into the Tyrol, without fighting, or event mentionable thenceforth.
“This is the Kaiser’s War of two Campaigns, in the Italian, which was the decisive part of it: a continual Being Beaten, as the reader sees; a Being Stript, till one was nearly bare in that quarter.”
COURSE OF THE WAR, IN THE GERMAN PART OF IT.
In Germany the mentionable events are still fewer; and indeed, but for one small circumstance binding on us, we might skip them altogether. For there is nothing comfortable in it to the human memory otherwise.
Marechal Duc de Berwick, a cautious considerable General (Marlborough’s Nephew, on what terms is known to readers), having taken Kehl and plundered the Swabian outskirts last Winter, had extensive plans of operating in the heart of Germany, and ruining the Kaiser there. But first he needs, and the Kaiser is aware of it, a “basis on the Rhine;” free bridge over the Rhine, not by Strasburg and Kehl alone: and for this reason, he will have to besiege and capture Philipsburg first of all. Strong Town of Philipsburg, well down towards Speyer-and-Heidelberg quarter on the German side of the Rhine: [See map] here will be our bridge. Lorraine is already occupied, since the first day of the War; Trarbach, strong-place of the Moselle and Electorate of Trier, cannot be difficult to get? Thus were the Rhine Country, on the French side, secure to France; and so Berwick calculates he will have a basis on the Rhine, from which to shoot forth into the very heart of the Kaiser.
Berwick besieged Philipsburg accordingly (Summer and Autumn); Kaiser doing his feeble best to hinder: at the Siege, Berwick lost his life, but Philipsburg surrendered to his successor, all the same;–Kaiser striving to hinder; but in a most paralyzed manner, and to no purpose whatever. And–and this properly WAS the German War; the sum of all done in it during those two years.
Seizure of Nanci (that is, of Lorraine), seizure of Kehl we already heard of; then, prior to Philipsburg, there was siege or seizure of Trarbach by the French; and, posterior to it, seizure of Worms by them; and by the Germans there was “burning of a magazine in Speyer by bombs.” And, in brief, on both sides, there was marching and manoeuvring under various generals (our old rusty Seckendorf one of them), till the end of 1735, when the Italian decision arrived, and Truce and Peace along with it; but there was no other action worth naming, even in the Newspapers as a wonder of nine days, The Siege of Philipsburg, and what hung flickering round that operation, before and after, was the sum-total of the German War.
Philipsburg, key of the Rhine in those parts, has had many sieges; nor would this one merit the least history from us; were it not for one circumstance: That our Crown-Prince was of the Opposing Army, and made his first experience of arms there. A Siege of Philipsburg slightly memorable to us, on that one account. What Friedrich did there, which in the military way was as good as nothing; what he saw and experienced there, which, with some “eighty Princes of the Reich,” a Prince Eugene for General, and three months under canvas on the field, may have been something: this, in outline, by such obscure indications as remain, we would fain make conceivable to the reader. Indications, in the History- Books, we have as good as none; but must gather what there is from WILHELMINA and the Crown-Prince’s LETTERS,–much studying to be brief, were it possible!
Chapter X.
CROWN-PRINCE GOES TO THE RHINE CAMPAIGN,
The Kaiser–with Kehl snatched from him, the Rhine open, and Louis XV. singing TE DEUM in the Christmas time for what Villars in Italy had done–applied, in passionate haste, to the Reich. The Reich, though Fleury tried to cajole it, and apologize for taking Kehl from it, declares for the Kaiser’s quarrel; War against France on his behalf; [13th March, 1734 (Buchholz, i. 131).]–it was in this way that Friedrich Wilhelm and our Crown-Prince came to be concerned in the Rhine Campaign. The Kaiser will have a Reich’s-Army (were it good for much, as is not likely) to join to his own Austrian one. And if Prince Eugene, who is Reich’s-Feldmarschall, one of the TWO Feldmarschalls, get the Generalship as men hope, it is not doubted but there will be great work on the Rhine, this Summer of 1734.
Unhappily the Reich’s-Army, raised from–multifarious contingents, and guided and provided for by many heads, is usually good for little. Not to say that old Kur-Pfalz, with an eye to French help in the Berg-and-Julich matter; old Kur-Pfalz, and the Bavarian set (KUR-BAIERN and KUR-KOLN, Bavaria and Cologne, who are Brothers, and of old cousinship to Kur-Pfalz),–quite refuse their contingents; protest in the Diet, and openly have French leanings. These are bad omens for the Reich’s-Army. And in regard to the Reich’s-Feldmarschall Office, there also is a difficulty. The Reich, as we hinted, keeps two supreme Feldmarschalls; one Catholic, one Protestant, for equilibrium’s sake; illustrious Prince Eugenio von Savoye is the Catholic;–but as to the Protestant, it is a difficulty worth observing for a moment.
Old Duke Eberhard Ludwig of Wurtemberg, the unfortunate old gentleman bewitched by the Gravenitz “Deliver us from evil,” used to be the Reich’s-Feldmarschall of Protestant persuasion;– Commander-in-Chief for the Reich, when it tried fighting. Old Eberhard had been at Blenheim, and had marched up and down: I never heard he was much of a General; perhaps good enough for the Reich, whose troops were always bad. But now that poor Duke, as we intimated once or more, is dead; there must be, of Protestant type, a new Reich’s-Feldmasschall had. One Catholic, unequalled among Captains, we already have; but where is the Protestant, Duke Eberhard being dead?
Duke Eberhard’s successor in Wurtemberg, Karl Alexander by name, whom we once dined with at Prag on the Kladrup journey, he, a General of some worth, would be a natural person. Unluckily Duke Karl Alexander had, while an Austrian Officer and without outlooks upon Protestant Wurtemberg, gone over to Papacy, and is now Catholic. “Two Catholic Feldmarschalls!” cries the CORPUS EVANGELICORUM; “that will never do!”
Well, on the other or Protestant side there appear two Candidates; one of them not much expected by the reader: no other than Ferdinand Duke of Brunswick-Bevern, our Crown-Prince’s Father-in- law; whom we knew to be a worthy man, but did not know to be much of a soldier, or capable of these ambitious views. He is Candidate First. Then there is a Second, much more entitled: our gunpowder friend the Old Dessauer; who, to say nothing of his soldier qualities, has promises from the Kaiser,–he surely were the man, if it did not hurt other people’s feelings. But it surely does and will. There is Ferdinand of Bevern applying upon the score of old promises too. How can people’s feelings be saved? Protestants these two last: but they cannot both have it; and what will Wurtemberg say to either of them? The Reich was in very great affliction about this preliminary matter. But Friedrich Wilhelm steps in with a healing recipe: “Let there be four Reich’s- Feldmarschalls,” said Friedrich Wilhelm; “two Protestant and two Catholic: won’t that do?”–Excellent! answers the Reich: and there are four Feldmarschalls for the time being; no lack of commanders to the Reich’s-Army. Brunswick-Bevern tried it first; but only till Prince Eugene were ready, and indeed he had of himself come to nothing before that date. Prince Eugene next; then Karl Alexander next; and in fact they all might have had a stroke at commanding, and at coming to nothing or little,–only the Old Dessauer sulked at the office in this its fourfold state, and never would fairly have it, till, by decease of occupants, it came to be twofold again. This glimpse into the distracted effete interior of the poor old Reich and its Politics, with friends of ours concerned there, let it be welcome to the reader. [
Ranfft), p. 127; Buchholz, i. 131.]
Friedrich Wilhelm was without concern in this War, or in what had led to it. Practical share in the Polish Election (after that preliminary theoretic program of the Kaiser’s and Czarina’s went to smoke) Friedrich Wilhelm steadily refused to take: though considerable offers were made him on both sides,–offer of West Preussen (Polish part of Prussia, which once was known to us) on the French side. [By De la Chetardie, French Ambassador at Berlin (Buchholz, i. 130).] But his primary fixed resolution was to stand out of the quarrel; and he abides by that; suppresses any wishes of his own in regard to the Polish Election;–keeps ward on his own frontiers, with good military besom in hand, to sweep it out again if it intruded there. “What King you like, in God’s name; only don’t come over my threshold with his brabbles and him!”
But seeing the Kaiser got into actual French War, with the Reich consenting, he is bound, by Treaty of old date (date older than WUSTERHAUSEN, though it was confirmed on that famous occasion), “To assist the Kaiser with ten thousand men;” and this engagement he intends amply to fulfil. No sooner, therefore, had the Reich given sure signs of assenting (“Reich’s assent” is the condition of the ten thousand), than Friedrich Wilhelm’s orders were out, “Be in readiness!” Friedrich Wilhelm, by the time of the Reich’s actual assent, or Declaration of War on the Kaiser’s behalf, has but to lift his finger: squadrons and battalions, out of Pommern, out of Magdeburg, out of Preussen, to the due amount, will get on march whitherward you bid, and be with you there at the day you indicate, almost at the hour. Captains, not of an imaginary nature, these are always busy; and the King himself is busy over them. From big guns and wagon-horses down to gun-flints and gaiter-straps, all is marked in registers; nothing is wanting, nothing out of its place at any time, in Friedrich Wilhelm’s Army.
From an early period, the French intentions upon Philipsburg might be foreseen or guessed: and in the end of March, Marechal Berwick, “in three divisions,” fairly appears in that quarter; his purpose evident. So that the Reich’s-Army, were it in the least ready, ought to rendezvous, and reinforce the handful of Austrians there. Friedrich Wilhelm’s part of the Reich’s-Army does accordingly straightway get on march; leaves Berlin, after the due reviewing, “8th April:” [Fassmann, p. 495.] eight regiments of it, three of Horse and five of Foot, Goltz Foot-regiment one of them;– a General Roder, unexceptionable General, to command in chief;– and will arrive, though the farthest off, “first of all the Reich’s-Contingents;” 7th of June, namely. The march, straight south, must be some four hundred miles.
Besides the Official Generals, certain high military dignitaries, Schulenburg, Bredow, Majesty himself at their head, propose to go as volunteers;–especially the Crown-Prince, whose eagerness is very great, has got liberty to go. “As volunteer” he too: as Colonel of Goltz, it might have had its unsuitabilities, in etiquette and otherwise. Few volunteers are more interested than the Crown-Prince. Watching the great War-theatre uncurtain itself in this manner, from Dantzig down to Naples; and what his own share in it shall be: this, much more than his Marriage, I suppose, has occupied his thoughts since that event. Here out of Ruppin, dating six or seven weeks before the march of the Ten Thousand, is a small sign, one among many, of his outlooks in this matter. Small Note to his Cousin, Margraf Heinrich, the ill- behaved Margraf, much his comrade, who is always falling into scrapes; and whom he has just, not without difficulty, got delivered out of something of the kind. [
Frederic,
“RUPPIN. 23d FEBRUARY, 1734. MY DEAR BROTHER,–I can with pleasure answer that the King hath spoken of thee altogether favorably to me [scrape now abolished, for the time]:–and I think it would not have an ill effect, wert thou to apply for leave to go with the ten thousand whom he is sending to the Rhine, and do the Campaign with them as volunteer. I am myself going with that corps; so I doubt not the King would allow thee.
“I take the freedom to send herewith a few bottles of Champagne; and wish” all manner of good things.
“FRIEDRICH.”
[Ib. xxvii. part 2d, p. 10.]
