THE THIRD CAMPAIGN OF THE SEVEN YEARS’ WAR.
Frederick’s Attempt to Rescue his Brother.--Captured Dispatches.--
Battle of Hochkirch.--Defeat and Retreat of Frederick.--Death of
Wilhelmina.--Letter to Voltaire.--Rejoicings at Vienna.--The Siege
of Neisse.--The Siege of Dresden.--Conflagrations and Terror.--
The Siege raised by Frederick.--Results of the Third Campaign.--
Unavailing Efforts for Peace.--Despair of Frederick.
The battle of Zorndorf was the most bloody of the Seven Years’ War.
It is often considered the most furious battle which was ever fought.
While Frederick was engaged in this arduous campaign in the extreme
north, driving the Russians from the Prussian territory, an Austrian
army, ninety thousand strong, under General Daun, was endeavoring to
reconquer Saxony. The Prussian king had left his brother Henry in
defense of the province, with a small force garrisoned in the city of
Dresden.
On the 2d of September, 1758, Frederick, advancing from the smouldering
ruins of Cüstrin, pushed forward his columns by forced marches for the
rescue of his brother, who was nearly surrounded by vastly outnumbering
foes. While upon this rapid march an Austrian courier was captured,
with the following dispatch, which he was bearing from General Daun to
General Fermor, whose army of Russians had just been so terribly beaten
by Frederick upon the field of Zorndorf, but of which fact the Austrian
general had not yet been apprised:
“Your excellency does not know that wily enemy, the King of
Prussia, as well as I do. By no means get into a battle with him.
Cautiously manœuvre about. Detain him there till I have got my
stroke in Saxony done. Don’t try fighting him.
“DAUN.”
Frederick, with grim humor characteristic of him, sent back the courier
with the following response, as if from the Russian general, signed
Fermor, but in the king’s handwriting:
“Your excellency was right to warn me against a cunning enemy
whom you know better than I. Here have I tried fighting him, and
have got beaten. Your unfortunate
FERMOR.”
[Illustration: CAMPAIGN OF HOCHKIRCH.]
On the 12th of September Frederick dined with his brother Henry in
Dresden. General Daun, as soon as he heard of the approach of the foe
whom he so much dreaded, rapidly retreated eastward to Stolpen, on the
road to Bautzen. Here he intrenched himself in one of the strongest
posts in Germany. As Frederick, at Dresden, received his supplies from
Bautzen, he was much embarrassed in having his line of communication
thus cut. Finding all his efforts vain to provoke Daun to a battle,
after four weeks of such endeavors, he loaded his baggage trains with
supplies for nine days, and by a rapid march, brushing away in the
movement Daun’s right flank, and advancing through Bautzen, established
himself among the hills of Hochkirch. He had thus taken position thirty
miles east of General Daun’s encampment at Stolpen, cutting off his
line of supply.
This movement of Frederick took place on the 1st of October, 1758. On
the 5th, General Daun, who stood in great dread of the military ability
of his foe, after holding a council of war, made a stealthy march, in a
dark and rainy night, a little to the south of Frederick’s encampment,
and took a strong position about a mile east of him, at Kittlitz, near
Löbau. With the utmost diligence he reared intrenchments and palisades
to guard himself from attack by a foe whom he outnumbered more than two
to one. He thus again blocked Frederick’s direct communication with
Silesia.
General Daun’s army, numbering ninety thousand men, occupied very
strong positions in a line extending north and south about five
miles. On the 10th, Frederick, having obtained the needful supplies,
resolutely, rashly--but, situated as he was, what the world deemed
rashness was prudence--advanced with but twenty-eight thousand men
to assail this foe of ninety thousand behind his intrenchments. About
five miles to the north, in the rear of the heights of Weissenberg,
Frederick had a reserve of ten or twelve thousand men under General
Retzow.
As the Prussian king brought up his little army to within a mile of the
lines of General Daun, and ordered the troops to take position there,
his boldest generals were appalled. It seemed to be courting sure and
utter destruction. The king’s favorite adjutant general, Marwitz,
ventured to remonstrate against so fearful a risk. He was immediately
ordered under arrest. The line was formed while the Austrian cannon
were playing incessantly upon it. General Retzow, who for some cause
had failed to seize the heights of Stromberg, was also placed under
arrest. Thus the king taught all that he would be obeyed implicitly and
without questioning.
