in regular force, appear on the Kaninchen Berg (Cony Hill, so called from its rabbits), south of the River, evidently taking post there. Roth fires a signal shot; the Southern Suburbs of Neisse, as preappointed, go up in flame; crackle high and far; in a lamentable manner (ERBARMLICH), through the grim winter air.” This is the day Friedrich came over to Ottmachau, and settled the sputter there.
“Next day, and next again, the same phenomena at Neisse; the Prussians edging ever nearer, building their batteries, preparing to open their cannonade. Whereupon Roth burns the remaining Suburbs, with lamentable crackle; on all sides now are mere ashes. Bishop’s Mill, Franciscan Cloister, Bishop’s Pleasure-garden, with its summer-houses; Bishop’s Hospital, and several Churches: Roth can spare none of these things, with the Prussians nestling there. Surely the Bishop himself, respectable Cardinal Graf von Sinzendorf, had better get out of these localities while time yet is?” “Saturday, 14th,” that was the day Friedrich, at Ottmachau, wrote as above to Jordan (Letter No. 1), while the Neisse Suburbs crackled lamentably, twelve miles off, “Schwerin gets order to break up, in person, from Ottmachan to-morrow, and begin actual business on the Kaninchen Hill yonder.
“SUNDAY, 15th. Schwerin does; marches across the River; takes post on the south side of Neisse: notable to the Sunday rustics. Nothing but burnt villages and black walls for Schwerin, in that Cony-Hill quarter, and all round; and Roth salutes him with one twenty-four pounder, which did no hurt. And so the cannonade begins, Sunday, 15th; and intermittently, on both sides of the River, continues, always bursting out again at intervals, till Wednesday; a mere preliminary cannonade on Schwerin’s part; making noise, doing little hurt: intended more to terrify, but without effect that way on Roth or the Townsfolk. The poor Bishop did, on the second day of it, come out, and make application to Schwerin; was kindly conducted to his Majesty, who happened to be over there; was kept to dinner; and easily had leave to retire to Freywalde, a Country-House he has, in the safe distance. [
be quiet, well out of these confused batterings and burnings of property.
“His Majesty’s Head-quarter is at Ottmachau, but in two hours he can be here any day; and looks into everything; sorry that the cannonade does not yet answer. And remnants of suburbs are still crackling into flame; high Country-Houses of Kreuzherren, of Jesuits; a fanatic people seemingly all set against us. ‘If Neisse will not yield of good-will, needs is it must be beaten to powder,’ wrote his Majesty to Jordan in these circumstances, as we read above. Roth is sorry to observe, the Prussians have still one good Bishop’s-mansion, in a place called the Karlau (Karl-Meadow), with the Bishop’s winter fuel all ready stacked there; but strives to take order about the same.
“WEDNESDAY, 18th. This day two provocations happened. First, in the morning by his Majesty’s order, Colonel Borck (the same we saw at Herstal) had gone with a Trumpeter towards Roth; intending to inform Roth how mild the terms would be, how terrible the penalty of not accepting them. But Roth or Roth’s people singularly disregard Borck and his Parley Trumpet; answer its blasts by musketry; fire upon it, nay again fire worse when it advances a step farther; on these terms Borck and Trumpet had to return. Which much angered his Majesty at Ottmachau that evening; as was natural. Same evening, our fine quarters in the Karlau crackled up in flame, the Bishop’s winter firewood all along with it: this was provocation second. Roth had taken order with the Karlau; and got a resolute Butcher to do the feat, under pretext of bringing us beef. It is piercing cold; only blackened walls for us now in the Karlau or elsewhere. His Majesty, naturally much angered, orders for the morrow a dose of bomb-shells and red-hot balls. Plant a few mortars on the North side too, orders his Majesty.
“THURSDAY, 19th. Accordingly, by 8 of the clock, cannon batteries reawaken with a mighty noise, and red-hot balls are noticeable; and at 10 the actual bombarding bursts out, terrible to hear and see;–first shell falling in Haubitz the Clothier’s shop, but being happily got under. Roth has his City Militia companies, organized with water-hose for quenching of the red-hot balls: in which they became expert. So that though the fire caught many houses, they always put it out. Late in the night, hearing no word from Roth, the Prussians went to bed.
“FRIDAY, 20th. Still no word; on which, about 4 P.M., the Prussian batteries awaken again: volcanic torrent of red-hot shot and shells, for seven hours; still no word from Roth. About 11 at night his Majesty again sends a Drum (Parley Trumpet or whatever it is) to the Gate; formally summons Roth; asks him, ‘If he has well considered what this can lead to? Especially what he, Roth, meant by firing on our first Trumpet on Wednesday last?’ Roth answered, ‘That as to the Trumpet, he had not heard of it before. On the other hand, that this mode of sieging by red-hot balls seems a little unusual; for the rest, that he has himself no order or intention but that of resisting to the last.’ Some say the Drum hereupon by order talked of ‘pounding Neisse into powder, mere child’s-play hitherto;’ to which Roth answered only by respectful dumb-show.
“SATURDAY, 21st-MONDAY, 23d. Midnight of Friday-Saturday, on this answer coming, the fire-volcanoes open again;–nine hours long; shells, and red-hot material, in terrible abundance. Which hit mostly the churches, Jesuits’ Seminariums and Collegiums; but produced no change in Roth. From 9 A.M. the batteries are silent. Silent still, next morning: Divine Service may proceed, if it like. But at 4 of the afternoon, the batteries awaken worse than ever; from seven to nine bombs going at once. Universal rage, of noise and horrid glare, making night hideous, till 10 of the clock; Roth continuing inflexible. This is the last night of the Siege.”
Friedrich perceived that Roth would not yield; that the utter smashing-down of Neisse might more concern Friedrich than Roth; –that, in fine, it would be better to desist till the weather altered. Next day, “Monday, 23d, between noon and 1 o’clock,” the Prussians drew back;–converted the siege into a blockade. Neisse to be masked, like Brieg and Glogau (Brieg only half done yet, Jeetz without cannon till to-morrow, 24th, and little Namslau still gesticulating): “The only thing one could try upon it was bombardment. A Nest of Priests (PFAFFEN-NEST); not many troops in it: but it cannot well be forced at present. If spring were here, it will cost a fortnight’s work.” [FRIEDRICH TO THE OLD DESSAUER: Fraction of Letter (Ottmachau, 16th-21st January, 1741) cited by Orlich, i. 51;–from the Dessau Archives, where Herr Orlich has industriously been. To all but strictly military people these pieces of Letters are the valuable feature of Orlich’s Book; and a general reader laments that it does not all consist of such, properly elucidated and labelled into accessibility.]
A noisy business; “King’s high person much exposed: a bombardier and then a sergeant were killed close by him, though in all he lost only five men.” [
i. 680-690.]
BROWNE VANISHES IN A SLIGHT FLASH OF FIRE.
Browne all this while has hung on the Mountain-side, witnessing these things; sending stores towards Glatz southwestward, and “ruining the ways” behind them; waiting what would become of Neisse. Neisse done, Schwerin is upon him; Browne makes off Southeastward, across the Mountains, for Moravia and home; Schwerin following hard. At a little place called Gratz, [The name, in old Slavic speech, signifies TOWN; and there are many GRATZES: KONIGINgratz (QUEEN’S, which for brevity is now generally called KONIGSgratz, in Bohemia); Gratz in Styria; WINDISCHgratz (Wendish-town); &c.] on the Moravian border, Browne faced round, tried to defend the Bridge of the Oppa, sharply though without effect; and there came (January 25th) a hot sputter between them for a few minutes:–after which Browne vanished into the interior, and we hear, in these parts, comparatively little more of him during this War. Friend and foe must admit that he has neglected nothing; and fairly made the best of a bad business here. He is but an interim General, too; his Successor just coming; and the Vienna Board of War is frequently troublesome,–to whose windy speculations Browne replies with sagacious scepticism, and here and there a touch of veiled sarcasm, which was not likely to conciliate in high places. Had her Hungarian Majesty been able to retain Browne in his post, instead of poor Neipperg who was sent instead, there might have been a considerably different account to give of the sequel. But Neipperg was Tutor (War-Tutor) to the Grand-Duke; Browne is still of young standing (age only thirty-five), with a touch of veiled sarcasm; and things must go their course.
In Schlesien, Schwerin is now to command in chief; the King going off to Berlin for a little, naturally with plenty of errand there. The Prussian Troops go into Winter-quarters; spread themselves wide; beset the good points, especially the Passes of the Hills,– from Jagerndorf, eastward to the Jablunka leading towards Hungary; –nay they can, and before long do, spread into the Moravian Territories, on the other side; and levy contributions, the Queen proving unreasonable.
It was Monday, 23d, when the Siege of Neisse was abandoned: on Wednesday, Friedrich himself turns homeward; looks into Schweidnitz, looks into Liegnitz; and arrives at Berlin as the week ends,–much acclamation greeting him from the multitude. Except those three masked Fortresses, capable of no defence to speak of, were Winter over, Silesia is now all Friedrich’s,–has fallen wholly to him in the space of about Seven Weeks. The seizure has been easy; but the retaining of it, perhaps he himself begins to see more clearly, will have difficulties! From this point, the talk about GLOIRE nearly ceases in his Correspondence. In those seven weeks he has, with GLOIRE or otherwise, cut out for himself such a life of labor as no man of his Century had.
Chapter VII.
AT VERSAILLES, THE MOST CHRISTIAN MAJESTY CHANGES HIS SHIRT, AND BELLEISLE IS SEEN WITH PAPERS.
While Friedrich was so busy in Silesia, the world was not asleep around him; the world never is, though it often seems to be, round a man and what action he does in it. That Sunday morning, First Day of the Year 1741, in those same hours while Friedrich, with energy, with caution, was edging himself into Breslau, there went on in the Court of Versailles an interior Phenomenon; of which, having by chance got access to it face to face, we propose to make the reader participant before going farther.
