An anecdote in this connection will be of interest. A courier arrived from Charles VII, bringing a protest from him, as crowned King of Bohemia, against Maria Theresa’s coronation. Smiling, she ordered the courier to be given a number of her gold coronation coins, with instructions to carry them back to his master without delay. This was done, and doubtless the sight of the coins caused little pleasure in Munich.
Fortune now seemed to favor Maria Theresa everywhere. In Italy, too, events had shaped themselves to her advantage, and at the close of the year 1742 she could look cheerfully into the future, although the sky was not entirely cloudless; for in Italy there were many knots to be untied that only the sword could loosen.
The Spring saw banners waving and heard the roll of the drums in Bavaria. The Bavarian Field Marshal von Seckendorff, who had been ordered back to Munich by his lord and emperor, fell back across the Iser before Prince Charles of Lorraine and old Khevenhüller, who were pressing him hotly. The French general, Broglio, meanwhile inactive in Osterhof, watching these proceedings, made no response to Seckendorff’s appeals. Nor was this retreat all; for, more important still, the whole division under General Minuzzi was completely crushed by the Austrians in a bloody battle, where Minuzzi himself was taken prisoner. This was a Spring greeting most joyfully received in Vienna, and which seemed but a forerunner of still further victories.
No sooner was this accomplished than Khevenhüller turned his attention to the French, whom he would gladly have shown the way across the Rhine. Broglio may have suspected this, and was so obliging as to relieve the old hero of this agreeable task, for at Khevenhüller’s approach he turned his troops toward Ingolstadt (which was not forward) and kept his movements secret until he was across the Rhine, where twelve thousand men would reënforce him. Then, and then only, did he feel himself safe. Bavaria now realized what she was to expect from her light-footed allies, and sent them no thanks. Charles VII, too, knew at last upon what he had been relying and that he must once more bid farewell to his good city of Munich, if, indeed, he might not be obliged to occupy an unsought lodging in Vienna. Had he looked at this time at the coronation coins brought him by the courier from Vienna, it must have seemed that a mocking smile hovered about Maria Theresa’s lips, and that she whispered softly but significantly, “Auf wiedersehen!” There was no choice left him but to enter into negotiations with Austria to protect his ancestral domains.
Maria Theresa, in the midst of her victorious career, offered the hand of peace. Charles VII renounced his claims to the Austrian succession and, fortunately for the public tranquillity, left all the conquered territory in the possession of Austria. To guard against any future trouble Maria Theresa had all these States take the oath of allegiance to her, even though they might be only temporarily in her possession. This was a triumph for her which offset the homage received by Charles in Bohemia,—a return which he had well deserved and which he well understood without any further explanation.
Thus fortune still smiled upon Maria Theresa, here as elsewhere. The English army in the Netherlands had crossed the Rhine, and, advancing by way of Frankfort, received a large reënforcement and tried to effect a union with Khevenhüller and Prince Charles of Lorraine, who had pushed forward from the Upper Rhine. Marshal de Noailles was opposing them with a considerable force, but when he perceived their design he crossed the Rhine to attack the English. George II himself joined the army just then, fortunately, and a battle was fought at Dettingen, on the Main, which resulted in Noailles’ retreat across the Rhine again. The King of England then held a council of war with Khevenhüller and the Prince at Hainault to decide what course to pursue. It was agreed that King George should lead the way while the Austrian generals crossed the river at Basel and try to reach Lorraine, in order to take up Winter quarters in Champagne. This plan miscarried, however, and the Austrian army returned to Bavaria for the Winter, while King George, after destroying the French works on the Rhine, especially at Landau, withdrew again across the river and also went into Winter quarters, for Winter campaigns were not generally undertaken at that time.
Though the results of the wars Maria Theresa was waging against her enemies were most gratifying, the troubles in Italy still weighed like an Alp upon her heart. The Spanish general in command there had drawn upon himself, and not without cause, the reproach of negligence. A substitute had replaced him with urgent orders to retrieve the errors of his predecessor, and he might have been able to do so had he not had an adversary so brave, crafty, and well versed in the arts of war as the old field-marshal, Count Traun.
Already there had been a bloody battle, February 8, 1743, in which he had been the victor, but at this time negotiations were begun which put an end to the bloodshed. They took place at Worms, between England, Sardinia, and Austria, and again was Maria Theresa obliged to resign some of her territory, this time in Sardinia, in order to effect the alliance. Scarcely were the terms completed, when Lobkowitz, who had succeeded old Traun in the command, advanced against the Spaniards and drove them back: whereupon the King of Sardinia struck the French-Spanish army such a blow that it was forced to retreat to the south of France for the Winter.
Though Maria Theresa had been unfortunate in having to relinquish more of her territory in this campaign, still, the armies were victorious, and all these circumstances had served to unite her more closely to her friends, and had given her a new ally in the person of the Elector Frederick Augustus IV of Saxony, with twenty thousand troops to assist her. Thus far the outlook was very bright; but by the close of the year 1743 new clouds foretold a gathering storm. The lion on the Spree had begun to stir and toss his mane. Frederick’s army, which had once in jest been called the “Potsdam Night-watch Parade,” was as little a subject for derision as he who commanded and was the soul of it.