General Keith, as he looked upon the long and compact lines of General
Daun, and saw how apparently easy it would be for him, from his
commanding position, to annihilate the Prussian army, said to the king,
sadly,
“If the Austrians do not attack us here they deserve to be hanged.”
The king coolly replied, “We must hope that they are more afraid of us
than even of the gallows.”
On Friday, the 13th of October, the two hostile armies, separated
merely by a brook and a ravine, were within half a mile of each other.
Daun had manifested great timidity in not venturing from behind his
intrenchments to attack the little band of Prussians. Frederick,
emboldened by this cowardice on the part of his opponent, made his
arrangements to assail the Austrians in a secret attack before the dawn
of the morning of Saturday, the 14th. In the mean time, Daun, probably
a little ashamed of being held at bay by so small a force, formed his
plan to surround and destroy the whole Prussian army. It is generally
conceded by military critics that the plan was admirably conceived,
and would have been triumphantly executed but for the singular ability
displayed by Frederick.
General Daun directed the energies of his ninety thousand troops upon
the right wing of the Prussians, which could not number more than
twenty thousand men. As soon as it was dark on Friday night, the 13th,
he sent thirty thousand men, under guides familiar with every rod
of the country, by a circuitous route, south of the Prussian lines,
through forest roads, to take position on the west of the Prussian
right wing, just in its rear. General Daun himself accompanied this
band of picked men.
At three o’clock of a dark and misty morning, the Austrians from the
west, the south, and the east rushed upon the sleeping Prussians. At
the same time, an attack was made upon the left wing of the Prussians,
which was a feint to bewilder them, and to prevent re-enforcements
from being sent to the right wing. For five hours there was a scene
of tumult, confusion, and horror which can neither be described nor
imagined. The morning was dark, the fog dense, and the Prussians,
though ever on the alert, were taken by surprise. No one in the army
of Frederick thought either of running or of surrendering. It was a
hand-to-hand fight, with bayonets, and sabres, and butts of muskets.
Marshal Keith, after receiving two bullet-wounds which he did not
regard, was shot through the heart.
[Illustration: BATTLE OF HOCHKIRCH, OCTOBER 14, 1758.
_a a a. First Position of the Austrian Army. b b. Extreme Left,
under Loudon. c c. Austrian Reserve, under Baden-Durlach.
d d d. Prussian Army. e e. The two main Prussian Batteries.
f. Ziethen’s Cavalry. g g. Prussian Vanguard, under Retzow.
h h h. Advance of Austrian Army. i. Right Wing, under D’Ahremberg.
k k k. Position taken by the Prussians after the battle._]
As the morning dawned it was manifest to Frederick that the battle was
lost, and that there was no salvation for the remnant of his troops
but in a precipitate retreat. He had lost a hundred pieces of cannon,
nearly all of his tents and camp furniture, and over eight thousand of
his brave troops were either dead or captive. Though the Austrians had
lost about the same number of men, they had still over eighty thousand
left.
With wonderful skill, Frederick conducted his retreat about four miles
to the northwest. Here he took a strong position at Doberschütz, and
again bade defiance to the Austrians. Slowly, proudly, and in perfect
order he retired, as if merely shifting his ground. His cavalry was
drawn up as on parade, protecting his baggage-wagons as they defiled
through the pass of Drehsa. The Austrians gazed quietly upon the
movement, not venturing to renew the attack by daylight upon such
desperate men.
Though, as we may see from Frederick’s private correspondence, he
suffered terribly in these hours of adversity and peril, he assumed
in public a tranquil and even a jocose air. Meeting De Catt upon the
evening of that dreadful day, he approached him, smiling, and with
theatric voice and gesture declaimed a passage from Racine, the purport
of which was, “Well, here you see me not a conqueror, but vanquished.”
While on the retreat, one of his aids approached him, and the king,
with a smile, said, “Daun has played me a slippery trick to-day.”
“I have seen it,” was the reply; “but it is only a scratch, which your
majesty will soon heal again.”
“Do you think so?” inquired the king.
“Not only I,” the aid replied, “but the whole army, firmly believe it
of your majesty.”
“You are quite right,” responded the king. “We will manage Daun. What I
lament is the number of brave men who have died this morning.”