This Margraf Heinrich goes; also his elder Brother, Margraf Friedrich Wilhelm,–who long persecuted Wilhelmina with his hopes; and who is now about getting Sophie Dorothee, a junior Princess, much better than he merits: Betrothal is the week after these ten thousand march; [16th April, 1734 (Ib. part 1st, p. 14 n).] he thirty, she fifteen. He too will go; as will the other pair of Cousin Margraves,–Karl, who was once our neighbor in Custrin; and the Younger Friedrich Wilhelm, whose fate lies at Prag if he knew it. Majesty himself will go as volunteer. Are not great things to be done, with Eugene for General?–To understand the insignificant Siege of Philipsburg, sum-total of the Rhine Campaign, which filled the Crown-Prince’s and so many other minds brimful; that Summer, and is now wholly out of every mind, the following Excerpt may be admissible:–
“The unlucky little Town of Philipsburg, key of the Rhine in that quarter, fortified under difficulties by old Bishops of Speyer who sometimes resided there, [Kohler,
“The Rhine Valley here is not of great breadth: eastward the heights rise to be mountainous in not many miles. By way of defence to this Valley, in the Eugene-Marlborough Wars, there was, about forty miles southward, or higher up the River than Philipsburg, a military line or chain of posts; going from Stollhofen, a boggy hamlet on the Rhine, with cunning indentations, and learned concatenation of bog and bluff, up into the inaccessibilities,–LINES OF STOLLHOFEN, the name of it,– which well-devised barrier did good service for certain years. It was not till, I think, the fourth year of their existence, year 1707, that Villars, the same Villars who is now in Italy, ‘stormed the Lines of Stollhofen;’ which made him famous that year.
“The Lines of Stollhofen have now, in 1734, fallen flat again; but Eugene remembers them, and, I could guess, it was he who suggests a similar expedient. At all events, there is a similar expedient fallen upon: LINES OF ETTLINGEN this time; one-half nearer Philipsburg; running from Muhlburg on the Rhine-brink up to Ettlingen in the Hills. [See map] Nearer, by twenty miles; and, I guess, much more slightly done. We shall see these Lines of Ettlingen, one point of them, for a moment:–and they would not be worth mentioning at all, except that in careless Books they too are called ‘Lines of STOLLHOFEN,’ [Wilhelmina (ii. 206), for instance; who, or whose Printer, call them “Lines of STOKOFF” even.] and the ingenuous reader is sent wandering on his map to no purpose.”
“Lines of ETTLINGEN” they are; related, as now said, to the Stollhofen set. Duke Ferdinand of Brunswick-Bevern, one of the four Feldmarschalls, has some ineffectual handful of Imperial troops dotted about, within these Lines and on the skirts of Philipsburg;–eagerly waiting till the Reich’s-Army gather to him; otherwise he must come to nothing. Will at any rate, I should think, be happy to resign in favor of Prince Eugene, were that little hero once on the ground.
On Mayday, Marechal Berwick, who has been awake in this quarter, “in three divisions,” for a month past,–very impatient till Belleisle with the first division should have taken Trarbach, and made the Western interior parts secure,–did actually cross the Rhine, with his second division, “at Fort Louis,” well up the River, well south of Philipsburg; intending to attack the Lines of Ettlingen, and so get in upon the Town. There is a third division, about to lay pontoons for itself a good way farther down, which will attack the Lines simultaneously from within,–that is to say, shall come upon the back of poor Bevern and his defensive handful of troops, and astonish him there. All prospers to Berwick in this matter: Noailles his lieutenant (not yet gone to Italy till next year), with whom is Maurice Comte de Saxe (afterwards Marechal de Saxe), an excellent observant Officer, marches up to Ettlingen, May 3d; bivouacs “at the base of the mountain” (no great things of a mountain); ascends the same in two columns, horse and foot, by the first sunlight next morning; forms on a little plain on the top; issues through a thin wood,–and actually beholds those same LINES OF ETTLINGEN, the outmost eastern end of them: a somewhat inconsiderable matter, after all! Here is Noailles’s own account:–
“These retrenchments, made in Turk fashion, consisted of big trees set zigzag (EN ECHIQUIER), twisted together by the branches; the whole about five fathoms thick. Inside of it were a small forlorn of Austrians: these steadily await our grenadiers, and do not give their volley till we are close. Our grenadiers receive their volley; clear the intertwisted trees, after receiving a second volley (total loss seventy-five killed and wounded); and–the enemy quits his post; and the Lines of Ettlingen ARE stormed!” [Noailles,
Collection), iii. 207.] This is not like storming the Lines of Stollhofen; a thing to make Noailles famous in the Newspapers for a year. But it was a useful small feat, and well enough performed on his part. The truth is, Berwick was about attacking the Lines simultaneously on the other or Muhlburg end of them (had not Noailles, now victorious, galloped to forbid); and what was far more considerable, those other French, to the northward, “upon pontoons,” are fairly across; like to be upon the BACK of Duke Ferdinand and his handful of defenders. Duke Ferdinand perceives that he is come to nothing; hastily collects his people from their various posts; retreats with them that same night, unpursued, to Heilbronn; and gives up the command to Prince Eugene, who is just arrived there,–who took quietly two pinches of snuff on hearing this news of Ettlingen, and said, “No matter, after all!”
Berwick now forms the Siege, at his discretion; invests Philipsburg, 13th May; [Berwick, ii. 312; 23d, says Noailles’s Editor (iii. 210).] begins firing, night of the 3d-4th June;– Eugene waiting at Heilbronn till the Reich’s-Army come up. The Prussian ten thousand do come, all in order, on the 7th: the rest by degrees, all later, and all NOT quite in order. Eugene, the Prussians having joined him, moves down towards Philipsburg and its cannonading; encamps close to rearward of the besieging French. “Camp of Wiesenthal” they call it; Village of Wiesenthal with bogs, on the left, being his head-qnarters; Village of Waghausel, down near the River, a five miles distance, being his limit on the right. Berwick, in front, industriously battering Philipsburg into the River, has thrown up strong lines behind him, strongly manned, to defend himself from Eugene; across the River, Berwick has one Bridge, and at the farther end one battery with which he plays upon the rear of Philipsburg. He is much criticised by unoccupied people, “Eugene’s attack will ruin us on those terms!”–and much incommoded by overflowings of the Rhine; Rhine swoln by melting of the mountain-snows, as is usual there. Which inundations Berwick had well foreseen, though the War-minister at Paris would not: “Haste!” answered the War-minister always: “We shall be in right time. I tell you there have fallen no snows this winter: how can inundation be?”– “Depends on the heat,” said Berwick; “there are snows enough always in stock up there!”
And so it proves, though the War-minister would not believe; and Berwick has to take the inundations, and to take the circumstances;–and to try if, by his own continual best exertions, he can but get Philipsburg into the bargain. On the 12th of June, visiting his posts, as he daily does, the first thing, Berwick stept out of the trenches, anxious for clear view of something; stept upon “the crest of the sap,” a place exposed to both French and Austrian batteries, and which had been forbidden to the soldiers,–and there, as he anxiously scanned matters through his glass, a cannon-ball, unknown whether French or Austrian, shivered away the head of Berwick; left others to deal with the criticisms, and the inundations, and the operations big or little, at Philipsburg and elsewhere! Siege went on, better or worse, under the next in command; “Paris in great anxiety,” say the Books.
It is a hot siege, a stiff defence; Prince Eugene looks on, but does not attack in the way apprehended. Southward in Italy, we hear there is marching, strategying in the Parma Country; Graf von Mercy likely to come to an action before long. Northward, Dantzig by this time is all wrapt in fire-whirlwinds; its sallyings and outer defences all driven in; mere torrents of Russiau bombs raining on it day and night; French auxiliaries, snapt up at landing, are on board Russian ships; and poor Stanislaus and “the Lady of Quality who shot the first gun” have a bad outlook there. Towards the end of the month, the Berlin volunteer Generals, our Crown-Prince and his Margraves among them, are getting on the road for Philipsburg;–and that is properly the one point we are concerned with. Which took effect in manner following.
Tuesday evening, 29th June, there is Ball at Monbijou; the Crown- Prince and others busy dancing there, as if nothing special lay ahead. Nevertheless, at three in the morning he has changed his ball-dress for a better, he and certain more; and is rushing southward, with his volunteer Generals and Margraves, full speed, saluted by the rising sun, towards Philipsburg and the Seat of War. And the same night, King Stanislaus, if any of us cared for him, is on flight from Dantzig, “disguised as a cattle-dealer;” got out on the night of Sunday last, Town under such a rain of bombshells being palpably too hot for him: got out, but cannot get across the muddy intricacies of the Weichsel; lies painfully squatted up and down, in obscure alehouses, in that Stygian Mud- Delta,–a matter of life and death to get across, and not a boat to be had, such the vigilance of the Russian. Dantzig is capitulating, dreadful penalties exacted, all the heavier as no Stanislaus is to be found in it; and search all the keener rises in the Delta after him. Through perils and adventures of the sort usual on such occasions, [Credible modest detail of them, in a LETTER from Stanislaus himself (
Margraves, Generals and he, in their small string of carriages, go on, by extra-post, day and night; no rest till they get to Hof, in the Culmbach neighborhood, a good two hundred miles off,–near Wilhelmina, and more than half-way to Philipsburg. Majesty Friedrich Wilhelm is himself to follow in about a week: he has given strict order against waste of time: “Not to part company; go together, and NOT by Anspach or Baireuth,”–though they lie almost straight for you.
This latter was a sore clause to Friedrich, who had counted all along on seeing his dear faithful Wilhelmina, as he passed: therefore, as the Papa’s Orders, dangerous penalty lying in them, cannot be literally disobeyed, the question rises, How see Wilhelmina and not Baireuth? Wilhelmina, weak as she is and unfit for travelling, will have to meet him in some neutral place, suitablest for both. After various shiftings, it has been settled between them that Berneck, a little town twelve miles from Baireuth on the Hof road, will do; and that Friday, probably early, will be the day. Wilhelmina, accordingly, is on the road that morning, early enough; Husband with her, and ceremonial attendants, in honor of such a Brother; morning is of sultry windless sort; day hotter and hotter;–at Berneck is no Crown- Prince, in the House appointed for him; hour after hour, Wilhelmina waits there in vain. The truth is, one of the smallest accidents has happened: the Generals “lost a wheel at Gera yesterday;” were left behind there with their smiths, have not yet appeared; and the insoluble question among Friedrich and the Margraves is, “We dare not go on without them, then? We dare;– dare we?” Question like to drive Friedrich mad, while the hours, at any rate, are slipping on! Here are three Letters of Friedrich, legible at last; which, with Wilhelmina’s account from the other side, represent a small entirely human scene in this French- Austrian War,–nearly all of human we have found in the beggarly affair:–
1. TO PRINCESS WILHELMINA, AT BAIREUTH, OR ON THE ROAD TO BERNECK.
“HOF, 2d July [not long after 4 a.m.], 1794.
“MY DEAR SISTER,–Here am I within six leagues [say eight or more, twenty-five miles English] of a Sister whom I love; and I have to decide that it will be impossible to see her, after all!”–Does decide so, accordingly, for reasons known to us.
“I have never so lamented the misfortune of not depending on myself as at this moment! The King being but very sour-sweet on my score, I dare not risk the least thing; Monday come a week, when he arrives himself, I should have a pretty scene (SERAIS JOLIMENT TRAITE) in the Camp, if I were found to have disobeyed orders.