Readers are languidly aware that phenomena do go on round their Friedrich; that their busy Friedrich, with his few Voltaires and renowned persons, are not the only population of their Century, by any means. Everybody is aware of that fact; yet, in practice, almost everybody is as good as not aware; and the World all round one’s Hero is a darkness, a dormant vacancy. How strange when, as here, some Waste-paper spill (so to speak) turns up, which you can KINDLE; and, by the brief flame of it, bid a reader look with his own eyes!–From Herr Doctor Busching, who did the GEOGRAPHY and about a Hundred other Books,–a man of great worth, almost of genius, could he have elaborated his Hundred Books into Ten (or distilled, into flasks of aqua-vitae, what otherwise lies tumbling as tanks of mash and wort, now run very sour and mal-odorous);– it is from Herr Busching that we gain the following rough Piece, illuminative if one can kindle it:–
The Titular-Herr Baron Anton von Geusau, a gentleman of good parts, scholastic by profession, and of Protestant creed, was accompanying as Travelling Tutor, in those years, a young Graf von Reuss. Graf von Beuss is one of those indistinct Counts Reuss, who always call themselves “Henry;” and, being now at the eightieth and farther, with uncountable collateral Henrys intertwisted, are become in effect anonymous, or of nomenclature inscrutable to mankind. Nor is the young one otherwise of the least interest to us;–except that Herr Anton, the Travelling Tutor, punctually kept a Journal of everything. Which Journal, long afterwards, came into the hands of Busching, also a punctual man; and was by him abridged, and set forth in print in his
“SUNDAY, 1st JANUARY, 1741, Geusau and his young Gentleman leave Paris, at 5 in the morning, and drive out to Versailles; intending to see the ceremonies of New-year’s day there. Very wet weather it had been, all Wednesday, and for days before; [See in
Barbier
“Till Majesty please to awaken, you saunter in the Salle des Ambassadeurs; whole crowds jostling one another there; gossiping together in a diligent, insipid manner;” gossip all reported; snatches of which have acquired a certain flavor by long keeping;– which the reader shall imagine. “Meanwhile you keep your eye on the Grate of the Inner Court, which as yet is only ajar, Majesty inaccessible as yet. Behold, at last, Grate opens itself wide; sign that Majesty is out of bed; that the privileged of mankind may approach, and see the miracles.” Geusau continues, abridged by Busching and us:–
“The whole Assemblage passed now into the King’s Anteroom; had to wait there about half an hour more, before the King’s bedroom was opened. But then at last, lo you,–there is the King, visible to Geusau and everybody, washing his hands.’ Which effected itself in this way: ‘The King was seated; a gentleman-in-waiting knelt, before him, and held the Ewer, a square vessel silver-gilt, firm upon the King’s breast; and another gentleman-in-waiting poured water on the King’s hands.’ Merely an official washing, we perceive; the real, it is to be hoped, had, in a much more effectual way, been going on during the half-hour just elapsed. After washing, the King rose for an instant; had his dressing-gown, a grand yellow silky article with silver flowerings, pulled off, and flung round his loins; upon which he sat down again, and,”– observe it, ye privileged of mankind,–“the Change of Shirt took place! ‘They put the clean shirt down over his head,’ says Anton, (and plucked up the dirty one from within, so that of the naked skin you saw little or nothing.'” Here is a miracle worth getting out of bed to look at!
“His Majesty now quitted chair and dressing-gown; stood up before the fire; and, after getting on the rest of his clothing, which, on account of Czarina Anne’s death [readers remember that], was of violet or mourning color, he had the powder-mantle thrown round him, and sat down at the Toilette to have his hair frizzled. The Toilette, a table with white cover shoved into the middle of the room, had on it a mirror, a powder-knife, and”–no mortal cares what. “The King,” what all mortals note, as they do the heavenly omens, “is somewhat talky; speaks sometimes with the Dutch Ambassador, sometimes with the Pope’s Nuncio, who seems a jocose kind of gentleman; sometimes with different French Lords, and at last with the Cardinal Fleury also,–to whom, however, he does not look particularly gracious,”–not particularly this time. These are the omens; happy who can read them!–Majesty then did his morning- prayer, assisted only by the common Almoners-in-waiting (Cardinal took no hand, much less any other); Majesty knelt before his bed, and finished the business ‘in less than six seconds.’ After which mankind can ebb out to the Anteroom again; pay their devoir to the Queen’s Majesty, which all do; or wait for the Transit to Morning Chapel, and see Mesdames of France and the others flitting past in their sedans.
“Queen’s Majesty was already altogether dressed,” says Geusau, almost as if with some disappointment; “all in black; a most affable courteous Majesty; stands conversing with the Russian Ambassador, with the Dutch ditto, with the Ladies about her, and at last, ‘in a friendly and merry tone,’ with old Cardinal Fleury. Her Ladies, when the Queen spoke with them, showed no constraint at all; leant loosely with their arms on the fire-screens, and took things easy. Mesdames of France”–Geusau saw Mesdames. Poor little souls, they are the LOQUE, the COCHON (Rag, Pig, so Papa would call them, dear Papa), who become tragically visible again in the Revolution time:–all blooming young children as yet (Queen’s Majesty some thirty-seven gone), and little dreaming what lies fifty years ahead! King Louis’s career of extraneous gallantries, which ended in the Parc-aux-Cerfs, is now just beginning: think of that too; and of her Majesty’s fine behavior under it; so affable, so patient, silent, now and always!–“In a little while, their Majesties go along the Great Gallery to Chapel;” whither the Protestant mind cannot with comfort accompany. [Busching,
Beitrage,
This is the daily miracle done at Versailles to the believing multitude; only that on New-year’s day, and certain supreme occasions, the shirt is handed by a Prince of the Blood, and the towel for drying the royal hands by a ditto, with other improvements; and the thing comes out in its highest power of effulgence,–especially if you could see high mass withal. In the Antechamber and (OEil-de-Boeuf, Geusau, among hundreds of phenomena fallen dead to us, saw the Four following, which have still some life:–
1. Many Knights of the Holy Ghost (CHEVALIERS DU SAINT ESPRIT) are about; magnificently piebald people, indistinct to us, and fallen dead to us: but there, among the company, do not we indisputably see, “in full Cardinal’s costume,” Fleury the ancient Prime Minister talking to her Majesty? Blandly smiling; soft as milk, yet with a flavor of alcoholic wit in him here and there. That is a man worth looking at, had they painted him at all. Red hat, red stockings; a serenely definite old gentleman, with something of prudent wisdom, and a touch of imperceptible jocosity at times; mildly inexpugnable in manner: this King, whose Tutor he was twenty years ago, still looks to him as his father; Fleury is the real King of France at present. His age is eighty-seven gone; the King’s is thirty (seven years younger than his Queen): and the Cardinal has red stockings and red hat; veritably there, successively in both Antechambers, seen by Geusau, January 1st, 1741: that is all I know.
2. The Prince de Clermont, a Prince of the Blood, “handed the shirt,” TESTE Geusau. Some other Prince, notable to Geusau, and to us nameless, had the honor of the “towel:” but this Prince de Clermont, a dissolute fellow of wasted parts, kind of Priest, kind of Soldier too, is seen visibly handing the shirt there;–whom the reader and I, if we cared about it, shall again see, getting beaten by Prince Ferdinand, at Crefeld, within twenty years hence. These are points first and second, slightly noticeable, slightly if at all.
Of the actual transit to high mass, transit very visible in the Great Gallery or OEil-de-Boeuf, why should a human being now say anything? Queen, poor Stanislaus’s Daughter, and her Ladies, in their sublime sedans, one flood of jewels, sail first; next sails King Louis, shirt warm on his back, with “thirty-four Chevaliers of the Holy Ghost” escorting; next “the Dauphin” (Boy of eleven, Louis XVI.’s. Father), and “Mesdames of France, with”–but even Geusau stops short. Protestants cannot enter that Chapel, without peril of idolatry; wherefore Geusau and Pupil kept strolling in the general (OEil-de-Boeuf,–and “the Dutch Ambassador approved of it,” he for one. And here now is another point, slightly noticeable:– 3. High mass over, his Majesty sails back from Chapel, in the same magnificently piebald manner; and vanishes into the interior; leaving his Knights of the Holy Ghost, and other Courtier multitude, to simmer about, and ebb away as they found good. Geusau and his young Reuss had now the honor of being introduced to various people; among others “to the Prince de Soubise.” Prince de Soubise: frivolous, insignificant being; of whom I have no portrait that is not nearly blank, and content to be so;–though Herr von Geusau would have one, with features and costume to it, when he heard of the Beating at Rossbach, long after! Prince de Soubise is pretty much a blank to everybody:–and no sooner are we loose of him, than (what every reader will do well to note) 4. Our Herren Travellers are introduced to a real Notability: Monseigneur, soon to be Marechal, the Comte de Belleisle; whom my readers and I are to be much concerned with, in time coming. “A tall lean man (LANGER HAGERER MANN), without much air of quality,” thinks Geusau; but with much swift intellect and energy, and a distinguished character, whatever Geusau might think. “Comte de Belleisle was very civil; but apologized, in a courtly and kind way, for the hurry he was in; regretting the impossibility of doing the honors to the Comte de Reuss in this Country,–his, Belleisle’s, Journey into Germany, which was close at hand, overwhelming him with occupations and engagements at present. And indeed, even while he spoke to us,” says Geusau, “all manner of Papers were put into his hand.” [Busching, ii. 79; see Barbier, ii. 282, 287.]
“Journey to Germany, Papers put into his hand:” there is perhaps no Human Figure in the world, this Sunday (except the one Figure now in those same moments over at Breslau, gently pressing upon the locked Gates there), who is so momentous for our Silesian Operations; and indeed he will kindle all Europe into delirium; and produce mere thunder and lightning, for seven years to come,– with almost no result in it, except Silesia! A tall lean man; there stands he, age now fifty-six, just about setting out on such errand. Whom one is thankful to have seen for a moment, even in that slight manner.
OF BELLEISLE AND HIS PLANS.
Charles Louis Auguste Fouquet, Comte de Belleisle, is Grandson of that Intendant Fouquet, sumptuous Financier, whom Louis XIV. at last threw out, and locked into the Fortress of Pignerol, amid the Savoy Alps, there to meditate for life, which lasted thirty years longer. It was never understood that the sumptuous Fouquet had altogether stolen public moneys, nor indeed rightly what he had done to merit Pignerol; and always, though fallen somehow into such dire disfavor, he was pitied and respected by a good portion of the public. “Has angered Colbert,” said the public; “dangerous rivalry to Colbert; that is what has brought Pignerol upon him.” Out of Pignerol that Fouquet never came; but his Family bloomed up into light again; had its adventures, sometimes its troubles, in the Regency time, but was always in a rising way:–and here, in this tall lean man getting papers put into his hand, it has risen very high indeed. Going as Ambassador Extraordinary to the Germanic Diet, “to assist good neighbors, as a neighbor and Most Christian Majesty should, in choosing their new Kaiser to the best advantage:” that is the official color his mission is to have. Surely a proud mission;–and Belleisle intends to execute it in a way that will surprise the Germanic Diet and mankind. Privately, Belleisle intends that he, by his own industries, shall himself choose the right Kaiser, such Kaiser as will suit the Most Christian Majesty and him; he intends to make a new French thing of Germany in general; and carries in his head plans of an amazing nature! He and a Brother he has, called the Chevalier de Belleisle, who is also a distinguished man, and seconds M. le Comte with eloquent fire and zeal in all things, are grandsons of that old Fouquet, and the most shining men in France at present. France little dreams how much better it perhaps were, had they also been kept safe in Pignerol!–
The Count, lean and growing old, is not healthy; is ever and anon tormented, and laid up for weeks, with rheumatisms, gouts and ailments: but otherwise he is still a swift ardent elastic spirit; with grand schemes, with fiery notions and convictions, which captivate and hurry off men’s minds more than eloquence could, so intensely true are they to the Count himself;–and then his Brother the Chevalier is always there to put them into the due language and logic, where needed. [Voltaire, xxviii. 74; xxix. 392; &c.] A magnanimous high-flown spirit; thought to be of supreme skill both in War and in Diplomacy; fit for many things; and is still full of ambition to distinguish himself, and tell the world at all moments, “ME VOILA; World, I too am here!”–His plans, just now, which are dim even to himself, except on the hither skirt of them, stretch out immeasurable, and lie piled up high as the skies. The hither skirt of them, which will suffice the reader at present, is:–
That your Grand-Duke Franz, Maria Theresa’s Husband, shall in no wise, as the world and Duke Franz expect, be the Kaiser chosen. Not he, but another who will suit France better: “Kur-Sachsen perhaps, the so-called King of Poland? Or say it were Karl Albert Kur-Baiern, the hereditary friend and dependent of France? We are not tied to a man: only, at any and at all rates, not Grand-Duke Franz.” This is the grand, essential and indispensable point, alpha and omega of points; very clear this one to Belleisle,–and towards this the first steps, if as yet only the first, are also clear to him. Namely that “the 27th of February next”,–which is the time set by Kur-Mainz and the native Officials for the actual meeting of their Reichstag to begin Election Business, will be too early a time; and must be got postponed. [Adelung, ii. 185 (“27th February- 1st March, 1741, at Frankfurt-on-Mayn,” appointed by Kur-Mainz “Arch-Chancellor of the REICH,” under date November 3d, 1740);– ib. 236 (“Delay for a month or two,” suggests Kur-Pfalz, on January 12th, seconded by others in the French interest);– upon which the appointment, after some arguing, collapsed into the vague, and there ensued delay enough; actual Election not till January 24th, 1742.] Postponed; which will be possible, perhaps for long; one knows not for how long: that is a first step definitely clear to Belleisle. Towards which, as preliminary to it and to all the others in a dimmer state, there is a second thing clear, and has even been officially settled (all but the day): That, in the mean while, and surely the sooner the better, he, Belleisle, Most Christian Majesty’s Ambassador Extraordinary to the Reichstag coming,–do, in his most dazzling and persuasive manner, make a Tour among German Courts. Let us visit, in our highest and yet in our softest splendor, the accessible German Courts, especially the likely or well-disposed: Mainz, Koln, Trier, these, the three called Spiritual, lie on our very route; then Pfalz, Baiern, Sachsen:–we will tour diligently up and down; try whether, by optic machinery and art-magic of the mind, one cannot bring them round.
