make more noise than a thing deserves. I wanted Voltaire to give you up
the key, the cross, and the volume of poems I had intrusted to him; as
soon as all that was given up to you I can't see what earthly reason
could have induced you to make this uproar."
It is very probable, however, that Frederick wished to humiliate
Voltaire, and the latter did not fail to revenge himself with that
weapon which he knew so well how to wield. In his poem of "La Loi
naturelle" he drew a bitter but truthful portrait of Frederick which
must have made that arbitrary gentleman wince. He was, says the poet,--
"Of incongruities a monstrous pile,
Calling men brothers, crushing them the while;
With air humane, a misanthropic brute;
Ofttimes impulsive, sometimes over-'cute;
Weak 'midst his choler, modest in his pride;
Yearning for virtue, lust personified;
Statesman and author, of the slippery crew;
My patron, pupil, persecutor too."
_SCENES FROM THE SEVEN YEARS' WAR._
[Illustration: SANS SOUCI, PALACE OF FREDERICK THE GREAT.]
The story of Frederick the Great is a story of incessant wars, wars
against frightful odds, for all Europe was combined against him, and for
seven years the Austrians, the French, the Russians, and the Swedes
surrounded his realm, with the bitter determination to crush him, if not
to annihilate the Prussian kingdom. England alone was on his side.
Russia had joined the coalition through anger of the Empress Elizabeth
at Frederick's satire upon her licentious life; France had joined it
through hostility to England; Austria had organized it from indignation
at Frederick's lawless seizure of Silesia; the army raised to operate
against Prussia numbered several hundred thousand men.
For years Frederick fought them all single-handed, with a persistence,
an energy, and a resolute rising under the weight of defeat that
compelled the admiration even of his enemies, and in the end gave him
victory over them all. To the rigid discipline of his troops, his own
military genius, and his indomitable perseverance, he owed his final
success and his well-earned epithet of "The Great."
The story of battle, stirring as it is, is apt to grow monotonous, and
we have perhaps inflicted too many battle scenes already upon our
readers, though we have selected only such as had some particular
feature of interest to enliven them. Out of Frederick's numerous battles
we may be able to present some examples sufficiently diverse from the
ordinary to render them worthy of classification, under the title of the
romance of history.
Let us go back to the 5th of November, 1757. On that date the army of
Frederick lay in the vicinity of Rossbach, on the Saale, then occupied
by a powerful French army. The Prussian commander, after vainly
endeavoring to bring the Austrians to battle, had turned and marched
against the French, with the hope of driving them out of Saxony.
His hope was not a very promising one. The French army was sixty
thousand strong. He had but little over twenty thousand men. While he
felt hope the French felt assurance. They had their active foe now in
their clutches, they deemed. With his handful of men he could not
possibly stand before their onset. He had escaped them more than once
before; this time they had him, as they believed.
His camp was on a height, near the Saale. Towards it the French
advanced, with flying colors and sounding trumpets, as if with purpose
to strike terror into the ranks of their foes. That Frederick would
venture to stand before them they scarcely credited. If he should, his
danger would be imminent, for they had laid their plans to surround his
small force and, by taking the king and his army prisoners, end at a
blow the vexatious war. They calculated shrewdly but not well, for they
left Frederick out of the account in their plans.
As they came up, line after line, column after column, they must have
been surprised by the seeming indifference of the Prussians. There were
in their ranks no signs of retreat and none of hostility. They remained
perfectly quiet in their camp, not a gun being fired, not a movement
visible, as inert and heedless to all seeming of the coming of the
French as though there were no enemy within a hundred miles.
There was a marked difference between the make-up of the two armies,
which greatly reduced their numerical odds. Frederick's army was
composed of thoroughly disciplined and trained soldiers, every man of
whom knew his place and his duty, and could be trusted in an emergency.
The French, on the contrary, had brought all they could of Paris with
them; their army was encumbered with women, wig-makers, barbers, and the
like impedimenta, and confusion and gayety in their ranks replaced the
stern discipline of Frederick's camp. After the battle, the booty is
said to have consisted largely of objects of gallantry better suited for
a boudoir than a camp.