“… The Queen commands me to give you a thousand regards from her. She appeared much affected at your illness; but for the rest, I could not warrant you how sincere it was; for she is totally changed, and I have quite lost reckoning of her (N’Y CONNAIS RIEN). That goes so far that she has done me hurt with the King, all she could: however, that is over now. As to Sophie [young Sister just betrothed to the eldest Margraf whom you know], she also is no longer the same; for she approves all that the Queen says or does; and she is charmed with her big clown (GROS NIGAUD) of a Bridegroom.
“The King is more difficult than ever; he is content with nothing, so as to have lost whatsoever could be called gratitude for all pleasures one can do him,”–marrying against one’s will, and the like. “As to his health, it is one day better, another worse; but the legs, they are always swelled, Judge what my joy must be to get out of that turpitude,–for the King will only stay a fortnight, at most, in the Camp.
“Adieu, my adorable Sister: I am so tired, I cannot stir; having left on Tuesday night, or rather Wednesday morning at three o’clock, from a Ball at Monbijou, and arrived here this Friday morning at four. I recommend myself to your gracious remembrance; and am, for my own part, till death, dearest Sister,”–
Your– “FRIEDRICH”
[
This is Letter First; written Friday morning, on the edge of getting into bed, after such fatigue; and it has, as natural in that mood, given up the matter in despair. It did not meet Wilhelmina on the road; and she had left Baireuth;–where it met her, I do not know; probably at home, on her return, when all was over. Let Wilhelmina now speak her own lively experiences of that same Friday:–
“I got to Berneck at ten. The heat was excessive; I found myself quite worn out with the little journey I had done. I alighted at the House which had been got ready for my Brother. We waited for him, and in vain waited, till three in the afternoon. At three we lost patience; had dinner served without him. Whilst we were at table, there came on a frightful thunder-storm. I have witnessed nothing so terrible: the thunder roared and reverberated among the rocky cliffs which begirdle Berneck; and it seemed as if the world was going to perish: a deluge of rain succeeded the thunder.
“It was four o’clock; and I could not understand what had become of my Brother. I had sent out several persons on horseback to get tidings of him, and none of them came back. At length, in spite of all my prayers, the Hereditary Prince [my excellent Husband] himself would go in search. I remained waiting till nine at night, and nobody returned. I was in cruel agitations: these cataracts of rain are very dangerous in the mountain countries; the roads get suddenly overflowed, and there often happen misfortunes. I thought for certain, there had one happened to my Brother or to the Hereditary Prince.” Such a 2d of July, to poor Wilhelmina!
“At last, about nine, somebody brought word that my Brother had changed his route, and was gone to Culmbach [a House of ours, lying westward, known to readers]; there to stay overnight. I was for setting out thither,–Culmbach is twenty miles from Berneck; but the roads are frightful,” White Mayn, still a young River, dashing through the rock-labyrinths there, “and full of precipices:–everybody rose in opposition, and, whether I would or not, they put me into the carriage for Himmelkron [partly on the road thither], which is only about ten miles off. We had like to have got drowned on the road; the waters were so swoln [White Mayn and its angry brooks], the horses could not cross but by swimming.
“I arrived at last, about one in the morning. I instantly threw myself on a bed. I was like to die with weariness; and in mortal terrors that something had happened to my Brother or the Hereditary Prince. This latter relieved me on his own score; he arrived at last, about four o’clock,–had still no news farther of my Brother. I was beginning to doze a little, when they came to warn me that ‘M. von Knobelsdorf wished to speak with me from the Prince-Royal.’ I darted out of bed, and ran to him. He,” handing me a Letter, “brought word that”–
But let us now give Letter Second, which has turned up lately, and which curiously completes the picture here. Friedrich, on rising refreshed with sleep at Hof, had taken a cheerfuler view; and the Generals still lagging rearward, he thinks it possible to see Wilhelmiua after all. Possible; and yet so very dangerous,– perhaps not possible? Here is a second Letter written from Munchberg, some fifteen miles farther on, at an after period of the same Friday: purport still of a perplexed nature, “I will, and I dare not;”–practical outcome, of itself uncertain, is scattered now by torrents and thunderstorms. This is the Letter, which Knobelsdorf now hands to Wilhelmina at that untimely hour of Saturday:–
2. TO PRINCESS WILHELMINA (by Knobelsdorf).
“MUNCHBERG, 2d July, 1754.
“MY DEAREST SISTER,–I am in despair that I cannot satisfy my impatience and my duty,–to throw myself at your feet this day. But alas, dear Sister, it does not depend on me: we poor Princes, “the Margraves and I,” are obliged to wait here till our Generals [Bredow, Schulenburg and Company] come up; we dare not go along without them. They broke a wheel in Gera [fifty miles behind us]; hearing nothing of them since, we are absolutely forced to wait here. Judge in what a mood I am, and what sorrow must be mine! Express order not to go by Baireuth or Anspach:–forbear, dear sister, to torment me on things not depending on myself at all.
“I waver between hope and fear of paying my court to you. I hope it might still be at Berneck,” this evening,–“if you could contrive a road into the Nurnberg Highway again; avoiding Baireuth: otherwise I dare not go. The Bearer, who is Captain Knobelsdorf [excellent judicious man, old acquaintance from the Custrin time, who attends upon us, actual Captain once, but now titular merely, given to architecture and the fine arts (Seyfarth (Anonymous),
de Frederic,
seinen Verwandten
[
Judicious Knobelsdorf settles that the meeting is to be this very morning at eight; Wilhelmina (whose memory a little fails her in the insignificant points) does not tell us where: but, by faint indications, I perceive it was in the Lake-House, pleasant Pavilion in the ancient artificial Lake, or big ornamental Fishpond, called BRANDENBURGER WEIHER, a couple of miles to the north of Baireuth: there Friedrich is to stop,–keeping the Paternal Order from the teeth outwards in this manner. Eight o’clock: so that Wilhelmina is obliged at once to get upon the road again,–poor Princess, after such a day and night. Her description of the Interview is very good:–
“My Brother overwhelmed me with caresses; but found me in so pitiable a state, he could not restrain his tears. I was not able to stand on my limbs; and felt like to faint every moment, so weak was I. He told me the King was much angered at the Margraf [my Father-in-Law] for not letting his Son make the Campaign,”– concerning which point, said Son, my Husband, being Heir-Apparent, there had been much arguing in Court and Country, here at Baireuth, and endless anxiety on my poor part, lest he should get killed in the Wars. “I told him all the Margraf’s reasons; and added, that surely they were good, in respect of my dear Husband. ‘Well,’ said he, ‘let him quit soldiering, then, and give back his regiment to the King. But for the rest, quiet yourself as to the fears you may have about him if he do go; for I know, by certain information, that there will be no blood spilt.’–‘They are at the Siege of Philipsburg, however.’–‘Yes,’ said my Brother, ‘but there will not be a battle risked to hinder it.’
“The Hereditary Prince,” my Husband, “came in while we were talking so; and earnestly entreated my Brother to get him away from Baireuth. They went to a window, and talked a long time together. In the end, my Brother told me he would write a very obliging Letter to the Margraf, and give him such reasons in favor of the Campaign, that he doubted not it would turn the scale. ‘We will stay together,’ said he, addressing the Hereditary Prince; ‘and I shall be charmed to have my dear Brother always beside me.’ He wrote the Letter; gave it to Baron Stein [Chamberlain or Goldstick of ours], to deliver to the Margraf. He promised to obtain the King’s express leave to stop at Baireuth on his return;–after which he went away. It was the last time I saw him on the old footing with me: he has much changed since then!–We returned to Baireuth; where I was so ill that, for three days, they did not think I should get over it.” [Wilhelmina, ii. 200-202.]
Crown-Prince dashes off, southwestward, through cross country, into the Nurnberg Road again; gets to Nurnberg that same Saturday night; and there, among other Letters, writes the following; which will wind up this little Incident for us, still in a human manner:–
3. TO PRINCESS WILHELMINA AT BAIREUTH.
“NURNBERG, 3d July, 1734.
“MY DEAREST (TRES-CHERE) SISTER,–It would be impossible to quit this place without signifying, dearest Sister, my lively gratitude for all the marks of favor you showed me in the WEIHERHAUS [House on the Lake, to-day]. The highest of all that it was possible to do, was that of procuring me the satisfaction of paying my court to you. I beg millions of pardons for so putting you about, dearest Sister; but I could not help it; for you know my sad circumstances well enough. In my great joy, I forgot to give you the Enclosed. I entreat you, write me often news of your health! Question the Doctors; and”–and in certain contingencies, the Crown-Prince “would recommend goat’s-milk” for his poor Sister. Had already, what was noted of him in after life, a tendency to give medical advice, in cases interesting to him?–
“Adieu, my incomparable and dear Sister. I am always the same to you, and will remain so till my death.
“FRIEDRICH.”
[
Generals with their wheel mended, Margraves, Prince and now the Camp Equipage too, are all at Nurnberg; and start on the morrow; hardly a hundred miles now to be done,–but on slower terms, owing to the Equipage. Heilbronn, place of arms or central stronghold of the Reich’s-Army, they reach on Monday: about Eppingen, next night, if the wind is westerly, one may hear the cannon,–not without interest. It was Wednesday forenoon, 7th July, 1734, on some hill-top coming down from Eppingen side, that the Prince first saw Philipsburg Siege, blotting the Rhine Valley yonder with its fire and counter-fire; and the Tents of Eugene stretching on this side: first view he ever had of the actualities of war. His account to Papa is so distinct and good, we look through it almost as at first-hand for a moment:–
“CAMP AT WIESENTHAL, Wednesday, 7th July, 1734.
“MOST ALL-GRACIOUS FATHER,– … We left Nurnberg [nothing said of our Baireuth affair], 4th early, and did not stop till Heilbronn; where, along with the Equipage, I arrived on the 5th. Yesterday I came with the Equipage to Eppingen [twenty miles, a slow march, giving the fourgons time]; and this morning we came to the Camp at Wiesenthal. I have dined with General Roder [our Prussian Commander]; and, after dinner, rode with Prince Eugene while giving the parole. I handed him my All-gracious Father’s Letter, which much rejoiced him. After the parole, I went to see the relieving of our outposts [change of sentries there], and view the French retrenchment.
“We,” your Majesty’s Contingent, “are throwing up three redoubts: at one of them today, three musketeers have been miserably shot [GESCHOSSEN, wounded, not quite killed]; two are of Roder’s, and one is of Finkenstein’s regiment.
“To-morrow I will ride to a village which is on our right wing; Waghausel is the name of it [Busching, v. 1152.] [some five miles off, north of us, near by the Rhine]; there is a steeple there, from which one can see the French Camp; from this point I will ride down, between the two Lines,” French and ours, “to see what they are like.
“There are quantities of hurdles and fascines being made; which, as I hear, are to be employed in one of two different plans. The first plan is, To attack the French retrenchment generally; the ditch which is before it, and the morass which lies on our left wing, to be made passable with these fascines. The other plan is, To amuse the Enemy by a false attack, and throw succor into the Town.–One thing is certain, in a few days we shall have a stroke of work here. Happen what may, my All-gracious Father may be assured that” &c., “and that I will do nothing unworthy of him.
“FRIEDRICH.”
