History of Friedrich II of Prussia - Frederick the Great Chapter XIII. - Battle of Zorndorf.
by Thomas Carlyle
Sunday, 20th August, Friedrich, with his small Army, hardly above
15,000 I should guess, arrived at Frankfurt-on-Oder: "his Majesty,"
it seems, "lodged in the Lebus Suburb, in the house of a
Clergyman's Widow; and was observed to go often out of doors, and
listen to the cannonading, which was going on at Custrin."
[Rodenbeck, i. 347.] From Landshut hither, he has come in nine
days; the swiftest marching; a fiery spur of indignation being upon
all his men and him, for the last two days fierier than ever,--
longing all to have a blow at those incendiary Russian gentlemen.
Five days ago, the Russians, attempting blindly on the Garrison of
Custrin, had burnt,--nothing of the Garrison at all,--but the poor
little Town altogether. Which has filled everybody with lamentation
and horror. And, listen yonder, they are still busy on the solitary
Garrison of Custrin;--audible enough to Friedrich from his northern
or Lebus Suburb, which lies nearest the place, at a distance of
some twenty miles.
Of Fermor's red-hot savagery on Custrin, it is lamentably necessary
we should say something: to say much would he a waste of record;
as the thing itself was a waste of powder. A thing hideous to think
of; without the least profit to Fermor, but with total ruin to all
the inhabitants, and to the many strangers who had sought refuge
there. One interior circumstance is memorable and lucky to us.
Artillery-Captain Tielcke happened to be with these people;
had come in the train of "two Saxon Princes, serving as
volunteers;" and, with a singular lucidity, and faithful good
sense, not scientific alone, he illuminates these biack Russian
matters for such as have to do with them.
Tielcke's Book of Contributions to the Art of War
[ Beytrage zur Kriege-Kunst und (ZUR) Geschichte
des Krieges von 1756 bis 1763 (six thin vols. 4to,
with many Plates); cited above.] is still in repute with Soldiers,
especially in the Artillery line; and indeed shows a sound
geometrical head, and contains bits of excellent Historical reading
interspersed among the scientific parts. This Tielcke, it appears,
was a common foot-soldier, one of those Pirna 14,000 made Prussian
against their will; but Tielcke had a milkmaid for sweetheart in
those regions, who, good soul, gave him her generous farewell, a
suit of her clothes, perhaps a pair of her pails; and in that guise
he walked out of bondage. Clear away; to Warsaw, to favor with the
King and others (being of real merit, an excellent, studious,
modest little man); and here he now reappears, in a higher
capacity; as articulate Eye-witness of the Custrin Business and the
Zorndorf, among much other Russian darkness, which shall remain
comfortably blank to us.
Up to Custrin, the Journal of the Operations of the Russian Army,
which I could give from day to day, ["TAGEBUCH BEYDER &c. (Diary of
both Armies from the beginning of the Campaign till Zorndorf"), in
Tielcke, ii. 1-75; Tempelhof, ii. 136, 216-224; Helden-
Geschichte, v.; &c. &c.] is of no interest except to
the Nether Powers of this Universe; the Russian Operations hitherto
having consisted in slow marches, sluttish cookeries, cantonings,
bivouackings, with destruction of a poor innocent Country, and
arson, theft and murder done on the great scale by inhuman
vagabonds, Cossacks so called, not tempered on this occasion by the
mercy of Calmucks. The regular Russian Army, it appears,
participates in the common horror of mankind against such a method
of making war; but neither Feldmarschall Fermor, nor General
Demikof (properly THEMICOUD, a Swiss, deserving little thanks from
us, who has taken in hand to command these Missionaries of the
Pit), can help the results above described. Which are justly
characterized as abominable, to gods and men; and not fit to be
recorded in human Annals; execration, and, if it were possible,
oblivion, being the human resource with them., The Russian
Officers, it seems, despise tbis Cossack rabble incredibly;
for their fighting qualities withal are close on zero, though their
talent for arson and murder is so considerable. And contrariwise,
the Cossacks, for their part, have no objection to plunder, or
even, if obstreperous, to kill, any regular Officer they may meet
unescorted in a good place. Their talent for arson is great.
They do uncountable damage to the Army itself; provoking all the
Country people to destroy by fire what could be eaten or used, the
foraging, food and equipments of horse and man; so that horse and
man have to be fed by victual carted hundreds of miles out of
Poland; and the Russian Army sticks, as it were, tethered with a
welter of broken porridge-pots and rent meal-bags hung to every
foot it has.
East Preussen is quiet from the storms of War; holds its tongue
well, and hopes better days: but the Russians themselves are little
the better for it, a country so lately burned bare; they are merely
flung so many scores of miles forward, farther from home and their
real resources, before they can begin work, They have no port on
the Baltic: poor blockheads, they are aware how desirable, for
instance, Dantzig would be; to help feeding them out of ships;
but the Dantzigers won't. Colberg, a poor little place, with only
700 militia people in it, would be of immense service to them as a
sea-haven: but even this they have not yet tried to get; and after
trying, they will find it a job. "Why not unite with the Swedes and
take Stettin (the finest harbor in the Baltic), which would bring
Russia, by ships, to your very hand?" This is what Montalembert is
urgent upon, year after year, to the point of wearying everybody;
but he can get no official soul to pay heed to him,--the
difficulties are so considerable. "Swedes, what are they?" say the
Russians: "Russians what?" say the Swedes. "Sweden would be so
handy for the Artilleries," urges Montalembert; "Russians for the
Soldiery, or covering and fighting part."--"Can't be done!"
Officiality shakes its head: and Montalembert is obliged to
be silent.
The Russians have got into the Neumark of Brandenburg, on those bad
terms; and are clearly aware that, without some Fortress as a Place
of Arms, they are an overgrown Incompetency and Monstrosity in the
field of War; doing much destruction, most of which proves self-
destructive before long. But how help it? If the carrying of meal
so far be difficult what will the carrying of siege-furniture be?
