History of Friedrich II of Prussia - Frederick the Great Chapter IX. - Traitor Warkotsch.
by Thomas Carlyle
Friedrich's Army was to have cantoned itself round Neisse, October
3d: but on the instant of this fatal Schweidnitz news proceeded
(3d-6th October) towards Strehlen instead,--Friedrich personally on
the 5th;--and took quarters there and in the villages round.
General cantonment at Strehlen, in guard of Breslau and of Neisse
both; Loudon, still immovable at Kunzendorf, attempting nothing on
either of those places, and carefully declining the risk of a
Battle, which would have been Friedrich's game: all this continued
till the beginning of December, when both parties took Winter-
quarters; [Tempelhof, v. 349.] cantoned themselves in the
neighboring localities,--Czernichef, with his Russians, in Glatz
Country; Friedrich in Breslau as headquarter;--and the Campaign had
ended. Ended in this part, without farther event of the least
notability;--except the following only, which a poor man of the
name of Kappel has recorded for us. Of which, and the astounding
Sequel to which, we must now say something.
Kappel is a Gentleman's Groom of those Strehlen parts; and shall,
in his own words, bring us face to face with Friedrich in that
neighborhood, directly after Schweidnitz was lost. It is October
5th, day, or rather night of the day, of Friedrich's arrival
thereabouts; most of his Army ahead of him, and the remainder all
under way. Friedrich and the rearward part of his Army are filing
about, in that new Strehlen-ward movement of theirs, under cloud of
night, in the intricate Hill-and-Dale Country; to post themselves
to the best advantage for their double object, of covering Breslau
and Neisse both; Kappel LOQUITUR; abridged by Kuster, whom
we abridge:--
"MONDAY NIGHT, OCTOBER 5th, 1761, The King, with two or three
attendants, still ahead of his Army, appeared at Schonbrunn, a
Schloss and Village, five or six miles south from Strehlen;
[THIS is the Warkotsch Schonbrunn; not the other near Schweidnitz,
as Archenholtz believes: see ARCHENHOLTZ, ii. 287, and the bit of
myth he has gone into in consequence.] and did the owner, Baron von
Warkotsch, an acquaintance of his, the honor of lodging there.
Before bedtime,--if indeed the King intended bed at all, meaning to
be off in four hours hence,--Friedrich inquired of Warkotsch for 'a
trusty man, well acquainted with the roads in this Country.'
Warkotsch mentioned Kappel, his own Groom; one who undoubtedly knew
every road of the Country; and who had always behaved as a trusty
fellow in the seven years he had been with him. 'Let me see him,'
said the King. Kappel was sent up, about midnight, King still
dressed; sitting on a sofa, by the fire; Kappel's look was
satisfactory; Kappel knows several roads to Strehlen, in the
darkest night. 'It is the footpath which goes so-and-so that I
want' (for Friedrich knows this Country intimately: readers
remember his world-famous Camp of Strehlen, with all the
diplomacies of Europe gathered there, through summer, in the train
of Mollwitz). 'JA, IHRO MAJESTAT, I know it!' 'Be ready, then,
at 4.'
"Before the stroke of 4, Kappel was at the door, on Master's best
horse; the King's Groom too, and led horse, a nimble little gray,
were waiting. As 4 struck, Friedrich came down, Warkotsch with him.
'Unspeakable the honor you have done my poor house!' Besides the
King's Groom, there were a Chamberlain, an Adjutant and two mounted
Chasers (REITENDE JAGER), which latter had each a lighted lantern:
in all seven persons, including Kappel and the King. (Go before us
on foot with your lanterns,' said the King. Very dark it was. And
overnight the Army had arrived all about; some of them just coming
in, on different roads and paths. The King walked above two miles,
and looked how the Regiments were, without speaking a word.
At last, as the cannons came up, and were still in full motion, the
King said: 'Sharp, sharp, BURSCHE; it will be MARCH directly.'
'March? The Devil it will: we are just coming into Camp!' said a
cannonier, not knowing it was the King.