The next day he remarked, “Daun has let us out of checkmate. The game
is not lost yet. We will rest ourselves here for a few days, then we
will go to Silesia and deliver Neisse. But where are all your guns?” he
said, playfully, to an artilleryman, who stood, vacant, on parade.
“Your majesty,” replied the gunner, “the devil stole them all last
night.”
“Ah!” said the king, gayly, “we must have them back from him again.”
The fourth day after this dreadful defeat the king received the tidings
of the death of Wilhelmina. It was apparently the heaviest blow he had
ever encountered. The anguish which her death caused him he did not
attempt to conceal. In a business letter to Prince Henry we find this
burst of feeling:
“Great God! my sister of Baireuth, my noble Wilhelmina, dead; died in
the very hours while we were fighting here.”
The king, in a letter to Voltaire upon this occasion, writes:
“It will have been easy for you to conceive my grief when you
reflect upon the loss I have had. There are some misfortunes
which are reparable by constancy and courage, but there are
others against which all the firmness with which one can arm
one’s self, and all the reasonings of philosophers, are only vain
and useless attempts at consolation.[121] Of the latter kind is
the one with which my unhappy fate overwhelms me, at a moment
the most embarrassing and the most anxious of my whole life. I
have not been so sick as you have heard. My only complaints are
colics, sometimes hemorrhoidal, and sometimes nephritic.
“If it had depended upon me, I would willingly have devoted
myself to that death which those maladies sooner or later bring
upon one, in order to save and prolong the life of her whose
eyes are now closed. I beseech you never to forget her. Collect
all your powers to raise a monument to her honor. You need only
do her justice. Without any way abandoning the truth, she will
afford you an ample and beautiful subject. I wish you more repose
and happiness than falls to my lot.
FREDERICK.”[122]
The court at Vienna received with transports of joy the tidings of the
victory of Hochkirch. The pope was greatly elated. He regarded the
battle as one between the Catholic and Protestant powers. The holy
father, Clement XIII., sent a letter of congratulation to Marshal
Daun, together with a sword and hat, both blessed by his holiness.
The occurrence excited the derision of Frederick, who was afterward
accustomed to designate his opponent as “the blessed general with the
papal hat.” Frederick remained at Doberschütz ten days. During this
time his brother Henry joined him from Dresden with six thousand foot
and horse. This raised his force to a little above thirty thousand
men. General Finck was left in command of the few Prussian troops who
remained for the defense of the capital of Saxony.
The Austrian general, flushed with victory, at the head of eighty
thousand troops, encamped in strong positions a few miles east of
Frederick, on the road to Neisse, in Silesia. Narrowly he watched the
movements of his Prussian majesty, but he did not venture to molest
him. Neisse was at that time closely besieged by the Austrians. It
would inevitably soon fall into their hands unless Frederick could
march to its succor. The great strategic object of the Austrian
commander was so to block up the road as to prevent the advance of the
Prussian troops. Frederick, despising the inactivity of his cautious
foe, said to his brother,
“Daun has thrown up his cards, so the game is not yet lost. Let us
repose ourselves for some days, and then go to the assistance of
Neisse.”[123]
In the mean while, Marshal Daun was so confident that Frederick, with
but thirty thousand men, could not drive him from his intrenchments,
guarded by eighty thousand veteran troops, that he wrote to General
Harsch, who was conducting the siege of Neisse,
“Go on quietly with your siege. I have the king within my grasp. He is
cut off from Silesia except by attacking me. If he does that, I hope to
give you a good account of what happens.”[124]
On Tuesday evening, October 24, 1758, Frederick, in a rapid and secret
march, protected by darkness, pushed his whole army around the right
wing of the Austrian encampment, and took a very strong position at
Reichenbach, in the rear of Marshal Daun, and on the road to Neisse.
The Austrian general, astonished at this bold and successful manœuvre,
now found that the march of Frederick to Neisse could by no possibility
be prevented except by attacking him on his own chosen ground. This
he did not dare to do. He therefore resolved to make a rush with his
whole army to the west for the capture of Dresden. Frederick, in the
mean time, by forced marches, was pressing forward to the east for the
relief of Neisse. Thus the two armies were flying from each other in
opposite directions.
