Various
Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Vol. 60, No. 373, November 1846
Other examples of devotion, less known but not less touching, are cited in the volume before us. When the King of Prussia's celebrated proclamation "To my People," had raised German enthusiasm to its highest pitch, and the noble-hearted women of Silesia sent their jewels to the public treasury, replacing them by iron ornaments, a young girl at Breslaw, who had nothing of value to contribute, cut off the luxuriant golden tresses that adorned her graceful head, and sold them, that she might add her mite to the patriotic fund. The purchaser gave a high price, but yet made an enormous profit; for no sooner was the story known, than hundreds of those then arming for the fight flew to obtain a golden hair-ring, to wear as a talisman in the battle-field. This heroine, Baron von Rahden believes, was a Fraulein von Scheliha, a name noted in the annals of Prussian patriotism. The three sons of a Herr von Scheliha, officers in various regiments, fell in the campaign of 1813. Their mother and only sister died of broken hearts, and the father, bowed down under his grief, sold his estate and country-house, which now only served to remind him of his losses. The King of Prussia sent him the Iron Cross; and that and the sympathy of all who knew his sad history, were the only remaining consolations of the bereaved old man. A Silesian count, named Reichenbach, wrote to the King in the following terms: "If it please your majesty to allow me, I will send five thousand measures of corn and my draught oxen to the military stores for rations, and my best horses to the – regiment of cavalry; I will equip all the men on my estates capable of bearing arms, and they shall join the – regiment of infantry, and I will pay ten thousand thalers into the military chest. For my three sons I crave admission into the army as volunteers. And, finally, I humbly implore of your majesty that I myself; who, although advanced in years, am strong and willing, may be permitted to march by their side, to teach then to fight and, if needs be, to die. Meanwhile, my wife and daughters shall remain at home to prepare lint, sew bandages, and nurse the sick and wounded."
A Major Reichenbach commanded Von Rahden's battalion, and under his guidance the young lieutenant first smelled powder. It was at Lutzen, a bloody fight, and no bad initiation for an unfledged soldier. Although modest and reserved when speaking of his own exploits, it is not difficult to discern that on this, as on many subsequent occasions, the baron bore himself right gallantly. At eleven o'clock the army of the Allies stood in order of battle, Von Rahden's battalion, which formed part of General Kleist's division, in the centre, and well to the front. At a distance of six or eight hundred paces, the hostile masses moved to and fro, alternately enveloped in clouds of dust, and disappearing behind trees and houses. The fight began with artillery. "The first round-shot whizzed close over the heads of the battalion, and buried itself in the ground a few hundred paces in our rear. A second immediately followed, carrying away a few bayonets and the drum-major's cane. Each time the whole battalion, as if by word of command, bobbed their heads, and the men pressed closer together. In front of us sat our commandant, Count Reichenbach, reining in his splendid English roan, which snorted and curveted with impatience. The count had not bowed his head; he had made the Rhine campaigns, and a cannon-ball was nothing new to him. He turned to the battalion, slapping his leg with his right hand, whilst a comical twitching of his nose and at the corner of his mouth betrayed his discontent. 'Men!' said he, 'balls that whistle do not hit, so it is useless to fear them. Henceforward, let no one dare to stoop.' Hardly had the words left his lips when a third shot passed close over his head and dashed into the battalion. This time very few made the respectful salutation which had occasioned the count's reproof, but astonishment and horror were visible on every countenance when we saw our dear comrades struck down by our side.
"After an hour's cannonade the infantry advanced. Skirmishers were thrown out, and the musketry came into play; and truly, often as I have been in action, such firing as at Lutzen I never since heard. From about mid-day till nine at night, one uninterrupted roll; not even for a moment were single shots to be distinguished. My old comrades will bear witness to the truth of this.
"Our light company hastened forward as skirmishers, Lieutenant Merkatz led them on, and, with waving sword and a joyful shout, rushed towards the foe, full a hundred paces in front of his men. Soon the wounded straggled, and were carried past us by dozens – amongst others Anselme, captain of the company. A rifle-ball had shattered his right shoulder. When I saw him, twenty-five years later, as a general, he still carried his arm in a sling, fragments of bone frequently came away, and his sufferings were very great. Such wounds as his no gold, or title, or decorations can repay; in the consciousness of having done one's duty the only compensation is to be found."