[
Neither of those fine plans took effect; nor did anything take effect, as we shall see. But in regard to that “survey from the steeple of Waghausel, and ride home again between the Lines,”–in regard to that, here is an authentic fraction of anecdote, curiously fitting in, which should not be omitted. A certain Herr van Suhm, Saxon Minister at Berlin, occasionally mentioned here, stood in much Correspondence with the Crown-Prince in the years now following: Correspondence which was all published at the due distance of time; Suhm having, at his decease, left the Prince’s Letters carefully assorted with that view, and furnished with a Prefatory “Character of the Prince-Royal
Prince-Royal, par M. de Suhm).”
is a small paragraph, relating to the Siege of Philipsburg; offering us a momentary glance into one fibre of the futile War now going on there. Of Suhm, and how exact he was, we shall know a little by and by. Of “Prince von Lichtenstein,” an Austrian man and soldier of much distinction afterwards, we have only to say that he came to Berlin next year on Diplomatic business, and that probably enough he had been eye-witness to the little fact,–fact credible perhaps without much proving. One rather regretted there was no date to it, no detail to give it whereabout and fixity in our conception; that the poor little Anecdote, though indubitable, had to hang vaguely in the air. Now, however, the above dated LETTER does, by accident, date Suhm’s Anecdote too; date “July 8” as good as certain for it; the Siege itself having ended (July 18) in ten days more. Herr von Suhm writes (not for publication till after Friedrich’s death and his own):–
“It was remarked in the Rhine Campaign of 1734, that this Prince has a great deal of intrepidity (BEAUCOUP DE VALEUR). On one occasion, among others [to all appearance, this very day, “July 8,” riding home from Waghausel between the lines], when he had gone to reconnoitre the Lines of Philipsburg, with a good many people about him,–passing, on his return, along a strip of very thin wood, the cannon-shot from the Lines accompanied him incessantly, and crashed down several trees at his side; during all which he walked his horse along at the old pace, precisely as if nothing were happening, nor in his hand upon the bridle was there the least trace of motion perceptible. Those who gave attention to the matter remarked, on the contrary, that he did not discontinue speaking very tranquilly to some Generals who accompanied him; and who admired his bearing, in a kind of danger with which he had not yet had occasion to familiarize himself. It is from the Prince von Lichtenstein that I have this anecdote.” [
Frederic
On the 15th arrived his Majesty in person, with the Old Dessauer, Buddenbrock, Derschau and a select suite; in hopes of witnessing remarkable feats of war, now that the crisis of Philipsburg was coming on. Many Princes were assembled there, in the like hope: Prince of Orange (honeymoon well ended [Had wedded Princess Anne, George II.’s eldest, 25th (14th) March, 1734; to the joy of self and mankind, in England here.]), a vivacious light gentleman, slightly crooked in the back; Princes of Baden, Darmstadt, Waldeck: all manner of Princes and distinguished personages, fourscore Princes of them by tale, the eyes of Europe being turned on this matter, and on old Eugene’s guidance of it. Prince Fred of England, even he had a notion of coming to learn war.
It was about this time, not many weeks ago, that Fred, now falling into much discrepancy with his Father, and at a loss for a career to himself, appeared on a sudden in the Antechamber at St. James’s one day; and solemnly demanded an interview with his Majesty. Which his indignant Majesty, after some conference with Walpole, decided to grant. Prince Fred, when admitted, made three demands: 1. To be allowed to go upon the Rhine Campaign, by way of a temporary career for himself; 2. That he might have something definite to live upon, a fixed revenue being suitable in his circumstances; 3. That, after those sad Prussian disappointments, some suitable Consort might be chosen for him,–heart and household lying in such waste condition. Poor Fred, who of us knows what of sense might be in these demands? Few creatures more absurdly situated are to be found in this world. To go where his equals were, and learn soldiering a little, might really have been useful. Paternal Majesty received Fred and his Three Demands with fulminating look; answered, to the first two, nothing; to the third, about a Consort, “Yes, you shall; but be respectful to the Queen;–and now. off with you; away!” [Coxe’s
Poor Fred, he has a circle of hungry Parliamenteers about him; young Pitt, a Cornet of Horse, young Lyttelton of Hagley, our old Soissons friend, not to mention others of worse type; to whom this royal Young Gentleman, with his vanities, ambitions, inexperiences, plentiful inflammabilities, is important for exploding Walpole. He may have, and with great justice I should think, the dim consciousness of talents for doing something better than “write madrigals” in this world; infinitude of wishes and appetites he clearly has;–he is full of inflammable materials, poor youth. And he is the Fireship those older hands make use of for blowing Walpole and Company out of their anchorage. What a school of virtue for a young gentleman;–and for the elder ones concerned with him! He did not get to the Rhine Campaign; nor indeed ever to anything, except to writing madrigals, and being very futile, dissolute and miserable with what of talent Nature had given him. Let us pity the poor constitutional Prince. Our Fritz was only in danger of losing his life; but what is that, to losing your sanity, personal identity almost, and becoming Parliamentary Fireship to his Majesty’s Opposition?
Friedrich Wilhelm stayed a month campaigning here; graciously declined Prince Eugene’s invitation to lodge in Headquarters, under a roof and within built walls; preferred a tent among his own people, and took the common hardships,–with great hurt to his weak health, as was afterwards found.
In these weeks, the big Czarina, who has set a price (100,000 rubles, say 15,000 pounds) upon the head of poor Stanislaus, hears that his Prussian Majesty protects him; and thereupon signifies, in high terms, That she, by her Feld-marschall Munnich, will come across the frontiers and seize the said Stanislaus. To which his Prussian Majesty answers positively, though in proper Diplomatic tone, “Madam, I will in no wise permit it!” Perhaps his Majesty’s remarkablest transaction, here on the Rhine, was this concerning Stanislaus. For Seckendorf the Feldzeugmeister was here also, on military function, not forgetful of the Diplomacies; who busily assailed his Majesty, on the Kaiser’s part, in the same direction: “Give up Stanislaus, your Majesty! How ridiculous (LACHERLICH) to be perhaps ruined for Stanislaus!” But without the least effect, now or afterwards.
Poor Stanislaus, in the beginning of July, got across into Preussen, as we intimated; and there he continued, safe against any amount of rubles and Feldmarschalls, entreaties and menaces. At Angerburg, on the Prussian frontier, he found a steadfast veteran, Lieutenant-General von Katte, Commandant in those parts (Father of a certain poor Lieutenant, whom we tragically knew of long ago!)–which veteran gentleman received tbe Fugitive Majesty, [
the King’s name, and assurances of an honorable asylum till the times and roads should clear again for his Fugitive Majesty. Fugitive Majesty, for whom the roads and times were very dark at present, went to Marienwerder; talked of going “to Pillau, for a sea-passage,” of going to various places; went finally to Konigsberg, and there–with a considerable Polish Suite of Fugitives, very moneyless, and very expensive, most of them, who had accumulated about him–set up his abode. There for almost two years, in fact till this War ended, the Fugitive Polish Majesty continued; Friedrich Wilhelm punctually protecting him, and even paying him a small Pension (50 pounds a month),–France, the least it could do for the Grandfather of France, allowing a much larger one; larger, though still inadequate. France has left its Grandfather strangely in the lurch here; with “100,000 rubles on his head.” But Friedrich Wilhelm knows the sacred rites, and will do them; continues deaf as a door-post alike to the menaces and the entreaties of Kaiser and Czarina; strictly intimating to Munnich, what the Laws of Neutrality are, and that they must be observed. Which, by his Majesty’s good arrangements, Munnich, willing enough to the contrary had it been feasible, found himself obliged to comply with. Prussian Majesty, like a King and a gentleman, would listen to no terms about dismissing or delivering up, or otherwise, failing in the sacred rites to Stanislaus; but honorably kept him there till the times and routes cleared themselves again. [Forster, ii. 132, 134-136.] A plain piece of duty; punctually done: the beginning of it falls here in the Camp at Philipsburg, July-August 1734; in May, 1736, we shall see some glimpse of the end!–
His Prussian Majesty in Camp at Philipsburg–so distinguished a volunteer, doing us the honor to encamp here–“was asked to all the Councils-of-war that were held,” say the Books. And he did attend, the Crown-Prince and he, on important occasions: but, alas, there was, so to speak, nothing to be consulted of. Fascines and hurdles lay useless; no attempt was made to relieve Philipsburg. On the third day after his Majesty’s arrival, July 18th, Philipsburg, after a stiff defence of six weeks, growing hopeless of relief, had to surrender;–French then proceeded to repair Philipsburg, no attempt on Eugene’s part to molest them there. If they try ulterior operations on this side the River, he counter-tries; and that is all.
Our Crown-Prince, somewhat of a judge in after years, is maturely of opinion, That the French Lines were by no means inexpugnable; that the French Army might have been ruined under an attack of the proper kind. [
Their position was bad; no room to unfold themselves for fight, except with the Town’s cannon playing on them all the while; only one Bridge to get across by, in case of coming to the worse: defeat of them probable, and ruin to them inevitable in case of defeat. But Prince Eugene, with an Army little to his mind (Reich’s-Contingents not to be depended on, thought Eugene), durst not venture: “Seventeen victorious Battles, and if we should be defeated in the eighteenth and last?”
It is probable the Old Dessauer, had he been Generalissimo, with this same Army,–in which, even in the Reich’s part of it, we know ten thousand of an effective character,–would have done some stroke upon the French; but Prince Eugene would not try. Much dimmed from his former self this old hero; age now 73;– a good deal wearied with the long march through Time. And this very Summer, his Brother’s Son, the last male of his House, had suddenly died of inflammatory fever; left the old man very mournful: “Alone, alone, at the end of one’s long march; laurels have no fruit, then?” He stood cautious, on the defensive; and in this capacity is admitted to have shown skilful management.
But Philipsburg being taken, there is no longer the least event to be spoken of; the Campaign passed into a series of advancings, retreatings, facing, and then right-about facings,–painful manoeuvrings, on both sides of the Rhine and of the Neckar,– without result farther to the French, without memorability to either side. About the middle of August, Friedrich Wilhelm went away;–health much hurt by his month under canvas, amid Rhine inundations, and mere distressing phenomena. Crown-Prince Friedrich and a select party escorted his Majesty to Mainz, where was a Dinner of unusual sublimity by the Kurfurst there; [15th August (Fassmann, p. 511.)]–Dinner done, his Majesty stept on board “the Electoral Yacht;” and in this fine hospitable vehicle went sweeping through the Binger Loch, rapidly down towards Wesel; and the Crown-Prince and party returned to their Camp, which is upon the Neckar at this time.
Camp shifts about, and Crown-Prince in it: to Heidelberg, to Waiblingen, Weinheim; close to Mainz at one time: but it is not worth following: nor in Friedrich’s own Letters, or in other documents, is there, on the best examination, anything considerable to be gleaned respecting his procedures there. He hears of the ill-success in Italy, Battle of Parma at the due date, with the natural feelings; speaks with a sorrowful gayety, of the muddy fatigues, futilities here on the Rhine;–has the sense, however, not to blame his superiors unreasonably. Here, from one of his Letters to Colonel Camas, is a passage worth quoting for the credit of the writer. With Camas, a distinguished Prussian Frenchman, whom we mentioned elsewhere, still more with Madame Camas in time coming, he corresponded much, often in a fine filial manner:–
“The present Campaign is a school, where profit may be reaped from observing the confusion and disorder which reigns in this Army: it has been a field very barren in laurels; and those who have been used, all their life, to gather such, and on Seventeen distinguished occasions have done so, can get none this time.” Next year, we all hope to be on the Moselle, and to find that a fruitfuler field … “I am afraid, dear Camas, you think I am going to put on the cothurnus; to set up for a small Eugene, and, pronouncing with a doctoral tone what each should have done and not have done, condemn and blame to right and left. No, my dear Camas; far from carrying my arrogance to that point, I admire the conduct of our Chief, and do not disapprove that of his worthy Adversary; and far from forgetting the esteem and consideration due to persons who, scarred with wounds, have by years and long service gained a consummate experience, I shall hear them more willingly than ever as my teachers, and try to learn from them how to arrive at honor, and what is the shortest road into the secret of this Profession.” [“Camp at Heidelberg, 11th September, 1734” (
This other, to Lieutenant Groben, three weeks earlier in date, shows us a different aspect; which is at least equally authentic; and may be worth taking with us. Groben is Lieutenant,–I suppose still of the Regiment Goltz, though he is left there behind;–at any rate, he is much a familiar with the Prince at Ruppin; was ringleader, it is thought, in those midnight pranks upon parsons, and the other escapades there; [Busching, v. 20.] a merry man, eight years older than the Prince,–with whom it is clear enough he stands on a very free footing. Philipsburg was lost a month ago; French are busy repairing it; and manoeuvring, with no effect, to get into the interior of Germany a little. Weinheim is a little Town on the north side of the Neckar, a dozen miles or so from Mannheim;–out of which, and into which, the Prussian Corps goes shifting from time to time, as Prince Eugene and the French manoeuvre to no purpose in that Rhine-Neckar Country. “HERDEK TEREMTETEM” it appears, is a bit of Hungarian swearing; should be ORDEK TEREMTETE; and means “The Devil made you!”