"The King said nothing. Walked on still a little while;
then ordered, 'Blow out the lanterns; to horseback now!' and
mounted, as we all did. Me he bade keep five steps ahead, five and
not more, that he might see me; for it was very dark. Not far from
the Lordship Casserey, where there is a Water-mill, the King asked
me, 'Have n't you missed the Bridge here?' (a King that does not
forget roads and topographies which may come to concern him!)--and
bade us ride with the utmost silence, and make no jingle. As day
broke, we were in sight of Strehlen, near by the Farm of
Treppendorf. 'And do you know where the Kallenberg lies?' said the
King: 'It must be to left of the Town, near the Hills; bring
us thither!'
"When we got on the Kallenberg, it was not quite day; and we had to
halt for more light. After some time the King said to his Groom,
'Give me my perspective!' looked slowly all round for a good while,
and then said, 'I see no Austrians!'--(ground all at our choice,
then; we know where to choose!) The King then asked me if I knew
the road to"--in fact, to several places, which, in a Parish
History of those parts, would be abundantly interesting; but must
be entirely omitted here. ... "The King called his Chamberlain;
gave some sign, which meant 'Beer-money to Kappel!'--and I got four
eight-groschen pieces [three shillings odd; a rich reward in those
days]; and was bid tell my Master, 'That the King thanked him for
the good quarters, and assured him of his favor.'
"Riding back across country, Kappel, some four or five miles
homeward, came upon the 'whole Prussian Army,' struggling forward
in their various Columns. Two Generals,--one of them Krusemark,
King's Adjutant [Colonel Krusemark, not General, as Kappel thinks,
who came to know him some weeks after],--had him brought up:
to whom he gave account of himself, how he had been escorting the
King, and where he had left his Majesty. 'Behind Strehlen, say you?
Breslau road? Devil knows whither we shall all have to go yet!'
observed Krusemark, and left Kappel free." [Kuster,
Lebens-Rettungen, pp. 66-76.]
In those weeks, Colberg Siege, Pitt's Catastrophe and high things
are impending, or completed, elsewhere: but this is the one thing
noticeable hereabouts. In regard to Strehlen, and Friedrich's
history there, what we have to say turns all upon this Kappel and
Warkotsch: and,--after mentioning only that Friedrich's lodging is
not in Strehlen proper, but in Woiselwitz, a village or suburb
almost half a mile off, and very negligently guarded,--we have to
record an Adventure which then made a great deal of noise in
the world.
Warkotsch is a rich lord; Schonbrunn only one of five or six
different Estates which he has in those parts; though, not many
years ago, being younger brother, he was a Captain in the Austrian
service (Regiment BOTTA, if you are particular); and lay in
Olmutz,--with very dull oulooks; not improved, I should judge, by
the fact that Silesia and the Warkotsch connections were become
Prussian since this junior entered the Austrian Army. The junior
had sown his wild oats, and was already getting gray in the beard,
in that dull manner, when, about seven years ago, his Elder
Brother, to whom Friedrich had always been kind, fell unwell;
and, in the end of 1755, died: whereupon the junior saw himself
Heir; and entered on a new phase of things. Quitted his Captaincy,
quitted his allegiance; and was settled here peaceably under his
new King in 1756, a little while before this War broke out. And, at
Schonbrunn, October 5th, 1761, has had his Majesty himself
for guest.
Warkotsch was not long in riding over to Strehlen to pay his court,
as in duty bound, for the honor of such a Visit; and from that
time, Kappel, every day or two, had to attend him thither. The King
had always had a favor for Warkotsch's late Brother, as an
excellent Silesian Landlord and Manager, whose fine Domains were in
an exemplary condition; as, under the new Warkotsch too, they have
continued to be. Always a gracious Majesty to this Warkotsch as
well; who is an old soldier withal, and man of sense and ingenuity;
acceptable to Friedrich, and growing more and more familiar among
Friedrich's circle of Officers now at Strehlen.