In all these preliminary steps and points, and even in that alpha and omega of excluding Grand-Duke Franz, and getting a Kaiser of his own, Belleisle succeeded. With painful results to himself and to millions of his fellow-creatures, to readers of this History, among others. And became in consequence the most famous of mankind; and filled the whole world with rumor of Belleisle, in those years.–A man of such intrinsic distinction as Belleisle, whom Friedrich afterwards deliberately called a great Captain, and the only Frenchman with a genius for war; and who, for some time, played in Europe at large a part like that of Warwick the Kingmaker: how has he fallen into such oblivion? Many of my readers never heard of him before; nor, in writing or otherwise, is there symptom that any living memory now harbors him, or has the least approach to an image of him! “For the times are babbly,” says Goethe,” And then again the times are dumb:–
Denn geschwatzig sind die Zeiten, Und sie sind auch wieder stumm.”
Alas, if a man sow only chaff, in never so sublime a manner, with the whole Earth and the long-eared populations looking on, and chorally singing approval, rendering night hideous,–it will avail him nothing. And that, to a lamentable extent, was Belleisle’s case. His scheme of action was in most felicitously just accordance with the national sense of France, but by no means so with the Laws of Nature and of Fact; his aim, grandiose, patriotic, what you will, was unluckily false and not true. How could “the times” continue talking of him? They found they had already talked too much. Not to say that the French Revolution has since come; and has blown all that into the air, miles aloft,–where even the solid part of it, which must be recovered one day, much more the gaseous, which we trust is forever irrecoverable, now wanders and whirls; and many things are abolished, for the present, of more value than Belleisle!–
For my own share, being, as it were, forced accidentally to look at him again, I find in Belleisle a really notable man; far superior to the vulgar of noted men, in his time or ours. Sad destiny for such a man! But when the general Life-element becomes so unspeakably phantasmal as under Louis XV., it is difficult for any man to be real; to be other than a play-actor, more or less eminent,and artistically dressed. Sad enough, surely, when the truth of your relation to the Universe, and the tragically earnest meaning of your Life, is quite lied out of you, by a world sunk in lies; and you can, with effort, attain to nothing but to be a more or less splendid lie along with it! Your very existence all become a vesture, a hypocrisy, and hearsay; nothing left of you but this sad faculty of sowing chaff in the fashionable manner! After Friedrich and Voltaire, in both of whom, under the given circumstances, one finds a perennial reality, more or less,– Belleisle is next; none FAILS to escape the mournful common lot by a nearer miss than Belleisle.
Beyond doubt, there are in this man the biggest projects any French head has carried, since Louis XIV. with his sublime periwig first took to striking the stars. How the indolent Louis XV. and the pacific Fleury have been got into this sublimely adventurous mood? By Belleisle chiefly, men say;–and by King Louis’s first Mistresses, blown upon by Belleisle; poor Louis having now, at length, left his poor Queen to her reflections, and taken into that sad line, in which by degrees he carried it so far. There are three of them, it seems;–the first female souls that could ever manage to kindle, into flame or into smoke: in this or any other kind, that poor torpid male soul: those Mailly Sisters, three in number (I am shocked to hear), successive, nay in part simultaneous! They are proud women, especially the two younger; with ambition in them, with a bravura magnanimity, of the theatrical or operatic kind; of whom Louis is very fond. “To raise France to its place, your Majesty; the top of the Universe, namely!” “Well; if it could be done,–and quite without trouble?” thinks Louis. Bravura magnanimity, blown upon by Belleisle, prevails among these high Improper Females, and generally in the Younger Circles of the Court; so that poor old Fleury has had no choice but to obey it or retire. And so Belleisle stalks across the OEil-de-Boeuf in that important manner, visibly to Geusau; and is the shining object in Paris, and much the topic there at present.
A few weeks hence, he is farther–a little out of the common turn, but not beyond his military merits or capabilities–made Marechal de France; [
February, 1741).] by way of giving him a new splendor in the German Political World, and assisting in his operations there, which depend much upon the laws of vision. French epigrams circulate in consequence, and there are witty criticisms; to which Belleisle, such a dusky world of Possibility lying ahead, is grandly indifferent. Marechal de France;–and Geusau hears (what is a fact) that there are to be “thirty young French Lords in his suite;” his very “Livery,” or mere plush retinue, “to consist of 110 persons;” such an outfit for magnificence as was never seen before. And in this equipment, “early in March” (exact day not given), magnificence of outside corresponding to grandiosity of faculty and idea, Belleisle, we shall find, does practically set off towards Germany;–like a kind of French Belus, or God of the Sun; capable to dazzle weak German Courts, by optical machinery, and to set much rotten thatch on fire!–
“There are curious daguerrotype glimpses of old Paris to be found in that Notebook of Geusau’s”, says another Excerpt; “which come strangely home to us, like reality at first-hand;–and a rather unexpected Paris it is, to most readers; many things then alive there, which are now deep underground. Much Jansenist Theology afloat; grand French Ladies piously eager to convert a young Protestant Nobleman like Reuss; sublime Dorcases, who do not rouge, or dress high, but eschew the evil world, and are thrifty for the Poor’s sake, redeeming the time. There is a Cardinal de Polignac, venerable sage and ex-political person, of astonishing erudition, collector of Antiques (with whom we dined); there is the Chevalier Ramsay, theological Scotch Jacobite, late Tutor of the young Turenne. So many shining persons, now fallen indistinct again. And then, besides gossip, which is of mild quality and in fair proportion,–what talk, casuistic and other, about the Moral Duties, the still feasible Pieties, the Constitution Unigenitus! All this alive, resonant at dinner-tables of Conservative stamp; the Miracles of Abbe Paris much a topic there:–and not a whisper of Infidel Philosophies; the very name of Voltaire not once mentioned in the Reuss section of Parisian things.
“There is rumor now and then of a ‘Comte de Rothenbourg,’ conspicuous in the Parisian circles; a shining military man, but seemingly in want of employment; who has lost in gambling, within the last four years, upwards of 50,000 pounds (1,300,000 livres, the exact cipher given). This is the Graf von Rothenburg whom Friedrich made acquaintance with, in the Rhine Campaign six years ago, and has ever since had in his eye;–whom, in a few weeks hence, Friedrich beckons over to him into the Prussian States: ‘Hither, and you shall have work!’ Which Rothenburg accepts; with manifold advantage to both parties:–one of Friedrich’s most distinguished friends for the rest of his life.
“Of Cardinal Polignac there is much said, and several dinners with him are transacted, dialogue partly given: a pious wise old gentleman really, in his kind (age now eighty-four); looking mildly forth upon a world just about to overset itself and go topsy-turvy, as he sees it will. His ANTI-LUCRETIUS was once such a Poem!–but we mention him here because his fine Cabinet of Antiques came to Berlin on his death, Friedrich purchasing; and one often hears of it (if one cared to hear) from the Prussian Dryasdust in subsequent years. [Came to Charlottenburg, August, 1742 (old Polignac had died November last, ten months after those Geusau times): cost of the Polignac Cabinet was 40,000 thalers (6,000 pounds) say some, 90,000 livres (under 4,000 pounds) say others; cheap at either price;– and, by chance, came opportunely, “a fire having just burnt down the Academy Edifice,” and destroyed much ware of that kind. Rodenbeck, i. 73; Seyfarth (Anonymous),
Friedrichs des Andern,
“Of Friedrich’s unexpected Invasion of Silesia there are also talkings and surmisings, but in a mild indifferent tone, and much in the vague. And in the best-informed circles it is thought Belleisle will manage to HAVE Grand-Duke Franz, the Queen of Hungary’s Husband, chosen Kaiser, and, in some mild good way, put an end to all that;”–which is far indeed from Belleisle’s intention!
Chapter VIII.
PHENOMENA IN PETERSBURG.
I know not whether Major Winterfeld, who was sent to Petersburg in December last, had got back to Berlin in February, now while Friedrich is there: but for certain the good news of him had, That he had been completely successful, and was coming speedily, to resume his soldier duties in right time. As Winterfeld is an important man (nearly buried into darkness in the dull Prussian Books), let us pause for a moment on this Negotiation of his;–and on the mad Russian vicissitudes which preceded and followed, so far as they concern us. Russia, a big demi-savage neighbor next door, with such caprices, such humors and interests, is always an important, rather delicate object to Friedrich; and Fortune’s mad wheel is plunging and canting in a strange headlong way there, of late. Czarina Anne, we know, is dead; the Autocrat of All the Russias following the Kaiser of the Romans within eight days. Iwan, her little Nephew, still in swaddling-clothes, is now Autocrat of All the Russias if he knew it, poor little red-colored creature; and Anton Ulrich and his Mecklenburg Russian Princess– But let us take up the matter where our Notebooks left it, in Friedrich Wilhelm’s time:–
“Czarina Anne with the big cheek,” continues that Notebook, [Supra, p. 129.] “was extremely delighted to see little Iwan; but enjoyed him only two months; being herself in dying circumstances. She appointed little Iwan her Successor, his Mother and Father to be Guardians over him; but one Bieren (who writes himself Biron, and “Duke of Courland,’ being Czarina’s Quasi-Husband these many years) to be Guardian, as it were, over both them and him. Such had been the truculent insatiable Bieren’s demand on his Czarina. ‘You are running on your destruction,’ said she, with tears; but complied, as she had been wont.
“Czarina Anne died 28th October, 1740; leaving a Czar in his cradle; little Czar Iwan of two months, with Mother and Father to preside over him, and to be themselves presided over by Bieren, in this manner. [Mannstein, pp. 264-267 (28th October, by Russian or Old Style, is “17th;” we TRANSLATE, in this and other cases, Russian or English, into New Style, unless the contrary is indicated). This was the first great change for Anton Ulrich; but others greater are coming. Little Anton, readers know, is Friedrich’s Brother-in-law, much patronized by Austria; Anton’s spouse is the Half-Russian Princess Catherine of Mecklenburg (now wholly Russian, and called Princess Anne), whom Friedrich at one time thought of applying for, in his distress about a Wife. These two, will they side with Prussia, will they side with Austria? It was hardly worth inquiry, had not Fortune’s wheel made suddenly a great cant, and pitched them to the top, for the time being.
