Campaigns against Prussia, France, and Bohemia
And yet—! Where the Spree winds along between its sandy banks, a young
eagle was beginning his flight toward the sun. Prince Eugene, “the
gallant knight,” had seen more clearly than he whose eyes were fixed
only on the Pragmatic Sanction. His good counsel had shared the fate of
all well-meant advice which earns no thanks and is rarely followed, and
there was no one now at the imperial court who had Eugene of Savoy’s
far-seeing vision in matters of statecraft. But the eagle had already
spread his pinions, and though he had but one head, to be sure, yet what
a head it was! This eagle was the young King of Prussia, Frederick,
second of the name.
The year 1740 had witnessed new rulers upon two thrones: upon the
smaller, and, one might say, still embryonic one, a man; upon the
greater, already established, a woman; both young, energetic, and richly
endowed by nature, both the foremost figures of their time.
The proverb, “Two hard stones seldom grind well,” has much truth in it,
and none the less if the word “hard” be taken in a figurative sense.
Thousands of heads and hearts were agitated by the question, how these
two European monarchs of equal birth and capabilities would get on
together. Would not all their power be exerted to obtain the supremacy?
And in this struggle, to use a popular but expressive phrase, would not
“the fur fly”?
It was only in Vienna that people were deceived as to Frederick’s
strength. Those immediately about the gifted young King were little
concerned as to the outcome of any warlike complications, for from the
very earliest days of his reign he had been strengthening and equipping
his army. A well-filled treasury also favored his secretly cherished
plan of claiming the Duchy of Silesia, and winning back with the sword
what he considered his own inheritance, according to some old agreement
concerning the succession.[4] His army advanced suddenly against
Silesia, and he followed it immediately after a court ball in Berlin,
where no one had the least suspicion of his intention. He despatched
Count Cotter to Vienna, it is true, to state the terms by which war
could be averted;[5] but Austria would not consent to them, and while
these brief negotiations were being conducted, Frederick’s army had
already set foot upon the frontier of Silesia.
This news fell upon the Austrian sovereign like a thunderbolt out of a
clear sky; but the die was cast, the torch of war alight. To resign
Silesia voluntarily never entered her mind for a moment, but alas! her
father’s indifference to Prince Eugene’s wise counsel was now bearing
fruit. Although not willing to accept Frederick’s terms for a peaceful
settlement of the question, Maria Theresa realized fully the
difficulties of her situation, and hastily called upon those who had
recognized the Pragmatic Sanction to redeem their promises and lend her
some substantial support now that so powerful an assault had been made
upon this measure. But she only had to face the bitter experience
expressed in the old saying:
“Friends in prosperity—
Each will weigh a pound;
But to the ounce, in time of need,
A thousand may be found!”
Those whom she summoned to her aid shrugged their shoulders, and
sympathized, but made no move to array themselves on her side. It is the
way of the world, and in this dark hour Maria Theresa was forced to
learn, in bitterness of spirit, that there is a vast difference between
words and deeds.
There was not much time for choice. The situation must be met at once;
but the Austrian force in Silesia was too small to build any hopes upon.
Browne[6] collected an army in Moravia; but to cross the mountains by
bad roads and at an unfavorable time of year was a task not easily or
quickly accomplished, so that, thanks to his own energy and his
well-equipped and disciplined army, Frederick made a rapid advance, and
had gained possession of the most important places before Browne’s
troops could get near enough to attempt any effective movements. When
the cannon finally thundered at Mollwitz, Schwerin[7] gained a brilliant
victory over the Austrians, little in his favor as the conflict promised
to be at first.
The loss of this battle was a great disaster, and the saying that
troubles never come singly proved true likewise. Thus encouraged, all
the enemies of Austria, who until now had prudently hidden their real
animosity under the mask of friendship, threw off their disguise and
openly arrayed themselves on the side of the young King of Prussia. The
aggrandizing spirit of France, ever casting covetous glances toward the
Rhine, made itself most actively felt, but intrigues were rife
everywhere, and already there was talk of a division of the Austrian
Empire among its enemies.