To Strehlen is Warkotsch's favorite ride; in the solitary country,
quite a charming adjunct to your usual dull errand out for air and
exercise. Kappel, too, remarks about this time that he (Kappel)
gets once and again, and ever more frequently, a Letter to carry
over to Siebenhuben, a Village three or four miles off; the Letter
always to one Schmidt, who is Catholic Curate there; Letter under
envelope, well sealed,--and consisting of two pieces, if you finger
it judiciously. And, what is curious, the Letter never has any
address; Master merely orders, "Punctual; for Curatus Schmidt, you
know!" What can this be? thinks Kappel. Some secret, doubtless;
perhaps some intrigue, which Madam must not know of,--"ACH, HERR
BARON; and at your age,--fifty, I am sure!" Kappel, a solid fellow,
concerned for groom-business alone, punctually carries his Letters;
takes charge of the Responses too, which never have any Address;
and does not too much trouble himself with curiosities of an
impertinent nature.
To these external phenomena I will at present only add this
internal one: That an old Brother Officer of Warkotsch's, a Colonel
Wallis, with Hussars, is now lying at Heinrichau,--say, 10 miles
from Strehlen, and about 10 from Schonbrunn too, or a mile more if
you take the Siebenhuben way; and that all these missives, through
Curatus Schmidt, are for Wallis the Hussar Colonel, and must be a
secret not from Madam alone! How a Baron, hitherto of honor, could
all at once become TURPISSIMUS, the Superlative of Scoundrels?
This is even the reason,--the prize is so superlative.
"MONDAY NIGHT, NOVEMBER 30th, 1761 [night bitter cold], Kappel
finds himself sitting mounted, and holding Master's horse, in
Strehlen, more exactly in Woiselwitz, a suburb of Strehlen, near
the King's door,--Majesty's travelling-coach drawn out there,
symbol that Strehlen is ending, general departure towards Breslau
now nigh. Not to Kappel's sorrow perhaps, waiting in the cold
there. Kappel waits, hour after hour; Master taking his ease with
the King's people, regardless of the horses and me, in this shivery
weather;--and one must not walk about either, for disturbing the
King's sleep! Not till midnight does Master emerge, and the
freezing Kappel and quadrupeds get under way. Under way, Master
breaks out into singular talk about the King's lodging: Was ever
anything so careless; nothing but two sentries in the King's
anteroom; thirteen all the soldiers that are in Woiselwitz;
Strehlen not available in less than twenty minutes: nothing but
woods, haggly glens and hills, all on to Heinrichau: How easy to
snatch off his Majesty! "UM GOTTES WILLEN, my Lord, don't speak so:
think if a patrolling Prussian were to hear it, in the dark!"
Pooh, pooh, answers the Herr Baron.
"At Schonbrunn, in the short hours, Kappel finds Frau Kappel in
state of unappeasable curiosity: 'What can it be? Curatus Schmidt
was here all afternoon; much in haste to see Master; had to go at
last,--for the Church-service, this St. Andrew's Eve. And only
think, though he sat with My Lady hours and hours, he left this
Letter with ME: "Give it to your Husband, for my Lord, the instant
they come; and say I must have an Answer to-morrow morning at 7."
Left it with me, not with My Lady;--My Lady not to know of it!'
'Tush, woman!' But Frau Kappel has been, herself, unappeasably
running about, ever since she got this Letter; has applied to two
fellow-servants, one after the other, who can read writing, 'Break
it up, will you!' But they would not. Practical Kappel takes the
Letter up to Master's room; delivers it, with the Message.
'What, Curatus Schmidt!' interrupts My Lady, who was sitting there:
'Herr Good-man, what is that?' 'That is a Letter to me,' answers
the Good-man: 'What have you to do with it?' Upon which My Lady
flounces out in a huff, and the Herr Baron sets about writing his
Answer, whatever it may be.
