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 “Your excellency does not know that wily enemy, the King
of Prussia, as well as I do. By no means get into a battle with
him. Cautiously manœuvre about. Detain him there till I have
got my stroke in Saxony done. Don’t try fighting him.
“Daun.”

Frederick, with grim humor characteristic of him, sent back the

courier with the following response, as if from the Russian general,
signed Fermor, but in the king’s handwriting:

“Your excellency was right to warn me against a cunning

enemy whom you know better than I. Here have I tried
fighting him, and have got beaten. Your unfortunate
Fermor.”

CAMPAIGN OF HOCHKIRCH.
 On the 12th of September Frederick dined with his brother
Henry in Dresden. General Daun, as soon as he heard of the
approach of the foe whom he so much dreaded, rapidly retreated
eastward to Stolpen, on the road to Bautzen. Here he intrenched
himself in one of the strongest posts in Germany. As Frederick, at
Dresden, received his supplies from Bautzen, he was much
embarrassed in having his line of communication thus cut. Finding all
his efforts vain to provoke Daun to a battle, after four weeks of such
endeavors, he loaded his baggage trains with supplies for nine days,
and by a rapid march, brushing away in the movement Daun’s right
flank, and advancing through Bautzen, established himself among
the hills of Hochkirch. He had thus taken position thirty miles east of
General Daun’s encampment at Stolpen, cutting off his line of supply.
This movement of Frederick took place on the 1st of October,
1758. On the 5th, General Daun, who stood in great dread of the
military ability of his foe, after holding a council of war, made a
stealthy march, in a dark and rainy night, a little to the south of
Frederick’s encampment, and took a strong position about a mile
east of him, at Kittlitz, near Löbau. With the utmost diligence he
reared intrenchments and palisades to guard himself from attack by
a foe whom he outnumbered more than two to one. He thus again
blocked Frederick’s direct communication with Silesia.
General Daun’s army, numbering ninety thousand men, occupied
very strong positions in a line extending north and south about five
miles. On the 10th, Frederick, having obtained the needful supplies,
resolutely, rashly—but, situated as he was, what the world deemed
rashness was prudence—advanced with but twenty-eight thousand
men to assail this foe of ninety thousand behind his intrenchments.
About five miles to the north, in the rear of the heights of
Weissenberg, Frederick had a reserve of ten or twelve thousand men
under General Retzow.
As the Prussian king brought up his little army to within a mile of
the lines of General Daun, and ordered the troops to take position
there, his boldest generals were appalled. It seemed to be courting
sure and utter destruction. The king’s favorite adjutant general,
Marwitz, ventured to remonstrate against so fearful a risk. He was
immediately ordered under arrest. The line was formed while the
Austrian cannon were playing incessantly upon it. General Retzow,
who for some cause had failed to seize the heights of Stromberg,
was also placed under arrest. Thus the king taught all that he would
be obeyed implicitly and without questioning.
General Keith, as he looked upon the long and compact lines of
General Daun, and saw how apparently easy it would be for him,
from his commanding position, to annihilate the Prussian army, said
to the king, sadly,
“If the Austrians do not attack us here they deserve to be
hanged.”
The king coolly replied, “We must hope that they are more afraid
of us than even of the gallows.”
On Friday, the 13th of October, the two hostile armies, separated
merely by a brook and a ravine, were within half a mile of each
other. Daun had manifested great timidity in not venturing from
behind his intrenchments to attack the little band of Prussians.
Frederick, emboldened by this cowardice on the part of his
opponent, made his arrangements to assail the Austrians in a secret
attack before the dawn of the morning of Saturday, the 14th. In the
mean time, Daun, probably a little ashamed of being held at bay by
so small a force, formed his plan to surround and destroy the whole
Prussian army. It is generally conceded by military critics that the
plan was admirably conceived, and would have been triumphantly
executed but for the singular ability displayed by Frederick.
General Daun directed the energies of his ninety thousand
troops upon the right wing of the Prussians, which could not number
more than twenty thousand men. As soon as it was dark on Friday
night, the 13th, he sent thirty thousand men, under guides familiar
with every rod of the country, by a circuitous route, south of the
Prussian lines, through forest roads, to take position on the west of
the Prussian right wing, just in its rear. General Daun himself
accompanied this band of picked men.
At three o’clock of a dark and misty morning, the Austrians from
the west, the south, and the east rushed upon the sleeping
Prussians. At the same time, an attack was made upon the left wing
of the Prussians, which was a feint to bewilder them, and to prevent
re-enforcements from being sent to the right wing. For five hours
there was a scene of tumult, confusion, and horror which can
neither be described nor imagined. The morning was dark, the fog
dense, and the Prussians, though ever on the alert, were taken by
surprise. No one in the army of Frederick thought either of running
or of surrendering. It was a hand-to-hand fight, with bayonets, and
sabres, and butts of muskets. Marshal Keith, after receiving two
bullet-wounds which he did not regard, was shot through the heart.
 BATTLE OF HOCHKIRCH, OCTOBER 14, 1758.