MAP GOES HERE——
“WEINHEIM, 17th August, 1734.
“HERDEK TEREMTETE! ‘Went with them, got hanged with them,’ [
German.] said the Bielefeld Innkeeper! So will it be with me, poor devil; for I go dawdling about with this Army here; and the French will have the better of us. We want to be over the Neckar again [to the South or Philipsburg side], and the rogues won’t let us. What most provokes me in the matter is, that while we are here in such a wilderness of trouble, doing our utmost, by military labors and endurances, to make ourselves heroic, thou sittest, thou devil, at home!
“Duc de Bouillon has lost his equipage; our Hussars took it at Landau [other side the Rhine, a while ago]. Here we stand in mud to the ears; fifteen of the Regiment Alt-Baden have sunk altogether in the mud. Mud comes of a water-spout, or sudden cataract of rain, there was in these Heidelberg Countries; two villages, Fuhrenheim and Sandhausen, it swam away, every stick of them (GANZ UND GAR).
“Captain van Stojentin, of Regiment Flans,” one of our eight Regiments here, “has got wounded in the head, in an affair of honor; he is still alive, and it is hoped he will get through it.
“The Drill-Demon has now got into the Kaiser’s people too: Prince Eugene is grown heavier with his drills than we ourselves. He is often three hours at it;–and the Kaiser’s people curse us for the same, at a frightful rate. Adieu. If the Devil don’t get thee, he ought. Therefore VALE. [
“FRIEDRICH.”
No laurels to be gained here; but plenty of mud, and laborious hardship,–met, as we perceive, with youthful stoicism, of the derisive, and perhaps of better forms. Friedrich is twenty-two and some months, when he makes his first Campaign. The general physiognomy of his behavior in it we have to guess from these few indications. No doubt he profited by it, on the military side; and would study with quite new light and vivacity after such contact with the fact studied of. Very didactic to witness even “the confusions of this Army,” and what comes of them to Armies! For the rest, the society of Eugene, Lichtenstein, and so many Princes of the Reich, and Chiefs of existing mankind, could not but be entertaining to the young man; and silently, if he wished to read the actual Time, as sure enough he, with human and with royal eagerness, did wish,–they were here as the ALPHABET of it to him: important for years coming. Nay it is not doubted, the insight he here got into the condition of the Austrian Army and its management–“Army left seven days without bread,” for one instance–gave him afterwards the highly important notion, that such Army could be beaten if necessary!–
Wilhelmina says, his chief comrade was Margraf Heinrich;–the ILL Margraf; who was cut by Friedrich, in after years, for some unknown bad behavior. Margraf Heinrich “led him into all manner of excesses,” says Wilhelmina,–probably in the language of exaggeration. He himself tells her, in one of his LETTERS, a day or two before Papa’s departure: “The Camp is soon to be close on Mainz, nothing but the Rhine between Mainz and our right wing, where my place is; and so soon as Serenissimus goes [LE SERENISSIME, so he irreverently names Papa], I mean to be across for some sport,” [
xxvii. part 1st, p. 17 (10th August).]–no doubt the Ill Margraf with me! With the Elder Margraf, little Sophie’s Betrothed, whom he called “big clown” in a Letter we read, he is at this date in open quarrel,–“BROUILLE A TOUTE OUTRANCE with the mad Son-in-law, who is the wildest wild-beast of all this Camp.” [Ibid.]
Wilhelmina’s Husband had come, in the beginning of August; but was not so happy as he expected. Considerably cut out by the Ill Heinrich. Here is a small adventure they had; mentioned by Friedrich, and copiously recorded by Wilhelmina: adventure on some River,–which we could guess, if it were worth guessing, to have been the Neckar, not the Rhine. French had a fortified post on the farther side of this River; Crown-Prince, Ill Margraf, and Wilhelmina’s Husband were quietly looking about them, riding up the other side: Wilhelmina’s Husband decided to take a pencil- drawing of the French post, and paused for that object. Drawing was proceeding unmolested, when his foolish Baireuth Hussar, having an excellent rifle (ARQUEBUSE RAYEE) with him, took it into his head to have a shot at the French sentries at long range. His shot hit nothing; but it awakened the French animosity, as was natural; the French began diligently firing; and might easily have done mischief. My Husband, volleying out some rebuke upon the blockhead of a Hussar, finished his drawing, in spite of the French bullets; then rode up to the Crown-Prince and Ill Margraf, who had got their share of what was going, and were in no good-humor with him. Ill Margraf rounded things into the Crown- Prince’s ear, in an unmannerly way, with glances at my Husband;– who understood it well enough; and promptly coerced such ill-bred procedures, intimating, in a polite impressive way, that they would be dangerous if persisted in. Which reduced the Ill Margraf to a spiteful but silent condition. No other harm was done at that time; the French bullets all went awry, or “even fell short, being sucked in by the river,” thinks Wilhelmina. [Wilhelmina, ii. 208, 209;
p. 19.]
A more important feature of the Crown-Prince’s life in these latter weeks is the news he gets of his father. Friedrich Wilhelm, after quitting the Electoral Yacht, did his reviewing at Wesel, at Bielefeld, all his reviewing in those Rhine and Weser Countries; then turned aside to pay a promised visit to Ginkel the Berlin Dutch Ambassador, who has a fine House in those parts; and there his Majesty has fallen seriously ill. Obliged to pause at Ginkel’s, and then at his own Schloss of Moyland, for some time; does not reach Potsdam till the 14th September, and then in a weak, worsening, and altogether dangerous condition, which lasts for months to come. [Fassmann, pp. 512-533: September, 1734- January, 1735.] Wrecks of gout, they say, and of all manner of nosological mischief; falling to dropsy. Case desperate, think all the Newspapers, in a cautious form; which is Friedrich Wilhelm’s own opinion pretty much, and that of those better informed. Here are thoughts for a Crown-Prince; well affected to his Father, yet suffering much from him which is grievous. To by-standers, one now makes a different figure: “A Crown-Prince, who may be King one of these days,–whom a little adulation were well spent upon!” From within and from without come agitating influences; thoughts which must be rigorously repressed, and which are not wholly repressible. The soldiering Crown-Prince, from about the end of September, for the last week or two of this Campaign, is secretly no longer quite the same to himself or to others.
GLIMPSE OF LIEUTENANT CHASOT, AND OF OTHER ACQUISITIONS.
We have still two little points to specify, or to bring up from the rearward whither they are fallen, in regard to this Campaign. After which the wearisome Campaign shall terminate; Crown-Prince leading his Ten Thousand to Frankfurt, towards their winter- quarters in Westphalia; and then himself running across from Frankfurt (October 5th), to see Wilhelmina for a day or two on the way homewards:–with much pleasure to all parties, my readers and me included!
FIRST point is, That, some time in this Campaign, probably towards the end of it, the Crown-Prince, Old Dessauer and some others with them, “procured passports,” went across, and “saw the French Camp,” and what new phenomena were in it for them. Where, when, how, or with what impression left on either side, we do not learn. It was not much of a Camp for military admiration, this of the French. [
There were old soldiers of distinction in it here and there; a few young soldiers diligently studious of their art; and a great many young fops of high birth and high ways, strutting about “in red- heeled shoes,” with “Commissions got from Court” for this War, and nothing of the soldier but the epaulettes and plumages,–apt to be “insolent” among their poorer comrades. From all parties, young and old, even from that insolent red-heel party, nothing but the highest finish of politeness could be visible on this particular occasion. Doubtless all passed in the usual satisfactory manner; and the Crown-Prince got his pleasant excursion, and materials, more or less, for after thought and comparison. But as there is nothing whatever of it on record for us but the bare fact, we leave it to the reader’s imagination,–fact being indubitable, and details not inconceivable to lively readers. Among the French dignitaries doing the honors of their Camp on this occasion, he was struck by the General’s Adjutant, a “Count de Rottembourg” (properly VON ROTHENBURG, of German birth, kinsman to the Rothenburg whom we have seen as French Ambassador at Berlin long since); a promising young soldier; whom he did not lose sight of again, but acquired in due time to his own service, and found to be of eminent worth there. A Count von Schmettau, two Brothers von Schmettau, here in the Austrian service; superior men, Prussian by birth, and very fit to be acquired by and by; these the Crown- Prince had already noticed in this Rhine Campaign,–having always his eyes open to phenomena of that kind.
The SECOND little point is of date perhaps two months anterior to that of the French Camp; and is marked sufficiently in this Excerpt from our confused manuscripts.
Before quitting Philipsburg, there befell one slight adventure, which, though it seemed to be nothing, is worth recording here. One day, date not given, a young French Officer, of ingenuous prepossessing look, though much flurried at the moment, came across as involuntary deserter; flying from a great peril in his own camp. The name of him is Chasot, Lieutenant of such and such a Regiment: “Take me to Prince Eugene!” he entreats, which is done. Peril was this: A high young gentleman, one of those fops in red heels, ignorant, and capable of insolence to a poorer comrade of studious turn, had fixed a duel upon Chasot. Chasot ran him through, in fair duel; dead, and is thought to have deserved it. “But Duc de Boufflers is his kinsman: run, or you are lost!” cried everybody. The Officers of his Regiment hastily redacted some certificate for Chasot, hastily signed it; and Chasot ran, scarcely waiting to pack his baggage.
“Will not your Serene Highness protect me?”–“Certainly!” said Eugene;–gave Chasot a lodging among his own people; and appointed one of them, Herr Brender by name, to show him about, and teach him the nature of his new quarters. Chasot, a brisk, ingenuous young fellow, soon became a favorite; eager to be useful where possible; and very pleasant in discourse, said everybody.
By and by,–still at Philipsburg, as would seem, though it is not said,–the Crown-Prince heard of Chasot; asked Brender to bring him over. Here is Chasot’s own account: through which, as through a small eyelet-hole, we peep once more, and for the last time, direct into the Crown-Prince’s Campaign-life on this occasion:–
“Next morning, at ten o’clock the appointed hour, Brender having ordered out one of his horses for me, I accompanied him to the Prince; who received us in his Tent,–behind which he had, hollowed out to the depth of three or four feet, a large Dining- room, with windows, and a roof,” I hope of good height, “thatched with straw. His Royal Highness, after two hours’ conversation, in which he had put a hundred questions to me [a Prince desirous of knowing the facts], dismissed us; and at parting, bade me return often to him in the evenings.