Von Rahden was soon called upon to replace a wounded officer, and he hurried to the front. Before he reached the skirmishers, he met the dead body of the young prince of Hesse-Homburg, who served as staff-officer in the first regiment of Silesian infantry. He had entered action as he would have gone to parade, in full dress, with a star upon his breast, and wearing all the insignia of his rank. General Ziethen remonstrated with him on the imprudence of thus rendering himself a conspicuous mark, but he was deaf to the warning, and refused to take off his star. "This," said he, "is the soldier's most glorious parade-ground." The next moment a ball struck him, and he fell mortally wounded from his horse.
We shall not follow Baron Von Rahden through the bloody day of Lutzen, in the course of which he received a wound, not sufficiently severe, however, to compel him to leave the field. Neither of that action, nor of any subsequent one, does he give a general account, but professes merely to relate what he himself saw. As a subaltern officer, his sphere of observation was, of course, very limited. He recites his own adventures and the proceedings of his battalion, or, at most, of the division to which it was attached, and is careful to name those officers who particularly distinguished themselves. He urges the surviving veterans of those eventful campaigns to follow his example, and publish their reminiscences, as a means of rescuing from unmerited oblivion the names of many who especially signalised themselves whilst defending the holy cause of German independence. It was a period prolific in heroes; and if the manœuvres and discipline of the Prussian army had been more in proportion with the gallant spirit that animated the majority of its members, doubtless the struggle would have been briefer. As it was, the campaign of 1813 opened with a reverse which it was vainly endeavoured to cloak by mendacious bulletins. "The nobly fought and gloriously won action of Gross-Gröschen," said the official accounts of the battle of Lutzen. But stubborn facts soon refuted the well-intended but injudicious falsehoods, propounded to maintain the moral courage of the nation. The French entered Dresden, driving out the rear-guard of the retreating Allies, who, on the evening of the 12th of May, established their camp, or rather their bivouac, for tents they had none, near Bautzen, and fortified their position by intrenchments and redoubts. On the 20th the fight began; 28,000 Prussians and 70,000 Russians, so says the baron, against 150,000 French. A large disproportion; and, moreover, the troops of the Allies were not made the most of by their commanders. General Kleist's corps, consisting of but 5000 men, was left from ten in the morning till late in the afternoon to defend itself unassisted against over-powering numbers of the French. And most gallant their defence was. They fought before the eyes of both armies, on the heights of Burk, which served as a stage for the exhibition of their courage, and of the calm skill of their commander. Von Rahden records the fact, that the Emperor Alexander sent several times to Kleist to express his praise and admiration; and that his last message was, that he could kiss Kleist's feet (a thorough Russian testimony of respect) for his splendid behaviour with the advanced guard. At length large bodies of the French having moved up to support the assailants, a reinforcement was sent to Kleist to cover his retreat. It consisted of Von Rahden's battalion, which, on the retrograde movement being commenced, was for some time completely isolated, and bore the whole brunt of the fight. Orders were given to clear a corn-field which afforded shelter to the enemy. Here is a spirited description of the fight that ensued.