The light columns of smoke that arose from the Prussian camp as the
French advanced indicated their occupation,--and that by no means
suggested alarm. They were cooking their dinners, with as much unconcern
as though they had not yet seen the coming enemy nor heard the clangor
of trumpets that announced their approach. Had the French commanders
been within the Prussian lines they would have been more astonished
still, for they would have seen Frederick with his staff and general
officers dining at leisure and with the utmost coolness and
indifference. There was no appearance of haste in their movements, and
no more in those of their men, whose whole concern just then seemed to
be the getting of a good meal.
The hour passed on, the French came nearer, their trumpet clangor was
close at hand, every moment seemed to render the peril of the Prussians
more imminent, yet their inertness continued; it looked almost as though
they had given up the idea of defence. The confidence of the French must
have grown rapidly as their plan of surrounding the Prussians with their
superior numbers seemed more and more assured.
But Frederick had his eye upon them. He was biding his time. Suddenly
there came a change. It was about half-past two in the afternoon. The
French had reached the position for which he had been waiting. Quickly
the staff officers dashed right and left with their orders. The trumpets
sounded. As if by magic the tents were struck, the men sprang to their
ranks and were drawn up in battle array, the artillery opened its fire,
the seeming inertness which had prevailed was with extraordinary
rapidity exchanged for warlike activity; the complete discipline of the
Prussian army had never been more notably displayed.
The French, who had been marching forward with careless ease, beheld
this change of the situation with astounded eyes. They looked for
heaviness and slowness of movement among the Germans, and could scarcely
believe in the possibility of such rapidity of evolution. But they had
little time to think. The Prussian batteries were pouring a rain of
balls through their columns. And quickly the Prussian cavalry, headed by
the dashing Seidlitz, was in their midst, cutting and slashing with
annihilating vigor.
The surprise was complete. The French found it impossible to form into
line. Everywhere their columns were being swept by musketry and
artillery, and decimated by the sabres of the charging cavalry. In
almost less time than it takes to tell it they were thrown into
confusion, overwhelmed, routed; in the course of less than half an hour
the fate of the battle was decided, and the French army completely
defeated.
Their confidence of a short time before was succeeded by panic, and the
lately trim ranks fled in utter disorganization, so utterly broken that
many of the fugitives never stopped till they reached the other side of
the Rhine.
Ten thousand prisoners fell into Frederick's hands, including nine
generals and numerous other officers, together with all the French
artillery, and twenty-two standards; while the victory was achieved with
the loss of only one hundred and sixty-five killed and three hundred and
fifty wounded on the Prussian side. The triumph was one of discipline
against over-confidence. No army under less complete control than that
of Frederick could have sprung so suddenly into warlike array. To this,
and to the sudden and overwhelming dash of Seidlitz and his cavalry, the
remarkable victory was due.
Just one month from that date, on the 5th of December, another great
battle took place, and another important victory for Frederick the
Great. With thirty-four thousand Prussians he defeated eighty thousand
Austrians, while the prisoners taken nearly equalled in number his
entire force.
The Austrians had taken the opportunity of Frederick's campaign against
the French to overrun Silesia. Breslau, its capital, with several other
strongholds, fell into their hands, and the probability was that if left
there during the winter they would so strongly fortify it as to defy any
attempt of the Prussian king to recapture it.
Despite the weakness of his army Frederick decided to make an effort to
regain the lost province, and marched at once against the Austrians.
They lay in a strong position behind the river Lohe, and here their
leader, Field-Marshal Daun, wished to have them remain, having had
abundant experience of his opponent in the open field. This cautious
advice was not taken by Prince Charles, who controlled the movements of
the army, and whom several of the generals persuaded that it would be
degrading for a victorious army to intrench itself against one so much
inferior in numbers, and advised him to march out and meet the
Prussians. "The parade guard of Berlin," as they contemptuously
designated Frederick's army, "would never be able to make a stand
against them."
The prince, who was impetuous in disposition, agreed with them, marched
out from his intrenchments, and met Frederick's army in the vast plain
near Leuthen. On December 5 the two armies came face to face, the lines
of the imperial force extending over a space of five miles, while those
of Frederick occupied a much narrower space.