When the Austrian general conducting the siege at Neisse heard of the
rapid approach of Frederick, he, in consternation, blew up many of
his works, abandoned several guns, and, on the 6th of November, fled
with his army over the hills to the south, to take shelter in Austria.
Frederick triumphantly entered Neisse, and, having driven the Austrians
from every outpost, commenced, with a recruited army, his return march
to Dresden. The more slow-footed Daun did not reach Dresden till the
8th of the month. The city, outside of the walls, was crowded with the
dwellings of the more respectable citizens, and the beautiful mansions
of the wealthy. The King of Poland was Elector of Saxony, and was in
alliance with Austria. For the Austrian commander to pursue any measure
which should lead to the destruction, in whole or in part, of this
beautiful capital, would inflict a terrible blow upon the subjects of
the ally of Austria.
As General Daun approached the city, the Prussian general who had been
left in command of the small garrison there sent word to him that,
should he menace Dresden with his forces, the Prussian commander would
be under the necessity of setting fire to the suburbs, as a measure of
self-defense. Daun, expostulating vehemently against so cruel an act,
regardless of the menace, approached the city on the 9th of November,
and at midnight commenced rearing his batteries for the bombardment.
In the mean time the Prussian general had filled many of the largest
houses with combustibles. As the clock struck three in the morning the
torch was applied. The unhappy inhabitants had but three hours’ notice
that their houses were to be surrendered to destruction. Instantly the
flames burst forth with terrific fury in all directions. Sir Andrew
Mitchel, who witnessed the conflagration, writes:
“The whole suburb seemed on a blaze. Nay, you would have said the whole
town was environed in flames. I will not describe to your lordship
the horror, the terror, the confusion of this night; the wretched
inhabitants running with their furniture toward the great garden. All
Dresden, in appearance, girt with flames, ruin, and smoke.”
The army of General Daun, with its re-enforcements, amounted to one
hundred thousand men. The Prussian garrison in the city numbered but
ten thousand. The Prussian officer then in command, General Schmettau,
emboldened by the approach of Frederick, repelled all proposals for
capitulation.
“I will defend myself,” he said, “by the known rules of war and honor
to the last possible moment.”
On the 15th of November Frederick arrived at Lauban, within a hundred
miles of Dresden. General Daun immediately raised the siege and retired
into Bohemia. Frederick marched triumphantly into the city. Thus, as
the extraordinary result of the defeat at Hochkirch, Frederick, by
the exhibition of military ability which astonished Europe, regained
Neisse, retained Dresden, and swept both Silesia and Saxony entirely
free of his foes. Frederick remained in Dresden about a month. He then
retired to Breslau, in Silesia, for winter quarters. The winter was
a very sad one to him. Private griefs and public calamities weighed
heavily upon his heart.[125] Though during the year he had destroyed
a hundred thousand of his enemies, he had lost thirty thousand of his
own brave little band. It was almost impossible, by any energies of
conscription, to replace this waste of war. His treasury was exhausted.
Though he wrenched from the wretched Saxons every dollar which military
rapacity and violence could extort from them, still they were so
impoverished by the long and desolating struggle that but little money
could be found in the almost empty purses of a beggared people. Another
campaign was soon to open, in which the allies, with almost unlimited
resources of men and treasure, would again come crowding upon him in
all directions in overpowering numbers.
In a letter to his friend Lord Marischal, dated Dresden, November
23, 1758, just after the retreat of Daun into Bohemia from Saxony,
Frederick writes sadly,
“There is nothing left for us, my dear lord, but to mingle and blend
our weeping for the losses we have had. If my head were a fountain of
tears, it would not suffice for the grief I feel.
“Our campaign is over. And there is nothing come of it on the one
side or the other but the loss of a great many worthy people, the
misery of a great many poor soldiers crippled forever, the ruin of
some provinces, and the ravage, pillage, and conflagration of some
flourishing towns. These are exploits which make humanity suffer; sad
fruits of the wickedness and ambition of certain people in power, who
sacrifice every thing to their unbridled passions. I wish you, _mon
cher milord_, nothing that has the least resemblance to my destiny, and
every thing that is wanting to it.”
