LECTURE V.FREDERICK.
WhileFrederick II., or as Prussians love to call him “Friedrich der Einzige,” had been brought up by a military martinet, and had gone through every step by which a Hohenzollern must climb the ladder of army rank, he had, in youth, exhibited so little aptitude for the pipe-clay of war, that few suspected how great his military achievements were to be. But Prince Eugene, then the greatest living soldier, whom young Frederick joined with the Prussian contingent in 1733, is said to have discovered in him that which he pronounced would make him a great general. Frederick had been a keen student of history, and there is nothing which trains the high grade of intellect and the sturdy character which a good leader must possess as birthright, as does the study of the deeds of the great captains, for out of these alone can that knowledge be gleaned, or that inspiration be caught, which constitutes the value of the art. The camp and drill-ground, however essential, teach but the handicraft, not the art, of war.
We all know how Frederick’s youth was passed: how his father sought to mould him into the ramrodpattern of a grenadier, and how he avoided the system by constant subterfuge. He was an intelligent, attractive lad, witty and imaginative, and possessed a reserve of character which grew abreast with his father’s harshness. As we know, Frederick William’s brutality finally culminated in an attempt to punish by death the so-called desertion of his son, to which his own cruelty and insults had impelled him. The succeeding years of retirement were full of active work, and no doubt gave Frederick the business training which in after life made him so wonderful a financier, as well as the opportunity for study; and perhaps the tyranny of his father added to his constancy and self-reliance as well as to his obstinacy, than which no character in history ever exhibited greater. Frederick William, before his death, understood his son’s make-up. Frederick ascended the throne in 1740, and from that day on he was every inch a king.
Frederick had certain hereditary claims to Silesia, in the validity of which he placed entire confidence, though no doubt his belief was colored by the desirability of this province as an appanage of the Prussian crown. Maria Theresa was in the meshes of the Pragmatic Sanction imbroglio. Frederick determined to assert his claims. He was, thanks to his father, equipped with an army drilled, disciplined, and supplied as none since Cæsar’s day had been, unconquerable if only the divine breath were breathed into it, and a well-lined military chest. Giving Austria short shrift, he marched across the border and in a few weeks inundated Silesia with his troops. From this day until 1763, when it was definitelyceded to him, Frederick’s every thought was devoted to holding this province. Nothing could wrest it from his grasp.
His first campaign, however, brought him near discomfiture. Field-Marshal Neipperg quite out-manœuvred Frederick, who, under the tutelage of old Field-Marshal Schwerin, had failed to carry out his own ideas, and cut him off from his supply-camp at Ohlau. Seeking to regain it, the Prussian army ran across the Austrians at Mollwitz (April 10, 1741). Here, but for the discipline of the Prussian infantry, the battle would have been lost, for the Prussians were tactically defeated. But these wonderful troops, drilled to the highest grade of steadiness, had no idea of being beaten. To them rout and disaster on all sides were as nothing. They stood their ground like a stone wall, and their five shots to two of the enemy’s finally decided the day. The young king had been hurried off the field by Schwerin when defeat was imminent.
This campaign taught Frederick that in war he must rely only on himself. He never after allowed one of his generals to hamper his movements. Counsel was neither asked nor volunteered. Frederick was distinct head of the Army and State.
Map for Seven Years’ War.
Map for Seven Years’ War.
In the second campaign the king advanced, with the French and Saxons, in the direction of Vienna. But these allies proved weak, and Frederick was fain to abandon his project. Prince Charles made his way around the king’s right flank and threatened his supplies. But Frederick took prompt advantage of this manœuvre, and at thebattle of Chotusitz (May 17, 1742) inflicted a stinging defeat on the Austrians. This ended the First Silesian War. Silesia became a Prussian province.
Frederick had learned good lessons. He had gained self-poise, and a knowledge of the hardships of war, the meannesses of courts, and the fact that he could trust no one but himself and his devoted legions. He was disenchanted. War was no longer a glory, but a stern, cold, fact. He had, however, won his point, and he proposed to maintain it, though he must give up the delights of his attractive French Court for the labors of his thoroughly German camp. He had found that his own conceptions of war ranged beyond the stereotyped routine of the Prussian army, though this indeed was not to be underrated. Silesia became valuable to Prussia beyond the wildest dreams of its worth by Austria, and, being allied by religion with North Germany, had every reason to remain satisfied and faithful.
It is generally assumed that great captains are fond of war for war’s sake, or for the lust of conquest. While often true, it was not so with Frederick. To none of the great captains was war so heartily distasteful. Not one was so fond of the pursuits of peace. The king had as marked a liking for the pleasures of literature, music, art, the companionship of clever men, and intellectual friction of all kinds, as any monarch who ever reigned. He cordially hated the hardships and mental strain of war. But Frederick would listen to no peace which should not leave him in possession of Silesia. His naturally inflexiblenature could entertain no other idea. And for this he would fight if he must.
During the two years’ peace which ensued, Frederick prepared for the war which he knew must occur whenever Maria Theresa felt strong enough to attempt to reconquer her lost province. He was abundantly ready for it when it came in 1744. Austria had as allies England, Saxony, Sardinia, and some of the lesser German States. Frederick had France, the Emperor, the Elector Palatine, and Hesse Cassel. As usual, Frederick opened with a sharp offensive. Prague was taken, and from here, the French agreeing to neutralize Prince Charles, who was in the Rhine country, the king undertook a second operation toward Vienna (Sept., 1744). But this was equally unlucky. The French were shiftless. Field-Marshal Traun was joined by Prince Charles, and the two drove Frederick from his purpose. Traun would not come to battle, but worried the king by restless manœuvring. The Prussians were fortunate to reach Silesia without a serious disaster. Frederick had this time learned that confederates were like broken reeds, and that he himself was his own best ally. With the wonderful frankness which characterized him, the king acknowledged the ability of Traun, and the good lessons he had learned from this opponent.
