This campaign taught Frederick that in war he must rely only on himself. He never after allowed one of his generals to hamper his movements. Counsel was neither asked nor volunteered. Frederick was distinct head of the Army and State.
Map for Seven Years’ War.
In the second campaign the king advanced, with the French and Saxons, in the direction of Vienna. But these allies proved weak, and Frederick was fain to abandon his project. Prince Charles made his way around the king’s right flank and threatened his supplies. But Frederick took prompt advantage of this manœuvre, and at the battle of Chotusitz (May 17, 1742) inflicted a stinging defeat on the Austrians. This ended the First Silesian War. Silesia became a Prussian province.
Frederick had learned good lessons. He had gained self-poise, and a knowledge of the hardships of war, the meannesses of courts, and the fact that he could trust no one but himself and his devoted legions. He was disenchanted. War was no longer a glory, but a stern, cold, fact. He had, however, won his point, and he proposed to maintain it, though he must give up the delights of his attractive French Court for the labors of his thoroughly German camp. He had found that his own conceptions of war ranged beyond the stereotyped routine of the Prussian army, though this indeed was not to be underrated. Silesia became valuable to Prussia beyond the wildest dreams of its worth by Austria, and, being allied by religion with North Germany, had every reason to remain satisfied and faithful.
It is generally assumed that great captains are fond of war for war’s sake, or for the lust of conquest. While often true, it was not so with Frederick. To none of the great captains was war so heartily distasteful. Not one was so fond of the pursuits of peace. The king had as marked a liking for the pleasures of literature, music, art, the companionship of clever men, and intellectual friction of all kinds, as any monarch who ever reigned. He cordially hated the hardships and mental strain of war. But Frederick would listen to no peace which should not leave him in possession of Silesia. His naturally inflexible nature could entertain no other idea. And for this he would fight if he must.
During the two years’ peace which ensued, Frederick prepared for the war which he knew must occur whenever Maria Theresa felt strong enough to attempt to reconquer her lost province. He was abundantly ready for it when it came in 1744. Austria had as allies England, Saxony, Sardinia, and some of the lesser German States. Frederick had France, the Emperor, the Elector Palatine, and Hesse Cassel. As usual, Frederick opened with a sharp offensive. Prague was taken, and from here, the French agreeing to neutralize Prince Charles, who was in the Rhine country, the king undertook a second operation toward Vienna (Sept., 1744). But this was equally unlucky. The French were shiftless. Field-Marshal Traun was joined by Prince Charles, and the two drove Frederick from his purpose. Traun would not come to battle, but worried the king by restless manœuvring. The Prussians were fortunate to reach Silesia without a serious disaster. Frederick had this time learned that confederates were like broken reeds, and that he himself was his own best ally. With the wonderful frankness which characterized him, the king acknowledged the ability of Traun, and the good lessons he had learned from this opponent.
Elate Prince Charles, early next year (1745), invaded Silesia with seventy-five thousand men and descended upon its fertile plains with flying colors, intending to march on Breslau. The king made no attempt to stop his crossing the mountains. “If you want to catch a mouse, leave the trap open,” quoth he, and lay in wait for him, with an equal force, behind Striegau Water. This time he was managing his own affairs. Prince Charles camped near Hohenfriedberg, unsuspicious of his vicinity (June 4). Silently, all night long, and with such precautions that he was not discovered, Frederick marched his men across the stream. His plan was perfectly worked out. Every man and officer had his orders by heart. Daylight had no sooner dawned than, with a tactical beauty of precision which reads like the meter of a martial poem, Frederick struck the Saxon left. Blow succeeded blow; battalion after battalion was hurled upon the enemy with a rapidity and certainty and momentum which the world had never yet seen. By eight o’clock—barely breakfast-time—the Saxons and Austrians were utterly overthrown. They had lost nine thousand killed and wounded, seven thousand prisoners, seventy-six standards, and sixty-six guns. Frederick’s whole performance—his first—had bordered on the marvellous.
The king followed the Austrians across the mountains. By careless detachments and small-war his forces fell to eighteen thousand men. Prince Charles had nearly forty thousand. Frederick was about to retire to Silesia, when Prince Charles surprised him, and appearing in rear of his right flank at Sohr, actually cut him off from his line of retreat. The prince had bagged his game. But not so thought Frederick, though his army stood with its back to the enemy. “They are two to one of us, but we will beat them yet, meine Kinder! You shall see!” exclaimed the king, and ordered a change of front of the army by a right wheel of over one-half circle, under a fire of artillery enfilading the whole line. Fancy an army doing such a thing to-day! The manœuvre was completed in perfect order. Not a man left the ranks unless shot down. The line came into oblique order opposite the Austrian left. And no sooner in place than the king flung his squadrons and regiments up the heights against the Austrians, who stood curiously watching the strange evolution. So audacious and skilful was the whole affair, and so brilliant the Prussian fighting, that the king inflicted another telling defeat, with loss of eight thousand men, twenty-two guns, and twelve flags, on the Austrian army (Sept. 30). After some manœuvring, during the winter peace was made, and Frederick kept Silesia. This was the Second Silesian War.
Such was Frederick’s apprenticeship. He emerged from it the best tactician the world has ever seen. As a strategist he had yet made no great mark.