The triumph of Frederick the Warrior on this bloody fourth of June revealed interesting glimpses of Frederick the man. In his first transports of delight he hugged the French ambassador and astonished him by owning gratitude to God. “So decisive a defeat,” he informed his mother, “has not been since Blenheim.” He believed that the Queen would now come to terms, and wrote to Podewils that it must have softened the heart of Pharaoh. His delight found vent in music, and he composed his March of Hohenfriedberg. But soon the statesman reappeared. None of these ebullitions clouded his insight into the situation of affairs. He saw clearly that his aims of the year before were still impracticable, that what he needed was peace, and that his victory must have brought peace nearer by discouraging the enemy.
It is true that now, as so often before, Frederick underrated the firmness of the Queen. He was further disappointed by the unyielding attitude of Augustus, who possessed a dangerous patron in the Czarina. But England, the paymaster of the coalition, had no stomach for a war of vengeance against Prussia. To her the Austrian alliance was merely an investment. It would be profitable only if it produced hard fighting against her real foes, the French. Fontenoy, where the Sea Powers had been left to do their own fighting, shook her faith in her Hapsburg ally, and the conduct of the Eastern campaign showed that the Queen’s thoughts centred on the recovery of the province which England had induced her to give up. At this juncture England herself was attacked. The invasion of the Pretender compelled her to recall her troops from the Continent and favoured the convention which was concluded at Hanover towards the end of August. By the Convention of Hanover, signed on the 26th August, 1745, Frederick a third time deserted the French. He promised to vote for Francis at the Imperial election on condition that Silesia should be guaranteed to him by all Europe, while George II. undertook to induce Austria to renew the Treaty of Berlin within six weeks.
The good offices of England, which as usual consisted in pressing the Queen to buy off her enemies, were entirely useless. At the end of August Austria and Saxony drew closer together, and on September 13th the House of Hapsburg regained its old prestige by the election of Francis as Emperor. Soon afterwards Frederick perceived that he had exhausted the supplies of north-eastern Bohemia and began to retire towards Silesia. By the end of September he had crossed the Elbe and encamped with 18,000 men at the foot of the mountains near the village of Soor. There something like his own manœuvre of Hohenfriedberg was practised upon him by Prince Charles with an army almost double the size of Frederick’s. Under cover of darkness the Austrians took up positions commanding the Prussian camp. Only the King’s swift grasp of the situation and the wonderful skill and speed of his troops averted a great disaster. In a five hours’ fight the Austrians were driven off, leaving more than 4000 men on the field and more than 3000 in the enemy’s hands. The number of Prussian casualties exceeded 3000—a heavy price to pay for bad scouting. Frederick was, moreover, put to great inconvenience by the sack of his camp and the capture of his secretary, the silent, assiduous Eichel.
At Soor, Frederick gained a safe retreat to Silesia and a lesson to be careful in the future. But victory made him inattentive to the lesson. The behaviour of his men had been beyond all praise. They formed under fire; the cavalry charged up-hill and routed the enemy, and the infantry, though unsupported, attacked superior numbers and captured batteries. The King, not unnaturally, began to believe that there was nothing which he and his soldiers could not accomplish. The result, in a future as yet far distant, was great glory mingled with great disaster.
During the winter months the Prussian rank and file gathered fresh laurels. Once more Frederick believed that he had tamed the Queen and once more he found himself mistaken. As in every previous year of the Silesian wars, Maria Theresa ordered an attack upon her enemy in the winter. This of 1745 was threefold and the goal was not Breslau but Berlin. Prince Charles’s army was to march from Bohemia into Saxony and to join with the Saxons in a march to Frankfurt-on-Oder, while 10,000 men detached by Traun crossed Germany and seized Berlin. Enough of this elaborate plan was blabbed to the Swedish ambassador by the Saxon Premier, Count Brühl, to put Frederick upon his guard. His own army had gone into winter quarters. A force under the Old Dessauer, which had been stationed for some time at Halle in readiness to spring at the throat of Saxony, was likewise laid up for the winter. Podewils and the Old Dessauer refused to credit a scheme at once so grandiose and so dangerous to the Saxons, who in case of failure would be left at the mercy of Prussia. The King, however, overruled them, rushed into Silesia, collected 35,000 men, marched for some days parallel with the unsuspecting Prince Charles, and on November 23, 1745, crushed his Saxon vanguard at Hennersdorf. At this blow the whole enterprise collapsed. The Austrians retired into Bohemia, followed by Augustus and Count Brühl, who stubbornly rejected the Prussian overtures for peace.