Whether all these castles were to prove only castles in the air depended
now on Maria Theresa. Old Austrian statesmen might doubtfully shake
their bewigged heads, but their youthful ruler never wavered. Not a
finger’s breadth of Silesia would she surrender; at no price would she
voluntarily part with any of her inheritance. She well knew what her
duty required, and the birth of a son (afterward the great Emperor
Joseph II) vindicated this noble woman’s firmness and masculine strength
of purpose. Her heart was full of faith and courage, and the joy her
maternity brought her was shared by the people, who showed a touching
devotion to her. This was the foundation upon which she built her hopes;
and it was strong enough to warrant confidence in Austria’s future,
though the present looked dark enough.
England made an effort to mediate between Maria Theresa and her
adversary, but Frederick rejected any compromise and demanded the
cession of Silesia, with the threat that if it were not yielded to him
he would seize not only it, but four other duchies beside. He could
always be depended on to keep his word, especially when he made emphatic
statements, and Maria Theresa’s cause seemed lost before it really was
so. But she stood firm as a rock, in spite of her increasing danger; in
spite of the faintheartedness of her ministers; in spite of the plots of
her enemies; in spite of Frederick II’s confidence. At any cost the war
must be carried on; she must not allow herself to be humbled. The time
for negotiation was past; action must take its place; words were
useless, deeds must decide.
Maria Theresa’s prospects were dubious. The French had crossed the Rhine
with a large force and joined Bavaria. Passau was taken by surprise;
Linz had fallen; even Vienna was threatened, and would have been obliged
to surrender had the enemy pressed its advantage that far.
Maria Theresa had been active in her preparations in the meantime. The
love of the people for their distressed ruler showed itself everywhere.
Men flocked to the recruiting stations, and all who were able hastened
to take up arms. In Vienna there was the greatest enthusiasm; all work
in the shops ceased, and thousands of strong arms toiled at the
neglected fortifications of the imperial city. Neither were there only
men’s hands at work, for women and young girls were to be seen in the
ranks of the toilers, laboring indefatigably, just as it had been when
Kara Mustapha had approached Vienna, and Kolonitzsch and the old hero
Stahremberg led the defence.[8] Everywhere the greatest interest was
felt in the fate of the beautiful, unfortunate Princess, and the women
especially, both of her own and foreign countries, showed the warmest
sympathy, while in England they vied with one another in contributing
money for her treasury, knowing that she greatly needed such assistance.
But her foes were too many and too strong for her, and all these efforts
would have been in vain had not Hungary, with chivalrous self-sacrifice,
lent its aid to the Princess who wore its sacred crown also.
Maria Theresa had won the love of the Hungarians, and this conquest now
bore her golden fruit, for the love of a people is the only lasting
bulwark of a throne. Certain States, however, to assert their own
importance, seemed determined to break down this bulwark. But when she
appeared in the midst of the assembly of the Hungarian States, her
deeply troubled look and the appeal that sprang from her overladen heart
fired the nobles with wild enthusiasm. “We are ready to die for our
Queen, Maria Theresa!” rang from every throat and welled out from every
heart as an oath of fidelity, and the unanimous resolution was at once
taken to aid her with all their forces.
[Illustration: “_We are ready to die for our Empress_”]
Maria Theresa was deeply affected; she burst into tears, and who does
not know the effect that tears in a woman’s eyes have upon the hearts of
men? When Maria Theresa’s consort had been acknowledged as co-regent by
the Hungarians, the oath taken, and she held up her little son Joseph
before the Diet at that solemn moment, such a burst of enthusiasm
followed that they swore afresh their willingness to die for their
Queen, and declared firmly that if money were needed for the war they
would cast all their gold and silver ornaments and vessels into the
smelting-pot,—indeed, were this not enough, even the treasures of the
Church should be added.
If anything could have comforted Maria Theresa’s mind and raised her
spirits, it would have been this experience. There is not much danger of
a tottering throne where the people are so ready to prove their devotion
by any sacrifice; and what Hungary promised it faithfully performed. At
this time the mixture of peoples along the Danube, where it approaches
the Turkish possessions, with the tribes that Russia in Asia had
contributed, could hardly have been equalled for wildness and barbarity.