“Bieren lasted only twenty days. He was very high and arbitrary upon everybody; Anne and Anton Ulrich suffering naturally most from him. They took counsel with Feldmarschall Munnich on the matter; who, after study, declared it a remediable case. Friday, 18th November, Munnich had, by invitation, to dine with Duke Bieren; Munnich went accordingly that day, and dined; Duke looking a little flurried, they say: and the same evening, dinner being quite over, and midnight come, Munnich had his measures all taken, soldiers ready, warrant in hand;–and arrested Bieren in his bed; mere Siberia, before sunrise, looming upon Bieren. Never was such a change as this from 18th day to 19th with a supreme Bieren. Our friend Mannstein, excellent punctual Aide-de-Camp of Munnich, was the executor of the feat; and has left punctual record of it, as he does of everything,—what Bieren said, and what Madam Bieren, who was a little obstreperous on the occasion. [Mannstein, p. 268.] What side Anton Ulrich and Spouse will take in a quarrel between Prussia and Austria, is now well worth asking.
“Anton Ulrich and Wife Anne, that is to say, ‘Regent Anne’ and ‘Generalissimo Anton Ulrich,’ now ruled, with Munnich for right- hand man; and these were high times for Anton Ulrich, Generalissimo and Czar’s-Father; who indeed was modest, and did not often interfere in words, though grieved at the foolish ways his Wife had. An indolent flabby kind of creature, she, unfit for an Autocrat; sat in her private apartments, all in a huddle of undress; had foolish notions,–especially had soubrettes who led her about by the ear. And then there was a ‘Princess Elizabeth,’ Cousin-german of Regent Anne,–daughter, that is to say, last child there now was, of Peter the Great and his little brown Catherine: –who should have been better seen to. Harmless foolish Princess, not without cunning; young, plump, and following merely her flirtations and her orthodox devotions; very orthodox and soft, but capable of becoming dangerous, as a centre of the disaffected. As ‘Czarina Elizabeth’ before long, and ultimately as ‘INFAME CATIN DU NORD, she–” But let us not anticipate!
It was in this posture of affairs, about a month after it had begun, that Winterfeld arrived in Petersburg; and addressed himself to Munnich, on the Prussian errand. Winterfeld was Munnich’s Son- in-law (properly stepson-in-law, having married Munnich’s stepdaughter, a Fraulein von Malzahn, of good Prussian kin); was acquainted with the latitudes and longitudes here, and well equipped for the operation in hand. To Madam Munnich, once Madam Malzahn, his Mother-in-law, he carried a diamond ring of 1,200 pounds, “small testimony of his Prussian Majesty’s regard to so high a Prussian Lady;” to Munnich’s Son and Madam’s a present of 3,000 pounds on the like score: and the wheels being oiled in this way, and the steam so strong (son Winterfeld an ardent man, father Munnich the like, supreme in Russia, and the thing itself a salutary thing), the diplomatic speed obtained was great. Winterfeld had arrived in Petersburg December 19th: Treaty of Alliance to the effect, “Firm friends and good neighbors, we Two, Majesties of Prussia and of All the Russias; will help each the other, if attacked, with 12,000 men,”–was signed on the 27th: whole Transaction, so important to Friedrich, complete in eight days. Austrian Botta, directly on the heel of those unsatisfactory Dialogues about Silesian roads, about troops that were pretty, but had never looked the wolf in the face,–had rushed off, full speed, for Petersburg, in hopes of running athwart such a Treaty as Winterfeld’s, and getting one for Austria instead. But he arrived too late; and perhaps could have done nothing had he been in time. Botta tried his utmost for years afterwards, above ground and below, to obstruct and reverse this thing; but it was to no purpose, and even to less; and only, in result, brought Botta himself into flagrant diplomatic trouble and scandal; which made noise enough in the then Gazetteer world, and was the finale of Botta’s Russian efforts, [Adelung, iii. ii. 289; Mannstein, p. 375 (“Lapuschin Plot,” of Botta’s raising, found out “August, 1743;”– Botta put in arrest, &c.).] though not worth mentioning now. The Russian Notebook continues:–
“Munnich, supreme in Russia since Bieren’s removal, had wise counsels for the Regent Anne and her Husband; though perhaps, being a high old military gentleman, he might be somewhat abrupt in his ways. And there were domestic Ostermanns, foreign Bottas, La Chetardies, and dangerous Intriguers and Opposition figures, to improve any grudge that might arise. Sure enough, in March, 1741, Feldmarschall Munnich was forbid the Court (some Ostermann succeeding him there): ‘Ever true to your Two Highnesses, though no longer needed;’–and withdrew, in a lofty friendly strain; his Son continuing at Court, though Papa had withdrawn. Supreme Munnich had lasted about four months; Supreme Bieren hardly three weeks;–and Siberia is still agape.
“Munnich being gone to his own Town-Mansion, and Regent Anne sitting in hers in a huddle of undress; little accessible to her long-headed melancholic Ostermann, and too accessible to her Livonian maid: with poor little Anton Ulrich pouting and remonstrating, but unable to help,–this state of matters, with such intrigues undermining it, could not last forever. And had not Princess Elizabeth been of indolent luxurious nature, intent upon her prayers and flirtations, it would have ended sooner even than it did. Princess Elizabeth had a Surgeon called L’Estoc; a Marquis de la Chetardie, a high-flown French Excellency (who used to be at Berlin, to our young Friedrich’s delight), was her–What shall I say? La Chetardie himself had no scruple to say it! These two plotted for her; these were ready,–could she have been got ready; which was not so easy. Regent Anne had her suspicions; but the Princess was so indolent, so good: at last, when directly taxed with such a thing, the Princess burst into ingenuous weeping; quite disarmed Regent Anne’s suspicions;–but found she had now better take L’Estoc’s advice, and proceed at once. Which she did.
“And so, on the morrow morning, 5th December, 1741, by aid of the Preobrazinsky Regiment, and the motions usual on such occasions,– in fact by merely pulling out the props from an undermined state of matters,–she reduced said state gently to ruin, ready for carting to Siberia, like its foregoers; and was hereby Czarina of All the Russias, prosperously enough for the rest of her life. Twenty years or rather more. An indolent, orthodox, plump creature, disinclined to cruelty; ‘not an ounce of nun’s flesh in her composition,’ said the wits. She maintained the Friedrich Treaty, indignant at Botta and his plots; was well with Friedrich, or might have been kept so by management, for there was no cause of quarrel, but the reverse, between the Countries,–could Friedrich have held his witty tongue, when eavesdroppers were by. But he could not always; though he tried. And sarcastic quizzing (especially if it be truth too), on certain female topics, what Improper Female, Czarina of All the Russias, could stand it? The history is but a distressing one, a disgusting one, in human affairs. Elizabeth was orthodox, too, and Friedricb not, ‘the horrid man!’ The fact is,–fact dismally indubitable, though it is huddled into discreet dimness, and all details of it (as to what Friedrich’s witticisms were, and the like) are refused us in the Prussian Books,–indignation, owing to such dismal cause, became fixed hate on the Czarina’s part, and there followed terrible results at last: A Czarina risen to the cannibal pitch upon a man, in his extreme need;–‘INFAME CATIN DU NORD,’ thinks the man! Friedrich’s wit cost him dear; him, and half a million others still dearer, twenty years hence.”–Till which time we will gladly leave the Czarina and it.
Major von Winterfeld had been in Russia before this; and had wooed his fair Malzahn there. He is the same Winterfeld whom we once saw dining by the wayside with the late Friedrich Wilhelm, on that last Review-Journey his Majesty made. A Captain in the Potsdam Giants at that time; always in great favor with the late King; and in still greater with the present,–who finds in him, we can dimly discover, and pretty much in him alone, a soul somewhat like his own; the one real “peer” he had about him. A man of little education; bred in camps; yet of a proud natural eminency, and rugged nobleness of genius and mind. Let readers mark this fiery hero-spirit, lying buried in those dull Books, like lightning among clay. Here is another anecdote of his Russian business:–
“Winterfeld had gone, in Friedrich Wilhelm’s time, with a party of Prussian drill-sergeants for Petersburg [year not given]; and duly delivered them there. He naturally saw much of Feldmarschall Munnich, naturally saw the Step-daughter of the Feldmarschall, a shining beauty in Petersburg; Winterfeld himself a man of shining gifts, and character; and one of the handsomest tall men in the world. Mutual love between the Fraulein and him was the rapid result. But how to obtain marriage? Winterfeld cannot marry, without leave had of his superiors: you, fair Malzahn, are Hof-Dame of Princess Elizabeth, all your fortune the jewels you wear; and it is too possible she will not let you go!
“They agreed to be patient, to be silent; to watch warily till Winterfeld got home to Prussia, till the Fraulein Malzahn could
also contrive to get home. Winterfeld once home, and the King’s consent had, the Fraulein applied to Princess Elizabeth for leave of absence: ‘A few months, to see my friends in Deutschland, your Highness!’ Princess Elizabeth looked hard at her; answered evasively this and that. At last, being often importuned, she answered plainly, ‘I almost feel convinced thou wilt never come back!’ Protestations from the Fraulein were not wanting:– ‘Well then,’ said Elizabeth, ‘if thou art so sure of it, leave me thy jewels in pledge. Why not?’ The poor Fraulein could not say why; had to leave her jewels, which were her whole fine fortune, ‘worth 100,000 rubles’ (20,000 pounds); and is now the brave Wife of Winterfeld;–but could never, by direct entreaty or circuitous interest and negotiation, get back the least item of her jewels. Elizabeth, as Princess and as Czarina, was alike deaf on that subject. Now or henceforth that proved an impossible private enterprise for Winterfeld, though he had so easily succeeded in the public one.” [Retzow,
The new Czarina was not unmerciful. Munnich and Company were tried for life; were condemned to die, and did appear on the scaffold (29th January, 1742), ready for that extreme penalty; but were there, on the sudden, pardoned or half-pardoned by a merciful new Czarina, and sent to Siberia and outer darkness. Whither Bieren had preceded them. To outer darkness also, though a milder destiny had been intended them at first, went Anton Ulrich and his Household. Towards native Germany at first; they had got as far as Riga on the way to Germany, but were detained there, for a long while (owing to suspicions, to Botta Plots, or I know not what), till finally they were recalled into Russian exile. Strict enough exile, seclusion about Archangel and elsewhere; in convents, in obscure uncomfortable places:–little Iwan, after vicissitudes, even went underground; grew to manhood, and got killed (partly by accident, not quite by murder), some twenty-three years hence, in his dungeon in the Fortress of Schlusselburg, below the level of the Ladoga waters there. Unluckier Household, which once seemed the luckiest of the world, was never known. Canted suddenly, in this way, from the very top of Fortune’s wheel to the very bottom; never to rise more;–and did not even die, at least not all die, for thirty or forty years after. [Anton Ulrich, not till 15th May, 1775 (two Daughters of his went, after this, to “Horstens, a poor Country- House in Jutland,” whither Catherine II. had manumitted them, with pension;–she had wished Anton Ulrich to go home, many years before; but he would not, from shame).–Iwan had perished 5th August, 1764 (Catherine II. blamed for his death, but without cause); Iwan’s Mother, Princess Anne, (mercifully) 18th March, 1746. See Russian Histories, TOOKE, CASTERA, &c.,–none of which, except MANNSTEIN, is good for much, or to be trusted without scrutiny.]