A flat impossibility. Fermor, aware of these facts, remembers what
happened at Oczakow,--long ago, in our presence, and Keith's and
Munnich's, if the reader have not quite forgot. Munnich, on that
occasion, took Oczakow without any siege-furniture whatever, by
boldly marching up to it; nothing but audacity and good luck on his
side. Fermor determines to try Custrin in the like way,--if
peradventure Prussian soldiery be like Turk?--
Fermor rose from Posen August 2d, almost three weeks ago;
making daily for the Neumark and those unfortunate Oder Countries;
nobody but Dohna to oppose him,--Dohna in the ratio of perhaps one
against four. Dohna naturally laid hold of Frankfurt and the Oder
Bridge, so that Fermor could not cross there; whereupon Fermor, as
the next best thing, struck northward for the Warta (black Polish
stream, last big branch of Oder); crossed this, at his ease, by
Landsberg Bridge, August 10th [Tempelhof, ii. 216.] and after a day
or two of readjustment in Landsberg, made for Custrin Country (his
next head-quarter is at Gross Kamin); hoping in some accidental or
miraculous way to cross Oder thereabouts, or even get hold of
Custrin as a Place of Arms. If peradventure he can take Custrin
without proper siege-artillery, in the Oczakow or Anti-Turk way?
Fermor has been busy upon Custrin since August 15th;--in what
fashion we partly heard, and will now, from authentic sources, see
a little for ourselves.
The Castle of Custrin, built by good Johann of Custrin, and "roofed
with copper," in the Reformation times,--we know it from of old,
and Friedrich has since had some knowledge of it. Custrin itself is
a rugged little Town, with some moorland traffic, and is still a
place of great military strength, the garrison of those parts.
Its rough pavements, its heavy stone battlements and barriers, give
it a guarled obstinate aspect,--stern enough place of exile for a
Crown-Prince fallen into such disfavor with Papa! A rugged,
compact, by no means handsome little Town, at the meeting of the
Warta and the Oder; stands naturally among sedges, willows and
drained mire, except that human industry is pleasantly busy upon
it, and has long been. So that the neighborhood is populous beyond
expectation; studded with rough cottages in white-wash; hamlets in
a paved condition; and comfortable signs of labor victoriously
wrestling with the wilderness. Custrin, an arsenal and garrison,
begirt with two rivers, and with awful bulwarks, and bastions cased
in stone,--"perhaps too high," say the learned,--is likely to be
impregnable to Russian engineering on those terms. Here, with
brevity, is the catastrophe of Custrin.
TUESDAY, 15th AUGUST, 1758. At two in the morning, several thousand
Russians, grenadiers, under Quartermaster General Stoffeln, whom
the readers of Mannstein know from old Oczakow times, are astir;
pushing along from Gross Kamin, through the scraggy firwoods, and
flat peat countries; intending a stroke on Custrin, if perhaps they
can get it: [Tempelhof, ii. 217; but Tielcke, ii. 69 et seq., the
real source.]--not the slightest chance to get Custrin;
Prussian soldiership and Turkish being two quite different things!
The pickeering and manoeuvring of Stoffeln shall not detain us.
Stoffeln came along by the Landsberg road (course of the now
Konigsberg-Custrin Railway); and drove in the Prussian out-parties,
who at first took him for Cossacks. Stoffeln set himself down on
the north side of the place; planted cannon in certain clay-pits
thereabouts, and about nine o'clock began firing shells and
incendiary grenadoes at a great rate. Tielcke saw everything,--and
had the honor to take luncheon, that evening, with certain chief
Officers, sitting on the ground, after all was over, and only a few
shots from the Garrison still dropping. [Tielcke, ii. 75 n.]
At the third grenade, which, it seems, fell into a straw magazine,
Custrin took fire; could not be quenched again, so much dry wood in
it, so much disorder too, the very soldiers some of them disorderly
(a bad deserter set); so that it soon flamed aloft,--from side to
side one sea of flame: and man, woman and child, every soul (except
the Garrison, which sat enclosed in strong stone), had to fly
across the River, under penalty of death by fire. Of Custrin, by
five in the evening, there was nothing left but the black ashes;
the Garrison standing unharmed, and the Church, School-house and
some stone edifices in a charred skeleton condition. "No life was
lost, except that of one child in arms." All Neumark had lodged its
valuables in this place of strength; all are fled now in horror and
terror across the Oder, by the Bridge, before it also unquenchably
takes fire, at the western or non-Russian end of the place. Such a
day as was seldom seen in human experience;--Fermor responsible for
it, happily not we.
Fermor, in the evening, said to his Artillery People: "Why have you
ceased to fire grenadoes?" "Excellency, the Town is out;
nothing now but ashes and stone." "Never mind; give them the rest,
one every quarter of an hour. We shall not need the grenadoes
again. The cannon-balls we shall; them, therefore, do not waste."
On the morrow morning, after this performance on the Town, Fermor
sends a Trumpeter: "Surrender or else--!" rather in the tremendous
style. "Or else?" answers the Commandant, pointing to the ashes, to
the black inconsumable stones; and is deaf to this EX-POST-FACTO
Trumpeter. The Russians say they sent one yesterday morning, not
EX-POST-FACTO, but he was killed in the pickeerings, and never
heard of again. A mile or so to rear of Custrin, on the westward or
Berlin side of the River, lies Dohna for the last four days;
expecting that the Laws of Nature will hold good, and Custrin prove
tenable against such sieging. So stands it on Friedrich's arrival.
We left Friedrich in the Lebus Suburb of Frankfurt, Sunday, August
20th, listening to the distant cannonade. Next morning, he is here
himself; at Dohna's Camp of Gorgast, taking survey of affairs;
came early, under rapid small escort, leaving his Army to follow;
scorn and contemptuous indignation the humor of him, they say;
resolution to be swiftly home upon that surprising Russian
armament, and teach it new manners. The black skeleton of Custrin
stares hideously across the River; "Custrin Siege" so called still
going on;--had better make despatch now, and take itself away!
