Read Ebook: Frederick the Great and the Seven Years' War by Schrader Ferdinand Upton George P George Putnam Translator

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The main army of the Austrians, eighty thousand strong, held a position in the vicinity of Leuthen, between Breslau and Neumarkt. When its commander, Prince Carl of Lothringen, heard that the King was near by with thirty-six thousand men, he remarked, "That must be the Berlin guard parade." Frederick did not wait long. Regardless of the disparity between the two forces, he determined to measure strength with the Austrians, cost what it might. Under a gloomy, gray December sky, the King one day summoned his generals and thus addressed them:

"In violation of all the rules of the art of war, I propose to attack this army of Prince Carl though it is thrice as strong as ours. It is not a question of the numbers of the enemy nor of the strength of his position. I hope we shall overcome these odds by the valor of our troops, and by strictly carrying out my plans. I must risk this action or all will be lost. We must beat the enemy or all of us must perish before his batteries. So I think, so I shall act. Make my decision known to the army. Get it in readiness for the work soon to come. As for the rest, when you remember you are Prussians, you will certainly prove yourselves worthy of the name. But if there be any among you who fear to share danger with me, he can have his discharge this evening without exposing himself to the slightest reproach from me."

The King regarded his veterans questioningly. One of them came forward and said: "He is a knave who would retire or fear to offer his life for his Majesty."

"I was sure," resumed the King, "none of you would desert me. With your faithful aid, victory will be certain. Should I fall and thus be prevented from rewarding you for your service, the Fatherland will do it. Now go to your commands and give them this message: The regiment of cavalry which does not attack the enemy the instant it is ordered, shall be unhorsed after the battle and made a garrison regiment. The regiment of infantry which under any circumstances hesitates in the least, shall lose its colors and arms, and I will cut the decorations from the uniforms. Now, good-bye, gentlemen. We shall soon defeat the enemy or never see each other again."

Both officers and soldiers were deeply impressed by the King's words, and all awaited the battle of the following day with eager expectation. The soldiers were so enthusiastic that they sang sacred hymns to the accompaniment of the field bands. As singing before battle had not previously been customary, one of the generals asked the King if he should not order the soldiers to be silent.

"No!" replied the King. "With such men as these, God certainly will give us the victory."

As the Prussians approached Leuthen, the King was informed that the enemy's force was as strong again as his own.

"I know it," answered the dauntless hero, "but there is only one way out of it--conquer or perish. I would attack them even were they on the Zobtenberg." Before giving the signal for the attack, Frederick called a hussar officer with fifty men to him and said: "I shall expose myself in battle to-day more than usual. You and your fifty men are to serve as my bodyguard. You must not leave me, and you must see to it that I do not fall into the hands of the canaille. If I am killed, cover my body with my cloak, place it in a wagon, and say not a word about it. Let the battle continue and the enemy will be beaten."

About this time the right wing of the cavalry, commanded by Prince Moritz of Dessau, halted at a churchyard, where the Austrians had planted one of their strongest batteries and were firing from time to time upon the skirmishers, sometimes with serious effect. To save them from this fire, Prince Moritz ordered them to fall back; but Frederick, when he noticed the movement, rushed up and cried: "Not yet! not yet! Those are only alarm shots. Children," turning to the skirmishers, "follow me."

They promptly obeyed the King, who led them back to their former position and said: "Stay here. Have no fear. I will send help to you."

While saying this, the enemy's cannonading was kept up. Prince Moritz said to the King: "It is too dangerous for you here, Your Majesty."

"That is true," replied Frederick, with the utmost composure, "but I shall soon drive the Austrians back."

The King made good his promise. The battle began between one and two o'clock, on the fifth of December, 1757. The enemy's line of battle stretched a mile, but Frederick was not alarmed. His main attack was directed against the left wing, and at this point the enemy's line was completely broken. A like fate overtook the right wing, which was simultaneously attacked. The enemy's centre finally gave way, and before dark the King was master of the field. The sanguinary struggle lasted only three hours, but it was one of the most brilliant of his victories. Twenty thousand prisoners fell into the hands of the Prussians, and beside these they captured one hundred and thirty-four cannon and fifty-nine standards. Frederick rewarded Prince Moritz on the field for his service. Drawing rein, he said to him, "I congratulate you upon the victory, Herr Field-Marshal"--with these words elevating him to that high position. The exhausted troops camped that night on the battlefield. It was a weird spectacle. All around them were the bodies left by the defeated Austrians, and the groans of the wounded made dreary night music. Suddenly an old grenadier loudly and jubilantly sang "Nun danket alle Gott." This hymn of joy voiced the feelings of the soldiers, and when the bands struck up, the whole army joined in the uplifting song of thanksgiving. The effect was indescribable. The religious sentiment in the camp was unmistakable. Everyone had awaited the day with eager expectation. They had faced death in a thousand shapes, and terrible was the remembrance which it left. The pious soldiers passed a sleepless night, and left the field of victory with the proud consciousness that they had added new laurels to their heroic King's wreath of fame.