Thus ended in clouds, darkness, and woe the third campaign of the Seven
Years’ War. The winter was employed by both parties in preparing for
a renewal of the struggle. As the spring opened the allies had in the
field such a military array as Europe had never seen before. Three
hundred thousand men extended in a cordon of posts from the Giant
Mountains, near the borders of Silesia, to the ocean. In the north,
also, Russia had accumulated her vast armies for vigorous co-operation
with the southern troops. All the leading Continental powers--France,
Austria, Russia, Sweden, and the states of the German Empire--were
combined against Prussia. England alone was the inefficient ally
of Frederick. Small sums of money were loaned him from the British
cabinet; and the court of St. James, hostile in heart to the Prussian
king, co-operated with him only so far as was deemed essential for the
promotion of British interests.
Perhaps never before was a monarch surrounded by difficulties so great.
The energy and sagacity Frederick displayed have never been surpassed,
if ever equaled.
It was a dreary winter to Frederick in Breslau. Sad, silent, and
often despairing, he was ever inflexibly resolved to struggle till
the last possible moment, and, if need be, to bury himself beneath
the ruins of his kingdom. All his tireless energies he devoted to the
Herculean work before him. No longer did he affect gayety or seek
recreations. Secluded, solitary, sombre, he took counsel of no one. In
the possession of absolute power, he issued his commands as with the
authority of a god.
Frederick made several unavailing efforts during the winter to secure
peace. He was weary of a war which threatened his utter destruction.
The French were also weary of a struggle in which they encountered
but losses and disgraces. England had but little to hope for from the
conflict, and would gladly see the exhaustive struggle brought to a
close.
“Many men in all nations long for peace. But there are three women at
the top of the world who do not. Their wrath, various in quality, is
great in quantity, and disasters do the reverse of appeasing it.”[126]
Of these three women who then held the destinies of Europe in their
hands, one only, Maria Theresa, in the estimation of the public, had
good cause for war. Frederick was undeniably a highway robber, seeking
to plunder her. She was heroically, nobly struggling in self-defense.
The guilty Duchess of Pompadour, who, having the entire control of the
infamous king, Louis XV., was virtually the Empress of France, stung
by an insult from Frederick, did not hesitate to deluge Europe in
blood, that she might take the vengeance of a “woman scorned” upon her
foe. Catharine II., Empress of Russia, who in moral pollution rivaled
the most profligate of kings--whom Carlyle satirizes as “a kind of
she Louis XIV.”--also stung by one of Frederick’s witty and bitter
epigrams, was mainly impelled by personal pique to push forth her
armies into the bloody field.
The impartial student of history must admit that, were the government
of the world taken from the hands of men, and placed in the hands of
women, still the anticipated millennium of righteousness and peace
might be far distant.
In the following letter, which Frederick wrote at this time to his
friend D’Argens, he unbosoms his sorrows with unusual frankness. The
letter was dated Breslau, March 1, 1759:
“I have passed my winter like a Carthusian monk. I dine alone. I spend
my life in reading and writing, and I do not sup. When one is sad, it
becomes, at last, too burdensome to hide one’s grief continually. It
is better to give way to it than to carry one’s gloom into society.
Nothing solaces me but the vigorous application required in steady and
continuous labor. This distraction does force one to put away painful
ideas while it lasts. But alas! no sooner is the work done than these
fatal companions present themselves again, as if livelier than ever.
Maupertuis was right; the sum of evil does certainly surpass that of
good. But to me it is all one. I have almost nothing more to lose; and
my few remaining days--what matters it much of what complexion they
be?”
During this dismal winter of incessant and almost despairing labor
the indefatigable king wrote several striking treatises on military
affairs. It is manifest that serious thoughts at times occupied his
mind. He doubtless reflected that if there were a God who took any
cognizance of human affairs, there must be somewhere responsibility to
Him for the woes with which these wars were desolating humanity. To the
surprise of De Catt, the king presented him one evening with a sermon
upon “The Last Judgment,” from his own pen. He also put upon paper his
thoughts “On the new kind of tactics necessary with the Austrians and
their allies.” He seems himself to have been surprised that he had been
able so long to resist such overpowering numbers. In allusion to the
allies he writes:
“To whose continual sluggishness and strange want of concert--to whose
incoherency of movements, languor of execution, and other enormous
faults, we have owed, with some excuse for our own faults, our escape
from destruction hitherto.”[127]