He greatly despises Russian soldiership: "Pooh, pooh," he would
answer, if Keith from experience said, "Your Majesty does not do it
justice;"--and Keith has been known to hint, "If the trial ever
come, your Majesty will alter that opinion." A day or two hence,
amid these hideous Russian fire-traceries, the Hussars bring him a
dozen of Cossacks they have made prisoners: Friedrich looks at the
dirty green vagabonds; says to one of his Staff: "And this is the
kind of Doggery I have to bother with!"--The sight of the poor
country-people, and their tears of joy and of sorrow on his
reappearance among them, much affected him. Taking inspection of
Dohna, he finds Dohna wonderfully clean, pipe-clayed, complete:
"You are very fine indeed, you;--I bring you a set of fellows,
rough as GRASTEUFELN ["grass-devils," I never know whether insects
or birds]; but they can bite,"--hope you can!
Tuesday, August 32d, at five in the morning our Army has all
arrived, the Frankfurt people just come in; 30,000 of us now in
Camp at Gorgast. Friedrich orders straightway that a certain
Russian Redoubt on the other side of the River, at Schaumburg, a
mile or two down stream, be well cannonaded into ruin,--as if he
took it for some incipiency of a Russian Bridge, or were himself
minded to cross here, under cover of Custrin. Friedrich's intention
very certainly is to cross,--here or not just here;--and that same
night, after some hours of rest to the Frankfurt people,--night of
Tuesday-Wednesday, Friedrich, having persuaded the Russians that
his crossing-place will be their Redoubt at Schaumburg, marches ten
or twelve miles down the River, silently his 30,000 and he, till
opposite the Village of Gustebiese; rapidly makes his Bridges
there, unmolested: Fermor, with his eye on the cannonaded Redoubt
only, has expected no such matter; and is much astonished when he
hears of it, twenty hours after. Friedrich, across with the
vanguard, at an early hour of Wednesday, gets upon the knoll at
Gustebiese for a view; and all Gustebiese, hearing of him, hurries
out, with low-voiced tremulous blessings, irrepressible tears:
"God reward your Majesty, that have come to us!"--and there is a
hustling and a struggling, among the women especially, to kiss the
skirts of his coat. Poor souls: one could have stood tremendous
cheers; but this is a thing I forgive Friedrich for being visibly
affected with.
Friedrich leaves his baggage on the other side of the Oder, and the
Bridge guarded; our friend Hordt, with his Free-Corps, doing it,
Friedrich marches forward some ten miles that night;
eastward, straight for Gross Kamin, as if to take the Russians in
rear; encamps at a place called Klossow, spreading himself
obliquely towards the Mutzel (black sluggish tributary of the Oder
in those parts), meaning to reach Neu Damm on the Mutzel to-morrow,
there almost within wind of the Russians, and be ready for crossing
on them. It was at Klossow (23d August, evening), that the Hussars
brought in their dozen or two of Cossacks, and he had his first
sight of Russian soldiery; by no means a favorable one, "Ugh, only
look!"--As we are now approaching Zorndorf, and the monstrous tug
of Battle which fell out there, readers will be glad of
the following:--
"From Damm on the Mutzel, where Friedrich intends crossing it
to-morrow night, south to Gross Kamin, not far from the Warta,
where Fermor's head-quarter lately was, may be about five miles.
From Custrin, Kamin lies northeast about eight or ten miles:
Zorndorf, the most considerable Village in this tract, lies--little
dreaming of the sad glory coming to it--pretty much in the centre
between big Warta and smaller Mutzel. The Country is by nature a
peat wilderness, far and wide; but it has been tamed extensively;
grows crops, green pastures; is elsewhere covered with wood (Scotch
fir, scraggy in size, but evidently under forest management);
perhaps half the country is in Fir tracts, what they call HEIDEN
(Heaths); the cultivated spaces lying like light-green islands with
black-green channels and expanses of circumambient Fir. The Drewitz
Heath, the Massin or Zither Heath, and others about Zorndorf, will
become notable to us. The Country is now much drier than in
Friedrich's time; the human spade doing its duty everywhere:
so that much of the Battle-ground has become irrecognizable, when
compared with the old marshy descriptions given of it. Zorndorf, a
rough substantial Hamlet, has nothing of boggy now visible near by;
lies east to west, a firm broad highway leading through: a sea of
forest before it, to south; to north, good dry barley-grounds or
rye-grounds, sensibly rising for half a mile, then waving about in
various slow slight changes of level towards Quartschen, Zicher,
&c.: forming an irregular cleared 'island,' altogether of perhaps
four miles by three, with unlimited circumambiencies of wood.
It was here, on this island as we call it, that the Battle, which
has made Zorndorf famous, was fought.
"Zorndorf (or even the open ground half a mile to north of it,
which will be more important to us) is probably not 50 feet above
the level of the Mutzel, nor 100 above Warta and Oder, six miles
off; but it is the crown of the Country;--the ground dropping
therefrom every way, in lazy dull waves or swells; towards Tamsel
and Gross Kamin on southeast; towards Birken-Busch, Quartschen,
Darmutzel [DAR of the Mutzel, whatever "DAR" may be.] on northwest;
as well as towards Damm and its Bridge northeast, where Friedrich
will soon be, and towards Custrin southwest, where he lately was,
each a five or six miles from Zorndorf.
"Such is the poor moorland tract of Country; Zorndorf the centre of
it,--where the battle is likely to be:--Zorndorf and environs a
bare quasi-island among these woods; extensive bald crown of the
landscape, girt with a frizzle of firwoods all round. Boggy pools
there are, especially on the western side (all drained in our
time). Mutzel, or north side, is of course the lowest in level:
and accordingly," what is much to be marked by readers here, "from
the south, or Zorndorf side, at wide intervals, there saunter
along, in a slow obscure manner, Three miserable continuous
Leakages, or oozy Threads of Water, all making for Quartschen, to
north or northwest, there to disembogue into the Mutzel. Each of
these has its little Hollow; of which the westernmost, called
Zabern Hollow (ZABERNGRUND), is the most considerable, and the most
important to us here: GALGENGRUND (Gallows-Hollow) is also worth
naming in this Battle; the third Leakage, though without
importance, invites us to name it, HOSEBRUCH, quasi STOCKING-
quagmire,--because you can use no stockings there, except with
manifest disadvantage."--Take this other concluding trait:--
... "Inexpressible fringe of marsh, two or three miles broad,
mostly bottomless, woven with sluggish creeks and stagnant pools,
borders the Warta for many miles towards Landsberg;
Custrin-Landsberg Causeway the alone sure footing in it; after
which, the country rises insensibly, but most beneficially, and is
mainly drier till you get to the Mutzel again, and find the same
fringe of mud lace-work again, Zorndorf we called the crown of it.