a a a. First Position of the Austrian Army. b b. Extreme Left, under Loudon. c c. Austrian
Reserve, under Baden-Durlach. d d d. Prussian Army. e e. The two main Prussian
Batteries. f. Ziethen’s Cavalry. g g. Prussian Vanguard, under Retzow. h h h. Advance of
Austrian Army. i. Right Wing, under D’Ahremberg. k k k. Position taken by the Prussians
after the battle.

As the morning dawned it was manifest to Frederick that the

battle was lost, and that there was no salvation for the remnant of
his troops but in a precipitate retreat. He had lost a hundred pieces
of cannon, nearly all of his tents and camp furniture, and over eight
thousand of his brave troops were either dead or captive. Though
the Austrians had lost about the same number of men, they had still
over eighty thousand left.
With wonderful skill, Frederick conducted his retreat about four
miles to the northwest. Here he took a strong position at
Doberschütz, and again bade defiance to the Austrians. Slowly,
proudly, and in perfect order he retired, as if merely shifting his
ground. His cavalry was drawn up as on parade, protecting his
baggage-wagons as they defiled through the pass of Drehsa. The
Austrians gazed quietly upon the movement, not venturing to renew
the attack by daylight upon such desperate men.
Though, as we may see from Frederick’s private correspondence,
he suffered terribly in these hours of adversity and peril, he assumed
in public a tranquil and even a jocose air. Meeting De Catt upon the
evening of that dreadful day, he approached him, smiling, and with
theatric voice and gesture declaimed a passage from Racine, the
purport of which was, “Well, here you see me not a conqueror, but
vanquished.”
While on the retreat, one of his aids approached him, and the
king, with a smile, said, “Daun has played me a slippery trick to-day.”
“I have seen it,” was the reply; “but it is only a scratch, which
your majesty will soon heal again.”
“Do you think so?” inquired the king.
“Not only I,” the aid replied, “but the whole army, firmly believe
it of your majesty.”
“You are quite right,” responded the king. “We will manage
Daun. What I lament is the number of brave men who have died this
morning.”
The next day he remarked, “Daun has let us out of checkmate.
The game is not lost yet. We will rest ourselves here for a few days,
then we will go to Silesia and deliver Neisse. But where are all your
guns?” he said, playfully, to an artilleryman, who stood, vacant, on
parade.
“Your majesty,” replied the gunner, “the devil stole them all last
night.”
“Ah!” said the king, gayly, “we must have them back from him
again.”
The fourth day after this dreadful defeat the king received the
tidings of the death of Wilhelmina. It was apparently the heaviest
blow he had ever encountered. The anguish which her death caused
him he did not attempt to conceal. In a business letter to Prince
Henry we find this burst of feeling:
“Great God! my sister of Baireuth, my noble Wilhelmina, dead;
died in the very hours while we were fighting here.”
The king, in a letter to Voltaire upon this occasion, writes:

“It will have been easy for you to conceive my grief when
you reflect upon the loss I have had. There are some
misfortunes which are reparable by constancy and courage,
but there are others against which all the firmness with which
one can arm one’s self, and all the reasonings of
philosophers, are only vain and useless attempts at
121
consolation. Of the latter kind is the one with which my
unhappy fate overwhelms me, at a moment the most
embarrassing and the most anxious of my whole life. I have
not been so sick as you have heard. My only complaints are
colics, sometimes hemorrhoidal, and sometimes nephritic.
“If it had depended upon me, I would willingly have
devoted myself to that death which those maladies sooner or
later bring upon one, in order to save and prolong the life of
her whose eyes are now closed. I beseech you never to
forget her. Collect all your powers to raise a monument to her
honor. You need only do her justice. Without any way
abandoning the truth, she will afford you an ample and
beautiful subject. I wish you more repose and happiness than
falls to my lot.
122
Frederick.”

The court at Vienna received with transports of joy the tidings of

the victory of Hochkirch. The pope was greatly elated. He regarded
the battle as one between the Catholic and Protestant powers. The
holy father, Clement XIII., sent a letter of congratulation to Marshal
Daun, together with a sword and hat, both blessed by his holiness.
The occurrence excited the derision of Frederick, who was afterward
accustomed to designate his opponent as “the blessed general with
the papal hat.” Frederick remained at Doberschütz ten days. During
this time his brother Henry joined him from Dresden with six
thousand foot and horse. This raised his force to a little above thirty
thousand men. General Finck was left in command of the few
Prussian troops who remained for the defense of the capital of
Saxony.
The Austrian general, flushed with victory, at the head of eighty
thousand troops, encamped in strong positions a few miles east of
Frederick, on the road to Neisse, in Silesia. Narrowly he watched the
movements of his Prussian majesty, but he did not venture to molest
him. Neisse was at that time closely besieged by the Austrians. It
would inevitably soon fall into their hands unless Frederick could
march to its succor. The great strategic object of the Austrian
commander was so to block up the road as to prevent the advance
of the Prussian troops. Frederick, despising the inactivity of his
cautious foe, said to his brother,
“Daun has thrown up his cards, so the game is not yet lost. Let
us repose ourselves for some days, and then go to the assistance of
123
Neisse.”
In the mean while, Marshal Daun was so confident that
Frederick, with but thirty thousand men, could not drive him from his
intrenchments, guarded by eighty thousand veteran troops, that he
wrote to General Harsch, who was conducting the siege of Neisse,
“Go on quietly with your siege. I have the king within my grasp.
He is cut off from Silesia except by attacking me. If he does that, I
124
hope to give you a good account of what happens.”
On Tuesday evening, October 24, 1758, Frederick, in a rapid and
secret march, protected by darkness, pushed his whole army around
the right wing of the Austrian encampment, and took a very strong
position at Reichenbach, in the rear of Marshal Daun, and on the
road to Neisse. The Austrian general, astonished at this bold and
successful manœuvre, now found that the march of Frederick to
Neisse could by no possibility be prevented except by attacking him
on his own chosen ground. This he did not dare to do. He therefore
resolved to make a rush with his whole army to the west for the
capture of Dresden. Frederick, in the mean time, by forced marches,
was pressing forward to the east for the relief of Neisse. Thus the
two armies were flying from each other in opposite directions.
When the Austrian general conducting the siege at Neisse heard
of the rapid approach of Frederick, he, in consternation, blew up
many of his works, abandoned several guns, and, on the 6th of
November, fled with his army over the hills to the south, to take
shelter in Austria. Frederick triumphantly entered Neisse, and,
having driven the Austrians from every outpost, commenced, with a
recruited army, his return march to Dresden. The more slow-footed
Daun did not reach Dresden till the 8th of the month. The city,
outside of the walls, was crowded with the dwellings of the more
respectable citizens, and the beautiful mansions of the wealthy. The
King of Poland was Elector of Saxony, and was in alliance with
Austria. For the Austrian commander to pursue any measure which
should lead to the destruction, in whole or in part, of this beautiful
capital, would inflict a terrible blow upon the subjects of the ally of
Austria.
As General Daun approached the city, the Prussian general who