This is the Chetardie-L’Estoc conspiracy, of 5th December, 1741; the pitching up of Princess Elizabeth, and the pitching down of Anton Ulrich and his Munnichs, who had before pitched Bieren down. After which, matters remained more stationary at Petersburg: Czarina Elizabeth, fat indolent soul, floated with a certain native buoyancy, with something of bulky steadiness, in the turbid plunge of things, and did not sink. On the contrary, her reign, so called, was prosperous, though stupid; her big dark Countries, kindled already into growth, went on growing rather. And, for certain, she herself went on growing, in orthodox devotions of spiritual type (and in strangely heterodox ditto of NONspiritual!); in indolent mansuetudes (fell rages, if you cut on the RAWS at all!); in perpetual incongruity; and, alas, at last, in brandy-and-water, –till, as “INFAME CATIN DU NORD,” she became terribly important to some persons!
At her accession, and for two years following, Czarina Elizabeth, in spite of real disinclination that way, had a War on her hands: the Swedish War (August, 1741-August, 1743), which, after long threatening on the Swedish side, had broken out into unwelcome actuality, in Anton Ulrich’s time; and which could not, with all the Czarina’s industry, be got rid of or staved off; Sweden being bent upon the thing, reason or no reason. War not to be spoken of, except on compulsion, in the most voluminous History! It was the unwisest of wars, we should say, and in practice probably the contemptiblest; if there were not one other Swedish War coming, which vies with it in these particulars, of which we shall be obliged to speak, more or less, at a future stage. Of this present Russian-Swedish war, having happily almost nothing to do with it, we can, except in the way of transient chronology, refrain altogether from speaking or thinking.
Poor Sweden, since it shot Karl XII. in the trenches at Fredericshall, could not get a King again; and is very anarchic under its Phantasm King and free National Palaver,–Senate with subaltern Houses;–which generally has French gold in its pocket, and noise instead of wisdom in its head. Scandalous to think of or behold. The French, desirous to keep Russia in play during these high Belleisle adventures now on foot, had, after much egging, bribing, flattering, persuaded vain Sweden into this War with Russia. “At Narva they were 80,000, we 8,000; and what became of them!” cry the Swedes always. Yes, my friends, but you had a Captain at Narva; you had not yet shot your Captain when you did Narva! “Faction of Hats,” “Faction of Caps” (that is, NIGHT-caps, as being somnolent and disinclined to France and War): seldom did a once-valiant far-shining Nation sink to such depths, since they shot their Captain, and said to Anarchy, “THOU art Captaincy, we see, and the Divine thing!” Of the Wars and businesses of such a set of mortals let us shun speaking, where possible.
Mannstein gives impartial account, pleasantly clear and compact, to such as may be curious about this Swedish-Russian War; and, in the didactic point of view, it is not without value. To us the interesting circumstance is, that it does not interfere with our Silesian operations at all; and may be figured as a mere accompaniment of rumbling discord, or vacant far-off noise, going on in those Northern parts,–to which therefore we hope to be strangers in time coming. Here are some dates, which the reader may take with him, should they chance to illustrate anything:–
“AUGUST 4th, 1741. The Swedes declare War: ‘Will recover their lost portions of Finland, will,’ &c. &c. They had long been meditating it; they had Turk negotiations going on, diligent emissaries to the Turk (a certain Major Sinclair for one, whom the Russians waylaid and assassinated to get sight of his Papers) during the late Turk- Russian War; but could conclude nothing while that was in activity; concluded only after that was done,–striking the iron when grown COLD. A chief point in their Manifesto was the assassination of this Sinclair; scandal and atrocity, of which there is no doubt now the Russians were guilty. Various pretexts for the War:–prime movers to it, practically, were the French, intent on keeping Russia employed while their Belleisle German adventure went on, and who had even bargained with third parties to get up a War there, as we shall see.
“SEPTEMBER 3d, 1741. At Wilmanstrand,–key of Wyborg, their frontier stronghold in Finland, which was under Siege,–the Swedes (about 5,000 of them, for they had nothing to live upon, and lay scattered about in fractions) made fight, or skirmish, against a Russian attacking party: Swedes, rather victorious on their hill- top, rushed down; and totally lost their bit of victory, their Wilmanstrand, their Wyborg, and even the War itself;–for this was, in literal truth, the only fighting done by them in the entire course of it, which lasted near two years more. The rest of it was retreat, capitulation, loss on loss without stroke struck; till they had lost all Finland, and were like to lose Sweden itself,– Dalecarlian mutiny bursting out (‘Ye traitors, misgovernors, worthy of death!’), with invasive Danes to rear of it;–and had to call in the very Russians to save them from worse. Czarina Elizabeth at the time of her accession, six months after Wilmanstrand, had made truce, was eager to make peace: ‘By no means!’ answered Sweden, taking arms again, or rather taking legs again; and rushing ruin-ward, at the old rate, still without stroke.
“JUNE 28th, 1743. They did halt; made Peace of Abo (Truce and Preliminaries signed there, that day: Peace itself, August 17th); Czarina magnanimously restoring most of their Finland (thinking to herself, ‘Not done enough for me yet; cook it a little yet!’);– and settling who their next King was to be, among other friendly things. And in November following, Keith, in his Russian galleys, with some 10,000 Russians on board, arrived in Stockholm; protective against Danes and mutinous Dalecarles: stayed there till June of next year, 1744.” [Adelung, ii. 445. Mannstein, pp. 297 (Wilmanstrand Affair, himself present), 365 (Peace), 373 (Keith’s RETURN with his galleys). Comte de Hordt (present also, on the Swedish side, and subsequently a Soldier of Friedrich’s)
Memoires)
On the Russian side, General Keith, under Field-marshal Lacy as chief in command (the same Keith whom we saw at Oczakow under Munnich, some time ago), had a great deal of the work and management; which was of a highly miscellaneous kind, commanding fleets of gunboats, and much else; and readers of MANNSTEIN can still judge,–much more could King Friedrich, earnestly watching the affair itself as it went on,–whether Keith did not do it in a solid and quietly eminent and valiant manner. Sagacious, skilful, imperturbable, without fear and without noise; a man quietly ever ready. He had quelled, once, walking direct into the heart of it, a ferocious Russian mutiny, or uproar from below, which would have ruined everything in few minutes more. [Mannstein, p. 130 (no date, April-May, 1742.) He suffered, with excellent silence, now and afterwards, much ill-usage from above withal;–till Friedrich himself, in the third year hence, was lucky enough to get him as General. Friedrich’s Sister Ulrique, the marriage of Princess Ulrique,–that also, as it chanced, had something to do with this Peace of Abo. But we anticipate too far.
Chapter IX.
FRIEDRICH RETURNS TO SILESIA.
Friedrich stayed only three weeks at home; moving about, from Berlin to Potsdam, to Reinsberg and back: all the gay world is in Berlin, at this Carnival time; but Friedrich has more to do with business, of a manifold and over-earnest nature, than with Carnival gayeties. French Valori is here, “my fat Valori,” who is beginning to be rather a favorite of Friedrich’s: with Excellency Valori, and with the other Foreign Excellencies, there was diplomatic passaging in these weeks; and we gather from Valori, in the inverse way (Valori fallen sulky), that it was not ill done on Friedrich’s part. He had some private consultation with the Old Dessauer, too; “probably on military points,” thinks Valori. At least there was noticed more of the drill-sergeant than before, in his handling of the Army, when he returned to Silesia, continues the sulky one. “Troops and generals did not know him again,”–so excessively strict was he grown, on the sudden. And truly “he got into details which were beneath, not only a Prince who has great views, but even a simple Captain of Infantry,”–according to my (Valori’s) military notions and experiences! [Valori, i. 99.]–
The truth is, Friedrich begins to see, more clearly than he did with GLOIRE dazzling him, that his position is an exceedingly grave one, full of risk, in the then mood and condition of the world; that he, in the whole world, has no sure friend but his Army; and that in regard to IT he cannot be too vigilant! The world is ominous to this youngest of the Kings more than to another. Sounds as of general Political Earthquake grumble audibly to him from the deeps: all Europe likely, in any event, to get to loggerheads on this Austrian Pragmatic matter; the Nations all watching HIM, to see what he will make of it:–fugleman he to the European Nations, just about bursting up on such an adventure. It may be a glorious position, or a not glorious; but, for certain, it is a dangerous one, and awfully solitary!–
Fuglemen the world and its Nations always have, when simultaneously bent any-whither, wisely or unwisely; and it is natural that the most adventurous spirit take that post. Friedrich has not sought the post; but following his own objects, has got it; and will be ignominiously lost, and trampled to annihilation under the hoofs of the world, if he do not mind! To keep well ahead;–to be rapid as possible; that were good:–to step aside were still better! And Friedrich we find is very anxious for that; “would be content with the Duchy of Glogau, and join Austria;” but there is not the least chance that way. His Special Envoy to Vienna, Gotter, and along with him Borck the regular Minister, are come home; all negotiation hopeless at Vienna; and nothing but indignant war- preparation going on there, with the most animated diligence, and more success than had seemed possible. That is the law of Friedrich’s Silesian Adventure: “Forward, therefore, on these terms; others there are not: waste no words!” Friedrich recognizes to himself what the law is; pushes stiffly forward, with a fine silence on all that is not practical, really with a fine steadiness of hope, and audacity against discouragements. Of his anxieties, which could not well be wanting, but which it is royal to keep strictly under lock and key, of these there is no hint to Jordan or to anybody; and only through accidental chinks, on close scrutiny, can we discover that they exist. Symptom of despondency, of misgiving or repenting about his Enterprise, there is none anywhere, Friedrich’s fine gifts of SILENCE (which go deeper than the lips) are noticeable here, as always; and highly they availed Friedrich in leading his life, though now inconvenient to Biographers writing of the same!–
It was not on matters of drill, as Valori supposes, that Friedrich had been consulting with the Old Dessauer: this time it was on another matter. Friedrich has two next Neighbors greatly interested, none more so, in the Pragmatic Question: Kur-Sachsen, Polish King, a foolish greedy creature, who is extremely uncertain about his course in it (and indeed always continued so, now against Friedrich, now for him, and again against); and Kur-Hanover, our little George of England, whose course is certain as that of the very stars, and direct against Friedrich at this time, as indeed, at all times not exceptional, it is apt to be. Both these Potentates must be attended to, in one’s absence; method to be gentle but effectual; the Old Dessauer to do it:–and this is what these consultings had turned upon; and in a month or two, readers, and an astonished Gazetteer world, will see what comes of them.
It was February 19th when Friedrich left Berlin; the 21st he spends at Glogau, inspecting the Blockade there, and not ill content with the measures taken: “Press that Wallis all you can,” enjoins he: “Hunger seems to be slow about it! Summon him again, were your new Artillery come up; threaten with bombardment; but spare the Town, if possible. Artillery is coming: let us have done here, and soon!” Next day he arrives, not at Breslau as some had expected, but at Schweidnitz sidewards; a strong little Town, at least an elaborately fortified, of which we shall hear much in time coming. It lies a day’s ride west of Breslau: and will be quieter for business than a big gazing Capital would be,–were Breslau even one’s own city; which it is not, though perhaps tending to be. Breslau is in transition circumstances at present; a little uncertain WHOSE it is, under its Munchows and new managers: Breslau he did not visit at all on this occasion. To Schweidnitz certain new regiments had been ordered, there to be disposed of in reinforcing: there, “in the Count Hoberg’s Mansion,” he principally lodges for six weeks to come; shooting out on continual excursions; but always returning to Schweidnitz, as the centre, again.
