oung man, of great heart for fight) tramps forth
with his Division:--steady!--all manner of Divisions tramp forth; and
the hot storm, Ziethen and cavalry dashing upon that right wing of
theirs, kindles here also far and wide.

The Austrian cavalry on this wing and elsewhere, it is clear, were
ill off. "We could not charge the Prussian left wing, say they, partly
because of the morasses that lay between us; and partly [which is
remarkable] because they rushed across and charged us." [Austrian
report, _Helden-Geschichte,_ i. 1113.] Prince Karl is sorry to report
such things of his cavalry; but their behavior was bad and not good.
The first shock threw them wavering; the second,--nothing would persuade
them to dash forth and meet it. High officers commanded, obtested, drew
out pistols, Prince Karl himself shot a fugitive or two,--it was to no
purpose; they wavered worse at every new shock; and at length a shock
came (sixth it was, as the reporter counts) which shook them all into
the wind. Decidedly shy of the Prussians with their new manoeuvres, and
terrible way of coming on, as if sure of beating. In the Saxon quarter,
certain Austrian regiments of horse would not charge at all; merely kept
firing from their carbines, and when the time came ran.

As for the Saxons, they have been beaten these two hours; that is to
say, hopeless these two hours, and getting beaten worse and worse. The
Saxons cannot stand, but neither generally will they run; they dispute
every ditch, morass and tuft of wood, especially every village. Wrecks
of the muddy desperate business last, hour after hour. "I gave my men a
little rest under the garden walls," says one Saxon Gentleman, "or they
would have died, in the heat and thirst and extreme fatigue: I would
have given 100 gulden [10 pounds Sterling] for a glass of water."
[ _Helden-Geschichte,_ ubi supra.] The Prussians push them on, bayonet
in back; inexorable, not to be resisted; slit off whole battalions of
them (prisoners now, and quarter given); take all their guns, or all
that are not sunk in the quagmires;--in fine, drive them, part into the
Mountains direct, part by circuit thither, down upon the rear of the
Austrian fight: through Hausdorf, Seifersdorf and other Mountain gorges,
where we hear no more of them, and shall say no more of them. A sore
stroke for poor old Weissenfels; the last public one he has to take, in
this world, for the poor man died before long. Nobody's blame, he say