Elate Prince Charles, early next year (1745), invaded Silesia with seventy-five thousand men and descended upon its fertile plains with flying colors, intending to march on Breslau. The king made no attempt to stop his crossing the mountains. “If you want to catch a mouse, leave thetrap open,” quoth he, and lay in wait for him, with an equal force, behind Striegau Water. This time he was managing his own affairs. Prince Charles camped near Hohenfriedberg, unsuspicious of his vicinity (June 4). Silently, all night long, and with such precautions that he was not discovered, Frederick marched his men across the stream. His plan was perfectly worked out. Every man and officer had his orders by heart. Daylight had no sooner dawned than, with a tactical beauty of precision which reads like the meter of a martial poem, Frederick struck the Saxon left. Blow succeeded blow; battalion after battalion was hurled upon the enemy with a rapidity and certainty and momentum which the world had never yet seen. By eight o’clock—barely breakfast-time—the Saxons and Austrians were utterly overthrown. They had lost nine thousand killed and wounded, seven thousand prisoners, seventy-six standards, and sixty-six guns. Frederick’s whole performance—his first—had bordered on the marvellous.
The king followed the Austrians across the mountains. By careless detachments and small-war his forces fell to eighteen thousand men. Prince Charles had nearly forty thousand. Frederick was about to retire to Silesia, when Prince Charles surprised him, and appearing in rear of his right flank at Sohr, actually cut him off from his line of retreat. The prince had bagged his game. But not so thought Frederick, though his army stood with its back to the enemy. “They are two to one of us, but we will beat them yet, meine Kinder! You shall see!” exclaimed the king, and ordered a change of front of the army by a rightwheel of over one-half circle, under a fire of artillery enfilading the whole line. Fancy an army doing such a thing to-day! The manœuvre was completed in perfect order. Not a man left the ranks unless shot down. The line came into oblique order opposite the Austrian left. And no sooner in place than the king flung his squadrons and regiments up the heights against the Austrians, who stood curiously watching the strange evolution. So audacious and skilful was the whole affair, and so brilliant the Prussian fighting, that the king inflicted another telling defeat, with loss of eight thousand men, twenty-two guns, and twelve flags, on the Austrian army (Sept. 30). After some manœuvring, during the winter peace was made, and Frederick kept Silesia. This was the Second Silesian War.
Such was Frederick’s apprenticeship. He emerged from it the best tactician the world has ever seen. As a strategist he had yet made no great mark.
The First and Second Silesian wars were succeeded by a ten years’ peace, which Frederick used to the best advantage in military preparations. His army became the one perfect machine of Europe.
In 1756 came the Seven Years’ War. Maria Theresa had resolved to regain Silesia at any cost. We can barely glance at the leading events of each year. In 1756 Frederick had Field-Marshal Brown opposed to him. He took Dresden, and defeating Brown at Lobositz, he captured the Saxon army at Pirna (October). The year’s end saw Saxony under Frederick’s control. The campaign was in every sense deserving its success.
In 1757, France, Russia, and Sweden made common cause with Austria. England was Frederick’s one reliance, and aided him with money and an observation-army in Hanover. No less than one hundred millions of population were arrayed against his scant five millions, including Silesia. The allies put four hundred and thirty thousand men on foot, Frederick one hundred and fifty thousand. Always first in the field and retaining the offensive, Frederick advanced on Prague in three large concentric columns, setting the sixth of May for meeting there and beating the Austrians. So accurate were his calculations and their execution by his lieutenants, that in the bloody battle of Prague, on the very day set, he drove Prince Charles and Field-Marshal Brown into the city and sat down before it.
But Field-Marshal Daun was not far off with an army of relief of sixty thousand men. To meet this serious threat, Frederick, from his lines at Prague, could barely detach thirty-four thousand, and in the battle of Kolin (June 18), by a series ofcontretemps, in part due to the king’s hasty temper,—though he had attacked and handled Daun so roughly that the latter actually gave the order of retreat,—he was finally beaten and obliged to raise the siege. But Frederick shone in reverse far higher than in success. From not only the field of battle but from the siege-lines of Prague he retired deliberately, without a symptom of flurry, and unopposed.
He was none the less in a desperate strait. He had but seventy thousand men available. In his front were the victorious Austrians, one hundred and ten thousand strong,elate and confident. On his left were approaching one hundred thousand Russians, and these not only threatened Berlin, but an Austrian raiding party actually took the suburbs. On his right, a French and Imperial army of sixty thousand threatened Dresden. The king’s case was forlorn. But he utilized to the full his central position. Turning on the French, and marching one hundred and seventy miles in twelve days,—a remarkable performance at that date,—he reached their vicinity at Rossbach, beyond the Saale. Soubise outnumbered Frederick nearly three to one. But in a simply exquisite manœuvre the king took advantage of the enemy’s error in trying to cut him off by a wide flank march, fell upon their head of column, and in a bare half-hour disgracefully routed them, with loss of eight thousand men, five generals, and four hundred officers, seventy guns, and numberless flags (Nov. 5). Having performed which feat, he at once turned his face toward Silesia, whence came alarming rumors.