"I led the skirmishes of the first and second company. We entered the field, and instantly found ourselves within fifteen or twenty paces of the French marines, whom Napoleon had attached to the army, and whom we recognised by the red lace on their shakos. We were so near each other, that when our opponents fired I felt the heat of the burnt powder. The battalion was about fifty paces behind us, but on rather higher ground. It deployed into line, and fired a volley over our heads, which some of the bullets missed by a trifle. A very unpleasant sensation and critical moment; and many of my men showed an eagerness to get out of this double fire, or at least to shelter themselves from it as much as possible. The bugler tried to run; I caught him by the coat skirt, and ordered him to sound the assembly, meaning to retire with my skirmishers to the right flank of the battalion. He obeyed, clapped his bugle to his lips, and began a quavering call. Suddenly the sounds ceased, and the bugler fell backwards, spitting and sputtering with his mouth, stamping and striking out with his feet and hands; then, jumping up, he ran off like a madman. A bullet had entered the sound-hole of his bugle. At the same moment I felt a hard rap on the right hip, and was knocked down. It was a canister-shot; the blood poured out in streams, and, before I could join the battalion, my boot was full of it. My comrades were hard at work; after a few volleys, they kept up an incessant file-fire. They were drawn up in line, only two deep, the third rank having been taken for skirmishers. Luckily the enemy had no cavalry at hand, or it would have been all up with us, for we should never have been able to form a square. It was all that the officers and serrafiles could do to keep the men in their places. The French infantry surrounded us on three sides, but they kept behind the hedges, and amongst the high corn, and showed no disposition to come to close quarters, when the bayonet and but-end would have told their tale. On the other hand, from the adjacent heights the artillery mowed us down with their canister. The fight lasted about an hour; half a one more, and to a certainty we should all have been annihilated or prisoners, for we were wholly unsupported. Sporschil and other writers have said that Blucher sent General Kleist a reinforcement of three thousand infantry. To that I reply that our battalion was at most six hundred strong, and I did not see another infantry soldier in the field. The other troops had retired far across the plain. Suddenly the earth shook beneath our feet, and two magnificent divisions of Russian cuirassiers charged to the rescue. The French infantry sought the shelter of their adjacent battery, and we retreated wearily and slowly towards our lines. The sun, which had shone brightly the whole day, had already set when we reached a small village, and again extended our skirmishers behind the walls and hedges. Once more the earth trembled; and, with unusual rapidity for an orderly retreat, back came the brilliant cuirassiers, with bloody heads, and in most awful confusion. The French infantry and artillery had given them a rough reception. A few hostile squadrons followed, and, as soon as the Russians were out of the way, I opened fire with my skirmishers; but I was ordered to cease, for the distance was too great, and it was mere waste of ammunition."
Von Rahden's hurt was but a flesh wound, and did not prevent his sharing in the next day's fight, and in the retreat which concluded it. He was then obliged to go into hospital, and only on the last day of June rejoined his regiment in cantonments between Strehlen and Breslaw. At the latter town he visited his mother. She had mourned his death, of which she had received a false account from a soldier of his regiment, who had seen him struck down by a bullet at Lutzen, and had himself been wounded and carried from the field before Von Rahden regained consciousness and rejoined his corps.
The truce which, during the summer of 1813, afforded a brief repose to the contending armies, was over, and the cause of the Allies strengthened by the accession of Austria. Hostilities recommenced; and on the 27th August we find our young lieutenant again distinguishing himself, at the head of his sharpshooters, in the gardens of Dresden. Several wet days, bad quarters, and short commons, had pulled down the strength and lowered the spirits of the Allied troops. Exhausted and discouraged, they showed little appetite for the bloody banquet to which they were invited. Suddenly a hurra, but no very joyous one, ran through the ranks. The soldiers had been ordered to utter it, in honour of the Emperor Alexander and King of Prussia, who now, with their numerous and brilliant staff, rode along the whole line of battle, doubtless with the intention of raising the sunken spirits of the men. Close in front of the baron's battalion the two monarchs halted; and there it was that General Moreau was mortally wounded, at Alexander's side, by a French cannon-shot. The following details of his death are from the work of a well-known Russian military author, General Michailefski-Danielefski: – "Moreau was close to the Emperor Alexander, who stood beside an Austrian battery, against which the French kept up a heavy fire. He requested the Russian sovereign to accompany him to another eminence, whence a better view of the battle-field was obtainable. 'Let your majesty trust to my experience,' said Moreau, and turning his horse, he rode on, the emperor following. They had proceeded but a few paces, when a cannon-ball smashed General Moreau's right foot, passed completely through his horse, tore away his left calf, and injured the knee. All present hurried to assist the wounded man. His first words, on recovering consciousness, were – 'I am dying; but how sweet it is to die for the right cause, and under the eyes of so great a monarch!' A litter was formed of Cossack lances; Moreau was laid upon it, wrapped in his cloak, and carried to Koitz, the nearest village. There he underwent, with the courage and firmness of a veteran soldier, the amputation of both legs. The last bandage was being fastened, when two round-shot struck the house, and knocked down a corner of the very room in which he lay. He was conveyed to Laun, in Bohemia, and there died, on the 2d of September. Such was the end of the hero of Hohenlinden."
