The First and Second Silesian wars were succeeded by a ten years’ peace, which Frederick used to the best advantage in military preparations. His army became the one perfect machine of Europe.
In 1756 came the Seven Years’ War. Maria Theresa had resolved to regain Silesia at any cost. We can barely glance at the leading events of each year. In 1756 Frederick had Field-Marshal Brown opposed to him. He took Dresden, and defeating Brown at Lobositz, he captured the Saxon army at Pirna (October). The year’s end saw Saxony under Frederick’s control. The campaign was in every sense deserving its success.
In 1757, France, Russia, and Sweden made common cause with Austria. England was Frederick’s one reliance, and aided him with money and an observation-army in Hanover. No less than one hundred millions of population were arrayed against his scant five millions, including Silesia. The allies put four hundred and thirty thousand men on foot, Frederick one hundred and fifty thousand. Always first in the field and retaining the offensive, Frederick advanced on Prague in three large concentric columns, setting the sixth of May for meeting there and beating the Austrians. So accurate were his calculations and their execution by his lieutenants, that in the bloody battle of Prague, on the very day set, he drove Prince Charles and Field-Marshal Brown into the city and sat down before it.
But Field-Marshal Daun was not far off with an army of relief of sixty thousand men. To meet this serious threat, Frederick, from his lines at Prague, could barely detach thirty-four thousand, and in the battle of Kolin (June 18), by a series of contretemps, in part due to the king’s hasty temper,—though he had attacked and handled Daun so roughly that the latter actually gave the order of retreat,—he was finally beaten and obliged to raise the siege. But Frederick shone in reverse far higher than in success. From not only the field of battle but from the siege-lines of Prague he retired deliberately, without a symptom of flurry, and unopposed.
He was none the less in a desperate strait. He had but seventy thousand men available. In his front were the victorious Austrians, one hundred and ten thousand strong, elate and confident. On his left were approaching one hundred thousand Russians, and these not only threatened Berlin, but an Austrian raiding party actually took the suburbs. On his right, a French and Imperial army of sixty thousand threatened Dresden. The king’s case was forlorn. But he utilized to the full his central position. Turning on the French, and marching one hundred and seventy miles in twelve days,—a remarkable performance at that date,—he reached their vicinity at Rossbach, beyond the Saale. Soubise outnumbered Frederick nearly three to one. But in a simply exquisite manœuvre the king took advantage of the enemy’s error in trying to cut him off by a wide flank march, fell upon their head of column, and in a bare half-hour disgracefully routed them, with loss of eight thousand men, five generals, and four hundred officers, seventy guns, and numberless flags (Nov. 5). Having performed which feat, he at once turned his face toward Silesia, whence came alarming rumors.
During his absence disaster had piled on disaster. The Duke of Bevern, left in command, had been driven back to Silesia, and the Austrians had captured Breslau and Schweidnitz, and proclaimed Silesia again part of Her Imperial Majesty’s dominions. There is something so heroic, so king-like, about Frederick’s conduct in the ensuing campaign, which culminated in the battle of Leuthen, that I cannot refrain from enlarging upon it, as typical of the man.
As the king proceeded on his way, the news of what had happened gradually reached his ears. There had been, God wot, enough already to tax Frederick’s manliness, and such great misfortunes were fit to overwhelm him. But the king’s mettle was indomitable. There was not an instant of pause or hesitation. The greater the pressure, the more elastic his mood and his method. And he had the rare power of making his lieutenants partake of his buoyant courage. Nothing was ever lost to Frederick till he had played his final card. He would rather die with his last grenadier at the foot of the Austrian lines than yield one inch of Silesia. His men marched in light order, leaving the heavy trains behind, and making no stops to bake the usual bread. The king rationed his army on the country. This was not the first instance, but it had been rare, and but partially done, and was a novelty in war. It is curious that so clear-sighted a man as Frederick did not expand the method, so important a factor in speed. But at that day, to sustain an army by foraging in an enemy’s country would have been considered an infraction of the laws of nations. The distance from Leipsic, nearly one hundred and eighty miles, was covered in fifteen days. At Parchwitz he met the troops brought from Breslau by Ziethen, some eighteen thousand men. This increased Frederick’s force to thirty-two thousand under the colors.
The king determined to attack Prince Charles whenever and wherever he should meet him. He called together his general officers and made them one of those stirring speeches which lead captive the heart of every soldier: “You know, Meine Herrn, our disasters. Schweidnitz and Breslau and a good part of Silesia are gone. The Duke of Bevern is beaten. There would be nothing left but for my boundless trust in you and your courage. Each of you has distinguished himself by some memorable act. These services I know and remember. The hour is at hand. I shall have done nothing if I do not keep Silesia. I intend, in spite of all the rules of art, to seek Prince Charles, who has thrice our strength, and to attack him wherever I find him. It is not numbers I rely on, but your gallantry and whatever little skill I myself possess. This risk I must take or everything is lost. We must beat the enemy, or perish every one of us before his guns. Tell my determination to your officers, and prepare the men for the work to be done. I demand of you and them exact obedience. You are Prussians, and will act as such. But if any one of you dreads to share my dangers, he may now have his discharge without a word of reproach.” The king paused. A murmur and the soldier’s look of pride were his answer. “Ah! I knew it,” said the king, “not one of you would desert me. With your help victory is sure!” After a few more words the king added, “I demand again exact obedience. The cavalry regiment which does not on the instant, on orders given, dash full plunge into the enemy, I will unhorse and make a garrison regiment. The infantry battalion which, meet it what may, pauses but an instant shall lose its colors and sabres, and I will cut the trimmings from its uniform. And now, goodnight. Soon we shall have beaten the enemy, or we shall never meet again.”
Having learned of the approach of the Prussian army, Prince Charles, relying on his vast preponderance of forces, left his intrenched camp at Breslau and marched out to meet the king. He felt certain of victory, as how could he otherwise? Had not Frederick been beaten at the last encounter and his territory overrun? He imagined that he would stand on the defence along the Katzbach. He little knew this iron-hearted king.
The Austrian van, with the bread bakery, was sent to Neumarkt. In his own advance, Frederick ran across this outpost and bakery and captured it. It was on a Sunday, and furnished the men a holiday dinner. He was glad to learn that the enemy had come out to meet him. Prince Charles, surprised at the Neumarkt incident, lost heart and retired to receive battle in front of Schweidnitz Water. The Austrian army was posted at Leuthen, extending from Nypern to Sägeschütz. The villages in its front were prepared for defence.