During his absence disaster had piled on disaster. The Duke of Bevern, left in command, had been driven back to Silesia, and the Austrians had captured Breslau and Schweidnitz, and proclaimed Silesia again part of Her Imperial Majesty’s dominions. There is something so heroic, so king-like, about Frederick’s conduct in the ensuing campaign, which culminated in the battle of Leuthen, that I cannot refrain from enlarging upon it, as typical of the man.
As the king proceeded on his way, the news of what had happened gradually reached his ears. There had been, God wot, enough already to tax Frederick’s manliness, andsuch great misfortunes were fit to overwhelm him. But the king’s mettle was indomitable. There was not an instant of pause or hesitation. The greater the pressure, the more elastic his mood and his method. And he had the rare power of making his lieutenants partake of his buoyant courage. Nothing was ever lost to Frederick till he had played his final card. He would rather die with his last grenadier at the foot of the Austrian lines than yield one inch of Silesia. His men marched in light order, leaving the heavy trains behind, and making no stops to bake the usual bread. The king rationed his army on the country. This was not the first instance, but it had been rare, and but partially done, and was a novelty in war. It is curious that so clear-sighted a man as Frederick did not expand the method, so important a factor in speed. But at that day, to sustain an army by foraging in an enemy’s country would have been considered an infraction of the laws of nations. The distance from Leipsic, nearly one hundred and eighty miles, was covered in fifteen days. At Parchwitz he met the troops brought from Breslau by Ziethen, some eighteen thousand men. This increased Frederick’s force to thirty-two thousand under the colors.
The king determined to attack Prince Charles whenever and wherever he should meet him. He called together his general officers and made them one of those stirring speeches which lead captive the heart of every soldier: “You know, Meine Herrn, our disasters. Schweidnitz and Breslau and a good part of Silesia are gone. The Duke of Bevern is beaten. There would be nothing left but for my boundless trust in you and your courage.Each of you has distinguished himself by some memorable act. These services I know and remember. The hour is at hand. I shall have done nothing if I do not keep Silesia. I intend, in spite of all the rules of art, to seek Prince Charles, who has thrice our strength, and to attack him wherever I find him. It is not numbers I rely on, but your gallantry and whatever little skill I myself possess. This risk I must take or everything is lost. We must beat the enemy, or perish every one of us before his guns. Tell my determination to your officers, and prepare the men for the work to be done. I demand of you and them exact obedience. You are Prussians, and will act as such. But if any one of you dreads to share my dangers, he may now have his discharge without a word of reproach.” The king paused. A murmur and the soldier’s look of pride were his answer. “Ah! I knew it,” said the king, “not one of you would desert me. With your help victory is sure!” After a few more words the king added, “I demand again exact obedience. The cavalry regiment which does not on the instant, on orders given, dash full plunge into the enemy, I will unhorse and make a garrison regiment. The infantry battalion which, meet it what may, pauses but an instant shall lose its colors and sabres, and I will cut the trimmings from its uniform. And now, goodnight. Soon we shall have beaten the enemy, or we shall never meet again.”
Having learned of the approach of the Prussian army, Prince Charles, relying on his vast preponderance of forces, left his intrenched camp at Breslau and marched out to meet the king. He felt certain ofvictory, as how could he otherwise? Had not Frederick been beaten at the last encounter and his territory overrun? He imagined that he would stand on the defence along the Katzbach. He little knew this iron-hearted king.
The Austrian van, with the bread bakery, was sent to Neumarkt. In his own advance, Frederick ran across this outpost and bakery and captured it. It was on a Sunday, and furnished the men a holiday dinner. He was glad to learn that the enemy had come out to meet him. Prince Charles, surprised at the Neumarkt incident, lost heart and retired to receive battle in front of Schweidnitz Water. The Austrian army was posted at Leuthen, extending from Nypern to Sägeschütz. The villages in its front were prepared for defence.
The king broke up from Neumarkt long before day. He was advancing by his right, in four columns, on the straight road toward Breslau. Prince Charles lay across his path (Dec. 5). In Frederick’s mind was nothing but the firm determination he had expressed to his officers. He proposed to attack the enemy on sight, and under any conditions. In boldness alone for him lay safety, and he never doubted himself or his men.
Leuthen Dec. 5, 1757.
Leuthen Dec. 5, 1757.
Riding with the vanguard, as was his wont in an advance, the king ran across a cavalry outpost at Borne. Quickly surrounding it, he captured almost the entire body. The few who escaped carried confused tidings back to Prince Charles, who believedthe king’s party to be only scouts. From here Frederick rode to the Scheuberg, from whence he could see the Austrian line, and gauge its strength. Careful to occupy this hill and a range of knolls running south from it and parallel with the Austrian line, the king speedily perfected his plan of battle. He was never at a loss. His vanguard he sent beyond Borne to engage the enemy’s attention. He knew the ground well. On the Austrian right it was swampy and unsuited to manœuvring. On their centre and left it was open and firm. The Austrian position, in two lines, had been well chosen, but, almost five miles long, was open to be broken by well-concentrated columns. Nadasti held the left, Lucchesi the right. Frederick filed his entire army off the main road in columns of platoons to the right, behind the swelling hills, and ployed his four columns of advance into two, which would thus become the firstand second lines when the column should wheel to the left into line. Upon doing this they were to advance in echelon and obliquely upon the Austrian left flank. On good manœuvring ground and with Prussian troops, the king felt confident that he could strike a formidable blow to the enemy.
Frederick’s officers and men had become familiar with this oblique order of attack, from the frequency of its use on the drill-ground and in battle. Its origin was Epaminondas’ manœuvre at Leuctra, but the details the king himself had introduced. The cumulative effect of the impact, acquiring power as every additional battalion came into line, was apt to impose strongly upon the enemy. And at the actual point of contact Frederick would have the larger force, though outnumbered three to one.