"Kappel and Frau are gone to bed, Frau still eloquent upon the
mystery of Curatus Schmidt, when his Lordship taps at their door;
enters in the dark: 'This is for the Curatus, at 7 o'clock
to-morrow; I leave it on the table here: be in time, like a good
Kappel!' Kappel promises his Unappeasable that he will actually
open this Piece before delivery of it; upon which she appeases
herself, and they both fall asleep. Kappel is on foot betimes next
morning. Kappel quietly pockets his Letter; still more quietly,
from a neighboring room, pockets his Master's big Seal (PETSCHAFT),
with a view to resealing: he then steps out; giving his BURSCH
[Apprentice or Under-Groom] order to be ready in so many minutes,
'You and these two horses' (specific for speed); and, in the
interim, walks over, with Letter and PETSCHAFT, to the Reverend
Herr Gerlach's, for some preliminary business. Kappel is Catholic;
Warkotsch, Protestant; Herr Gerlach is Protestant preacher in the
Village of Schonbrunn,--much hated by Warkotsch, whose standing
order is: 'Don't go near that insolent fellow;' but known by Kappel
to be a just man, faithful in difficulties of the weak against the
strong. Gerlach, not yet out of bed, listens to the awful story:
reads the horrid missive; Warkotsch to Colonel Wallis: 'You can
seize the King, living or dead, this night!'--hesitates about
copying it (as Kappel wishes, for a good purpose]; but is
encouraged by his Wife, and soon writes a Copy. This Copy Kappel
sticks into the old cover, seals as usual; and, with the Original
safe in his own pocket, returns to the stables now. His Bursch and
he mount; after a little, he orders his Bursch: 'Bursch, ride you
to Siebenhuben and Curatus Schmidt, with this sealed Letter;
YOU, and say nothing. I was to have gone myself, but cannot;
be speedy, be discreet!' And the Bursch dashes off for Siebenhuben
with the sealed Copy, for Schmidt, Warkotsch, Wallis and Company's
behoof; Kappel riding, at a still better pace, to Strehlen with the
Original, for behoof of the King's Majesty.
"At Strehlen, King's Majesty not yet visible, Kappel has great
difficulties in the anteroom among the sentry people. But he
persists, insists: 'Read my Letter, then!' which they dare not do;
which only Colonel Krusemark, the Adjutant, perhaps dare. They take
him to Krusemark. Krusemark reads, all aghast; locks up Kappel;
runs to the King; returns, muffles Kappel in soldier's cloak and
cap, and leads him in. The King, looking into Kappel's face, into
Kappel's clear story and the Warkotsch handwriting, needed only a
few questions; and the fit orders, as to Warkotsch and Company,
were soon given: dangerous engineers now fallen harmless, blown up
by their own petard. One of the King's first questions was:
'But how have I offended Warkotsch?' Kappel does not know;
Master is of strict wilful turn;--Master would grumble and growl
sometimes about the peasant people, and how a nobleman has now no
power over them, in comparison. 'Are you a Protestant?' 'No, your
Majesty, Catholic.' 'See, IHR HERREN,' said the King to those about
him; 'Warkotsch is a Protestant; his Curatus Schmidt is a Catholic;
and this man is a Catholic: there are villains and honest people in
every creed!'
"At noon, that day, Warkotsch had sat down to dinner, comfortably
in his dressing-gown, nobody but the good Baroness there;
when Rittmeister Rabenau suddenly descended on the Schloss and
dining-room with dragoons: 'In arrest, Herr Baron; I am sorry you
must go with me to Brieg!' Warkotsch, a strategic fellow, kept
countenance to Wife and Rittmeister, in this sudden fall of the
thunder-bolt: 'Yes, Herr Rittmeister; it is that mass of Corn I was
to furnish [showing him an actual order of that kind], and I am
behind my time with it! Nobody can help his luck. Take a bit of
dinner with us, anyway!' Rittmeister refused; but the Baroness too
pressed him; he at length sat down. Warkotsch went 'to dress;'
first of all, to give orders about his best horse; but was shocked
to find that the dragoons were a hundred, and that every outgate
was beset. Returning half-dressed, with an air of baffled
hospitality: 'Herr Rittmeister, our Schloss must not be disgraced;
here are your brave fellows waiting, and nothing of refreshment
ready for them. I have given order at the Tavern in the Village;
send them down; there they shall drink better luck to me, and have
a bit of bread and cheese.' Stupid Rabenau again consents:--and in
few minutes more, Warkotsch is in the Woods, galloping like Epsom,
towards Wallis; and Rabenau can only arrest Madam (who knows
nothing), and return in a baffled state.