Algarotti, home from Turin (not much of a success there, but always melodious for talk), had travelled with him; Algarotti, and not long after, Jordan and Maupertuis, bear him company, that the vacant moments too be beautiful. We can fancy he has a very busy, very anxious, but not an unpleasant time. He goes rapidly about, visiting his posts,–chiefly about the Neisse Valley; Neisse being the prime object, were the weather once come for siege-work. He is in many Towns (specified in RODENBECK and the Books, but which may be anonymous here); doubtless on many Steeples and Hill-tops; questioning intelligent natives, diligently using his own eyes: intent to make personal acquaintance with this new Country,–where, little as he yet dreams of it, the deadly struggles of his Life lie waiting him, and which he will know to great perfection before all is done!
Neisse lies deep enough in Prussian environment; like Brieg, like Glogau, strictly blockaded; our posts thereabouts, among the Mountains, thought to be impregnable. Nevertheless, what new thing is this? Here are swarms of loose Hussar-Pandour people, wild Austrian Irregulars, who come pouring out of Glatz Country; disturbing the Prussian posts towards that quarter; and do not let us want for Small War (KLEINE KRIEG) so called. General Browne, it appears, is got back to Glatz at this early season, he and a General Lentulus busy there; and these are the compliments they send! A very troublesome set of fellows, infesting one’s purlieus in winged predatory fashion; swooping down like a cloud of vulturous harpies on the sudden; fierce enough, if the chance favor; then to wing again, if it do not. Communication, especially reconnoitring, is not safe in their neighborhood. Prussian Infantry, even in small parties, generally beats them; Prussian Horse not, but is oftener beaten,–not drilled for this rabble and their ways. In pitched fight they are not dangerous, rather are despicable to the disciplined man; but can, on occasion, do a great deal of mischief.
Thus, it was not long after Friedrich’s coming into these parts, when he learnt with sorrow that a Body of “500 Horse and 500 Foot” (or say it were only 300 of each kind, which is the fact [Orlich, i. 79;
eluded our posts in the Mountains, and actually got into Neisse. “The Foot will be of little consequence,” writes Friedrich; “but the Horse, which will disturb our communications, are a considerable mischief.” This was on the 5th of March. And about a week before, on the 27th of February, there had well-nigh a far graver thing befallen,–namely the capture of Friedrich himself, and the sudden end of all these operations.
SKIRMISH OF BAUMGARTEN, 27th FEBRUARY, 1741.
In most of the Anecdote-Books there used to figure, and still does, insisting on some belief from simple persons, a wonderful Story in very vague condition: How once “in the Silesian Wars,” the King, in those Upper Neisse regions, in the Wartha district between Glatz and Neisse, was, one day, within an inch of being taken,–clouds of Hussars suddenly rising round him, as he rode reconnoitring, with next to no escort, only an adjutant or so in attendance. How he shot away, keeping well in the shade; and erelong whisked into a Convent or Abbey, the beautiful Abbey of Kamenz in those parts; and found Tobias Stusche, excellent Abbot of the place, to whom he candidly disclosed his situation. How the excellent Tobias thereupon instantly ordered the bells to be rung for a mass extraordinary, Monks not knowing why; and, after bells, made his appearance in high costume, much to the wonder of his Monks, with a SECOND Abbot, also in high costume, but of shortish stature, whom they never saw before or after. Which two Abbots, or at least Tobias, proceeded to do the so-called divine office there and then; letting loose the big chant especially, and the growl of organs, in a singularly expressive manner. How the Pandours arrived in clouds meanwhile; entered, in searching parties, more or less reverent of the mass; searched high and low; but found nothing, and were obliged to take Tobias’s blessing at last, and go their ways. How the Second Abbot thereupon swore eternal friendship with Tobias, in the private apartments; and rode off as–as a rescued Majesty, determined to be more cautious in Pandour Countries for the future! [Hildebrandt,
Pandour proper is a FOOT-soldier (tall raw-boned ill-washed biped, in copious Turk breeches, rather barish in the top parts of him; carries a very long musket, and has several pistols and butcher’s- knives stuck in his girdle): specifically a footman; but readers will permit me to use him withal, as here, in the generic sense.]– Which story, as to the body of it, is all myth; though, as is oftenest the case, there lies in it some soul of fact too. The History-Books, which had not much heeded the little fact, would have nothing to do with this account of it. Nevertheless the people stuck to their Myth; so that Dryasdust (in punishment for his sinful blindness to the human and divine significance of facts) was driven to investigate the business; and did at last victoriously bring it home to the small occurrence now called SKIRMISH OF BAUMGARTEN, which had nearly become so great in the History of the World,–to the following effect.
There are two Valleys with roads that lead from that Southwest quarter of Silesia towards Glatz, each with a little Town at the end of it, looking up into it: Wartha the name of the one: Silberberg that of the other. Through the Wartha Valley, which is southernmost, young Neisse River comes rushing down,–the blue mountains thereabouts very pretty, on a clear spring day, says my touring friend. Both at Wartha, and at Silberberg the little Town which looks into the mouth of the northernmost Valley, the Prussians have a post. Old Derschau, Malplaquet Derschau, with headquarters at Frankenstein, some seven or eight miles nearer Schweidnitz, has not failed in that precaution. Friedrich wished to visit Silberberg and Wartha; set out accordingly, 27th February, with small escort, carelessly as usual: the Pandour people had wind of it; knew his habits on such occasions; and, gliding through other roadless valleys, under an adventurous Captain, had determined to whirl him off. And they were in fact not far from succeeding, had not a mistake happened.
Silberberg, and Wartha the southernmost, which stands upon the Neisse River (rushing out there into the plainer country), are each about seven or eight miles from Frankenstein, the Head-quarters; and there are relays of posts, capable of supporting one another, all the way from Frankenstein to each. Friedrich rode to Silberberg first; examined the post, found it right; then rode across to Wartha, seven or eight miles southward; examined Wartha likewise; after which, he sat down to dinner in that little Town, with an Officer or two for company,–having, I suppose, found all right in both the posts. In the way hither, he had made some change in the relay arrangements, which at first involved some diminution of his own escort, and then some marching about and redistributing: so that, externally, it seemed as if the Principal Relay-party were now marching on Baumgarten, an intermediate Village,–at least so the Pandour Captain understands the movements going on; and crouches into the due thickets in consequence, not doubting but the King himself is for Baumgarten, and will be at hand presently. Principal relay-party, a squadron of Schulenburg’s Dragoons, with a stupid Major over them, is not quite got into Baumgarten, when “with horrible cries the Pandour Captain with about 500 horse,” plunges out of cover, direct upon the throat of it: and Friedrich, at Wartha, is but just begun dining when tumult of distant musketry breaks in upon him. With Friedrich himself, at this time, as I count, there might be 150 Horse; in Wartha post itself are at least “forty hussars and fifty foot.” By no means “nothing but a single adjutant,” as the Myth bears.
The stupid Major ought to have beaten this rabble, though above two to one of him. But he could not, though he tried considerably; on the contrary, he was himself beaten; obliged to make off, leaving “ten dragoons killed, sixteen prisoners, one standard and two kettle-drums:”–victorv and all this plunder, ye Pandour gentry; but evidently no King. The Pandour gentry, on the instant, made off too, alarm being abroad; got into some side-valley, with their prisoners and drum-and-standard honors, and vanished from view of mankind.
Friedrich had started from dinner; got his escort under way, with the forty hussars and the fifty foot, and what small force was attainable; and hurried towards the scene. He did see, by the road, another strongish party of Pandours; dashed them across the Neisse River out of sight;–but, getting to Baumgarten, found the field silent, and ten dead men upon it. “I always told you those Schulenburg Dragoons were good for nothing!” writes he to the Old Dessauer; but gradually withal, on comparing notes, finds what a danger he had run, and how rash and foolish he had been. “An ETOURDERIE (foolish trick),” he calls it, writing to Jordan; “a black eye;” and will avoid the like. Vienna got its two kettle- drums and flag; extremely glad to see them; and even sang TE-DEUM upon them, to general edification. [Orlich, i. 62-64.] This is the naked primordial substance out of which the above Myth grew to its present luxuriance in the popular imagination. Place, the little Village of Baumgarten; day, 27th February, 1741. Of Tobias Stusche or the Convent of Kamenz, not one authentic word on this occasion. Tobias did get promotions, favors in coming years: a worthy Abbot, deserving promotion on general grounds; and master of a Convent very picturesque, but twelve miles from the present scene of action.
ASPECTS OF BRESLAU.
Friedrich avoided visiting Breslau, probably for the reasons above given; though there are important interests of his there, especially his chief Magazine; and issues of moment are silently working forward. Here are contemporary Excerpts (in abridged form), which are authentic, and of significance to a lively reader:–
“BRESLAU, MIDDLE OF JANUARY, 1741. The Prussian Envoy, Herr von Gotter, had appeared here, returning from Vienna; Gotter, and then Borck, who made no secret in Breslau society, That not the slightest hope of a peaceable result existed, as society might have flattered itself; but that war and battle would have to decide this matter. A Saxon Ambassador was also here, waiting some time; message thought to be insignificant:–probably some vague admonitory stuff again from Kur-Sachsen (Polish King, son of August the Strong, a very insignificant man), who acts as REICHS-VICARIUS in those Northern parts.” For the reader is to know, there are Reichs-Vicars more than one (nay more than two on this occasion, with considerable jarring going on about them); and I could say much about their dignities, limits, duties, [Adelung, ii. 143, &c.; Kohler,
indeed there were any duties, except dramatic ones! But the Reich itself, and Vicarship along with it, are fallen into a nearly imaginary condition; and the Regensburg Diet (not Princes now, but mere Delegates of Princes, mostly Bombazine People), which, “ever since 1663,” has sat continual, instead of now and then, is become an Enchanted Piggery, strange to look upon, under those earnest stars. “As King Friedrich did not call at Greslau,” after those Neisse bombardments, but rolled past, straight homewards, the three Excellencies all departed,–Borck and Gotter to Berlin, the Saxon home again with his insignificant message.
“JANUARY 19th. Schwerin too was here in the course of the winter, to see how the magazines and other war-preparations were going on: Breslau outwardly and inwardly is whirling with business, and offers phenomena. For instance, it is known that the Army-Chest, heaps of silver and gold in it, lies in the Scultet Garden-House, where the King lodged; and that only one sentry walks there, and that in the guard-house itself, which is some way off, there are only thirty men. January 19th, about 9 of the clock, [
That 2,000 DIEBS-GESINDEL (Collective Thief-rabble of Breslau and dependencies) are close by; intending a stroke upon said Garden- House and Army-Chest! Perhaps this rumor sprang of its own accord; –or perhaps not quite? It had been very rife; and ran high; not without remonstrances in Town-Hall, and the like, which we can imagine. Issue was, The Officer on post at Scultet’s loaded his treasure in carts; conveyed it, that same night, to the interior of the City, in fact to the OBERAMTS-HAUS (Government-House that was); –which doubtless was a step in the right direction. For now the Two Feld-Kriegs-Commissariat Gentlemen (one of whom is the expert Munchow, son of our old Custrin friend), supreme Prussian Authorities here, do likewise shift out of their inns; and take old Schaffgotsch’s apartments in the same Oberamts-Haus; mutely symbolling that perhaps THEY are likely to become a kind of Government. And the reader can conceive how, in such an element, the function of governing would of itself fall more and more into their hands. They were consummately polite, discreet, friendly towards all people; and did in effect manage their business, tax- gatherings in money and in kind, with a perfection and precision which made the evil a minimum.