Tamsel, Wilkersdorf, Klein Kamin, Gross Kamin, and other places
known to us, lie on the dry turf-fuel country, but looking over
close upon the hem of that marsh-fringe, and no doubt getting
peats, wild ducks, pike-fishes, eels, and snatches of summer
pasture and cow-hay out of it."
Thursday, August 24th, Friedrich is again speeding on;
occupying Darmutzel and other crossing-places of the Mutzel;
[Mitchell to Holderness, "DErmItzel, 24th August, 1758" (MEMOIRS
AND PAPERS, i. 425; Ib. ii. 40-47, Mitchell's Private Journal).]--
by no means himself crossing there; on the contrary, carefully
breaking all the Bridges before he go ("No retreat for those
Russian vagabonds, only death or surrender for them!")--himself not
intending to cross till he be up at Damm, Neu Damm, well eastward
of his Russians, and have got them all pinfolded between Mutzel and
Oder in that way. In the evening, he reaches Damm and the Mill of
Damm, some three or four miles higher up the Mutzel;--and there
pushes partly across at once. That is to say, his vanguard at once,
and takes a defensive position; his Artillery and other Divisions
by degrees, in the silent night hours; and, before daybreak
to-morrow, every soul will be across, and the Bridge broken again;
--and Fermor had better have his accounts settled.
Fermor's roving Cossack clouds seldom bring him in intelligence;
but only return stained with charcoal grime and red murder: up to
late last night, he had not known where Friedrich was at all;
had idly thought him busy with the Schaumburg Redoubt, on the other
side of Oder, fencing and precautioning: but now (night of the
23d), these Cossacks do come in with news, "Indisputable to our
poor minds, the Prussians are at Klossow yonder,--captured a dozen
green vagabonds of us, and have sent us galloping!"--which news,
with the night closing in on him, was astonishing, thrice and four
times important to Fermor.
Instantly he raises the siege of Custrin, any siege there was;
gets his immense baggage-train shoved off that night to Klein
Kamin, Landsberg way; summons the force from Landsberg to join him
without loss of a moment;--and in the meanwhile pitches himself in
long bivouac in the Drewitz Wood or Fir-Heath, with the quaggy
Zaberngrund in front. Quaggy Zaberngrund,--do readers remember it;
one of those "Three continuous Leakages," very important, to Fermor
and us at present? This is the safest place Fermor can find for
himself; scraggy firs around, good quagmires and Zabern Hollow in
front; looking to the east, waiting what a new day will bring.
That was Fermor's posture, while Friedrich quitted Klossow in the
dawn of the 24th. Be busy, ye Cossack doggeries; return with news,
not with mere grime and marks of blood on your mouths!
Evening of the 24th, Cossacks report that Friedrich has got to Damm
Mill; has hold of the Bridge there; and may be looked for, sure as
the daylight, to-morrow. Fermor is 50,000 odd, his Landsberg forces
all coming in; one Detachment out Stettin way, which cannot come
in; Fermor finds that his baggage-train is fairly on the road to
Klein Kamin;--and that he will have to quit this bosky bivouac, and
fight for himself in the open ground, or do worse.
THESEUS AND THE MINOTAUR OVER AGAIN,--THAT IS TO SAY,
FRIEDRICH AT HAND-GRIPS WITH FERMOR AND HIS RUSSIANS
(25TH AUGUST, 1758).
Artless Fermor draws out to the open ground, north of Zorndorf,
south of Quartschen; arranges himself in huge quadrilateral mass,
with his "staff-baggage" (lighter baggage) in the centre, and his
front, so to speak, everywhere. [Excellent Plan of him, or rather
Plans, in his successive shapes, in Tielcke, ii. (PLATES 4, 5, 6,
7, 8).] Mass, say two miles long by one mile broad; but it is by no
means regular, and has many zigzags according to the ground, and
narrows and droops southward on the eastern end: one of the most
artless arrangements; but known to Fermor, and the readiest on this
pinch of time. Munnich devised this quadrilateral mode; and found
it good against the Turks, and their deluges of raging horse and
foot: Fermor could perhaps do better; but there is such a press of
hurry. Fermor's western flank, or biggest breadth of quadrilateral,
leans on that Zabern Hollow, with its fine quagmires; his eastern,
narrowest part, droops down on certain mud-pools and conveniences
towards Zicher. Gallows Hollow, a slighter than the Zabern, runs
through the centre of him; and with his best people he fronts
towards the Mutzel Bridges, especially towards Damm-Mill Bridge
whence Friedrich will emerge, sure as the sunrise, one knows not
with what issue. Artless Fermor is nothing daunted; nor are his
people; but stand patiently under arms, regardless of future and
present, to a degree not common in soldiering.
Friday, August 25th, by half-past three in the morning, Friedrich
is across the Mutzel; self and Infantry by Damm-Mutzel Bridge,
cavalry by another Bridge (KERSTEN-BRUGGE, means "Christian
Bridge," in the dialect of Charlemagne's time, a very old
arrangement of Successive Logs up there!) some furlongs higher up.
The Bridge at Damm is perhaps some three miles from the nearest
Russians about Zicher; but Friedrich has no thought of attacking
Fermor there; he has a quite other program laid, and will attack
Fermor precisely on the side opposite to there.