"Schmidt too got away. The party sent after Schmidt found him in
the little Town of Nimptsch, half-way home again from his Wallis
errand; comfortably dining with some innocent hospitable people
there. Schmidt could not conceal his confusion; but pleading
piteously a necessity of nature, was with difficulty admitted to
the--to the ABTRITT so called; and there, by some long pole or
rake-handle, vanished wholly through a never-imagined aperture, and
was no more heard of in the upper world. The Prussian soldiery does
not seem expert in thief-taking.
"Warkotsch came back about midnight that same Tuesday, 500 Wallis
Hussars escorting him; and took away his ready moneys, near 5,000
pounds in gold, reports Frau Kappel, who witnessed the ghastly
operation (Hussars in great terror, in haste, and unconscionably
greedy as to sharing);--after which our next news of him, the last
of any clear authenticity, is this Note to his poor Wife, which was
read in the Law Procedures on him six months hence: 'My Child (MEIN
KIND),--The accursed thought I took up against my King has
overwhelmed me in boundless misery. From the top of the highest
hill I cannot see the limits of it. Farewell; I am in the farthest
border of Turkey.--WARKOTSCH.'" [Kuster, Lebens-Rettungen,
p. 88: Kuster, pp. 65-188 (for the general Narrative);
Tempelhof, v. 346, &c. &c.]
Schmidt and he, after patient trial, were both of them beheaded and
quartered,--in pasteboard effigy,--in the Salt Ring (Great Square)
of Breslau, May, 1762:--in pasteboard, Friedrich liked it better
than the other way. "MEINETWEGEN," wrote he, sanctioning the
execution, "For aught I care; the Portraits will likely be as
worthless as the Originals." Rittmeister Rabenau had got off with a
few days' arrest, and the remark, "ER IST EIN DUMMER TEUFEL (You
are a stupid devil)!" Warkotsch's Estates, all and sundry,
deducting the Baroness's jointure, which was punctually paid her,
were confiscated to the King,--and by him were made over to the
Schools of Breslau and Glogau, which, I doubt not, enjoy them to
this day. Reverend Gerlach in Schonbrunn, Kappel and Kappel's
Bursch, were all attended to, and properly rewarded, though there
are rumors to the contrary. Hussar-Colonel Wallis got no public
promotion, though it is not doubted the Head People had been well
cognizant of his ingenious intentions. Official Vienna, like
mankind in general, shuddered to own him; the great Counts Wallis
at Vienna published in the Newspapers, "Our House has no connection
with that gentleman;"--and, in fact, he was of Irish breed, it
seems, the name of him WallISCH (or Walsh), if one cared.
Warkotsch died at Raab (THIS side the farthest corner of Turkey),
in 1769: his poor Baroness had vanished from Silesia five years
before, probably to join him. He had some pension or aliment from
the Austrian Court; small or not so small is a disputed point.
And this is, more minutely than need have been, in authentic form
only too diffuse, the once world-famous Warkotsch Tragedy or
Wellnigh-Tragic Melodrama; which is still interesting and a matter
of study, of pathos and minute controversy, to the patriot and
antiquary in Prussian Countries, though here we might have been
briefer about it. It would, indeed, have "finished the War at
once;" and on terms delightful to Austria and its Generals near by.
But so would any unit of the million balls and bullets which have
whistled round that same Royal Head, and have, every unit of them,
missed like Warkotsch! Particular Heads, royal and other, meant for
use in the scheme of things, are not to be hit on any terms till
the use is had.
Friedrich settled in Breslau for the Winter, December 9th.
From Colberg bad news meet him in Breslau; bad and ever worse:
Colberg, not Warkotsch, is the interesting matter there, for a
fortnight coming,--till Colberg end, it also irremediable.
The Russian hope on Colberg is, long since, limited to that of
famine. We said the conveyance of Supplies, across such a Hundred
Miles of wilderness, from Stettin thither, with Russians and the
Winter gainsaying, was the difficulty. Our short Note continues:--
"In fact, it is the impossibility: trial after trial goes on, in a
strenuous manner, but without success. October 13th, Green Kleist
tries; October 22d, Knobloch and even Platen try. For the next two
months there is trial on trial made (Hussar Kleist, Knobloch,
Thadden, Platen), not without furious fencing, struggling; but with
no success. There are, in wait at the proper places, 15,000
Russians waylaying. Winter comes early, and unusually severe:
such marchings, such endeavorings and endurances,--without success!