General Michailofski, it must be observed, has been accused by Sporschil of stretching the truth a little, when by so doing he could pay a compliment to his deceased master. The adulatory words which he puts into Moreau's mouth, may therefore never have been uttered by that unfortunate officer. Some little inexactitudes in the account above quoted are corrected by Captain Von Rahden. Moreau's litter was composed of muskets, and not of lances; he was taken to Räcknitz, and not to Koitz; and so forth. Upon the 2d of September, Von Rahden and eighteen other Prussian officers, stood beside the bed whereon Moreau had just expired, and divided amongst them a black silk waistcoat that had been worn by the deceased warrior. "I still treasure up my shred of silk," says the baron, "as a soldierly relic, and as I should a tatter of a banner that had long waved honourably aloft, and at last tragically fallen. In these days few care about such memorials, and a railway share is deemed more valuable. Practically true; but horribly unpoetical!"
In 1813, one battle followed hard upon the heels of the other. It was a war of giants, and small breathing-time was given. The echoes of the fight had scarcely died away at Dresden, when they were reawakened in the fertile vale of Toeplitz. The action of Kulm was a glorious one for the Allies. On the first day, the 29th of August, the Russians, under Ostermann Tolstoy, reaped the largest share of laurels; on the 30th, Kleist and the Prussians nobly distinguished themselves. The latter, after burning their baggage, made a forced march over the mountains, and fell upon the enemy's rear on the afternoon of the second day's engagement. Here Von Rahden was again opposed to his old and gallant acquaintances the French marines, who, refusing to retreat, were completely exterminated. The action over, his battalion took up a position near Arbesau, with their front towards Kulm. On the opposite side of the road a Hungarian regiment was drawn up.
"The sun had set, and distant objects grew indistinct in the twilight, when we suddenly saw large masses of troops approach us. These were the French prisoners, numbering, it was said, eight or ten thousand. First came General Vandamme, on horseback, his head bound round with a white cloth: a Cossack's lance had grazed his forehead. Close behind him were several generals, (Haxo and Guyot;) and then, at a short interval, came twenty or thirty colonels and staff-officers. On the right of these marched an old iron-grey colonel, with two heavy silver epaulets projecting forwards from under his light-blue great-coat, the cross of the Legion of Honour on his breast, a huge chain with a bunch of gold seals and keys dangling from his fob. He had been captured by very forbearing foes, and he strode proudly and confidently along. He was about ten paces from the head of our battalion, which was drawn up in column of sections, when suddenly three or four of our Hungarian neighbours leaped the ditch, and one of them, with the speed of light, snatched watch and seals from the French colonel's pocket. Captain Von Korth, who commanded our No. 1 company, observed this, sprang forward, knocked the blue-breeched Hungarians right and left, took the watch from them, and restored it to its owner. The latter, with the ease of a thorough Frenchman, offered it, with a few obliging words, to Captain Von Korth, who refused it by a decided gesture, and hastened back to his company. All this occurred whilst the French prisoners marched slowly by, and the captain had not passed the battalion more than ten or fifteen paces, when he turned about, and with the cry of "Vive le brave capitaine Prussien!" threw chain and seals into the middle of our company. The watch he had detached and put in his pocket. Von Korth offered ten and even fifteen louis d'ors for the trinkets, but could never discover who had got them; whoever it was, he perhaps feared to be compelled to restore them without indemnification."
"The Emperor Alexander received Vandamme, when that general was brought before him as prisoner, with great coolness, but nevertheless promised to render his captivity as light as possible. Notwithstanding that assurance, Vandamme was sent to Siberia. On his way thither, the proud and unfeeling man encountered many a hard word and cruel taunt, the which I do not mean to justify, although he had richly earned them by his numerous acts of injustice and oppression. In the spring of 1807, he had had his headquarters in the pretty little town of Frankenstein in Silesia, and, amongst various other extortions, had compelled the authorities to supply him with whole sackfuls of the delicious red filberts which grow in that neighbourhood. When, upon his way to the frozen steppes, he chanced to halt for a night in this same town of Frankenstein, the magistrates sent him a huge sack of his favourite nuts, with a most submissive message, to the effect that they well remembered his Excellency's partiality to filberts, and that they begged leave to offer him a supply, in hopes that the cracking of them might beguile the time, and occupy his leisure in Siberia."