Friedrich's intention is to sweep quite round this monstrous
Russian quadrilateral; to break in upon it on the western flank,
and hurl it back upon Mutzel and its quagmires. He has broken his
two bridges after passing, all bridges are gone there, and the
country is bottomless: surrender at discretion if once you are
driven thither! And Friedrich's own retreat, if he fail, is short
and open to Custrin. "Admirable," say the Critics, "and altogether
in Friedrich's style!"--Friedrich, adds one Critic, was not aware
that the Russian Heavy-Baggage Train, which is their powder-flask
and bread-basket and staff of life, lies at Klein Kamin, within few
miles on his left just now, Russians themselves on his right;
that the Russians could have been abolished from those countries
without fighting at all! [Retzow, i. 305-329.] This is very true.
Friedrich's haste is great, his humor hot; and he has not heard of
this Klein-Kamin fact, which in common times he would have done,
and of which in a calmer mood he would, with a fine scientific
gusto, have taken his advantage.
Friedrich pours incessant southward; cavalry parallel to infantry
and a certain distance beyond it, eastward of it; and they have
burnt the Bridges; which is a curious fact! Continually southward,
as if for Tamsel:--poor old Tamsel, do readers recollect it at all,
does Friedrich at all? No pleasant dinner, or lily-and-rose
complexions, there for one to-day!--Some distance short of Tamsel,
Friedrich, emerging, turns westward;--intending what on earth?
thinks Fermor. Friedrich has been mostly hidden by the woods all
this while, and enigmatic to Fermor. Fermor does now at last see
the color of the facts;--and that one's chief front must change
itself to southward, one's best leg and arm be foremost, or towards
Zorndorf, not towards the Mutzel as hitherto. Fermor stirs up his
Quadrilateral, makes the required change, "You, best or northern
line, step across, and front southward; across to southward, I say;
second-best go northward in their stead:" and so, with some other
slight polishings, suggested by the ground and phenomena, we anew
await this Prussian Enigma with our best leg foremost. The march or
circular sweep of these Prussian lines, from Damm Bridge through
the woods and champaign to their appointed place of action, is
seven or eight miles; lines when halted in battle-order will be two
miles long or more.
Friedrich pours steadily along, horse and foot, by the rear cf
Wilkersdorf, of Zorndorf,--Russian Minotaur scrutinizing him in
that manner with dull bloodshot eyes, uncertain what he will do.
It is eight in the morning, hot August; wind a mere lull, but
southernly if any. Small Hussar pickets ride to right of the main
Army March; to keep the Cossacks in check: who are roving about,
all on wing; and pert enough, in spite of the Hussar pickets,
Desperado individuals of them gallop up to the Infantry ranks, and
fire off their pistols there,--without reply; reply or firing, till
the word come, is strictly forbidden. Infantry pours along, like a
ploughman drawing his furrow, heedless of the circling crows.
Crows or Cossacks, finding they are not regarded, set fire to
Zorndorf, and gallop off. Zorndorf goes up readily, mainly wood and
straw; rolls in big clouds of smoke far northward in upon the
Russian Minotaur, making him still blinder in the important moments
now coming.
Friedrich rides up to view the Zabern Hollow: "Beyond expectation
deep; very boggy too, with its foul leakage or brook: no attacking
of their western flank through this Zaberngrund;--attack the corner
of them, then; here on the southwest!" That is Friedrich's rapid
resource. The lines halt, accordingly; make ready. Behind flaming
Zorndorf stands his extreme left, which is to make the attack;
infantry in front; horse to rear and farther leftwards,--and under
the command of Seidlitz in this quarter, which is an important
circumstance. Right wing, reaching to behind Wilkersdorf, is to
refuse itself; whole force of centre is to push upon that Russian
corner, to support the left in doing it;--according to the Leuthen
or LEUCTRA principle, once more. May no mistakes occur in executing
it this day!--
The first division of the Prussian Infantry, or extreme Left,
marches forward by the west end of flaming Zorndorf; next division,
which should stand close to right of it, or even behind it in
action, and follow it close into the Russian fire, has to march by
the east end of Zorndorf; this is a farther road, owing to the
flames; and not a lucky one. Second division could never get into
fair contact with that first division again: that was the mistake:
and it might have been fatal, but was not, as we shall see.
First division has got clear of Zorndorf, in advancing towards its
Russian business;--is striding forward, its left flank safe against
the Zaberngrund; steadily by fixed stages, against the fated
Russian Corner, which is its point of attack. First division,
second division, are clear of Zorndorf, though with a wide gap
between them; are steadily striding forward towards the Russian
Corner. Two strong batteries, wide apart, have planted themselves
ahead; and are playing upon the Russian Quadrilateral, their fires
crossing at the due Corner yonder, with terrible effect;
Russian artillery, which are multitudinous and all gathered down to
this southwestern corner, are responding, though with their fire
spread, and far less effectual. The Prussian line steps on, extreme
left perhaps in too animated a manner; their cannon batteries
enfilade the thick mass of Russians at a frightful rate ("forty-
two men of a certain regiment blown away by a single ball," in one
instance [Tielcke.]), drive the interior baggage-horses to despair:
a very agitated Quadrilateral, under its grim canopy of cannon
smoke, and of straw smoke, heaped on it from the Zorndorf side
here. Manteuffel, leader of that first or leftmost division, sees
the internal simmering; steps forward still more briskly, to firing
distance; begins his platoon thunder, with the due steady fury,--
had the second division but got up to support Manteuffel!
The second division is in fire too; but not close to Manteuffel,
where it should be.
Fermor notices the gap, the wavering of Manteuffel unsupported;
plunges out in immense torrent, horse and foot, into the gap, into
Manteuffel's flank and front; hurls Manteuffel back, who has no
support at hand: "ARAH, ARAH (Hurrah, Hurrah)! Victory, Victory!"
shout the Russians, plunging wildly forward, sweeping all before
them, capturing twenty-six pieces of cannon, for one item. What a
moment for Friedrich; looking on it from some knoll somewhere near
Zorndorf, I suppose; hastily bidding Seidlitz strike in:
"Seidlitz, now!" The hurrahing Russians cannot keep rank at that
rate of going. like a buffalo stampede; but fall into heaps and
gaps: Seidlitz, with a swiftness, with a dexterity beyond praise,
has picked his way across that quaggy Zabern Hollow; falls, with
say 5,000 horse, on the flank of this big buffalo stampede;
tumbles it into instant ruin;--which proves irretrievable, as the
Prussian Infantry come on again, and back Seidlitz.