While in pursuit of the enemy, Frederick with a little band of soldiers approached Lissa. Before arriving he learned that it swarmed with Austrians. The King ordered a halt, reined up his horse, and sent one of his aides back with instructions to bring up the Manteuffel and Wedell battalions of grenadiers, which had been left behind at the last moment, and to say to them that he was so well satisfied with their bravery, they should spend the night with him at his headquarters in Lissa, and every man beside should have a thaler. It was a good half-hour before the two battalions came up, and when they did he placed himself at their head and boldly rode into Lissa, where everything was quiet, although lights were seen in the houses on all sides. As the King, who appeared familiar with the place, rode into the spacious plaza near the castle, and about sixty paces from the bridge across the Schweidnitz, he noticed white-coats coming out of several of the houses with straw on their backs. Most of them were caught by the Prussian grenadiers, and some were brought before the King. When asked what they were doing, one of them replied:

"A captain holds the other end of the bridge with one hundred and fifty men. He was ordered to strew the bridge with straw and set it afire as soon as the Prussians approached. So many townspeople have crossed, however, that the straw was trampled down in the mud and mire, and the captain threw it into the water and sent forty men to the stables to fetch fresh straw."

Some of the white-coats in the meantime had stolen away and notified the captain of the arrival of the Prussians, and while the King was talking with the prisoners he opened a brisk fire, by which some of the grenadiers in the rear of the King were wounded. Great confusion followed. The artillerists cried, "Back! back! we are fired upon!" Those on horseback rode near the houses, so as not to expose themselves to the fire of friend and enemy in the windows. The Prussian artillery opened fire at once, and the grenadiers also joined in. The entire city was in alarm. The Prussians were exposed to a brisk fire from the houses, to which they promptly replied. The tumult was great, and shouts and commands were confusedly mixed. The King, however, remarked with the utmost composure: "Gentlemen, follow me. I am no stranger here." Thereupon he rode to the left over the drawbridge leading to the castle, followed by a few of his officers. He had hardly arrived at the castle entrance when several Austrian officers and attendants, with lanterns in their hands, ran down the steps and made an effort to get to their horses in the castle yard and escape under cover of the darkness. The King, dismounting, quietly confronted them and said: "Good-evening, gentlemen. Evidently you were not expecting me. Is there no room left for me?"

It would have been easy for them to have overpowered Frederick if they had had the courage, but the suddenness of his appearance and the confident tone of his voice so completely dazed them that they took the lanterns from the hands of their attendants, lit the King up the stairs, and escorted him to one of the finest of the rooms. The most distinguished of the Austrian officers introduced his comrades to the King, by name and rank, and all joined in agreeable conversation. During this time more Prussian officers arrived at the castle, fearing the King might be in danger; but they found him enjoying himself mightily. He finally took leave of the Austrian officers, however, and they sought quarters in other rooms of the spacious castle.

The year 1757, which had been so abundant in Prussian victories, drew to its close. Without remaining longer in Bohemia, the King made a forced march into Silesia,--where several cities and strongholds had again fallen into the enemy's hands,--not alone to drive the enemy out at that unfavorable season, but for the more important purpose of seeking winter quarters. As the Prussians were continually harassed on the march by the enemy's skirmishers, the King ordered night marches, so as to ensure the security of the sutlers' stores and baggage from the marauders. After marching all night, the army would halt at daybreak, the cavalry dismount, and the infantry sleep as much as possible under the circumstances. One morning the King, after dismounting, said: "How nice it would be if we had some schnapps!" Several, who had bread and brandy, rushed up to him and offered him their little store.

With the first approach of Spring the King was on the alert. When all was in readiness for moving, he mustered his guard on the Schweidnitz meadows. As they were assembling he noticed a seven-year-old lad who was actively engaged in drilling a dozen other boys, who had sticks for horses. The King laughed at the sport, and after watching them a little while, said: "That boy will be a good soldier some day." The next time he observed him, he saw that the little leader had exerted himself so vigorously in making an attack that he was bleeding profusely from the nose. The boy, however, mounted his stick again and renewed the attack with vigor. The King called to him: "My child, go home and wash off the blood."