Meanwhile the Old Dessauer, who had captured Leipzig, was making for Dresden under urgent orders to attack the Saxon force wherever he might find it. Four armies were at this time converging upon the capital. The Saxons under Count Rutowski, with whom were the Austrian contingent from the West, formed a force of 35,000 men and lay to the westward of the Elbe and of the city. The Old Dessauer, having secured Meissen, had provided a bridge across the river by which Frederick marching from the East could join him in case of need. But Prince Charles with 46,000 men was advancing towards Dresden from the side of Bohemia, and Frederick feverishly urged his veteran lieutenant to strike a speedy blow. If the allies were to join forces the war might be prolonged and it seemed likely that Russia would attack Prussia in the spring.
Prince Charles was in fact only five miles distant when, on December 15th, the Old Dessauer came upon Rutowski strongly posted at Kesselsdorf. “Heavenly Father,” prayed the old man in the hearing of his devoted soldiers, “graciously aid me this day: but if Thou shouldest not be so disposed, at least lend not Thy aid to those scoundrels the enemy, but passively await the issue.” The task of the infantry was even harder than that of capturing the batteries at Soor. Twice they were repulsed with a loss of nearly 1500 men out of 3600. But the usual impetuosity of armies not perfectly trained came to their aid. The Saxons in the intoxication of victory charged from the entrenchments, only to be routed by the Prussian horse. This proved the turning-point in a battle which cost Rutowski 3000 men killed and wounded and twice as many taken prisoner.
The Prussians lost some 4600 men, but they gained peace. Prince Charles fled once more into Bohemia and Dresden made no resistance. In the hour of triumph Frederick’s bearing was admirable. All through the winter campaign he had showered insults upon the Old Dessauer, a prince born the year after Fehrbellin and hero of well-nigh half a hundred battles and sieges. “My field-marshal is the only person who either cannot or will not understand my plain commands.” “You go as slowly as though you were determined to deprive me of my advantage.” Such were the royal words which had goaded the old man into attempting the impossible at Kesselsdorf, where he exposed himself recklessly and received three balls through his clothing. Now he enjoyed as ample amends as Frederick’s conception of the royal dignity permitted him to bestow. On the day after the battle the King sprang from his horse at sight of him, advanced to meet him with doffed hat, embraced him, and accepted his guidance over the field.
At Dresden Frederick stayed eight days and showed himself anxious to please. He entered the city, it is true, as a conqueror, in a carriage drawn by eight horses, and he exacted a million thalers from the land. But he visited and honoured the children of Augustus, played a leading part in the society of the place, attended church and opera on Sunday, and in general acted with the utmost moderation.
In the existing political situation, such conduct was no less politic than humane. In spite of his triumph over the Saxons, Frederick’s position was far from secure. Augustus was only a recent recruit in the phalanx of kings arrayed against Prussia. Russia, his patron, had yet to be reckoned with. The army of Prince Charles was unbroken. Southern Silesia was flooded with Hungarians. Traun might yet leave the Rhine and revive the painful memories of 1744. In face of all these dangers Frederick had no reserves. His treasury was empty and the anger of the French at the Convention of Hanover forbade him to expect assistance from them. These considerations made him willing to name a low price for peace. Even when fleeing from Traun in 1744 he had demanded a part of Bohemia. Now after four victories he stipulated only that Austria should renew the Treaty of Berlin. Maria Theresa was thus confronted with the painful choice between abandoning, at least for the present, all hope of recovering Silesia and resigning the help of the Sea Powers, on which her hope of retaining Italy depended. The Saxon alliance had broken down, a negotiation with France was unsuccessful, and the Queen wisely consented to accept Frederick’s terms. At Dresden on Christmas Day, 1745, treaties were signed which restored peace to a great part of Germany and closed the Second Silesian War.