“FEBRUARY 17th. … This day also, there arrived at Breslau, by boat up the Oder, ten heavy cannon, three mortars, and ammunition of powder, bombshells, balls, as much as loaded fifty wagons; the whole of which were, in like manner, forwarded to Ohlau. This day, as on other days before and after. Great Magazines forming here; the Military chiefly at Ohlau; at Breslau the Provender part,–and this latter under noteworthy circumstances. In the Dom-Island, namely; which is definable (in a case of such necessity) as being ‘outside the walls.’ Especially as the Reverend Fathers have mostly glided into corners, and left the place vacant. In the Dom-Island, it certainly is; and such a stock,–all bought for money down, and spurred forward while the roads were under frost,–‘such a stock as was not thought to be in all Silesia,’ says exaggerative wonder. The vacant edifices in the Dom-Island are filled to the neck with meal and corn; the Prussian brigade now quartering there (‘without the walls,’ in a sense) to guard the same. And in the Bishop’s Garden [poor Sinzendorf, far enough away and in no want of it just now] are mere hay-mows, bigger than houses: who can object,–in a case of necessity? No man, unless he politically meddle, is meddled with; politically meddling, you are at once picked up; as one or two are,–clapped into gentle arrest, or, like old Schaffgotsch, and even Sinzendorf before long, requested to leave the Country till it get settled. Rigor there is, but not intentional injustice on Munchow’s part, and there is a studious avoidance of harsh manner.
“FEBRUARY-MARCH. Considerable recruiting in Schlesien: six hundred recruits have enlisted in Breslau alone. Also his Prussian Majesty has sent a supply of Protestant Preachers, ordained for the occasion, to minister where needed;–which is piously acknowledged as a godsend in various parts of Silesia. Twelve came first, all Berliners; soon afterwards, others from different parts, till, in the end, there were about Sixty in all. Rigorous, punctilious avoidance of offence to the Catholic minorities, or of whatever least thing Silesian Law does not permit, is enjoined upon them; ‘to preach in barns or town-halls, where by Law you have no Church.’ Their salary is about 30 pounds a year; they are all put under supervision of the Chaplain of Margraf Karl’s Regiment” (a judicious Chaplain, I have no doubt, and fit to be a Bishop); and so far as appears, mere benefit is got of them by Schlesien as well as by Friedrich, in this function. Friedrich is careful to keep the balance level between Catholic and Protestant; but it has hung at such an angle, for a long while past! In general, we observe the Catholic Dignitaries, and the zealous or fanatic of that creed, especially the Jesuits, are apt to be against him: as for the non-fanatic, they expect better government, secular advantage; these latter weigh doubtfully, and with less weight whichever way. In the general population, who are Protestant, he recognizes friends;–and has sent them Sixty Preachers, which by Law was their due long since. Here follow two little traits, comic or tragi-comic, with which we can conclude:–
“Detached Jesuit parties, here and there, seem to have mischief in hand in a small way, encouraging deserters and the like;–and we keep an eye on them. No discontent elsewhere, at least none audible; on the contrary, much enlisting on the part of the Silesian youth, with other good symptoms. But in the Dom, there is, singular to say, a Goblin found walking, one night;–advancing, not with airs from Heaven, upon the Prussian sentry there! The Prussian sentry handles arms; pokes determinedly into the Goblin, and finding him solid, ever more determinedly, till the Goblin shrieked ‘Jesus Maria!’ and was hauled to the Guard-house for investigation.” A weak Goblin; doubtless of the valet kind; worth only a little whipping; but testifies what the spirit is.
“Another time, two deserter Frenchmen getting hanged [such the law in aggravated cases], certain polite Jesuits, who had by permission been praying and extreme-unctioning about them, came to thank the Colonel after all was over. Colonel, a grave practical man, needs no ‘thanks;’ would, however, ‘advise your Reverences to teach your people that perjury is not permissible, that an oath sworn ought to be kept;’ and in fine ‘would advise you Holy Fathers hereabouts, and others, to have a care lest you get into’–And twitching his reins, rode away without saying into what.” [
Geschichte,
AUSTRIA IS STANDING TO ARMS.
Schwerin has been doing his best in this interim; collecting magazines with double diligence while the roads are hard, taking up the Key-positions far and wide, from the Jablunka round to the Frontier Valleys of Glatz again. He was through Jablunka, at one time; on into Mahren, as far as Olmutz; levying contributions, emitting patents: but as to intimidating her Hungarian Majesty, if that was the intention, or changing her mind at all, that is not the issue got. Austria has still strength, and Pragmatic Sanction and the Laws of Nature have! Very fixed is her Hungarian Majesty’s determination, to part with no inch of Territory, but to drive the intrusive Prussians home well punished.
How she has got the funds is, to this day, a mystery;–unless George and Walpole, from their Secret-Service Moneys, have smuggled her somewhat.? For the Parliament is not sitting, and there will be such jargonings, such delays: a preliminary 100,000 pounds, say by degrees 200,000 pounds,–we should not miss it, and in her Majesty’s hands it would go far! Hints in the English Dryasdust we have; but nothing definite; and we are left to our guesses. [Tindal (XX. 497) says expressly 200,000 pounds, but gives no date or other particular.] A romantic story, first set current by Voltaire, has gone the round of the world, and still appears in all Histories: How in England there was a Subscription set on foot for her Hungarian Majesty; outcome of the enthusiasm of English Ladies of quality,–old Sarah Duchess of Marlborough putting down her name for 40,000 pounds, or indeed putting down the ready sum itself; magnanimous veteran that she was. Voltaire says, omitting date and circumstance, but speaking as if it were indubitable, and a thing you could see with eyes: “The Duchess of Marlborough, widow of him who had fought for Karl VI. [and with such signal returns of gratitude from the said Karl VI.], assembled the principal Ladies of London; who engaged to furnish 100,000 pounds among them; the Duchess herself putting down [EN DEPOSA, tabling IN CORPORE] 40,000 pounds of it. The Queen of Hungary had the greatness of soul to refuse this money;–needing only, as she intimated, what the Nation in Parliament assembled might please to offer her.” [Voltaire,
xxviii. 79.]
One is sorry to run athwart such a piece of mutual magnanimity; but the fact is, on considering a little and asking evidence, it turns out to be mythical. One Dilworth, an innocent English soul (from whom our grandfathers used to learn ARITHMETIC, I think), writing on the spot some years after Voltaire, has this useful passage: “It is the great failing of a strong imagination to catch greedily at wonders. Voltaire was misinformed; and would perhaps learn, by a second inquiry, a truth less splendid and amusing. A Contribution was, by News-writers upon their own authority, fruitlessly proposed. It ended in nothing: the Parliament voted a supply;”–that did it, Mr. Dilworth; supplies enough, and many of them! “Fruitlessly, by News-writers on their own authority;” that is the sad fact. [
Frederick III.
It is certain, little George, who considers Pragmatic Sanction as the Keystone of Nature in a manner, has been venturing far deeper than purse for that adorable object; and indeed has been diving, secretly, in muddier waters than we expected, to a dangerous extent, on behalf of it, at this very time. In the first days of March, Friedrich has heard from his Minister at Petersburg of a DETESTABLE PROJECT, [Orlich, i. 83 (scrap of Note to Old Dessauer; no date allowed us; “early in March”).]–project for “Partitioning the Prussian Kingdom,” no less; for fairly cutting into Friedrich, and paring him down to the safe pitch, as an enemy to Pragmatic and mankind. They say, a Treaty, Draught of a Treaty, for that express object, is now ready; and lies at Petersburg, only waiting signature. Here is a Project! Contracting parties (Russian signature still wanting) are: Kur-Sachsen; her Hungarian Majesty; King George; and that Regent Anne (MRS. Anton Ulrich, so to speak), who sits in a huddle of undress, impatient of Political objects, but sensible to the charms of handsome men. To the charms of Count Lynar, especially: the handsomest of Danish noblemen (more an ancient Roman than a Dane), whom the Polish Majesty, calculating cause and effect, had despatched to her, with that view, in the dead of winter lately. To whom she has given ear;–dismissing her Munnich, as we saw above;–and is ready for signing, or perhaps has signed! [
Friedrich’s astonishment, on hearing of this “detestable Project,” was great. However, he takes his measures on it;–right lucky that he has the Old Dessauer, and machinery for acting on Kur-Sachsen and the Britannic Majesty. “Get your machinery in gear!” is naturally his first order. And the Old Dessauer does it, with effect: of which by and by.
Never did I hear, before or since, of such a plunge into the muddy unfathomable, on the part of little George, who was an honorable creature, and dubitative to excess: and truly this rash plunge might have cost him dear, had not he directly scrambled out again. Or did Friedrich exaggerate to himself his Uncle’s real share in the matter? I always guess, there had been more of loose talk, of hypothesis and fond hope, in regard to George’s share, than of determinate fact or procedure on his own part. The transaction, having had to be dropped on the sudden, remains somewhat dark; but, in substance, it is not doubtful; [Tindal, xx. 497.] and Parliament itself took afterwards to poking into it, though with little effect. Kur-Sachsen’s objects in the adventure were of the earth, earthy; but on George’s part it was pure adoration of Pragmatic Sanction, anxiety for the Keystone of Nature, and lest Chaos come again. In comparison with such transcendent divings, what is a little Secret-Service money!–
The Count Lynar of this adventure, who had well-nigh done such a feat in Diplomacy, may turn up transiently again. A conspicuous, more or less ridiculous person of those times. Busching (our Geographical friend) had gone with him, as Excellency’s Chaplain, in this Russian Journey; which is a memorable one to Busching; and still presents vividly, through his Book, those haggard Baltic Coasts in midwinter, to readers who have business there. Such a journey for grimness of outlook, upon pine-tufts and frozen sand; for cold (the Count’s very tobacco-pipe freezing in his mouth), for hardship, for bad lodging, and extremity of dirt in the unfreezable kinds, as seldom was. They met, one day on the road, a Lord Hyndford, English Ambassador just returning from Petersburg, with his fourgons and vehicles, and arrangements for sleep and victual, in an enviably luxurious condition,–whom we shall meet, to our cost. They saw, in the body, old Field-marshal Lacy, and dined with him, at Riga; who advised brandy schnapps; a recipe rejected by Busching. And other memorabilia, which by accident hang about this Lynar. [Busching,
All through Regent Anne’s time he continued a dangerous object to Friedrich; and it was a relief when Elizabeth CATIN became Autocrat, instead of Deshabille Anne and her Lynar. Adieu to him, for fifteen years or more.
Of Friedrich’s military operations, of his magazines, posts, diligent plannings and gallopings about, in those weeks; of all this the reader can form some notion by looking on the map and remembering what has gone before: but that subterranean growling which attended him, prophetic of Earthquake, that universal breaking forth of Bedlams, now fallen so extinct, no reader can imagine. Bedlams totally extinct to everybody; but which were then very real, and raged wide as the world, high as the stars, to a hideous degree among the then sons of men;–unimaginable now by any mortal.