The boy replied with much dignity: "Oh, no! that won't do, for it will throw everything into disorder. I am not yet killed; I am only wounded."

The King in surprise asked, "What is your name?"

"Kneuschke," replied the boy.

"So? And what does your father do?"

"He is a gardener."

The King made a note of it, and thenceforward paid the gardener five thalers a month, to be applied toward his son's education.

Satisfactory as everything appeared, Frederick was not unmindful of the dangers to which he was exposed. He would have been willing to make terms of peace if this had been satisfactory, but his haughty enemies did not stop to consider what serious losses their far abler adversary could inflict upon them, even with a smaller force. The more victories he won, the more implacable was their animosity toward him, and the more firmly convinced were they that sooner or later they would crush him; for they were sure that he could not hold out long against their united strength, and that in the end he would have to abandon the struggle from mere exhaustion. The King seems to have divined their schemes. About this time he wrote to a friend:

"What do you say to this alliance against the Margrave of Brandenburg? What would the great Elector have said if he had known that his grandson would have been fighting Russians, Austrians, nearly all Germany, and a hundred thousand Frenchmen? I do not know whether I am strong enough to withstand them and whether it would be a disgrace for me to submit, but I am certain that my enemies will gain no honor from my defeat."

After a careful survey of the situation, the King decided it would not be incompatible with honor to offer terms of peace to his enemies. They regarded the offer as a sign of weakness, rejected it, and entered upon a fresh campaign of even more active hostility.

Frederick did not hesitate. He rallied all his strength, repaired the losses incurred in previous battles, and confronted the powerful enemy with a splendidly equipped army. Unfortunate Saxony, which was completely in his hands, had to contribute a large sum of money, as well as clothing and recruits. Unexpected help also came from another quarter. The battle of Rossbach had aroused great enthusiasm in Europe, particularly in England, where there was strong sympathy with Prussia. Parliament unanimously voted to assist its brave ally. It sent him twelve thousand men, placed the Hanoverian army, which was in excellent condition, at his disposal, and united it with the forces from Hesse, Brunswick, and Gotha, making an army thirty thousand strong. This fresh body of troops, after such severe losses as he had met, was a welcome gift to the King. Parliament also promised to send four million thalers, with the understanding that an able leader should be selected for the new corps. It could not have sent more acceptable help, for the King needed money as well as men at this time, when the war was about to be resumed with renewed vigor on all sides. Necessity forced him to make from ten to twelve millions of debased coin out of his four million thalers, as he had no other way of meeting his war expenses. He appointed Duke Ferdinand of Brunswick, who was universally regarded as a superior soldier, in command of the thirty thousand. Like the King, he, too, understood how to oppose a large army with a smaller one. Indeed, he was an expert in that direction. He drove the French, who had overrun West Germany, across the Rhine, inflicted heavy losses upon them in their retreat, and captured eleven thousand prisoners. Not satisfied with this achievement, he kept control of the river, and fought a battle with the French, June 23, at Crefeld, in which they were routed. Seven thousand more prisoners fell into his hands and hundreds of bodies covered the battlefield. Notwithstanding these disasters, the French a little later made another attempt to invade Germany, which was thwarted in such a masterly manner that at the close of the year they were content to stay on their own side of the German river. The Duke then made his headquarters in Munster and from there held the enemy in check.

While Duke Ferdinand was thus disposing of the French in the west, the King decided to attack the strong fortress at Schweidnitz, the only one remaining in the hands of the Austrians. On the march thither, while riding through a narrow defile, he found the artillery badly tangled up. While rushing about to hasten movements, he ran against a wheel and split one of his boots so badly that he could hardly keep it on. Impatient at the accident, he ordered an aide to find a shoemaker who could stitch up the boot. After considerable search a dragoon was found, who came, bringing his tools with him. The King, dismounting, and seating himself upon a hillock, said: "Can you mend my boot?"

"I will see, Your Majesty. I have mended a good many."

"Well, hurry up, so that I can go on."

The dragoon began work, at the same time growling to himself: "Hm! These boots have done service enough to warrant a new pair."

"What is that you are saying?"

"Nothing."

"But I want to know."

"Well, I think your boots have honestly done all the service they can. It is no wonder they rip. They are worn out."

"So? How long think you boots must last?"

"Old fool, they are not as old as that yet. But tell me how a shoemaker can be a good dragoon."

"You might have seen how, at Hohenfriedsberg."

"Were you there?"

"To be sure I was, and I have soled Austrians so that many of them will remember me for a long time. When I make shoes, I am a shoemaker; and when I ride a horse, I am a dragoon--and Heaven help those who get into my hands!"