Prince Charles occupied Leuthen belfry. He could not see beyond the Scheuberg hills. The Prussian cavalry here he assumed to be the Prussian right wing, as it extended some distance south of the main road. The attention of Lucchesi was particularly called to the Prussian van of horse, and he conceived that the Austrian right was to be attacked in overwhelming numbers. He sent for reënforcements. These were denied him by Daun, who was second in command; but the request was repeated so urgently that Daun, finally convinced, moved the bulk of the cavalry and part of the reserve from the Austrian left over to the right, an operation requiring nearly two hours. Here was an unfortunate blunder to begin with. To read aright your enemy’s intentions savors of the divine.
The king’s columns soon emerged from the shelter of theScheuberg hills, opposite the strongly posted Austrian left. To the distant observer they appeared a confused mass, without form or purpose. But the king well knew how certainly, at the proper moment, his perfectly drilled battalions would wheel into line. Eye-witnesses state that the movement was conducted as if on parade; that the heads of columns remained absolutely even, and that the echeloning of the line was done at exact intervals. Each battalion followed the one on its right at a distance of fifty paces. The line was not only oblique from its echeloned character, but was formed at an angle to the Austrian front as well. The Austrian left was thrown back in a crochet. It was the salient of line and crochet which was to be the centre of attack. The manœuvre had lasted two hours. The Austrians had not budged.
It was one P.M. A battery of ten heavy guns was placed opposite the abatis which protected the Austrian left and shortly broke this down. Ziethen headed his cavalry for an attack upon the extreme left of the enemy, to complement that of the main line. Lest his own right should be turned, he reënforced it with some infantry troops. Nadasti had been weakened by the removal of his cavalry, but nothing daunted, he sallied out without waiting for Ziethen’s shock, and all but countered the Prussian blow. But though the Prussian horse, charging uphill, for a moment wavered, the infantry on its right was undisturbed. Nadasti was hustled back.
While the cavalry was thus advancing to the assault, the batteries posted by the king to sustain the attack of his infantry delivered an effective fire. Under its cover thePrussian regiments, despite the abatis which, now quite levelled, still retained them under fire, after a sanguinary struggle, broke the salient at its apex, while Ziethen turned its extreme left. The crochet was thus taken in double reverse, a battery of fourteen guns was captured, and the main line of the enemy was outflanked. It was barely two o’clock, but the left wing of the Austrians had been completely broken.
Prince Charles, alarmed, hurried troops and guns from the centre to the assistance of Nadasti; but the more came up the greater the confusion. Ziethen was taking whole regiments prisoners. Seeing that all efforts to rally the left were useless, and that Nadasti could probably retreat upon the centre while the Prussians were gathering for a second blow, the prince made a desperate effort to form a new line at Leuthen. Lucchesi moved forward by a left wheel. Nadasti fell back as best he might. Prince Charles posted a strong force in Leuthen churchyard as apoint d’appui.
The Prussian army was now advancing almost north. The new Austrian line lay at right angles to its first position, and, as drawn, encircled the village. The Prussians, within half an hour, attacked them in this new position. A bitter contest ensued around the churchyard and some windmills on the hills beyond. The Austrian line was badly mixed up. In places it was thirty to one hundred men deep, and the Prussian guns cut great furrows through the mass. Still the resistance was so stubborn that Frederick was compelled to put in his last man.
Meanwhile Lucchesi, whose misconception had causedthe defeat of the Austrian left, debouched with his cavalry upon the Prussian left, which was engaging the enemy on the west of Leuthen. This diversion was well intentioned and came near to being fatal. But the Prussian squadrons left by the king on the Scheuberg hills, emerging from their hiding when the Austrians had somewhat passed, fell smartly upon their flank and rear. Lucchesi was killed and his cavalry scattered; the flank of the enemy’s new line was thus taken in reverse, and the position soon made untenable. Prince Charles was compelled again to beat a hasty retreat.
A third stand was attempted at Saara, but to no effect. The defeated Austrians poured pell-mell over the bridges spanning Schweidnitz Water. The Prussian cavalry followed them some distance.
In this astonishing victory, which was won in three hours, the Prussian loss was six thousand two hundred killed and wounded out of thirty thousand men. The Austrians, out of over eighty thousand men, lost ten thousand in killed and wounded, and twelve thousand prisoners on the field of battle, fifty-one flags, and one hundred and sixteen guns. Within a fortnight after, nearly twenty thousand more men, left by Prince Charles at Breslau, were taken prisoners.
Prince Charles crossed the mountains and reached Königsgrätz with a force of but thirty-seven thousand men, of whom twenty-two thousand were invalided. So much alone was left of the proud army which was to give thecoup de graceto doughty Frederick.
By this victory, whose like had not been seen sinceCannæ, and which is, tactically considered, distinctly the most splendid of modern days, Frederick rescued himself from immediate disaster, and earned a winter’s leisure in which to prepare for the still desperate difficulties before him. The most threatening matter was the Russian army; the one comfort a subsidy from England. Pitt was clear-sighted in his help to the king.
Frederick is by no means as distinguished a strategist as Napoleon, but he is a more brilliant tactician. He was not a conqueror; he was a king defending his territory. While theoretically on the defensive, he kept the initiative and was always the attacking party. Surrounded as he was by enemies, his strategy was confined to selecting the, for the time, most dangerous opponent and making an uncompromising onslaught upon him. During the Seven Years’ War he was placed somewhat as was Napoleon in the campaign around Paris, in 1814, and flew from one margin of his theatre of operations to the other. But Frederick won; Napoleon lost. It was Frederick’s fortitude, unmatched save by Hannibal, which carried him through.