In fifteen minutes more (I guess it now to be ten o'clock), the
Russian Minotaur, this end of it, on to the Gallows Ground, is one
wild mass. Seldom was there seen such a charge; issuiug in such
deluges of wreck, of chaotic flight, or chaotic refusal to fly.
The Seidlitz cavalry went sabring till, for very fatigue, they gave
it up, and could no more. The Russian horse fled to Kutzdorf,--
Fermor with them, who saw no more of this Fight, and did not get
back till dark;--had not the Bridges been burnt, and no crossing of
the Mutzel possible, Fermor never would have come back, and here
had been the end of Zorndorf. Luckier if it had! But there is no
crossing of the Mutzel, there is only drowning in the quagmires
there:--death any way; what can be done but die?
The Russian infantry stand to be sabred, in the above manner, as if
they had been dead oxen. More remote from Seidlitz, they break open
the sutlers' brandy-casks, and in few minutes get roaring drunk.
Their officers, desperate, split the brandy-casks; soldiers flap
down to drink it from the puddles; furiously remonstrate with their
officers, and "kill a good many of them" (VIELE, says Tielcke),
especially the foreign sort. "A frightful blood-bath," by all the
Accounts: blood-bath, brandy-bath, and chief Nucleus of Chaos then
extant aboveground. Fermor is swept away: this chaos, the very
Prussians drawing back from it, wearied with massacring, lasts till
about one o'clock. Up to the Gallows-ground the Minotaur is mere
wreck and delirium: but beyond the Gallows-ground, the other half
forms a new front to itself; becomes a new Minotaur, though in
reduced shape. This is Part First of the Battle of Zorndorf;
Friedrich--on the edge of great disaster at one moment, but
miraculously saved--has still the other half to do (unlucky that he
left no Bridges on the Mutzel), and must again change his program.
Half of the Minotaur is gone to shreds in this manner; but the
attack upon it, too, is spent: what is to be done with the other
half of the monster, which is again alive; which still stands, and
polypus-like has arranged a new life for itself, a new front
against the Galgengrund yonder? Friedrich brings his right wing
into action. Rapidly arranges right wing, centre, all of the left
that is disposable, with batteries, with cavalry; for an attack on
the opposite or southeastern end of his monster. If your monster,
polypus-like, come alive again in the tail-part, you must fell that
other head of him. Batteries, well in advance, begin work upon the
new head of the monster, which was once his tail; fresh troops,
long lines of them, pushing forward to begin platoon-volleying:--
time now, I should guess, about half-past two. Our infantry has not
yet got within musket-range,--when torrents of Russian Horse, Foot
too following, plunge out; wide-flowing, stormfully swift; and dash
against the coming attack. Dash against it; stagger it; actually
tumble it back, in the centre part; take one of the batteries, and
a whole battalion prisoners. Here again is a moment! Friedrich,
they say, rushed personally into this vortex; rallied these broken
battalions, again rallied and led them up; but it was to no
purpose: they could not be made to stand, these centre battalions;
--"some sudden panic in them, a thing unaccountable," says
Tempelhof; "they are Dohna's people, who fought perfectly at
Jagersdorf, and often elsewhere" (they were all in such a finely
burnished state the other day; but have not biting talent, like the
grass-devils): enough, they fairly scour away, certain disgraceful
battalions, and are not got ranked again till below Wilkersdorf,
above a mile off; though the grass-devils, on both hands of them,
stand grimly steady, left in this ominous manner.
What would have become of the affair one knows not, if it had not
been that Seidlitz once more made his appearance. On Friedrich's
order, or on his own, I do not know; but sure it is, Seidlitz, with
sixty-one squadrons, arriving from some distance, breaks in like a
DEUS EX MACHINA, swift as the storm-wind, upon this Russian Horse-
torrent; drives it again before him like a mere torrent of chaff,
back, ever back, to the shore of Acheron and the Stygian quagmires
(of the Mutzel, namely); so that it did not return again; and the
Prussian infantry had free field for their platoon exercise.
Their rage against the Russians was extreme; and that of the
Russians corresponded. Three of these grass-devil battalions, who
stood nearest to Dohna's runaways, were natives of this same burnt-
out Zorndorf Country; we may fancy the Platt-Teutsch hearts of
them, and the sacred lightning, with a moisture to it, that was in
their eyes. Platt-Teutsch platooning, bayonet-charging,--on such
terms no Russian or mortal Quadrilateral can stand it. The Russian
Minotaur goes all to shreds a second time; but will not run.
"No quarter!"--"Well, then, none!"
"Shortly after four o'clock," say my Accounts, "the firing,"
regular firing, "altogether ceased; ammunition nearly spent, on
both sides; Prussians snatching cartridge-boxes of Russian dead;"
and then began a tug of deadly massacring and wrestling man to man,
"with bayonets, with butts of muskets, with hands, even with teeth
[in some Russian instances], such as was never seen before."
The Russians, beaten to fragments, would not run: whither run?
Behind is Mutzel and the bog of Acheron;--on Mutzel is no bridge
left; "the shore of Mutzel is thick with men and horses, who have
tried to cross, and lie there swallowed in the ooze"--"like a
pavement," says Tielcke. The Russians,--never was such VIS INERTIAE
as theirs now. They stood like sacks of clay, like oxen already
dead; not even if you shot a bullet through them, would they fall
at once, says Archenholtz, but seem to be deliberate about it.
Complete disorder reigned on both sides; except that the Prussians
could always form again when bidden, the Russians not. This lasted
till nightfall,--Russians getting themselves shoved away on these
horrid terms, and obstinate to take no other. Towards dark, there
appeared, on a distant knoll, something like a ranked body of them
again,--some 2,000 foot and half as many horse; whom Themicoud
(superlative Swiss Cossack, usually written Demikof or Demikow) had
picked up, and persuaded from the shore of Acheron, back to this
knoll of vantage, and some cannon with them. Friedrich orders these
to be dispersed again: General Forcade, with two battalions, taking
the front of them, shall attack there; you, General Rauter, bring
up those Dohna fellows again, and take them in flank.
