“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.[10] 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.[11]” 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.”[12] 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.