They were good light horsemen, and always ready when it was a question
of destruction and pillage; but in open warfare against the well-drilled
Prussians they stood but a doubtful chance. Nevertheless, they had
Cossacks among them that had not done badly in harassing the French. The
Hungarians, though headed by a nobility of their own, had only these
people to depend on, but they were better than nothing, and the fifteen
thousand nobles with their followers made a heavy balance in the scales.
Every heart was full of enthusiasm for the noble woman who was so hard
pressed, and while their forces were being organized—for an army is not
raised by the stroke of a magic wand—this sentiment deepened
continually.
While the hostile army had already advanced as far as Linz, the Queen
hoped for assistance from England in the shape of gold from London and
troops from Hanover, but it seemed in truth as though all help would be
cut off. Even when George II of England had raised an army in Hanover,
the French, under Maillebois, marched up through Westphalia, and the
English began to find Hanover uncomfortable. With an Englishman charity
begins at home, and George’s “skin was nearer to him than his shirt,” as
the saying goes, so he made the best terms he could with the French, and
abandoned Maria Theresa in spite of all his chivalrous protestations.
With France, Bavaria, and Saxony threatening her on one side, Prussia on
the other, and as yet no army to oppose them with any hope of success,
what could be more welcome than a settlement with Frederick II, arranged
by England’s mediation, and to which Frederick gladly agreed, since it
secured him the possession of Silesia and averted the danger that seemed
impending from the attitude of the Elector of Bavaria? The treaty was
signed at Oberschnellendorf, but absolute secrecy was to be maintained
concerning it. Thus Maria Theresa acquired, in this direction, at least,
a free hand; and it was very necessary, for Bavaria and France were
seriously threatening the capital of Bohemia, whence the Elector of
Bavaria might have taken Vienna at a single blow, but, allured by the
prospect of a crown, the attraction in Bohemia was too strong.[9]
Such was the state of affairs when Maria Theresa’s army of sixty
thousand men entered Bohemia and rapidly advanced toward Prague, hoping
to be able to relieve the city, which had a garrison of only three
thousand and was in no condition to hold out against an army like that
of united France, Bavaria, and Saxony, which was pressing it hard. There
could be no question of a long resistance; therefore haste was necessary
for the Austrians if they were to be of any service. But they came too
late. Prague had fallen, and the Elector of Bavaria was crowned King of
Bohemia. This, however, to him, was but a step toward the Imperial
Crown, which he already saw upon his head. Therefore, no sooner were the
coronation ceremonies ended than he established a regency in Prague,
hastened to Munich, and from thence by way of Mannheim to
Frankfort-on-the-Main. One thought, one hope, sustained Maria Theresa
after this bitter blow,—namely, that her husband would be chosen Emperor
at the electoral assembly then being held at Frankfort; but here, too, a
fresh disappointment awaited her. The Elector of Bavaria’s successes in
Bohemia added powerfully to his influence, and he was elected Emperor
January 30, 1742, his coronation following, February 12 of the same
year. That Maria Theresa should refuse to acknowledge him was but
natural, and, as she denied the validity of the election, that she
should refuse to deliver the imperial archives was also natural.
The Elector of Bavaria at last had reached the summit of his ambitions,
but it was also the turning point; thenceforward his path led downward,
and victory turned toward Maria Theresa’s colors. Scarcely was the crown
placed on his head, when his own capital, Munich, fell into the hands of
Maria Theresa. Her husband had succeeded in Bohemia, with the gallant
Khevenhüller’s assistance, in winning the Hungarians to him and cutting
off the enemy’s forces there from those which remained in Austria, and
thus began a campaign that meant destruction to the audacious foe. In
Bavaria the Austrians carried all before them, and Maria Theresa’s
victorious banner was soon waving over all that province.
This state of things naturally attracted the attention of Frederick II,
and drew him again into the field of action. As the agreement to keep
the treaty of Oberschnellendorf had been broken, he no longer felt bound
by his own promise. He again joined forces with the hard-pressed
Elector, the new Emperor, and a fresh war-torch was set ablaze, which
alarmed Maria Theresa more than the old one. Frederick’s arms were
victorious, his activity in making alliances against Austria unceasing,
and when the Zieten[10] hussars made inroads as far as Stockerau,
destruction seemed hanging once more over Maria Theresa’s head. The
storm did not break, however, for Frederick found himself checked by
Saxony, and the French were little inclined to play into the hands of
Prussia. Frederick would gladly have consented to an adjustment of his
relations with Austria, had it been possible; but the battles of
Chotusitz and Czaslau changed the aspect of things, for they gave him
the victory, though at a terrible sacrifice. Nevertheless, his view of
the situation was not altered to such an extent that he did not still
wish to end the war. With the same desire on both sides there could be
but one result, and peace was signed at Breslau in the Summer of 1742.