Forcade pushes on, Rauter too,--but at the first taste of cannon-
shot, these poor Dohna-people (such their now flurried, disgraced
state of mind) take to flight again, worse than before; rush quite
through Wilkersdorf this time, into the woods, and can hardly be
got together at all. Scandalous to think of. No wonder Friedrich
"looked always askance on those regiments that had been beaten at
Gross Jagersdorf, and to the end of his life gave them proofs of
it:" [Retzow;--and still more emphatically, Briefe eines
alten Preussischen Officiers (Hohenzollern, 1790),
i. 34, ii. 52, &c.] very natural, if the rest were like these!
Of poor General Rauter, Tempelhof and the others, that can help it,
are politely silent; only Saxon Tielcke tells us, that Friedrich
dismissed him, "Go, you, to some other trade!"--which, on Prussian
evidence too, expressed in veiled terms, I find to be the fact:
Militair-Lexikon, obliged to have an article
on Rauter, is very brief about it; hints nothing unkind;
records his personal intrepidity; and says, "in 1758 he, on his
request, had leave to withdraw,"--poor soul, leave and more!
Forcade, left to himself, kept cannonading Themicoud;
Themicoud responding, would not go; stood on his knoll of vantage,
but gathered no strength: "Let him stand," said Friedrich, after
some time; and Themicoud melted in the shades of night, gradually
towards the hither shore of Acheron,--that is, of Acheron-Mutzel,
none now attempting to PAVE it farther, but simmering about at
their sad leisure there. Feldmarschall Fermor is now got to his
people again, or his people to him; reunited in place and luck:
such a chaos as Fermor never saw before or after. No regiment or
battalion now is; mere simmering monads, this fine Army;
officers doing their utmost to cobble it into something of rank,
without regard to regiments or qualities. Darkness seldom sank on
such a scene.
Wild Cossack parties are scouring over all parts of the field;
robbing the dead, murdering the wounded; doing arson, too, wherever
possible; and even snatching at the Prussian cannon left rearwards,
so that the Hussars have to go upon them again. One large mass of
them plundering in the Hamlet of Zicher, the Hussars surrounded:
the Cossacks took to the outhouses; squatted, ran, called in the
aid of fire, their constant friend: above 400 of them were in some
big barn, or range of straw houses; and set fire to it,--but could
not get out for Hussars; the Hussars were at the outgate: Not a
devil of you! said the Hussars; and the whole four hundred perished
there, choked, burnt, or slain by the Hussars,--and this poor
Planet was at length rid of them. [ Helden-Geschichte,
v. 166.]
Friedrich sends for his tent-equipages; and the Army pitches its
camp in two big lines, running north and south, looking towards the
Russian side of things; Friedrich's tent in front of the first
line; a warrior King among his people, who have had a day's work of
it. The Russian loss turns out, when counted, to have been 21,529
killed, wounded and missing, 7,990 of them killed; the Prussian
sum-total is 11,390 (above the Prussian third man), of whom 3,680
slain. And on the shores of Acheron northward yonder, there still
is a simmering. And far and wide the country is alight with
incendiary fires,--many devils still abroad. Excellency Mitchell,
about eight in the evening, is sent for by the King; finds various
chief Generals, Seidlitz among them, on their various businesses
there; congratulates "on the noble victory [not so conclusive
hitherto] which Heaven has granted your Majesty." "Had it not been
for him," said Friedrich,--"Had it not been for him, things would
have had a bad look by this time!" and turned his sun-eyes upon
Seidlitz, with a fine expression in them. [Preuss, ii. 153.
Mitchell (ii. 432) mentions the Interview, nothing of Seidlitz.]
To which Seidlitz's reply, I find, was an embarrassed blush and of
articulate only, "Hm, no, ha, it was your Majesty's Cavalry that
did their duty,--but Wakenitz [my second] does deserve promotion!"
--which Wakenitz, not in a too overflowing measure, got.
Fermor, during the night-watches, having cobbled himself into some
kind of ranks or rows, moves down well westward of Zabern Hollow;
to the Drewitz Heath, where he once before lay, and there makes his
bivouac in the wood, safe under the fir-trees, with the Zabern
ground to front of him. By the above reckoning, 28 or 29,000 still
hang to Fermor, or float vaporously round him; with Friedrich, in
his two lines, are some 18,000:--in whole, 46,000 tired mortals
sleeping thereabouts; near 12,000 others have fallen into a deeper
sleep, not liable to be disturbed;--and of the wounded on the
field, one shudders to imagine.
Next day, Saturday, 26th, Fermor, again brought into some kind of
rank, and safe beyond the quaggy Zabern ground, sent out a
proposal, "That there be Truce of Three Days for burying the
dead!"--Dohna, who happened to be General in command there,
answers, "That it is customary for the Victor to take charge of
burying the slain; that such proposal is surprising, and quite
inadmissible, in present circumstances." Fermor, in the mean while,
had drawn himself out, fronting his late battle-field and the
morning sun; and began cannonading across the Zabern ground;
too far off for hitting, but as if still intending fight: to which
the Prussians replied with cannon, and drew out before their tents
in fighting order. In both armies there was question, or talk, of
attacking anew; but in both "there was want of ammunition," want of
real likelihood. On Fermor's side, that of "attacking" could be
talk only, and on Friedrich's, besides the scarcity of ammunition,
all creatures, foot and especially horse, were so worn out with
yesterday's work, it was not judged practically expedient. A while
before noon, the Prussians retired to their Camp again;
leaving only the artillery to respond, so far as needful, and
bow-wow across the Zabern ground, till the Russians lay down again.
Friedrich's Hussars knew of the Russian WAGENBURG, or general
baggage reservoirs, at Klein Kamin, by this time. The Hussars had
been in it, last night; rummaging extensively, at discretion for
some time; and had brought away much money and portable plunder.
