“Must last—that is a different thing; but I can easily tell you how long they can last—three years.”
“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 Olmütz, 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.” (Fouquet was called “Ficket” by the common people.)
“You can see now,” said the King to Seydlitz, laughing, “who is master here, and that I don’t count for much.”