And, alas, this is one of the grand difficulties for my readers and me; Friedrich’s Life-element having fallen into such a dismal condition. Most dismal, dark, ugly, that Austrian-Succession Business, and its world-wide battlings, throttlings and intriguings: not Dismal Swamp, under a coverlid of London Fog, could be uglier! A Section of “History” so called, which human nature shrinks from; of which the extant generation already knows nothing, and is impatient of hearing anything! Truly, Oblivion is very due to such an Epoch: and from me far be it to awaken, beyond need, its sordid Bedlams, happily extinct. But without Life- element, no Life can be intelligible; and till Friedrich and one or two others are extricated from it, Dismal Swamp cannot be quite filled in. Courage, reader!–Our Constitutional Historian makes this farther reflection:–
“English moneys, desperate Russian intrigues, Treaties made and Treaties broken–If instead of Pragmatic Sanction with eleven Potentates guaranteeing, Maria Theresa had at this time had 200,000 soldiers and a full treasury (as Prince Eugene used to advise the late Kaiser), how different might it have been with her, and with the whole world that fell upon one another’s throats in her quarrel! Some eight years of the most disastrous War; and except the falling of Silesia to its new place, no result gained by it. War at any rate inevitable, you object? English-Spanish War having been obliged to kindle itself; French sure to fall in, on the Spanish side; sure to fall upon Hanover, so soon as beaten at sea, and thus to involve all Europe? Well, it is too likely. But, even in that case, the poor English would have gone upon their necessary Spanish War, by the direct road and with their eyes open, instead of somnambulating and stumbling over the chimney-tops; and the settlement might have come far sooner, and far cheaper to mankind. –Nay, we are to admit that the new place for Silesia was, likewise, the place appointed it by just Heaven; and Friedrich’s too was a necessary War. Heaven makes use of Shadow-hunting Kaisers too; and its ways in this mad world are through the great Deep.”
THE YOUNG DESSAUER CAPTURES GLOGAU (MARCH 9th); THE OLD DESSAUER, BY HIS CAMP OF GOTTIN (APRIL 2d), CHECKMATES CERTAIN DESIGNING PERSONS.
Money somewhere her Hungarian Majesty has got; that is one thing evident. She has an actual Army on foot, “drawn out of Italy,” or whence she could; formidable Army, says rumor, and getting well equipped;–and here are the Pandour Precursors of it, coming down like storm-clouds through the Glatz valleys;–nearly finishing the War for her at a stroke, the other day, had accident favored;–and have thrown reinforcement of 600 into Neisse. Friedrich is not insensible to these things; and amid such alarms from far and from near, is becoming eager to have, at least, Glogau in his hand. Glogau, he is of opinion, could now, and should, straightway be done.
Glogau is not a strong place; after all the repairing, it could stand little siege, were we careless of hurting it. But Wallis is obstinate; refuses Free Withdrawal; will hold out to the uttermost, though his meal is running low. He pretends there is relief coming; relief just at hand; and once, in midnight time, “lets off a rocket and fires six guns,” alarming Prince Leopold as if relief were just in the neighborhood. A tough industrious military man; stiff to his purpose, and not without shift.
Friedrich thinks the place might be had by assault: “Open trenches; set your batteries going, which need not injure the Town; need only alarm Wallis, and TERRIFY it; then, under cover of this noise and feint of cannonading, storm with vigor.” Leopold, the Young Dessauer, is cautious; wants petards if he must storm, wants two new battalions if he must open trenches;–he gets these requisites, and is still cunctatory. Friedrich has himself got the notion, “from clear intelligence,” true or not, that relief to Glogau is actually on way; and under such imminences, Russian and other, in so ticklish a state of the world, he becomes more and more impatient that this thing were done. In the first week of March, still hurrying about on inspection-business, he writes, from four or five different places (“Mollwitz near Brieg” is one of them, a Village we shall soon know better), Note after Note to Leopold; who still makes difficulties, and is not yet perfect to the last finish in his preparations. “Preparations!” answers Friedrich impatiently (date MOLLWITZ, 5th MARCH, the third or fourth impatient Note he has sent); and adds, just while quitting Mollwitz for Ohlau, this Postscript in his own hand:–
P.S. “I am sorry you have not understood me! They have, in Bohmen, a regular enterprise on hand for the rescue of Glogau. I have Infantry enough to meet them; but Cavalry is quite wanting. You must therefore, without delay, begin the siege. Let us finish there, I pray you!” [Orlich, i. 70.]
And next day, Monday 6th, to cut the matter short, he despatches his General-Adjutant Goltz in person (the distance is above seventy miles), with this Note wholly in autograph, which nothing vocal on Leopold’s part will answer:–
“OHLAU, 6th MARCH. As I am certainly informed that the Enemy will make some attempt, I hereby with all distinctness command, That, so soon as the petards are come [which they are], you attack Glogau. And you must make your Arrangement (DISPOSITION) for more than one attack; so that if one fail, the other shall certainly succeed. I hope you will put off no longer;–otherwise the blame of all the mischief that might arise out of longer delay must lie on you alone.” [Ib. i. 71.]
Goltz arrived with this emphatic Piece, Tuesday Evening, after his course of seventy miles: this did at last rouse our cautious Young Dessauer; and so there is next obtainable, on much compression, the following authentic Excerpt:–
“GLOGAU, 8th MARCH, 1741. His Durchlaucht the Prince Leopold summoned all the Generals at noon; and informed them That, this very night, Glogau must be won. He gave them their Instructions in writing: where each was to post himself; with what detachments; how to proceed. There are to be three Attacks: one up stream, coming on with the River to its right; one down stream, River to its left; and a third from the landward side, perpendicular to the other two. The very captains that shall go foremost are specified; at what hour each is to leave quarters, so that all be ready simultaneously, waiting in the posts assigned;–against what points to advance out of these, and storm Rampart and Wall. Places, times, particulars, everything is fixed with mathematical exactitude: ‘Be steady, be correct, especially be silent; and so far as Law of Nature will permit, be simultaneous! When the big steeple of Glogau peals Midnight,–Forward, with the first stroke; with the second, much more with the twelfth stroke, be one and all of you, in the utmost silence, advancing! And, under pain of death, two things: Not one shot till you are in; No plundering when you are.’–In this manner is the silent three-sided avalanche to be let go. Whereupon”, says my Dryasdust, “the Generals retired; and had, for one item, their fire-arms all cleaned and new-loaded.” [
Without plans of Glogau, and more detail and study than the reader would consent to, there can no Narrative be given. Glogau has Ramparts, due Ring-fence, palisaded and repaired by Wallis; inside of this is an old Town-Wall, which will need petards: there are about 1,000 men under Wallis, and altogether on the works, not to count a mortar or two, fifty-eight big guns. The reader must conceive a poor Town under blockade, in the wintry night-time, with its tough Count Wallis; ill-off for the necessaries of life; Town shrouded in darkness, and creeping quietly to its bed. This on the one hand: and on the other hand, Prussian battalions marching up, at 10 o’clock or later, with the utmost softness of step; “taking post behind the ordinary field- watches;” and at length, all standing ranked, in the invisible dark; silent, like machinery, like a sleeping avalanche: Husht!– No sentry from the walls dreams of such a thing. “Twelve!” sings out the steeple of Glogau; and in grim whisper the word is, “VORWARTS!” and the three-winged avalanche is in motion.
They reach their glacises, their ditches, covered ways, correct as mathematics; tear out chevaux-de-frise, hew down palisades, in the given number of minutes: Swift, ye Regiment’s-carpenters; smite your best! Four cannon-shot do now boom out upon them; which go high over their heads, little dreaming how close at hand they are. The glacis is thirty feet high, of stiff slope, and slippery with frost: no matter, the avalanche, led on by Leopold in person, by Margraf Karl the King’s Cousin, by Adjutant Goltz and the chief personages, rushes up with strange impetus; hews down a second palisade; surges in;–Wallis’s sentries extinct, or driven to their main guards. There is a singular fire in the besieging party. For example, Four Grenadiers,–I think of this First Column, which succeeded sooner, certainly of the Regiment Glasenapp,–four grenadiers, owing to slippery or other accidents, in climbing the glacis, had fallen a few steps behind the general body; and on getting to the top, took the wrong course, and rushed along rightward instead of leftward. Rightward, the first thing they come upon is a mass of Austrians still ranked in arms; fifty-two men, as it turned out, with their Captain over them. Slight stutter ensues on the part of the Four Grenadiers; but they give one another the hint, and dash forward: “Prisoners?” ask they sternly, as if all Prussia had been at their rear. The fifty-two, in the darkness, in the danger and alarm, answer “Yes.”–“Pile arms, then!” Three of the grenadiers stand to see that done; the fourth runs off for force, and happily gets back with it before the comedy had become tragic for his comrades. “I must make acquaintance with these four men,” writes Friedrich, on hearing of it; and he did reward them by present, by promotion to sergeantcy (to ensigncy one of them), or what else they were fit for. Grenadiers of Glasenapp: these are the men Friedrich heard swearing-in under his window, one memorable morning when he burst into tears! At half-past Twelve, the Ramparts, on all sides, are ours.
The Gates of the Town, under axe and petard, can make little resistance, to Leopold’s Column or the other two. A hole is soon cut in the Town-Gate, where Leopold is; and gallant Wallis, who had rallied behind it, with his Artillery-General and what they could get together, fires through the opening, kills four men; but is then (by order, and not till then) fired upon, and obliged to draw back, with his Artillery-General mortally hurt. Inside he attempts another rally, some 200 with him; and here and there perhaps a house-window tries to give shot; but it is to no purpose, not the least stand can be made. Poor Wallis is rapidly swept back, into the Market-place, into the Main Guard-house; and there piles arms: “Glogau yours, Ihr Herren, and we prisoners of War!” The steeple had not yet quite struck One. Here has been a good hour’s-work!
Glogau, as in a dream, or half awake, and timidly peeping from behind window-curtains, finds that it is a Town taken. Glogau easily consoles itself, I hear, or even is generally glad; Prussian discipline being so perfect, and ingress now free for the necessaries of life. There was no plundering; not the least insult: no townsman was hurt; not even in houses where soldiers had tried firing from windows. The Prussian Battalions rendezvous in the Market-place, and go peaceably about their patrolling, and other business; and meddle with nothing else. They lost, in killed, ten men; had of killed and wounded, forty-eight; the Austrians rather more. [Orlich, i. 75, 78;
i. 829; irreconcilable otherwise, in some slight points.] Wallis was to have been set free on parole; but was not,–in retaliation for some severity of General Browne’s in the interim (picking up of two Silesian Noblemen, suspected of Prussian tendency, and locking them in Brunn over the Hills),–and had to go to Berlin, till that was repaired. To the wounded Artillery-General there was every tenderness shown, but he died in few days.–The other Prisoners were marched to the Custrin-Stettin quarter; “and many of them took Prussian service.”
And this is the Scalade of Glogau: a shining feat of those days; which had great rumor in the Gazettes, and over all the then feverish Nations, though it has now fallen dim again, as feats do. Its importance at that time, its utility to Friedrich’s affairs, was undeniable; and it filled Friedrich with the highest satisfaction, and with admiration to overflowing. Done 9th March, 1741; in one hour, the very earliest of the day.