Why Friedrich, who lay direct between Fermor and his Wagenburg, did
not, this day, extinguish said Wagenburg, I do not know; but guess
it may have been a fault of omission, in the great welter this was
now grown to be to the weary mind. Beyond question, if one had
blown up Fermor's remaining gunpowder, and carried off or burnt his
meal-sacks, he must have cowered away all the faster towards
Landsberg to seek more. Or perhaps Friedrich now judged it
immaterial, and a question only of hours?
About midnight of Saturday-Sunday, there again rose bow-wowing,
bellowing of Russian cannon; not from beyond the Zabern ground this
time, nor stationary anywhere, but from the south some transient
part of it, and not far off;--one ball struck a carriage near the
King's tent, and shattered it. Thick mist mantles everything, and
it is difficult to know what the Russians have on hand in their
sylvan seclusions. After a time, it becomes manifest the Russians
are on retreat; winding round, through the southern woods, behind
Zorndorf and the charred Villages, to Klein Kamin, Landsberg way.
Friedrich, following now on the heel of them, finds all got to
Klein Kamin, to breakfast there in their Wagenburg refectory,--
sharply vigilant, many FLECHES (little arrow-shaped redoubts, so
named) and much artillery round them. Nothing considerable to be
done upon them, now or afterwards, except pick up stragglers, and
distress their rear a little. The King himself, in the first
movement, was thought to be in alarming peril, such a blaze of
case-shot rose upon him, as he went reconnoitring foremost of all.
[Tempelhof, ii. 216-238; Tielcke, ii. 79-154; Archenholtz, i.
253-264; Helden-Geschichte, v. 156-179 (with
many LISTS, private LETTERS and the like details); &c. &c.]
And this was, at last, the end of Zorndorf Battle; on the third day
this. Was there ever seen such a fight of Theseus and the Minotaur!
Theseus, rapid, dexterous, with Heaven's lightning in his eyes,
seizing the Minotaur; lassoing him by the hinder foot, then by the
right horn; pouring steel and destruction into him, the very dust
darkening all the air. Minotaur refusing to die when killed;
tumbling to and fro upon its Theseus; the two lugging and tugging,
flinging one another about, and describing figures of 8 round each
other for three days before it ended. Minotaur walking off on his
own feet, after all. It was the bloodiest battle of the Seven-Years
War; one of the most furious ever fought; such rage possessing the
individual elements; rage unusual in modern wars. Must have altered
Friedrich's notion of the Russians, when he next comes to speak
with Keith. It was not till the fourth day hence (August 31st), so
unattackably strong was this position at Klein Kamin, that the
Russian Minotaur would fairly get to its feet a second time, and
slowly stagger off, in real earnest, Landsberg way and Konigsberg
way;--Friedrich right glad to leave Dohna in attendance on it;
and hasten off (September 2d) towards Saxony and Prince Henri,
where his presence is now become very needful.
MAP GOES HERE FACING PAGE 138, BOOK XVIII---------
Fermor, walking off in this manner,--not till the third day, nay
not conclusively till the seventh day, after Zorndorf,--strove at
first to consider himself victorious. "I passed the night on the
field of battle [or NOT far from it, for good reasons, Mutzel being
bridgeless]: may not I, in the language of enthusiasm, be
considered conqueror? Here are 26 of their cannon, got when I cried
'Arah' prematurely. (Where the 103 pieces of my own are, and my 27
flags, and my Army-chest and sundries? Dropped somewhere; they will
probably turn up again!)" thinks Fermor,--or strives to think, and
says. So that, at Petersburg, at Paris and Vienna, in the next
three weeks, there were TE-DEUMS, Ambrosian chantings, fires-of-
joy; and considerable arguing among the Gazetteers on both parts,--
till the dust settled, and facts appeared as they were. To the
effect: "TE DEUM non LAUDAMUS; alas no, we must retract; and it was
good gunpowder thrown after bad!"
On always homewards, but at its own pace, waited on by Dohna, goes
the Russian Monster: violently case-shotting if you prick into its
rearward parts. One Palmbach,--under Romanzow, I think, who had not
taken part in the Battle, being out Stettin way, and unable to join
till now,--Palmbach, with a Detachment of 15,000, which was thought
sufficient for the object, did try to make a dash on Colberg,--how
happy had we any port on the Baltic, to feed us in this Country!
But though Colberg is the paltriest crow's-nest (BICOQUE),
according to all engineers, and is defended only by 700 militia
(the Colonel of them, one Heyde, a gray old Half-pay, not yet
renowned in the soldier world, as he here came to be), Palmbach,
with his best diligence, could make nothing of it; but, after
battering, bombarding, even scalading, and in all ways blurting and
blazing at a mighty rate for four weeks, and wasting a great deal
of gunpowder and 2,000 Russian lives, withdrew on those remarkable
terms. [In Helden-Geschichte, v. 349-365
("3d-3lst October, 1758"), a complete and minute JOURNAL of this
First Siege of Colberg, which is interesting to read of, as all the
Three of them are.] And did then, as tail of Fermor, what Fermor
and the Russian Monster was universally doing, make off at a good
pace,--having nothing to live upon farther,--and vanish from those
Countries, to the relief of Dohna and mankind.
September 2d, Friedrich, leaving all that, had marched for Saxony;
his presence urgently required there. Daun ought to be far on with
the conquest of that Country? Might have had it, say judges, if he
had been as swift as some.--At Zorndorf, among the Russian
Prisoners were certain Generals, Soltikof, Czernichef, Sulkowski
the Pole, proud people in their own eyes: no lodging for them but
the cellars of Custrin. Russian Generals complained, "Is this a
lodging for Field-Officers of rank!" Friedrich was not used to
profane swearing, or vituperative outbursts; but he answered to the
effect: "Silence, ye incendiary individuals. Is there a choice left
of lodgings, and for you above others!" Upon which they lay silent
for some days, till better suited; in fact, till exchanged,--and
perhaps will soon turn up on us again.