“It was in this Dining-room, at the end of a great dinner, the day after next, that the Prussian guard introduced a Trumpet from Monsieur d’Asfeld [French Commander-in-Chief since Berwick’s death], with my three horses, sent over from the French Army. Prince Eugene, who was present, and in good humor, said, ‘We must sell those horses, they don’t speak German; Brender will take care to mount you some way or other.’ Prinoe Lichtenstein immediately put a price on my horses; and they were sold on the spot at three times their worth. The Prince of Orange, who was of this Dinner [slightly crook-backed witty gentleman, English honeymoon well over], said to me in a half-whisper, ‘Monsieur, there is nothing like selling horses to people who have dined well.’
“After this sale, I found myself richer than I had ever been in my life. The Prince-Royal sent me, almost daily, a groom and led horse, that I might come to him, and sometimes follow him in his excursions. At last, he had it proposed to me, by M. de Brender, and even by Prince Eugene, to accompany him to Berlin.” Which, of course, I did; taking Ruppin first. “I arrived at Berlin from Ruppin, in 1734, two days after the marriage of Friedrich Wilhelm Margraf of Schwedt [Ill Margraf’s elder Brother, wildest wild- beast of this camp] with the Princess Sophie,”–that is to say, 12th of November; Marriage having been on the l0th, as the Books teach us. Chasot remembers that, on the 14th, “the Crown-Prince gave, in his Berlin mansion, a dinner to all the Royal Family,” in honor of that auspicious wedding. [Kurd vou Schlozer,
Chasot
Thus is Chasot established with the Crown-Prince. He will turn up fighting well in subsequent parts of this History; and again duelling fatally, though nothing of a quarrelsome man, as he asserts.
CROWN-PRINCE’S VISIT TO BAIREUTH ON THE WAY HOME.
October 4th, the Crown-Prince has parted with Prince Eugene,–not to meet again in this world; “an old hero gone to the shadow of himself,” says the Crown-Prince; [
Brandebourg),
Wilhelmina was in low spirits:–weak health; add funeral of the Prince of Culmbach (killed in the Battle of Parma), illness of Papa, and other sombre events:–and was by no means content with the Crown-Prince, on this occasion. Strangely altered since we met him in July last! It may be, the Crown-Prince, looking, with an airy buoyancy of mind, towards a certain Event probably near, has got his young head inflated a littie, and carries himself with a height new to this beloved Sister;–but probably the sad humor of the Princess herself has a good deal to do with it. Alas, the contrast between a heart knowing secretly its own bitterness, and a friend’s heart conscious of joy and triumph, is harsh and shocking to the former of the two! Here is the Princess’s account; with the subtrahend, twenty-five or seventy-five per cent, not deducted from it:–
“My Brother arrived, the 5th of October. He seemed to me put out (DECONTENANCE); and to break off conversation with me, he said he had to write to the King and Queen. I ordered him pen and paper. He wrote in my room; and spent more than a good hour in writing a couple of Letters, of a line or two each. He then had all the Court, one after the other, introduced to him; said nothing to any of them, looked merely with a mocking air at them; after which we went to dinner.
“Here his whole conversation consisted in quizzing (TURLUPINER) whatever he saw; and repeating to me, above a hundred times over, the words ‘little Prince,’ ‘little Court.’ I was shocked; and could not understand how he had changed so suddenly towards me. The etiquette of all Courts in the Empire is, that nobody who has not at the least the rank of Captain can sit at a Prince’s table: my Brother put a Lieuteuant there, who was in his suite; saying to me, ‘A King’s Lieutenants are as good as a Margraf’s Ministers.’ I swallowed this incivility, and showed no sign.
“After dinner, being alone with me, he said,”–turning up the flippant side of his thoughts, truly, in a questionable way:– “‘Our Sire is going to end (TIRE A SA FIN); he will not live out this month. I know I have made you great promises; but I am not in a condition to keep them. I will give you up the Half of the sum which the late King [our Grandfather] lent you; [Supra, pp. 161, 162.] I think you will have every reason to be satisfied with that.’ I answered, That my regard for him had never been of an interested nature; that I would never ask anything of him, but the continuance of his friendship; and did not wish one sou, if it would in the least inconvenience him. ‘No, no,’ said he, ‘you shall have those 100,000 thalers; I have destined them for you.– People will be much surprised,’ continued he, ‘to see me act quite differently from what they had expected. They imagine I am going to lavish all my treasures, and that money will become as common as pebbles at Berlin: but they will find I know better. I mean to increase my Army, and to leave all other things on the old footing. I will have every consideration for the Queen my Mother, and will sate her (RASSASIERAI) with honors; but I do not mean that she shall meddle in my affairs; and if she try it, she will find so.'” What a speech; what an outbreak of candor in the young man, preoccupied with his own great thoughts and difficulties,–to the exclusion of any other person’s!
“I fell from the clouds, on hearing all that; and knew not if I was sleeping or waking. He then questioned me on the affairs of this Country. I gave him the detail of them. He said to me: ‘When your goose (BENET) of a Father-in-law dies, I advise you to break up the whole Court, and reduce yourselves to the footing of a private gentleman’s establishment, in order to pay your debts. In real truth, you have no need of so many people; and you must try also to reduce the wages of those whom you cannot help keeping. You have been accustomed to live at Berlin with a table of four dishes; that is all you want here: and I will invite you now and then to Berlin; which will spare table and housekeeping.’
“For a long while my heart had been getting big; I could not restrain my tears, at hearing all these indignities. ‘Why do you cry?’ said he: ‘Ah, ah, you are in low spirits, I see. We must dissipate that dark humor. The music waits us; I will drive that fit out of you by an air or two on the flute.’ He gave me his hand, and led me into the other room. I sat down to the harpsichord; which I inundated (INONDAI) with my tears. Marwitz [my artful Demoiselle d’Atours, perhaps too artful in time coming] placed herself opposite me, so as to hide from the others what disorder I was in.’ [Wilhelmina, ii. 216-218.]
For the last two days of the visit, Wilhelmina admits, her Brother was a little kinder. But on the fourth day there came, by estafette, a Letter from the Queen, conjuring him to return without delay, the King growing worse and worse. Wilhelmina, who loved her Father, and whose outlooks in case of his decease appeared to be so little flattering, was overwhelmed with sorrow. Of her Brother, however, she strove to forget that strange outbreak of candor; and parted with him as if all were mended between them again. Nay, the day after his departure, there goes a beautifully affectionate Letter to him; which we could give, if there were room: [
p. 23.] “the happiest time I ever in my life had;” “my heart so full of gratitude and so sensibly touched;” “every one repeating the words ‘dear Brother’ and ‘charming Prince-Royal:'”–a Letter in very lively contrast to what we have just been reading. A Prince-Royal not without charm, in spite of the hard practicalities he is meditating, obliged to meditate!–
As to the outbreak of candor, offensive to Wilhelmina and us, we suppose her report of it to be in substance true, though of exaggerated, perhaps perverted tone; and it is worth the reader’s note, with these deductions. The truth is, our charming Princess is always liable to a certain subtrahend. In 1744, when she wrote those
Baireuth,” her Brother and she, owing mainly to go-betweens acting on the susceptible female heart, were again in temporary quarrel (the longest and worst they ever had), and hardly on speaking terms; which of itself made her heart very heavy;–not to say that Marwitz, the too artful Demoiselle, seemed to have stolen her Husband’s affections from the poor Princess, and made the world look all a little grim to her. These circumstances have given their color to parts of her Narrative, and are not to be forgotten by readers.
The Crown-Prince–who goes by Dessau, lodging for a night with the Old Dessauer, and writes affectionately to his Sister from that place, their Letters crossing on the road–gets home on the 12th to Potsdam. October 12th, 1734, he has ended his Rhine Campaign, in that manner;–and sees his poor Father, with a great many other feelings besides those expressed in the dialogue at Baireuth.
Chapter XI.
IN PAPA’S SICK-ROOM; PRUSSIAN INSPECTIONS: END OF WAR.
It appears, Friedrich met a cordial reception in the sickroom at Potsdam; and, in spite of his levities to Wilhelmina, was struck to the heart by what he saw there. For months to come, he seems to be continually running between Potsdam and Ruppin, eager to minister to his sick Father, when military leave is procurable. Other fact, about him, other aspect of him, in those months, is not on record for us.
Of his young Madam, or Princess-Royal, peaceably resident at Berlin or at Schonhausen, and doing the vacant officialities, formal visitings and the like, we hear nothing; of Queen Sophie and the others, nothing: anxious, all of them, no doubt, about the event at Potsdam, and otherwise silent to us. His Majesty’s illness comes and goes; now hope, and again almost none. Margraf of Schwedt and his young Bride, we already know, were married in November; and Lieutenant Chasot (two days old in Berlin) told us, there was Dinner by the Crown-Prince to all the Royal Family on that occasion;–poor Majesty out at Potsdam languishing in the background, meanwhile.
His Carnival the Crown-Prince passes naturally at Berlin. We find he takes a good deal to the French Ambassador, one Marquis de la Chetardie; a showy restless character, of fame in the Gazettes of that time; who did much intriguing at Petersburg some years hence, first in a signally triumphant way, and then in a signally untriumphant; and is not now worth any knowledge but a transient accidental one. Chetardie came hither about Stanislaus and his affairs; tried hard, but in vain, to tempt Friedrich Wilhelm into interference;–is naturally anxious to captivate the Crown-Prince, in present circumstances.
Friedrich Wilhelm lay at Potsdam, between death and life, for almost four months to come; the Newspapers speculating much on his situation; political people extremely anxious what would become of him,–or in fact, when he would die; for that was considered the likely issue. Fassmann gives dolorous clippings from the
Leyden Gazette,
Seckendorf is not now himself at Berlin; but running much about, on other errands; can only see Friedrich Wilhelm, if at all, in a passing way. And even this will soon cease;–and in fact, to us it is by far the most excellent result of this French-Austrian War, that it carries Seckendorf clear away; who now quits Berlin and the Diplomatic line, and obligingly goes out of our sight henceforth. The old Ordnance-Master, as an Imperial General of rank, is needed now for War-Service, if he has any skill that way. In those late months, he was duly in attendance at Philipsburg and the Rhine-Campaign, in a subaltern torpid capacity, like Brunswick-Bevern and the others; ready for work, had there been any: but next season, he expects to have a Division of his own, and to do something considerable.–In regard to Berlin and the Diplomacies, he has appointed a Nephew of his, a Seckendorf Junior, to take his place there; to keep the old machinery in gear, if nothing more; and furnish copious reports during the present crisis. These Reports of Seckendorf Junior–full of eavesdroppings, got from a KAMMERMOHR (Nigger Lackey), who waits in the sick-room at Potsdam, and is sensible to bribes–have been printed; and we mean to glance slightly into them. But as to Seckendorf Senior, readers can entertain the fixed hope that they have at length done with him; that, in these our premises, we shall never see him again;–nay shall see him, on extraneous dim fields, far enough away, smarting and suffering, till even we are almost sorry for the old knave!–
Friedrich Wilhelm’s own prevailing opinion is, that he cannot recover. His bodily sufferings are great: dropsically swollen, sometimes like to be choked: no bed that he can bear to lie on;– oftenest rolls about in a Bath-chair; very heavy-laden indeed; and I think of tenderer humor than in former sicknesses. To the Old Dessauer he writes, few days after getting home to Potsdam: “I am ready to quit the world, as Your Dilection knows, and has various times heard me say. One ship sails faster, another slower; but they come all to one haven. Let it be with me, then, as the Most High has determined for me.” [Orlich,
Schlesischen Kriege
“POTSDAM, SEPTEMBER 3Oth, 1734. Yesterday, for half an hour, the King could get no breath: he keeps them continually rolling him about” in his Bath-chair, “over the room, and cries ‘LUFT, LUFT (Air, air)!’