In his lack of numbers the Prussian king was obliged to substitute
celerity of movement, hoping to double the effectiveness of his troops
by their quickness of action. The story of the battle may be given in a
few words. A false attack was made on the Austrian right, and then the
bulk of the Prussian army was hurled upon their left wing, with such
impetuosity as to break and shatter it. The disorder caused by this
attack spread until it included the whole army. In three hours' time
Frederick had completely defeated his foes, one-third of whom were
killed, wounded, or captured, and the remainder put to flight. The field
was covered with the slain, and whole battalions surrendered, the
Prussians capturing in all twenty-one thousand prisoners. They took
besides one hundred and thirty cannon and three thousand baggage and
ammunition wagons. The victory was a remarkable example of the supremacy
of genius over mere numbers. Napoleon says of it, "That battle was a
master-piece. Of itself it is sufficient to entitle Frederick to a place
in the first rank of generals." It restored Silesia to the Prussian
dominions.
There is one more of Frederick's victories of sufficiently striking
character to fit in with those already given. It took place in 1760,
several years after those described, years in which Frederick had
struggled persistently against overwhelming odds, and, though often
worsted, yet coming up fresh after every defeat, and unconquerably
keeping the field.
He was again in Silesia, which was once more seriously threatened by the
Austrian forces. His position was anything but a safe one. The Austrians
almost surrounded him. On one side was the army of Field-Marshal Daun,
on the other that of General Lasci; in front was General Laudon.
Fighting day and night he advanced, and finally took up his position at
Liegnitz, where he found his forward route blocked, Daun having formed a
junction with Laudon. His magazines were at Breslau and Schweidnitz in
front, which it was impossible to reach; while his brother, Prince
Henry, who might have marched to his relief, was detained by the
Russians on the Oder.
The position of Frederick was a critical one. He had only a few days'
supply of provisions; it was impossible to advance, and dangerous to
retreat; the Austrians, in superior numbers, were dangerously near him;
only fortune and valor could save him from serious disaster. In this
crisis of his career happy chance came to his aid, and relieved him from
the awkward and perilous situation into which he had fallen.
The Austrians were keenly on the alert, biding their time and watchful
for an opportunity to take the Prussians at advantage. The time had now
arrived, as they thought, and they laid their plans accordingly. On the
night before the 15th of August Laudon set out on a secret march, his
purpose being to gain the heights of Puffendorf, from which the
Prussians might be assailed in the rear. At the same time the other
corps were to close in on every side, completely surrounding Frederick,
and annihilating him if possible.
It was a well-laid and promising plan, but accident befriended the
Prussian king. Accident and alertness, we may say; since, to prevent a
surprise from the Austrians, he was in the habit of changing the
location of his camp almost every night. Such a change took place on the
night in question. On the 14th the Austrians had made a close
reconnoisance of his position. Fearing some hostile purpose in this,
Frederick, as soon as the night had fallen, ordered his tents to be
struck and the camp to be moved with the utmost silence, so as to avoid
giving the foe a hint of his purpose. As it chanced, the new camp was
made on those very heights of Puffendorf towards which Laudon was
advancing with equal care and secrecy.
That there might be no suspicion of the Prussian movement, the
watch-fires were kept up in the old camp, peasants attending to them,
while patrols of hussars cried out the challenge every quarter of an
hour. The gleaming lights, the watch-cries of the sentinels, all
indicated that the Prussian army was sleeping on its old ground, without
suspicion of the overwhelming blow intended for it on the morrow.
Meanwhile the king and his army had reached their new quarters, where
the utmost caution and noiselessness was observed. The king, wrapped in
his military cloak, had fallen asleep beside his watch-fire; Ziethen,
his valiant cavalry leader, and a few others of his principal officers,
being with him. Throughout the camp the greatest stillness prevailed,
all noise having been forbidden. The soldiers slept with their arms
close at hand, and ready to be seized at a moment's notice. Frederick
fully appreciated the peril of his situation, and was not to be taken by
surprise by his active foes. And thus the night moved on until midnight
passed, and the new day began its course in the small hours.