In 1758, true to his custom, Frederick took the field before the enemy and surprised him by a march into Moravia and a sudden siege of Olmütz. But Frederick, like Hannibal, was never happy in his sieges. This one was interrupted by Daun from Königsgrätz, and ended in the capture of one of Frederick’s convoys by the active partisan chieftain Laudon. Frederick was forced to retire, but he did so deliberately and with all his trains. One of the most remarkable qualities of the king was the dread heinspired, even in defeat. As the Romans avoided Hannibal, so the Austrians never ventured to attack Frederick in disaster. Napoleon by no means rose superior to misfortune in the manner of Frederick. In this instance the enemy attempted no pursuit, and to Daun’s utter consternation, instead of retreating on Silesia from whence he had come, Frederick made a forced march around the Austrian flank, captured and established himself in Daun’s own fortified camp, and there feasted his men on Daun’s supplies. He had absolutely checkmated the Austrian general. This turning of the tables almost provokes a smile. (July.)
From Königsgrätz, however, Frederick was soon called against the Russians, who had advanced as far into Prussian territory as Frankfurt. He marched rapidly northward, met the enemy at Zorndorf, and by a beautiful movement around their position established himself on their communications. Then with his thirty thousand men he boldly assailed the fifty thousand Russians strongly entrenched on Zorndorf heights (August 25). The Russians have always been stubborn fighters, but they now met a man who would not take less than victory. There ensued one of those horrible butcheries which these tenacious troops have so often suffered rather than yield. Frederick won the day, but it was with a loss of ten thousand four hundred killed and wounded out of his thirty thousand men,—more than one-third,—in a few hours, while the Russians lost twenty-one thousand men and one hundred and thirty guns. Frederick, however, from sheer exhaustion, allowed the Russians to retire without pursuit,and singularly enough he neglected to seize the Russian wagon-camp, which was absolutely under his hand. This was an undoubted error; but he had eliminated the most grievous danger from his problem, which was all he had in view.
He was now obliged to hurry back to draw Daun away from Dresden. This he accomplished; but Daun still stood athwart his path to Silesia, which the king must reach to relieve the siege of Neisse. In endeavoring to elude the enemy he ran across him at Hochkirch, and, in one of his not unusual fits of unreasonable obstinacy, sat down in a recklessly bad position within a mile of the Austrian front. Here he remained four days. “The Austrians deserve to be hanged if they do not attack us here,” said grim Field-Marshal Keith. “They fear us worse than the gallows,” replied the king. But just as Frederick was preparing a new flank march, Daun, who had ninety thousand men, fell upon the Prussian army of less than forty thousand, and, despite the best of fighting, fairly wrested a victory and one hundred guns from the king (Oct. 14). For all which Frederick retired from the field in parade order—merely shifted his ground, as it were—and again camped within four miles of the battle-field. “The marshal has let us out of check; the game is not lost yet,” quoth he. From here, within a few days, Frederick made another of his wonderful turning movements, and this time actually seized the road to Silesia. Thus in spite of a defeat and of numbers he had gained his point. The Austrians raised the siege of Neisse at the mere rumor of his approach, and this campaign of marvellousmarches left the king in possession of all that for which he had been contending.
But though Frederick had in every sense held his own, and had won battles such as the world had never yet seen, he had none the less lost ground. His three years’ hard fighting had robbed him of most of his trusted generals and the flower of his army. He had an inimitable knack of making recruits into soldiers, but these were not his old grenadiers, nor could his dead lieutenants be replaced. The Austrian troops were, on the contrary, distinctly improving. Their ranks contained more veterans, for, in their larger standing army, the losses of the Austrians did not decimate their battalions.
The king’s financiering during these years was remarkable. He never ran in debt. He always had money ahead. How he managed to arm, equip, supply, feed, and pay his men on less than eighty-five dollars per man per year, is beyond our comprehension. But he did it, and well too.
As 1759 opened, a cordon of over three hundred and fifty thousand men surrounded Frederick’s one hundred and fifty thousand. The king had, however, interior lines and undivided purpose. His difficulty in raising troops—and he had a press-gang in every country of Europe—obliged him to give up fighting for manœuvring, like Hannibal after Cannæ. He could afford battle only when he must wrench the enemy’s grip from his very throat. He remained in Silesia watching Daun, who induced the Prussians to advance into Brandenburg, by sending Soltikof some reënforcements under Laudon.
Frederick must parry this thrust at his heart. He marched on the allies and met them at Kunersdorf, and, though he had but half their force, he attacked them with his usual impetuous valor. But the king was over-impetuous that day. Ill luck beset him. His combinations would not work. He tore himself to shreds against the entrenchments and artillery of the enemy. He would have victory. Not until he had lost one-half his army, nineteen thousand out of forty-two thousand men, would he desist from repeated, obstinate assaults. He was the last to leave the field. No such stubborn fighting is elsewhere inscribed on the roll of fame. After the battle the king could assemble but three thousand men. The allies had been too roughly handled to pursue (Aug. 12).