By this treaty Frederick received the duchy of Upper and Lower Silesia
and Glatz, and renounced all further claims on Maria Theresa. The
boundaries were firmly fixed, and she won a free hand in this quarter,
but with a loss that cut her to the heart. The finest jewel had been
torn from her crown, and with a bleeding heart she had been forced to
give it up in order to save the rest of her inheritance. On one side the
flames of war were now extinguished, but on the other they still blazed
fiercely. Her hopes were nearing fulfilment. The troops which she had
been obliged to employ against Frederick could now be sent to oppose her
other foes, and this was a great gain, for this division of her strength
had been a constant source of anxiety to her, and with good reason.
Bohemia next claimed her attention, and thither she sent the forces thus
released. Nor was this the only reward so dearly bought by the peace of
Breslau; for her friends were now encouraged to show their sympathy and
offer her assistance. To win back Bohemia and its capital was her next
important task.
In Italy the situation had improved for her—not without some sacrifice,
it is true—and from there she could also send troops to Bohemia, to
enable the Austrian army to invest Prague. In the besieged city were a
body of French, and this caused as much anxiety in Paris as it did to
Marshal Belle-Isle himself in Prague. He tried to make terms, but his
schemes were frustrated, as well as the proposed negotiations for peace
from Paris, by the resolute courage and firmness of the Empress. She
would listen to none of Francis’ proposals, none of Belle-Isle’s plans
for capitulation. She rejected both with noble pride and indignation,
deeply as her refusal might be resented by France.
In Prague the distress of the French increased rapidly. The lack of
provisions had become alarming. Belle-Isle had only one hope—the French
auxiliary corps under Harcourt which Khevenhüller was holding back on
the Danube. But could he count on it? The army on the lower Rhine was in
the same predicament. Here, as there, a decided “Halt!” had been called
to France, which she was compelled to obey. It seemed impossible that
their comrades in Prague could expect any help from either of these
quarters; yet nevertheless it came, at the express command of the King
of France.
The commander-in-chief of the French on the lower Rhine, where an
English force was opposing them, suddenly departed, leaving one division
engaged with the English, and hastened unobstructed to Bavaria, where he
was joined by a Bavarian army corps. At the same time Count Maurice of
Saxony replaced Harcourt in the army on the Danube. He also contrived to
elude Khevenhüller, and made all speed with the main body of his troops
toward Maillebois’ division. The bold stroke was successful, and while
the besieging army, apprised of this new danger, was hastening to meet
it, the beleaguered French tried to escape from Prague and join
Maillebois. The attempt failed, however, as did that general’s efforts
to relieve the city. Closely invested as it now was by Lobkowitz, Prague
could no longer hold out; for, in addition to the scarcity of food, they
had to endure the bitter cold of Winter, and there was a lack of fuel
also. He conducted the siege so carelessly, however, that Belle-Isle
finally managed to escape with the French garrison and all the artillery
and stores. Not till they were gone did the Austrians discover it and
pursue them; but they succeeded in reaching Eger, though with great
suffering and loss. Those who were left behind in Prague would have been
taken prisoners had not their leader made known to the Austrian
commander that they must be allowed to retire with military honors, or
he would set fire to the city and bury himself and all his troops under
its ashes. Lobkowitz consented to their retreat in order to save Prague,
and thus ingloriously took possession of the shattered city. Had Maria
Theresa not had a kind and merciful heart, the inhabitants would have
suffered even more than they had been called upon to endure; for many of
those who had been so ready to help crown the Elector of Bavaria well
deserved the punishment they thus escaped. Now that Bohemia as far as
the city of Eger was once more her own, Maria Theresa was crowned with
great pomp as Queen of Bohemia.
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.