At Kulm the captain of Von Rahden's company was slain. He had ridden up to a French column, taking it, as was supposed, for a Russian one, and was killed by three of the enemy's officers before he found out his mistake. Each wound was mortal; one of his assailants shot him in the breast, another drove his sword through his body, and the third nearly severed his head from his shoulders with a sabre-cut. The day after the battle, before sunrise, Von Rahden awakened a non-commissioned officer and three men, and went to seek and bury the corpse. It was already stripped of every thing but the shirt and uniform coat; they dug a shallow grave under a pear-tree, and interred it. The mournful task was just completed when a peasant came by. Von Rahden called him, showed him the captain's grave, and asked if he might rely upon its not being ploughed up. "Herr Preusse," was the answer, "I promise you that it shall not; for the ground is mine, and beneath this tree your captain shall rest undisturbed." The promise was faithfully kept. In August 1845, the baron revisited the spot. The tree still stood, and the soldier's humble grave had been respected.
Whilst wandering over the field of battle, followed by Zänker, his sergeant, Von Rahden heard a suppressed moaning, and found amongst the brushwood, close to the bank of a little rivulet, a sorely wounded French soldier. The unfortunate fellow had been hit in three or four places. One ball had entered behind his eyes, which projected, bloody and swollen, from their sockets, another had shattered his right hand, and a third had broken the bones of the leg. He could neither see, nor move, nor die; he lay in the broad glare of the sun, parched with thirst, listening to the ripple of the stream, which he was unable to reach. In heart-rending tones he implored a drink of water. Six-and-thirty hours had he lain there, he said, suffering agonies from heat, and thirst, and wounds. "In an instant Zänker threw down his knapsack, filled his canteen, and handed it to the unhappy Frenchman, who drank as if he would never leave off. When at last satisfied, he said very calmly, 'Stop, friend! one more favour; blow my brains out!' I looked at Zänker, and made a sign with my hand, as much as to say, 'Is your gun loaded?' Zänker drew his ramrod, ran it into the barrel quite noiselessly, so that the wounded man might not hear, and nodded his head affirmatively. Without a word, I pointed to a thicket about twenty paces off, giving him to understand that he was not to fire till I had reached it, and, hurrying away, I left him alone with the Frenchman. Ten minutes passed without a report, and then, on turning a corner of the wood, I came face to face with Zänker. 'I can't do it, lieutenant,' said he. 'Thrice I levelled my rifle, but could not pull the trigger.' He had left the poor French sergeant-major – such four gold chevrons on his coat-sleeve denoted him to be – a canteen full of water, had arranged a few boughs above his head to shield him from the sun, and as soon as we reached the camp, he hastened to the field hospital to point out the spot where the wounded man lay, and procure surgical assistance."
The battle of Kulm was lost by the French through the negligence of Vandamme, who omitted to occupy the defiles in his rear – an extraordinary blunder, for which a far younger soldier might well be blamed. The triumph was complete, and, in conjunction with those at the Katzbach and Gross-Beeren, greatly raised the spirits of the Allies. At Kulm, the French fought, as usual, most gallantly, but for once they were outmanœuvred. A brilliant exploit of three or four hundred chasseurs, belonging to Corbineau's light cavalry division, is worthy of mention. Sabre in hand, they cut their way completely through Kleist's corps, and did immense injury to the Allies, especially to the artillery. Of themselves, few, if any, escaped alive. "Not only," says Baron Von Rahden, "did they ride down several battalions at the lower end of the defile, and cut to pieces and scatter to the winds the staff and escort of the general, which were halted upon the road, but they totally annihilated our artillery for the time, inasmuch as they threw the guns into the ditches, and killed nearly all the men and horses. By this example one sees what resolute men on horseback, with good swords in their hands, and bold hearts in their bosoms, are able to accomplish." In a letter of Prince Augustus of Prussia, we find that "the artillery suffered so great a loss at Kulm, that there are still (this was written in the middle of September, fifteen days after the action) eighteen officers, eighty non-commissioned officers, one hundred and twenty-six bombardiers, seven hundred and eighteen gunners, besides bandsmen and surgeons, wanting to complete the strength." In both days' fight the present King of the Belgians greatly distinguished himself. He was then in the Russian service, and, on the 29th, fought bravely at the head of his cavalry division. On the 30th, the Emperor Alexander sent him to bring up the Austrian cavalry reserves, and the judgment with which he performed this duty was productive of the happiest results.