For once despair seized poor Frederick. He thought the end had come. But his elasticity came to the rescue. In three days he was himself again. Every one was certain that Prussia was gone beyond rescue. Happily the allies were lax. Dresden was indeed lost, and Frederick was cut off by Soltikof and the Austrians from Prince Henry, who were on the confines of Saxony. But by a handsome series of manœuvres between him and the prince—as beautiful as any on record—he regained touch and reoccupied all Saxony except Dresden. And although he suffered another grievous blow, and again by his own obstinacy, as at Hochkirch, in the capture of twelve thousand men at Maxen, still Daunmade no headway, and the end of the fourth year saw the king where he was at the beginning.
The characteristic of 1760 was a series of wonderful manœuvres. Frederick, from Saxony, had to march to the relief of Breslau, threatened by Laudon. He had thirty thousand men. The enemy barred his passage (August) with ninety thousand, and the Russians were near by with twenty-four thousand more. Despite this fearful odds of four to one, despite the unwonted activity of the enemy, Frederick, by unheard-of feats of marching, the most extraordinary schemes for eluding his adversaries, strategic turns and twists by day and night, the most restless activity and untiring watchfulness, actually made his way to Silesia, beat the Austrian right at Liegnitz and marched into Breslau safe and sound, and with martial music and colors flying. No parallel exhibition of clean grit and nimble-footedness can be found. From Breslau as base, Frederick then turned on Daun in the Glatz region.
The Russians and Austrians now moved on Berlin, and while Frederick followed, Daun marched towards Saxony (October). The king by no means proposed to give up this province. To its fruitful fields he was indebted for too much in breadstuffs and war material for a moment peaceably to yield them up. His stubbornness had grown by misfortune. Knowing full well that failure meant the dismemberment of Prussia, he was ready to sacrifice every man in the ranks and every coin in the treasury, and himself fall in his tracks, rather than yield his point. This wonderful man and soldier was made of stuff which, like steel, gains quality from fire and blows.
The Berlin incident proved more bark than bite, and in the battle of Torgau, though Daun and the Imperialists had over one hundred thousand men to Frederick’s forty-four thousand, the king attacked their intrenchments and won a superb victory (Nov. 3).
For 1761, Frederick’s forces dropped to ninety-six thousand men. The enemy had the usual number. This, too, was a year of manœuvres, which are of the greatest interest to the soldier, but need volumes to relate. At the camp of Bunzelwitz, for the first time, Frederick resorted to pure defence. The result of this year left the king where he had been, save the capture of Schweidnitz by General Laudon. Frederick was fighting to keep Silesia, and the close of each year, through good and evil alike, saw him still in possession of the cherished province.
The winter of 1761–2 was one of great bitterness to the king. His health had broken down. On every hand the situation was clearly desperate. No prospect but failure lay before him. He led the life of a dog, as he said. Still the iron-hearted man ceased not for a moment his preparations. He was resolved to die with honor if he could not win. Had the outlook been promising in the extreme, he could not have labored more consistently, even if more cheerfully. “All our wars should be short and sharp,” says he; “a long war is bad for our discipline and would exhaust our population and resources.” The theory of the strategy as well as the battle evolutions of the king was the saving of time by skill and rapidity.
The death of the Czarina and accession of Peter III. gave Frederick a breathing-spell. This lasted but a shortwhile, when the death of Peter again changed the current. But the war from now on languished, and there finally came about a peace on the “as-you-were” principle. Frederick kept Silesia (1763).
Frederick had not been a strong boy, but in early manhood he had gained in physique. His life with troops had lent him a robustness of constitution equal to any drain or strain, and his wonderful determination drove him to ceaseless activity. Later in life he was troubled with gout. Even when seventy-three years old, and clinging to life by a mere thread, he never ceased daily, hourly work. His efforts were all for the good of Prussia, and his subjects recognized what he had done for the fatherland. Zimmermann, the Hanoverian physician, thus describes him in his oldage:—
“He is not of tall stature, and seems bent under his load of laurels and his many years of struggle. His blue coat, much worn like his body, long boots to above the knees, and a white snuff-besprinkled vest, gave him a peculiar aspect. But the fire of his eyes showed that Frederick’s soul had not grown old. Though his bearing was that of an invalid, yet one must conclude from the quickness of his movements and the bold decisiveness of his look, that he could yet fight like a youth. Set up his unimportant figure among a million of men, and every one would recognize in him the king, so much sublimity and constancy resided in this unusual man!”
And the same writer says of hispalace:—
“At Sans Souci there reigned such quiet that one might notice every breath. My first visit to this lonely spot wasof an evening in the late fall. I was indeed surprised when I saw before me a small mansion, and learned that in it lived the hero who had already shaken the world with his name. I went around the entire house, approached the windows, saw light in them, but found no sentry before the doors, nor met a man to ask me who I was or what I craved. Then first I understood the greatness of Frederick. He needs for his protection not armed minions or firearms. He knows that the love and respect of the people keep watch at the doors of his modest abode.”
Frederick’s military genius was coupled with absolute control of his country’s resources. Though Gustavus Adolphus was both general and king, he was not an autocrat. The constitution of Sweden prescribed his bounds. In ancient days, only Alexander stood in the position of Frederick, and Cæsar, during the latter portion of his campaigns. Hannibal was always limited in his authority. Alexander, working in a far larger sphere, had personal ambitions and a scope which Frederick lacked, yet each worked for the good of his country. Frederick was not a conqueror. He fought to defend his possessions. His military education was narrow; his favorite studies and occupations essentially peaceful. But from history he had sucked the ambition to make more powerful the country which owed him allegiance, and he had digested the deeds of the great commanders as only a great soldier can. Unconscious of his own ability, necessity soon forced him to show what he was worth. Like the Romans, he laid down one rule: Never wait for your opponent’s attack. If you are on the defensive, let this be still of an offensive characterin both campaigns and battles. This rule he followed through life.