For darkness, cold, grim difficulty, fierce resistance to it, one
reads few things like this of Colberg. 'The snow lies ell-deep,'
says Archenholtz; 'snow-tempests, sleet, frost: a country wasted
and hungered out; wants fuel-wood; has not even salt. The soldier's
bread is a block of ice; impracticable to human teeth till you thaw
it,--which is only possible by night.' The Russian ships disappear
(17th October); November 2d, Butturlin, leaving reinforcements
without stint, vanishes towards Poland. The day before Butturlin
went, there had been solemn summons upon Eugen, 'Surrender
honorably, we once more bid you; never will we leave this ground,
till Colberg is ours!' 'Vain to propose it!' answers Eugen, as
before. The Russians too are clearly in great misery of want;
though with better roads open for them; and Romanzow's obstinacy
is extreme.
"Night of November 14th-15th, Eugen, his horse-fodder being
entirely done, and Heyde's magazines worn almost out, is obliged to
glide mysteriously, circuitously from his Camp, and go to try the
task himself. The most difficult of marches, gloriously executed;
which avails to deliver Eugen, and lightens the pressure on Heyde's
small store. Eugen, in a way Tempelhof cannot enough admire, gets
clear away. Joins with Platen, collects Provision; tries to send
Provision in, but without effect. By the King's order, is to try it
himself in a collective form. Had Heyde food, he would care little.
"Romanzow, who is now in Eugen's old Camp, summons the Veteran;
they say, it is 'for the twenty-fifth time,'--not yet quite the
last. Heyde consults his people: 'KAMERADEN, what think you should
I do?' 'THUN SIE'S DURCHAUS NICHT, HERR OBRIST, Do not a whit of
it, Herr Colonel: we will defend ourselves as long as we have bread
and powder.' [Seyfarth, iii. 28; Archenholtz, ii. 304.] It is grim
frost; Heyde pours water on his walls. Romanzow tries storm;
the walls are glass; the garrison has powder, though on half
rations as to bread: storm is of no effect. By the King's order,
Eugen tries again. December 6th, starts; has again a march of the
most consummate kind; December 12th, gets to the Russian
intrenchment; storms a Russian redoubt, and fights inexpressibly;
hut it will not do. Withdraws; leaves Colberg to its fate.
Next morning, Heyde gets his twenty-sixth summons; reflects on it
two days; and then (December 16th), his biscuit done, decides to
'march out, with music playing, arms shouldered and the honors of
war."' [Tempelhof, v. 351-377; Archenholtz, ii. 294-307; especially
the Seyfarth Beylagen above cited.] Adieu to
the old Hero; who, we hope, will not stay long in Russian prison.
"What a Place of Arms for us!" thinks Romanzow;--"though, indeed,
for Campaign 1762, at this late time of year, it will not so much
avail us." No;--and for 1763, who knows if you will need it then!
Six weeks ago, Prince Henri and Daun had finished their Saxon
Campaign in a much more harmless manner. NOVEMBER 5th, Daun, after
infinite rallying, marshalling, rearranging, and counselling with
Loudon, who has sat so long quiescent on the Heights at Kunzendorf,
ready to aid and reinforce, did at length (nothing of "rashness"
chargeable on Daun) make "a general attack on Prince Henri's
outposts", in the Meissen or Mulda-Elbe Country, "from Rosswein all
across to Siebeneichen;" simultaneous attack, 15 miles wide, or I
know not how wide, but done with vigor; and, after a stiff struggle
in the small way, drove them all in;--in, all of them, more or
less;--and then did nothing farther whatever. Henri had to contract
his quarters, and stand alertly on his guard: but nothing came.
"Shall have to winter in straiter quarters, behind the Mulda, not
astride of it as formerly; that is all." And so the Campaign in
Saxony had ended, "without, in the whole course of it", say the
Books, "either party gaining any essential advantage over the
other." [Seyfarth, iii. 54; Tempelhof, v. 275 et seq. (ibid. pp.
263-280 for the Campaign at large, in all breadth of detail).]