“OCTOBER 2d. The King is not going to die just yet; but will scarcely see Christmas. He gets on his clothes; argues with the Doctors, is impatient; won’t have people speak of his illness;–is quite black in the face; drinks nothing but MOLL [which we suppose to be small bitter beer], takes physic, writes in bed.
“OCTOBER 5th. The Nigger tells me things are better. The King begins to bring up phlegm; drinks a great deal of oatmeal water [HAFERGRUTZWASSER, comfortable to the sick]; says to the Nigger: ‘Pray diligently, all of you; perhaps I shall not die!'”
October 5th: this is the day the Crown-Prince arrives at Baireuth; to be called away by express four days after. How valuable, at Vienna or elsewhere, our dark friend the Lackey’s medical opinion is, may be gathered from this other Entry, three weeks farther on,–enough to suffice us on that head:–
“The Nigger tells me he has a bad opinion of the King’s health. If you roll the King a little fast in his Bath-chair, you hear the water jumble in his body,”–with astonishment! “King gets into passions; has beaten the pages [may we hope, our dark friend among the rest?], so that it was feared apoplexy would take him.”
This will suffice for the physiological part; let us now hear our poor friend on the Crown-Prince and his arrival:–
“OCTOBER 12th. Return of the Prince-Royal to Potsdam; tender reception.–OCTOBER 21st. Things look ill in Potsdam. The other leg is now also begun running; and above a quart (MAAS) of water has come from it. Without a miracle, the King cannot live,”– thinks our dark friend. “The Prince-Royal is truly affected (VERITABLEMENT ATTENDRI) at the King’s situation; has his eyes full of water, has wept the eyes out of his head: has schemed in all ways to contrive a commodious bed for the King; wouldn’t go away from Potsdam. King forced him away; he is to return Saturday afternoon. The Prince-Royal has been heard to say, ‘If the King will let me live in my own way, I would give an arm to lengthen his life for twenty years.’ King always calls him Fritzchen. But Fritzchen,” thinks Seckendorf Junior, “knows nothing about business. The King is aware of it; and said in the face of him one day: ‘If thou begin at the wrong end with things, and all go topsy-turvy after I am gone, I will laugh at thee out of my grave!'” [Seckendorf (BARON),
So Friedrich Wilhelm; laboring amid the mortal quicksands; looking into the Inevitable, in various moods. But the memorablest speech he made to Fritzchen or to anybody at present, was that covert one about the Kaiser and Seckendorf, and the sudden flash of insight he got, from some word of Seckendorf’s, into what they had been meaning with him all along. Riding through the village of Priort, in debate about Vienna politics of a strange nature, Seckendorf said something, which illuminated his Majesty, dark for so many years, and showed him where he was. A ghastly horror of a country, yawning indisputable there; revealed to one as if by momentary lightning, in that manner! This is a speech which all the ambassadors report, and which was already mentioned by us,–in reference to that opprobrious Proposal about the Crown-Prince’s Marriage, “Marry with England, after all; never mind breaking your word!” Here is the manner of it, with time and place:–
“Sunday last,” Sunday, 17th October, 1734, reports Seckendorf, Junior, through the Nigger or some better witness, “the King said to the Prince-Royal: ‘My dear Son, I tell thee I got my death at Priort. I entreat thee, above all things in the world, don’t trust those people (DENEN LEUTEN), however many promises they make. That day, it was April 17th, 1733, there was a man said something to me: it was as if you had turned a dagger round in my heart.'” [Seckendorf (BARON),
in Forster, ii. 142.]–
Figure that, spoken from amid the dark sick whirlpools, the mortal quicksands, in Friedrich Wilhelm’s voice, clangorously plaintive; what a wild sincerity, almost pathos, is in it; and whether Fritzchen, with his eyes all bewept even for what Papa had suffered in that matter, felt lively gratitudes to the House of Austria at this moment!–
It was four months after, “21st January, 1735,” [Fassmann, p. 533.] when the King first got back to Berlin, to enlighten the eyes of the Carnival a little, as his wont had been. The crisis of his Majesty’s illness is over, present danger gone; and the Carnival people, not without some real gladness, though probably with less than they pretend, can report him well again. Which is far from being the fact, if they knew it. Friedrich Wilhelm is on his feet again; but he never more was well. Nor has he forgotten that word at Priort, “like the turning of a dagger in one’s heart;”–and indeed gets himself continually reminded of it by practical commentaries from the Vienna Quarter.
In April, Prince Lichtenstein arrives on Embassy with three requests or demands from Vienna: “1. That, besides the Ten Thousand due by Treaty, his Majesty would send his Reich’s Contingent,” NOT comprehended in those Ten Thousand, thinks the Kaiser. “2. That he would have the goodness to dismiss Marquis de la Chetardie the French Ambassador, as a plainly superfluous person at a well-affected German Court in present circumstances;” –person excessively dangerous, should the present Majesty die, Crown-Prince being so fond of that Chetardie. “3. That his Prussian Majesty do give up the false Polish Majesty Stanislaus, and no longer harbor him in East Preussen or elsewhere.” The whole of which demands his Prussian Majesty refuses; the latter two especially, as something notably high on the Kaiser’s part, or on any mortal’s, to a free Sovereign and Gentleman. Prince Lichtenstein is eloquent, conciliatory; but it avails not. He has to go home empty-handed;–manages to leave with Herr von Suhm, who took care of it for us, that Anecdote of the Crown- Prince’s behavior under cannon-shot from Philipsburg last year; and does nothing else recordable, in Berlin.
The Crown-Prince’s hopes were set, with all eagerness, on getting to the Rhine-Campaign next ensuing; nor did the King refuse, for a long while, but still less did he consent; and in the end there came nothing of it. From an early period of the year, Friedrich Wilhelm sees too well what kind of campaigning the Kaiser will now make; at a certain Wedding-dinner where his Majesty was,– precisely a fortnight after his Majesty’s arrival in Berlin,– Seckendorf Junior has got, by eavesdropping, this utterance of his Majesty’s: “The Kaiser has not a groschen of money. His Army in Lombardy is gone to twenty-four thousand men, will have to retire into the Mountains. Next campaign [just coming], he will lose Mantua and the Tyrol. God’s righteous judgment it is: a War like this! Comes of flinging old principles overboard,–of meddling in business that was none of yours;” and more, of a plangent alarming nature. [Forster, ii. 144 (and DATE it from
Lexikon,
Friedrich Wilhelm sends back his Ten Thousand, according to contract; sends, over and above, a beautiful stock of “copper pontoons” to help the Imperial Majesty in that River Country, says Fassmann;–sends also a supernumerary Troop of Hussars, who are worth mentioning, “Six-score horse of Hussar type,” under one Captain Ziethen, a taciturn, much-enduring, much-observing man, whom we shall see again: these are to be diligently helpful, as is natural; but they are also, for their own behoof, to be diligently observant, and learn the Austrian Hussar methods, which his Majesty last year saw to be much superior. Nobody that knows Ziethen doubts but he learnt; Hussar-Colonel Baronay, his Austrian teacher here, became too well convinced of it when they met on a future occasion. [
but inexact, by the Frau von Blumenthal, a kinswoman of his; English Translation, very ill printed, Berlin, 1803), p. 54.] All this his Majesty did for the ensuing campaign: but as to the Crown-Prince’s going thither, after repeated requests on his part, it is at last signified to him, deep in the season, that it cannot be: “Won’t answer for a Crown-Prince to be sharer in such a Campaign;–be patient, my good Fritzchen, I will find other work for thee.” [Friedrich’s Letter, 5th September, 1735; Friedrich Wilhelm’s Answer next day (
part 3d, 93-95).] Fritzchen is sent into Preussen, to do the Reviewings and Inspections there; Papa not being able for them this season; and strict manifold Inspection, in those parts, being more than usually necessary, owing to the Russian-Polish troubles. On this errand, which is clearly a promotion, though in present circumstances not a welcome one for the Crown-Prince, he sets out without delay; and passes there the equinoctial and autumnal season, in a much more useful way than he could have done in the Rhine-Campaign.
In the Rhine-Moselle Country and elsewhere the poor Kaiser does exert himself to make a Campaign of it; but without the least success. Having not a groschen of money, how could he succeed? Noailles, as foreseen, manoeuvres him, hitch after hitch, out of Italy; French are greatly superior, more especially when Montemar, having once got Carlos crowned in Naples and put secure, comes to assist the French; Kaiser has to lean for shelter on the Tyrol Alps, as predicted. Italy, all but some sieging of strong-places, may be considered as lost for the present.
Nor on the Rhine did things go better. Old Eugene, “the shadow of himself,” had no more effect this year than last: nor, though Lacy and Ten Thousand Russians came as allies, Poland being all settled now, could the least good be done. Reich’s Feldmarschall Karl Alexander of Wurtemberg did “burn a Magazine” (probably of hay among better provender) by his bomb-shells, on one occasion. Also the Prussian Ten Thousand–Old Dessauer leading them, General Roder having fallen ill–burnt something: an Islet in the Rhine, if I recollect, “Islet of Larch near Bingen,” where the French had a post; which and whom the Old Dessauer burnt away. And then Seckendorf, at the head of thirty thousand, he, after long delays, marched to Trarbach in the interior Moselle Country; and got into some explosive sputter of battle with Belleisle, one afternoon,– some say, rather beating Belleisle; but a good judge says, it was a mutual flurry and terror they threw one another into. [
meant to try again on the morrow: but there came an estafette that night: “Preliminaries signed (Vienna, 3d October, 1735);–try no farther!” [“Cessation is to be, 5th November for Germany, 15th for Italy; Preliminaries” were, Vienna, “3d October,” 1735 (Scholl, ii. 945).] And this was the second Rhine-Campaign, and the end of the Kaiser’s French War. The Sea-Powers, steadily refusing money, diligently run about, offering terms of arbitration; and the Kaiser, beaten at every point, and reduced to his last groschen, is obliged to comply. He will have a pretty bill to pay for his Polish-Election frolic, were the settlement done! Fleury is pacific, full of bland candor to the Sea-Powers; the Kaiser, after long higgling upon articles, will have to accept the bill.
The Crown-Prince, meanwhile, has a successful journey into Preussen; sees new interesting scenes, Salzburg Emigrants, exiled Polish Majesties; inspects the soldiering, the schooling, the tax- gathering, the domain-farming, with a perspicacity, a dexterity and completeness that much pleases Papa. Fractions of the Reports sent home exist for us: let the reader take a glance of one only; the first of the series; dated MARIENWERDER (just across the Weichsel, fairly out of Polish Preussen and into our own), 27th September, 1735, and addressed to the “Most All-gracious King and Father;”–abridged for the reader’s behoof:–
… “In Polish Preussen, lately the Seat of War, things look hideously waste; one sees nothing but women and a few children; it is said the people are mostly running away,”–owing to the Russian-Polish procedures there, in consequence of the blessed Election they have had. King August, whom your Majesty is not in love with, has prevailed at this rate of expense. King Stanislaus, protected by your Majesty in spite of Kaisers and Czarinas, waits in Konigsberg, till the Peace, now supposed to be coming, say what is to become of him: once in Konigsberg, I shall have the pleasure to see him. “A detachment of five-and-twenty Saxon Dragoons of the Regiment Arnstedt, marching towards Dantzig, met me: their horses were in tolerable case; but some are piebald, some sorrel, and some brown among them,” which will be shocking to your Majesty, “and the people did not look well.” …
“Got hither to Marienwerder, last night: have inspected the two Companies which are here, that is to say, Lieutenant-Col. Meier’s and Rittmeister Haus’s. In very good trim, both of them; and though neither the men nor their horses are of extraordinary size, they are handsome well-drilled fellows, and a fine set of stiff-built horses (GEDRUNGENEN PFERDEN). The fellows sit them like pictures (REITEN WIE DIE PUPPEN; I saw them do their wheelings. Meier has some fine recruits; in particular two;”–nor has the Rittmeister been wanting in that respect. “Young horses” too are coming well on, sleek of skin. In short, all is right on the military side. [
xxvii. part 3d, p. 97.]