Frederick most resembled Hannibal. He possessed Hannibal’s virtue,—the secret of keeping a secret. He never divulged his plans. From the start he was a captain, and so he remained to the end. How did he learn his trade? Alexander and Hannibal learned theirs under Philip and Hamilcar in Greece and Spain. Cæsar taught himself in Gaul; Gustavus Adolphus, in Denmark, Russia, and Poland. But Frederick had had no opportunities, except to learn the pipe-clay half of the art of war. His five years’ retirement after his court-martial must have done for him more than any one ever knew. The fertility of his intelligence, and his power of applying what he learned, were the foundation of his skill. His first campaign advanced him more than a life of war does the greatest among others. The First Silesian War was a school out of which Frederick emerged the soldier he always remained.
That Frederick was not a warrior for the sake of conquest was well shown in his moderation after the First Silesian War. He demanded only his rights, as he understood them. And after the Second Silesian, and the Seven Years’ War, he asked no more than he got at the peace of Dresden, when he might have made far greater claims. Indeed, Frederick’s whole life showed his preference for the arts of peace. After the glamour of the first step had vanished, war was but his duty to Prussia.
Frederick had assimilated the theory of war from the history of great men; but its study was never a favoritepursuit. He was a born soldier. As Cæsar taught himself from ambition, so Frederick taught himself from necessity. What he did had not a theoretical but an essentially practical flavor. He rose to the highest intellectual and characteristic plane of the art, not by imitation of others, but by native vigor. Frederick had by heart the lesson of Leuctra and Mantinæa, but it required genius to apply the oblique order as he did it at Leuthen. No man has ever so perfectly done this. No one in modern times has had such troops.
Frederick placed war among the liberal arts. Perhaps the least straight-laced of any captain, he held that only broad principles can govern it; that the use of the maxims of war depends on the personality of the soldier and the demands of the moment. His “Instructions” to his generals set out Frederick’s whole art. It is full of simple, common sense; apt rules, practical to the last degree. But it was the man who made them so fruitful. Just because they do represent the man they are interesting in this connection.
Frederick is the first writer on the military art who goes to the root of the matter. He always wrote profusely,—most plentifully in bad French verse,—but his “Instructions” are admirable throughout. At the head of the paper stands this motto: “Always move into the field sooner than the enemy;” and this was his course in campaign and battle alike. He asked of the enemy a categoricalyesornoto his ultimatum, and uponnostruck an instant blow. So novel was Frederick’s quick decisiveness that he was at first looked upon in Europe as a rank disturberof the peace. But his was only the old Roman method revamped.
Underlying this rule was the good of Prussia. This motive he ground into his men’s souls. He demanded as a daily habit extraordinary exertions. His men must perform the unusual at all times. And “from highest officer to last private, no one is to argue, but to obey,” says he. A habit of obedience supplanted fear of punishment. The king’s zeal flowed down through every channel to the ranks. He was himself notoriously the hardest-worked man in Prussia, and his men appreciated the fact.
Next in importance to discipline comes the care of the troops. In his day subsistence tied armies down to predetermined manœuvres. Frederick carried his rations with him, and in his rapid movements made requisitions on the country, as Napoleon, a generation later, did more fully.
Then follows the study of topography. Positions were to Frederick only links in a chain, or resting places, but he ably utilized the lay of the land in his battles. He taught his generals, wherever they might be, to look at the surrounding country and ask themselves, “What should I do if I was suddenly attacked in this position?” He enunciated many maxims scarcely known at his day. “If you divide your forces you will be beaten in detail. If you wish to deliver a battle bring together as many troops as possible.” Frederick did not try to keep everything, but put all his energy into the one important matter. His was no hard and fast system. He did what was most apt. His battle plans were conceived instantly on the ground. What was intricate to others was simple to him and to thePrussian army. Frederick held Hannibal up as a pattern. “Always,” said the king, “lead the enemy to believe you will do the very reverse of what you intend to do.”
Minor operations are clearly treated of. In general themotifof these “Instructions” is attack and initiative. “Prussians,” said he, “are invariably to attack the enemy.” Close with him even if weaker. Make up for weakness by boldness and energy. He opposed passive defence. Every one of his battles was offensive. He complained, indeed, that he had to risk much all his life.
Frederick’s irrepressible courage under misfortune is equalled in history only by Hannibal’s. Fortune was not his servant as she was Alexander’s and Cæsar’s. He thanked himself for his good luck, or rather his successes were due to the fact that he made use of good luck when he had it, and threw no chances away. The magnificence of his warlike deeds is traceable almost solely to his own mental power and remarkable persistency. No danger or difficulty ever, in the remotest degree, changed his purpose or affected his reasoning power. It was this kept the ascendant on his side.
Despite sternest discipline, Frederick was familiar with his men, who knew him as Vater Fritz, and bandied rough jokes with him. “The Austrians are three to one of us, and stoutly entrenched,” said the king, riding the outposts before Leuthen. “And were the devil in front and all around them, we’ll hustle them out, only thou lead us on!” answered a brawny grenadier. “Good-night, Fritz.” He gained such personal love from his men that it seems to have been transmitted as a heritage of the Hohenzollerns.He spurred his men to the most heroic efforts, the most extraordinary feats of daring and endurance. As the complement to this quality, he infused in his enemies a dread of his presence. He utilized the mistakes they made and led them into still others, less from any system than by doing the right thing at the right moment. Strict rules aid only the minds whose conceptions are not clear, and whose execution lacks promptness. Rules were as nothing to Frederick. He observed them, not because they were rules, but because they were grounded on truths which his own mind grasped without them. He broke them when there was distinct gain in so doing. His operations against six armies surrounding him was based on his own maxim, that “Whoso attempts to defend everything runs danger of losing everything,” and he turned from one to the other, risking much to gain much. This idea of Frederick’s was a novel one in his century, whose warfare consisted in an attempt to protect and hold everything by fortresses and partial detachments. In working out this idea he is unapproached.
