d covered all mistakes that were made. Nobler
fire, when did it burn in any Army? More perfect soldiers I have
not read of. Platt-Teutsch fire--which I liken to anthracite, in
contradistinction to Gaelic blaze of kindled straw--is thrice noble,
when, by strict stern discipline, you are above it withal; and wield
your fire-element, as Jove his thunder, by rule! Otherwise it is but
half-admirable: Turk-Janissaries have it otherwise; and it comes to
comparatively little.

This is the famed Battle of Prag; fought May 6th, 1757; which sounded
through all the world,--and used to deafen us in drawing-rooms within
man's memory. Results of it were: On the Prussian side, killed, wounded
and missing, 12,500 men; on the Austrian, 13,000 (prisoners included),
with many flags, cannon, tents, much war-gear gone the wrong road;--and
a very great humiliation and dispiritment; though they had fought well:
"No longer the old Austrians, by any means," as Friedrich sees; but have
iron ramrods, all manner of Prussian improvements, and are "learning to
march," as he once says, with surprise not quite pleasant.

Friedrich gives the cipher of loss, on both sides, much higher: "This
Battle," says he, "which began towards nine in the morning, and lasted,
chase included, till eight at night, was one of the bloodiest of the
age. The Enemy lost 24,000 men, of whom were 5,000 prisoners; the
Prussian loss amounted to 18,000 fighting men,--without counting Marshal
Schwerin, who alone was worth above 10,000." "This day saw the pillars
of the Prussian Infantry cut down," says he mournfully, seeming almost
to think the "laurels of victory" were purchased too dear. His account
of the Battle, as if it had been a painful object, rather avoided in
his after-thoughts, is unusually indistinct;--and helps us little in the
extreme confusion that reigns otherwise, both in the thing itself and in
the reporters of the thing. Here is a word from Winterfeld, some private
Letter, two days after; which is well worth reading for those who would
understand this Battle.

"The enemy had his Left Wing leaning on the City, close by the Moldau,"
at Nussel; "and stretched with his Right Wing across the high Hill [of
Zisca] to the village of Lieben [so he HAD stood, looking into Prag;
but faced about, on hearing that Friedrich was across the River]; having
before him those terrible Defiles [DIE TERRIBLEN DEFILEES, "Horse-shoe
of the Moldau," as we call it], and the village of