"Gently, gently, Mr. Shoemaker, I am in your hands. Be merciful with me." When the dragoon had finished, the King swiftly rode forward, placed himself at the head of his troops, and the march was resumed.

Frederick's fortunate victory so discouraged the Austrian troops that the Schweidnitz garrison, although amply provisioned, made but a feeble resistance, and surrendered in a few days at discretion. All Silesia was once more in possession of the King. To make Maria Theresa appreciate his strength he extended the area of his operations into Moravia and laid siege to the city of Olm?tz, a suburb, as it were, of Vienna. It was an undertaking, however, as fruitless as it was unfortunate. The siege was long protracted, for the besiegers were not only hampered by lack of sufficient artillery, but of ammunition, which had to be hauled over morasses and through deep defiles. In consequence, the King had plenty of leisure for excursions into the neighboring country. Upon one of these occasions he rode about the country of Glatz in company with General Seydlitz. Passing through a defile, the King noticed, some distance away, a collection of people, whom at first glance he took to be a detachment of Austrians. Seydlitz, who had unusually sharp eyes, was of opinion that Fouquet had fixed his limits there and stationed these people so that the enemy's troops could not cross them without his knowledge. The King and Seydlitz rode up and found that the people were peasants of the country, whom Fouquet had placed there to watch the line.

"Are you Prussians?" asked Frederick.

"No," they replied, "we are Fickets."

"You can see now," said the King to Seydlitz, laughing, "who is master here, and that I don't count for much."

Notwithstanding this, the King continued riding about the country, and one day made a discovery which disturbed him not a little. He heard that the Countess Gr?n, wife of a staff officer of the garrison, had made a vow to the Virgin, at the Jesuit church, that she would present her a beautiful robe when the siege of Olm?tz was raised. He immediately ordered a robe made of the richest material for the Madonna, and sent it to the Jesuits with the message that as he had heard of the Countess's useless vow, and as he was as mindful of the amenities of life as she, he did not wish our dear Lady should be the loser. As events might take another turn, he was simply carrying out what the Countess might not be able to perform. The Jesuits, delighted with his gift, came in procession to thank him, and exhibited the robe to strangers as a proof of the King's pious sentiments.

The King at this time evidently intended to press the siege with vigor and capture Olm?tz. The Austrians by themselves would not have troubled him, but he soon heard the unwelcome news that the Russians had captured C?strin and committed frightful excesses. He was, therefore, forced to consider the raising of the siege. His final decision was hastened by the information that a detachment of the enemy had captured a convoy of ammunition and supplies at Domst?dt, which had been sent him from Silesia. With extreme reluctance he summoned all his generals and regiment and battalion commanders to headquarters. When they were all there, he advanced into their midst and said:

"Gentlemen, the enemy has found an opportunity to destroy a convoy coming to us from Silesia. Owing to this fatal blow, I must raise the siege of Olm?tz, but, gentlemen, you must not conclude that all is lost on that account. No, you may be sure that everything will be made good, and in such a way that the enemy will have something to think about. You must persuade your commands not to grumble about it. I hope you will not be disappointed yourselves, and should I,--though I do not expect it,--find that anyone else is, I shall punish such an one severely. I shall move immediately, and wherever I find the enemy I shall attack, however he may be posted and whether he has one or several batteries; but," tapping his brow with his stick, "I shall never do anything unreasonable or rash. I am confident that every one of my officers and soldiers will do their duty when the time comes, as they have always done in the past."

The King's words had a marked effect upon his generals. Frederick dismissed them with a cordial handshake and that gracious and friendly manner which captivated everyone. He parted from them with their assurance that he could rely upon their help under any circumstances. The siege was raised and the retreat was a masterly exhibition of generalship. It had to be made through Bohemia, as Field-Marshal Daun occupied the road through Silesia. Daun was taken by surprise. The hussars performed excellent service by covering the retreat through defiles and over mountains. The King rode at the head of the cavalry day and night, so as to be on the alert against surprise by the enemy. Swamps and hollows were not looked upon as obstacles. Artillery and cavalry were forced to find some way over them. Once, in the darkness of the night, the King, riding in front of the vanguard, came to a steep descent, some four or five hundred feet to the bottom. The skirmishers, with a Bohemian peasant who served as guide, were some distance in advance. For this reason the King, who was anxious to lose no time and to take advantage of the darkness, called a halt and notified the whole army of the situation. The cavalry had to dismount so as to reach the valley. One under officer who was in the lead hesitated on the edge of the descent, fearing that his horse would slip, and groped about himself for a footing while all the others were ready to go down. The King grew impatient over the waste of time.

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