Frederick never allowed his enemies to carry out their own plans. His movements imposed limitations upon them. He impressed his own personality on every campaign. To carry his victuals with him enabled him to outmanœuvre them, for his enemies relied exclusively on magazines established beforehand. He could select his routes according to the exigencies of the moment, while they must keep within reach of their depots.
Tactically, Frederick stands highest of all soldiers. Strategically he was less great. In strategic movements,his brother, Prince Henry, did occasional work worthy to be placed beside the king’s. Tactically, no one could approach him. His method of handling the three arms was perfect.
Gustavus Adolphus had given new impulse to systematic, intelligent war. But what he did was not understood. His imitators jumbled the old and new systems. They placed too much reliance on fortresses and magazines, and on natural and artificial obstacles; they made strained efforts to threaten the enemy’s communications; they manœuvred for the mere sake of doing something and apart from any general plan; they avoided decisive movements and battles.
Frederick, by making his armies less dependent on magazines, acquired a freer, bolder, and more rapid style. The allies aimed to parcel out Prussia. Frederick met them with decision. Surrounded on all sides by overwhelming numbers, he was compelled to defend himself by hard knocks. And his individual equipment as well as the discipline of his army enabled him to do this with unequalled brilliancy. In all history there is no such series of tactical feats as Frederick’s.
Each captain must be weighed by the conditions under which he worked. We cannot try Alexander by the standard of Napoleon. While Napoleon’s battle tactics have something stupendous in their magnificence, Frederick’s battles, in view of numbers and difficulties, are distinctly finer. Frederick’s decisiveness aroused fresh interest in battle. Manœuvres now sought battle as an object, while sieges became fewer and of small moment.
All Europe was agog at Frederick’s successes, but no one understood them. Lloyd alone saw below the surface. As Gustavus had been misinterpreted, so now Frederick. Some imitated his minutiæ down to the pig-tails of his grenadiers. Some saw the cure-all of war in operations against the enemy’s flanks and rear. Some saw in detachments, some in concentration, the trick of the king. Only Lloyd recognized that it all lay in the magnificent personality of the king himself, that there was no secret, no set rule, no legerdemain, but that here again was one of the world’s great captains. The imitators of Frederick caught but the letter. The spirit they could not catch. Until two generations more had passed, and Lloyd and Jomini had put in printed form what Frederick and Napoleon did, the world could not guess the riddle.
His own fortresses were of importance to Frederick because his enemy respected them. But he paid small heed to the enemy’s. He could strike him so much harder by battle, that he never frittered away his time on sieges, except as a means to an end. The allies clung to their fortified positions. Frederick despised them, and showed the world that his gallant Prussians could take them by assault.
This period, then, is distinguished for the revival of battles, and of operations looking towards battle. Of these Frederick was the author. Battles in the Seven Years’ War were not haphazard. Each had its purpose. Pursuit had, however, not yet been made effective so to glean the utmost from victory. No single battle in this period had remarkable results. Frederick’s battles weregenerally fought to prevent some particular enemy from penetrating too far into the dominions of Prussia. In this they were uniformly successful. But in the sense of Napoleon’s battles they were not decisive. The superior decisiveness of Napoleon’s lay in the strategic conditions and in his superiority of forces. No battles—as battles—could be more thoroughly fought out than Frederick’s; no victories more brilliant.
Frederick not only showed Europe what speed and decision can do in war, but he made many minor improvements in drill, discipline, and battle-tactics. He introduced horse-artillery. His giving scope to such men as Seydlitz and Ziethen made the Prussian cavalry a model for all time. He demonstrated that armies can march and operate continuously, with little rest, and without regard to seasons. Light troops grew in efficiency. War put on an aspect of energetic purpose, but without the ruthless barbarity of the Thirty Years’ War.
No doubt Napoleon, at his best, was the greater soldier. But Napoleon had Frederick’s example before him, as well as the lessons of all other great captains by heart. Napoleon’s motive was aggressive; Frederick’s, pure defence. Hence partly the larger method. But Frederick in trial or disaster was unspeakably greater than Napoleon, both as soldier and man.
In the forty-six years of his reign Frederick added sixty per cent. to the Prussian dominion, doubled its population, put seventy million thalers in its treasury, and created two hundred thousand of the best troops in existence. Prussia had been a small state, which the powers of Europe unitedto parcel out. He left it a great state, which all Europe respected, and planted in it the seed which has raised its kings to be emperors of Germany. This result is in marked contrast to what Napoleon’s wars did for France.
Whoever, under the sumptuous dome of the Invalides, has gazed down upon the splendid sarcophagus of Napoleon, and has stepped within the dim and narrow vault of the plain old garrison church at Potsdam, where stand the simple metal coffins of Frederick the Great and of his father, must have felt that in the latter shrine, rather than the other, he has stood in the presence of the ashes of a king.
Whatever may be said of Frederick’s personal method of government, or of the true Hohenzollern theory that Prussia belonged to him as an heritage to make or to mar as he saw fit, it cannot be denied that he was true to the spirit of his own verses, penned in the days of his direstdistress:—