Civil business, too, of all kinds, the Crown-Prince looked into, with a sharp intelligent eye;–gave praise, gave censure in the right place; put various things on a straight footing, which were awry when he found them. In fact, it is Papa’s second self; looks into the bottom of all things quite as Papa would have done, and is fatal to mendacities, practical or vocal, wherever he meets them. What a joy to Papa: “Here, after all, is one that can replace me, in case of accident. This Apprentice of mine, after all, he has fairly learned the Art; and will continue it when I am gone!”–
Yes, your Majesty, it is a Prince-Royal wise to recognize your Majesty’s rough wisdom, on all manner of points; will not be a Devil’s-FRIEND, I think, any more than your Majesty was. Here truly are rare talents; like your Majesty and unlike;– and has a steady swiftness in him, as of an eagle, over and above! Such powers of practical judgment, of skilful action, are rare in one’s twenty-third year. And still rarer, have readers noted what a power of holding his peace this young man has? Fruit of his sufferings, of the hard life he has had. Most important power; under which all other useful ones will more and more ripen for him. This Prince already knows his own mind, on a good many points; privately, amid the world’s vague clamor jargoning round him to no purpose, he is capable of having HIS mind made up into definite Yes and No,–so as will surprise us one day.
Friedrich Wilhelm, we perceive, [His Letter, 24th October, 1735. (Ib. p. 99).] was in a high degree content with this performance of the Prussian Mission: a very great comfort to his sick mind, in those months and afterwards. Here are talents, here are qualities, –visibly the Friedrich-Wilhelm stuff throughout, but cast in an infinitely improved type:–what a blessing we did not cut off that young Head, at the Kaiser’s dictation, in former years!–
At Konigsberg, as we learn in a dim indirect manner, the Crown- Prince sees King Stanislaus twice or thrice,–not formally, lest there be political offence taken, but incidentally at the houses of third-parties;–and is much pleased with the old gentleman; who is of cultivated good-natured ways, and has surely many curious things, from Charles XII. downwards, to tell a young man. [Came 8th October, went 21st (
Friedrich returned to Dantzig: saw that famous City, and late scene of War; tracing with lively interest the footsteps of Munnich and his Siege operations,–some of which are much blamed by judges, and by this young Soldier among the rest. There is a pretty Letter of his from Dantzig, turning mainly on those points. Letter written to his young Brother-in-law, Karl of Brunswick, who is now become Duke there; Grandfather and Father both dead; [Grandfather, 1st March, 1735; Father (who lost the
of Ettlingen
“DANTZIG, 26th OCTOBER, 1735. … Thank my dear Sister for her services. I am charmed that she has made you papa with so good a grace. I fear you won’t stop there; but will go on peopling the world”–one knows not to what extent–“with your amiable race. Would have written sooner; but I am just returning from the depths of the barbarous Countries; and having been charged with innumerable commissions which I did not understand too well, had no good possibility to think or to write.
“I have viewed all the Russian labors in these parts; have had the assault on the Hagelsberg narrated to me; been on the grounds;– and own I had a better opinion of Marshal Munnich than to think him capable of so distracted an enterprise. [
Frederic,
“Your most,” &c.,
“FREDERIC.”
The Brunswick Masterpiece, achieved on this occasion, grew to be a man and Duke, famous enough in the Newspapers in time coming: Champagne, 1792; Jena, 1806; George IV.’s Queen Caroline; these and other distracted phenomena (pretty much blotting out the earlier better sort) still keep him hanging painfully in men’s memory. From his birth, now in this Prussian Journey of our Crown- Prince, to his death-stroke on the Field of Jena, what a seventy- one years!–
Fleury and the Kaiser, though it is long before the signature and last finish can take place, are come to terms of settlement, at the Crown-Prince’s return; and it is known, in political circles, what the Kaiser’s Polish-Election damages will probably amount to. Here are, in substance, the only conditions that could be got for him:–
“1. Baby Carlos, crowned in Naples, cannot be pulled out again: Naples, the Two Sicilies, are gone without return. That is the first loss; please Heaven it be the worst! On the other hand, Baby Carlos will, as some faint compensation, surrender to your Imperial Majesty his Parma and Piacenza apanages; and you shall get back your Lombardy,–all but a scantling which we fling to the Sardinian Majesty; who is a good deal huffed, having had possession of the Milanese these two years past, in terms of his bargain with Fleury. Pacific Fleury says to him: ‘Bargain cannot be kept, your Majesty; please to quit the Milanese again, and put up with this scantling.’
“2. The Crown of Poland, August III. has got it, by Russian bombardings and other measures: Crown shall stay with August,–all the rather as there would be no dispossessing him, at this stage. He was your Imperial Majesty’s Candidate; let him be the winner there, for your Imperial Majesty’s comfort.
“3. And then as to poor Stanislaus? Well, let Stanislaus be Titular Majesty of Poland for life;–which indeed will do little for him:–but in addition, we propose, That, the Dukedom of Lorraine being now in our hands, Majesty Stanislaus have the life-rent of Lorraine to subsist upon; and–and that Lorraine fall to us of France on his decease!–‘Lorraine?’ exclaim the Kaiser, and the Reich, and the Kaiser’s intended Son-in-law Franz Duke of Lorraine. There is indeed a loss and a disgrace; a heavy item in the Election damages!
“4. As to Duke Franz, there is a remedy. The old Duke of Florence, last of the Medici, is about to die childless: let the now Duke of Lorraine, your Imperial Majesty’s intended Son-in-law, have Florence instead.–And so it had to be settled. ‘Lorraine? To Stanislaus, to France?’ exclaimed the poor Kaiser, still more the poor Reich, and poor Duke Franz. This was the bitterest cut of all; but there was no getting past it. This too had to be allowed, this item for the Election breakages in Poland. And so France, after nibbling for several centuries, swallows Lorraine whole. Duke Franz attempted to stand out; remonstrated much, with Kaiser and Hofrath, at Vienna, on this unheard-of proposal: but they told him it was irremediable; told him at last (one Bartenstein, a famed Aulic Official, told him), ‘No Lorraine, no Archduchess, your Serenity!’–and Franz had to comply, Lorraine is gone; cunning Fleury has swallowed it whole. ‘That was what he meant in picking this quarrel.!’ said Teutschland mournfully. Fleury was very pacific, candid in aspect to the Sea-Powers and others; and did not crow afflictively, did not say what he had meant.
“5. One immense consolation for the Kaiser, if for no other, is: France guarantees the Pragmatic Sanction,–though with very great difficulty; spending a couple of years, chiefly on this latter point as was thought. [Treaty on it not signed till 18th November, 1738 (Scholl, ii. 246).] How it kept said guarantee, will be seen in the sequel.”
And these were the damages the poor Kaiser had to pay for meddling in Polish Elections;–for galloping thither in chase of his Shadows. No such account of broken windows was ever presented to a man before. This may be considered as the consummation of the Kaiser’s Shadow-Hunt; or at least its igniting and exploding point. His Duel with the Termagant has at last ended; in total defeat to him on every point. Shadow-Hunt does not end; though it is now mostly vanished; exploded in fire. Shadow-Hunt is now gone all to Pragmatic Sanction, as it were: that now is the one thing left in Nature for a Kaiser; and that he will love, and chase, as the summary of all things. From this point he steadily goes down, and at a rapid rate;–getting into disastrous Turk Wars, with as little preparation for War or Fact as a life-long Hunt of SHADOWS presupposes; Eugene gone from him, and nothing but Seckendorfs to manage for him;–and sinks to a low pitch indeed. We will leave him here; shall hope to see but little more of him.
In the Summer of 1736, in consequence of these arrangements,– which were completed so far, though difficulties on Pragmatic Sanction and other points retarded the final signature for many months longer,–the Titular Majesty Stanislaus girt himself together for departure towards his new Dominion or Life-rent; quitted Konigsberg; traversed Prussian Poland, safe this time, “under escort of Lieutenant-General von Katte [our poor Katte of Custrin’s Father] and fifty cuirassiers;” reached Berlin in the middle of May, under flowerier aspects than usual. He travelled under the title of “Count” Something, and alighted at the French Ambassador’s in Berlin: but Friedrich Wilhelm treated him like a real Majesty, almost like a real Brother; had him over to the Palace; rushed out to meet him there, I forget how many steps beyond the proper limits; and was hospitality itself and munificence itself;–and, in fact, that night and all the other nights, “they smoked above thirty pipes together,” for one item. May 21st, 1736, [Forster (i. 227), following loose Pollnitz (ii. 478), dates it 1735: a more considerable error, if looked into, than is usual in Herr Forster; who is not an ill-informed nor inexact man;–though, alas, in respect of method (that is to say, want of visible method, indication, or human arrangement), probably the most confused of all the Germans!] Ex-Majesty Stanislaus went on his way again; towards France,–towards Meudon, a quiet Royal House in France,–till Luneville, Nanci, and their Lorraine Palaces are quite ready. There, in these latter, he at length does find resting-place, poor innocent insipid mortal, after such tossings to and fro: and M. de Voltaire, and others of mark, having sometimes enlivened the insipid Court there, Titular King Stanislaus has still a kind of remembrance among mankind.
Of his Prussian Majesty we said that, though the Berlin populations reported him well again, it was not so. The truth is, his Majesty was never well again. From this point, age only forty- seven, he continues broken in bodily constitution; clogged more and more with physical impediments; and his History, personal and political withal, is as that of an old man, finishing his day. To the last he pulls steadily, neglecting no business, suffering nothing to go wrong. Building operations go on at Berlin; pushed more than ever, in these years, by the rigorous Derschau, who has got that in charge. No man of money or rank in Berlin but Derschau is upon him, with heavier and heavier compulsion to build: which is felt to be tyrannous; and occasions an ever- deepening grumble among the moneyed classes. At Potsdam his Majesty himself is the Builder; and gives the Houses away to persons of merit. [Pollnitz, ii. 469.]
Nor is the Army less an object, perhaps almost more. Nay, at one time, old Kur-Pfalz being reckoned in a dying condition, Friedrich Wilhelm is about ranking his men, prepared to fight for his rights in Julich and Berg; Kaiser having openly gone over, and joined with France against his Majesty in that matter. However, the old Kur-Pfalz did not die, and there came nothing of fight in Friedrich Wilhelm’s time. But his History, on the political side, is henceforth mainly a commentary to him on that “word” he heard in Priort, “which was as if you had turned a dagger in my heart!” With the Kaiser he has fallen out: there arise unfriendly passages between them, sometimes sarcastic on Friedrich Wilhelm’s part, in