advanced with six thousand foot,
English and Dutch, thirty squadrons and three regiments of Imperial
cuirassiers, the duke crossing the river at the head of the cavalry.
Although our troops made the attack with unparalleled courage and
fury--rushing up to the very guns of the enemy, and being slaughtered
before their works--we were driven back many times, and should not have
carried them, but that the Imperialists came up under the Prince of Baden,
when the enemy could make no head against us: we pursued him into the
trenches, making a terrible slaughter there, and into the very Danube,
where a great part of his troops, following the example of their generals,
Count Darcos and the Elector himself, tried to save themselves by
swimming. Our army entered Donauwort, which the Bavarians evacuated; and
where 'twas said the Elector purposed to have given us a warm reception,
by burning us in our beds; the cellars of the houses, when we took
possession of them, being found stuffed with straw. But though the links
were there, the link-boys had run away. The townsmen saved their houses,
and our general took possession of the enemy's ammunition in the arsenals,
his stores, and magazines. Five days afterwards a great _Te Deum_ was sung
in Prince Lewis's army, and a solemn day of thanksgiving held in our own;
the Prince of Savoy's compliments coming to his grace the captain-general
during the day's religious ceremony, and concluding, as it were, with an
amen.

And now, having seen a great military march through a friendly country;
the pomps and festivities of more than one German court; the severe
struggle of a hotly-contested battle, and the triumph of victory; Mr.
Esmond beheld another part of military duty; our troops entering the
enemy's territory, and putting all around them to fire and sword; burning
farms, wasted fields, shrieking women, slaughtered sons and fathers, and
drunken soldiery, cursing and carousing in the midst of tears, terror, and
murder. Why does the stately Muse of History, that delights in describing
the valour of heroes and the grandeur of conquest, leave out these scenes,
so brutal, mean, and degrading, that yet form by far the greater part of
the drama of war? You, gentlemen of England, who live at home at ease, and
compliment yourselves in the songs of triumph with which our chieftains
are bepraised--you pretty maidens, that come tumbling down the stairs when
the fife and drum call you, and huzzah for the