The Russian guards fought nobly at Kulm, and held the valley of Toeplitz one whole day against four times their numbers. To reward their valour, the King of Prussia gave them the Kulm Cross, as it was called, which was composed of black shining leather with a framework of silver. The Prussians were greatly annoyed at its close resemblance to the first and best class of the Iron Cross, which order had been instituted a few months previously, and was sparingly bestowed, for instances of extraordinary personal daring, upon those only who fought under Prussian colours. It was of iron with a silver setting, and could scarcely be distinguished from the Kulm cross. "Many thousands of us Prussians," says the Baron, "fought for years, poured out our blood, and threw away our lives, in vain strivings after a distinction which the Muscovite earned in a few hours. For who would notice whether it was leather or iron? The colour and form were the same, and only the initiated knew the difference, which was but nominal. In the severe winter of 1829-30, when travelling in a Russian sledge and through a thorough Russian snow-storm, along the shores of the Peipus lake, I passed a company of soldiers wrapped in their grey coats. On the right of the company were ten or twelve Knights of the Iron Cross, as it appeared to me, and of the first class of that order. This astonished me so much the more, that in Prussia it was an unheard-of thing for more than one or two private soldiers in a regiment to achieve this high distinction. I started up, and rubbed my eyes, and thought I dreamed. At Dorpat I was informed that several hundred men from the Semenofskoi regiment of guards, (the heroes of Kulm,) had been drafted into the provincial militia as a punishment for having shared in a revolt at St Petersburg."
On the 14th of October occurred the battle of cavalry in the plains between Güldengossa, Gröbern, and Liebertwolkwitz, where the Allied horse, fifteen thousand strong, encountered ten to twelve thousand French dragoons, led by the King of Naples, who once, during that day, nearly fell into the hands of his foes. The incident is narrated by Von Schöning in his history of the third Prussian regiment of dragoons, then known as the Neumark dragoons. "It was about two hours after daybreak; the regiment had made several successful charges, and at last obtained a moment's breathing-time. The dust had somewhat subsided; the French cavalry stood motionless, only their general, followed by his staff, rode, encouraging the men, as it seemed, along the foremost line, just opposite to the Neumark dragoons. Suddenly a young lieutenant, Guido von Lippe by name, who thought he recognised Murat in the enemy's leader, galloped up to the colonel. 'I must and will take him!' cried he; and, without waiting for a Yes or a No, dashed forward at the top of his horse's speed, followed by a few dragoons who had been detached from the ranks as skirmishers. At the same time the colonel ordered the charge to be sounded. A most brilliant charge it was, but nothing more was seen of Von Lippe and his companions. Two days afterwards, his corpse was found by his servant, who recognised it amongst a heap of dead by the scars of the yet scarcely healed wounds received at Lutzen. A sabre-cut and a thrust through the body had destroyed life." An interesting confirmation of this story may be read in Von Odeleben's "Campaign of Napoleon in Saxony in the year 1813," p. 328. "He (Murat) accompanied by a very small retinue, so greatly exposed himself, that at last one of the enemy's squadrons, recognising him by his striking dress, and by the staff that surrounded him, regularly gave him chase. One officer in particular made a furious dash at the king, who, by the sudden facing about of his escort, found himself the last man, a little in the rear, and with only one horseman by his side. In the dazzling anticipation of a royal prisoner, the eager pursuer called to him several times, 'Halt, King, halt!' At that moment a crown was at stake. The officer had already received a sabre-cut from Murat's solitary attendant, and as he did not regard it, but still pressed forward, the latter ran him through the body. He fell dead from his saddle, and the next day his horse was mounted by the king's faithful defender, from whose lips I received these details. Their truth has been confirmed to me from other sources. Murat made his rescuer his equerry, and promised him a pension. The Emperor gave him the cross of the legion of honour."