on the body of his Master, and took the bloody strokes
instead of him; shrieking his loudest, 'Will you murder the Commanding
General, then!' Which brought up the Colonel of Lichnowski; a Gentleman
and Ritter, abhorrent of such practices. To him Fouquet gave his
sword;--kept his vow never to draw it again.

"The wrecks of Fouquet's Infantry were, many of them, massacred, no
quarter given; such the unchivalrous fury that had risen. His Cavalry,
with the loss of about 500, cut their way through. They and some
stragglers of Foot, in whole about 1,500 of both kinds, were what
remained of those 10,680 after this bloody morning's work. There had
been about six hours of it; 'all over by 8 o'clock.'" [_Hofbericht
von der am 23 Junius, 1760, bey Landshuth vorgefallenen Action_ (in
Seyfarth, _Beylagen,_ ii. 669-671); _Helden-Geschichte,_ vi. 258-284;
Tempelhof, iv. 26-41; Stenzel, v. 241 (who, by oversight,--this Volume
being posthumous to poor Stenzel,--protracts the Action to "half-past 7
in the evening").]

Fouquet has obeyed to the letter: "Did not my King wrong me?" Fouquet
may say to himself. Truly, Herr General, your King's Order was a little
unwise; as you (who were on the ground, and your King not) knew it
to be. An unwise Order;--perhaps not inexcusable in the sudden
circumstances. And perhaps a still more perfect Bayard would have
preferred obeying such a King in spirit, rather than in letter, and
thereby doing him vital service AGAINST his temporary will? It is not
doubted but Fouquet, left to himself and his 13,000, with the Fortresses
and Garrisons about him, would have maintained himself in Silesia till
help came. The issue is,--Fouquet has probably lost this fine King
his Silesia, for the time being; and beyond any question, has lost him
10,000 Prussian-Spartan fighters, and a fine General whom he could ill
spare!--In a word, the Gate of Silesia is burst open; and Loudon has
every prospect of taking Glatz, which will keep it so.

What a thunder-bolt for Friedrich! One of the last pillars struck away
from his tottering affairs. "Inevitable, then? We are over with it,
then?" One may fancy Friedrich's reflections. But he showed nothing of
them to anybody; in a few hours, had his mind composed, and new plans on
the anvil. On the morrow of that Austrian Joy-Firing,--morrow, or some
day close on it (ought to have been dated, but is not),--there went
from him, to Magdeburg, the Order: "Have me such and such quantities