About two o'clock a sudden change came in the situation. A horseman
galloped at full speed through the camp, and drew up hastily at the
king's tent, calling Frederick from his light slumbers. He was the
officer in command of the patrol of hussars, and brought startling news.
The enemy was at hand, he said; his advance columns were within a few
hundred yards of the camp. It was Laudon's army, seeking to steal into
possession of those heights which Frederick had so opportunely occupied.
The stirring tidings passed rapidly through the camp. The soldiers were
awakened, the officers seized their arms and sprang to horse, the troops
grasped their weapons and hastened into line, the cannoneers flew to
their guns, soon the roar of artillery warned the coming Austrians that
they had a foe in their front.
Laudon pushed on, thinking this to be some advance column which he could
easily sweep from his front. Not until day dawned did he discover the
true situation, and perceive, with astounded eyes, that the whole
Prussian army stood in line of battle on those very heights which he had
hoped so easily to occupy.
The advantage on which the Austrian had so fully counted lay with the
Prussian king. Yet, undaunted, Laudon pushed on and made a vigorous
attack, feeling sure that the thunder of the artillery would be borne to
Daun's ears, and bring that commander in all haste, with his army, to
take part in the fray.
But the good fortune which had so far favored Frederick did not now
desert him. The wind blew freshly in the opposite direction, and carried
the sound of the cannon away from Daun's hearing. Not the roar of a
piece of artillery came to him, and his army lay moveless during the
battle, he deeming that Laudon must now be in full possession of the
heights, and felicitating himself on the neat trap into which the King
of Prussia had fallen. While he thus rested on his arms, glorying in his
soul on the annihilation to which the pestilent Prussians were doomed,
his ally was making a desperate struggle for life, on those very heights
which he counted on taking without a shot. Truly, the Austrians had
reckoned without their foe in laying their cunning plot.
Three hours of daylight finished the affray. Taken by surprise as they
were, the Austrians proved unable to sustain the vigorous Prussian
assault, and were utterly routed, leaving ten thousand dead and wounded
on the field, and eighty-two pieces of artillery in the enemy's hands.
Shortly afterwards Daun, advancing to carry out his share of the scheme
of annihilation, fell upon the right wing of the Prussians, commanded by
General Ziethen, and was met with so fierce an artillery fire that he
halted in dismay. And now news of Laudon's disaster was brought to him.
Seeing that the game was lost and himself in danger, he emulated his
associate in his hasty retreat.
Fortune and alertness had saved the Prussian king from a serious danger,
and turned peril into victory. He lost no time in profiting by his
advantage, and was in full march towards Breslau within three hours
after the battle, the prisoners in the centre, the wounded--friend and
foe alike,--in wagons in the rear, and the captured cannon added to his
own artillery train. Silesia was once more delivered into his hands.
Never in history had there been so persistent and indomitable a
resistance against overwhelming numbers as that which Frederick
sustained for so many years against his numerous foes. At length, when
hope seemed almost at an end, and it appeared as if nothing could save
the Prussian kingdom from overthrow, death came to the aid of the
courageous monarch. The Empress Elizabeth of Russia died, and
Frederick's bitterest foe was removed. The new monarch, Peter III., was
an ardent admirer of Frederick, and at once discharged all the Prussian
prisoners in his hands, and signed a treaty of alliance with Prussia.
Sweden quickly did the same, leaving Frederick with no opponents but the
Austrians. Four months more sufficed to bring his remaining foes to
terms, and by the end of the year 1762 the distracting Seven Years' War
was at an end, the indomitable Frederick remaining in full possession of
Silesia, the great bone of contention in the war. His resolution and
perseverance had raised Prussia to a high position among the kingdoms of
Europe, and laid the foundations of the present empire of Germany.
_THE PATRIOTS OF THE TYROL._
On the 9th of April, 1809, down the river Inn, in the Tyrol, came
floating a series of planks, from whose surface waved little red flags.
What they meant the Bavarian soldiers, who held that mountain land with
a hand of iron, could not conjecture. But what they meant the peasantry
well knew. On the day before peace had ruled throughout the Alps, and no
Bavarian dreamed of war. Those flags were the signal for insurrection,
and on their appearance the brave mountaineers sprang at once to arms
and flew to the defence of the bridges of their country, which the
Bavarians were marching to destroy, as an act of defence against the
Austrians.
On the 10th the storm of war burst. Some Bavarian sappers had been sent
to blow up the bridge of St. Lorenzo. But hardly had they begun their
work, when a shower of bullets from unseen marksmen swept the bridge.
Several were killed; the rest took to flight; the Tyrol was in revolt.
News of this outbreak was borne to Colonel Wrede, in command of the
Bavarians, who hastened with a force of infantry, cavalry, and artillery
to the spot. He found the peasants out in numbers. The Tyrolean
riflemen, who were accustomed to bring down chamois from the mountain
peaks, defended the bridge, and made terrible havoc in the Bavarian
ranks. They seized Wrede's artillery and flung guns and gunners together
into the stream, and finally put the Bavarians to rout, with severe
loss.
The Bavarians held the Tyrol as allies of the French, and the movement
against the bridges had been directed by Napoleon, to prevent the
Austrians from reoccupying the country, which had been wrested from
their hands. Wrede in his retreat was joined by a body of three thousand
French, but decided, instead of venturing again to face the daring foe,
to withdraw to Innsbruck. But withdrawal was not easy. The signal of
revolt had everywhere called the Tyrolese to arms. The passes were
occupied. The fine old Roman bridge over the Brenner, at Laditsch, was
blown up. In the pass of the Brixen, leading to this bridge, the French
and Bavarians found themselves assailed in the old Swiss manner, by
rocks and logs rolled down upon their heads, while the unerring rifles
of the hidden peasants swept the pass. Numbers were slain, but the
remainder succeeded in escaping by means of a temporary bridge, which
they threw over the stream on the site of the bridge of Laditsch.
Of the Tyrolese patriots to whom this outbreak was due two are worthy of
special mention, Joseph Speckbacher, a wealthy peasant of Rinn, and the
more famous Andrew Hofer, the host of the Sand Inn at Passeyr, a man
everywhere known through the mountains, as he traded in wine, corn, and
horses as far as the Italian frontier.
Hofer was a man of herculean frame and of a full, open, handsome
countenance, which gained dignity from its long, dark-brown beard, which
fell in rich curls upon his chest. His picturesque dress--that of the
Tyrol--comprised a red waistcoat, crossed by green braces, which were
fastened to black knee breeches of chamois leather, below which he wore
red stockings. A broad black leather girdle clasped his muscular form,
while over all was worn a short green coat. On his head he wore a
low-crowned, broad-brimmed Tyrolean hat, black in color, and ornamented
with green ribbons and with the feathers of the capercailzie.
This striking-looking patriot, at the head of a strong party of
peasantry, made an assault, early on the 11th, upon a Bavarian infantry
battalion under the command of Colonel Bäraklau, who retreated to a
table-land named Sterzinger Moos, where, drawn up in a square, he
resisted every effort of the Tyrolese to dislodge him. Finally Hofer
broke his lines by a stratagem. A wagon loaded with hay, and driven by a
girl, was pushed towards the square, the brave girl shouting, as the
balls flew around her, "On with ye! Who cares for Bavarian dumplings!"
Under its shelter the Tyrolese advanced, broke the square, and killed or
made prisoners the whole of the battalion.
Speckbacher, the other patriot named, was no less active. No sooner had
the signal of revolt appeared in the Inn than he set the alarm-bells
ringing in every church-tower through the lower valley of that stream,
and quickly was at the head of a band of stalwart Tyrolese. On the night
of the 11th he advanced on the city of Hall, and lighted about a hundred
watch-fires on one side of the city, as if about to attack it from that
quarter. While the attention of the garrison was directed towards these
fires, he crept through the darkness to the gate on the opposite side,
and demanded entrance as a common traveller. The gate was opened; his
hidden companions rushed forward and seized it; in a brief time the
city, with its Bavarian garrison, was his.