had been left in command of the small garrison there sent word to
him that, should he menace Dresden with his forces, the Prussian
commander would be under the necessity of setting fire to the
suburbs, as a measure of self-defense. Daun, expostulating
vehemently against so cruel an act, regardless of the menace,
approached the city on the 9th of November, and at midnight
commenced rearing his batteries for the bombardment. In the mean
time the Prussian general had filled many of the largest houses with
combustibles. As the clock struck three in the morning the torch was
applied. The unhappy inhabitants had but three hours’ notice that
their houses were to be surrendered to destruction. Instantly the
flames burst forth with terrific fury in all directions. Sir Andrew
Mitchel, who witnessed the conflagration, writes:
 “The whole suburb seemed on a blaze. Nay, you would have said
the whole town was environed in flames. I will not describe to your
lordship the horror, the terror, the confusion of this night; the
wretched inhabitants running with their furniture toward the great
garden. All Dresden, in appearance, girt with flames, ruin, and
smoke.”
The army of General Daun, with its re-enforcements, amounted
to one hundred thousand men. The Prussian garrison in the city
numbered but ten thousand. The Prussian officer then in command,
General Schmettau, emboldened by the approach of Frederick,
repelled all proposals for capitulation.
“I will defend myself,” he said, “by the known rules of war and
honor to the last possible moment.”
On the 15th of November Frederick arrived at Lauban, within a
hundred miles of Dresden. General Daun immediately raised the
siege and retired into Bohemia. Frederick marched triumphantly into
the city. Thus, as the extraordinary result of the defeat at Hochkirch,
Frederick, by the exhibition of military ability which astonished
Europe, regained Neisse, retained Dresden, and swept both Silesia
and Saxony entirely free of his foes. Frederick remained in Dresden
about a month. He then retired to Breslau, in Silesia, for winter
quarters. The winter was a very sad one to him. Private griefs and
125
public calamities weighed heavily upon his heart. Though during
the year he had destroyed a hundred thousand of his enemies, he
had lost thirty thousand of his own brave little band. It was almost
impossible, by any energies of conscription, to replace this waste of
war. His treasury was exhausted. Though he wrenched from the
wretched Saxons every dollar which military rapacity and violence
could extort from them, still they were so impoverished by the long
and desolating struggle that but little money could be found in the
almost empty purses of a beggared people. Another campaign was
soon to open, in which the allies, with almost unlimited resources of
men and treasure, would again come crowding upon him in all
directions in overpowering numbers.
 In a letter to his friend Lord Marischal, dated Dresden,
November 23, 1758, just after the retreat of Daun into Bohemia
from Saxony, Frederick writes sadly,
“There is nothing left for us, my dear lord, but to mingle and
blend our weeping for the losses we have had. If my head were a
fountain of tears, it would not suffice for the grief I feel.
“Our campaign is over. And there is nothing come of it on the
one side or the other but the loss of a great many worthy people,
the misery of a great many poor soldiers crippled forever, the ruin of
some provinces, and the ravage, pillage, and conflagration of some
flourishing towns. These are exploits which make humanity suffer;
sad fruits of the wickedness and ambition of certain people in power,
who sacrifice every thing to their unbridled passions. I wish you,
mon cher milord, nothing that has the least resemblance to my
destiny, and every thing that is wanting to it.”
Thus ended in clouds, darkness, and woe the third campaign of
the Seven Years’ War. The winter was employed by both parties in
preparing for a renewal of the struggle. As the spring opened the
allies had in the field such a military array as Europe had never seen
before. Three hundred thousand men extended in a cordon of posts
from the Giant Mountains, near the borders of Silesia, to the ocean.
In the north, also, Russia had accumulated her vast armies for
vigorous co-operation with the southern troops. All the leading
Continental powers—France, Austria, Russia, Sweden, and the states
of the German Empire—were combined against Prussia. England
alone was the inefficient ally of Frederick. Small sums of money
were loaned him from the British cabinet; and the court of St.
James, hostile in heart to the Prussian king, co-operated with him
only so far as was deemed essential for the promotion of British
interests.
Perhaps never before was a monarch surrounded by difficulties
so great. The energy and sagacity Frederick displayed have never
been surpassed, if ever equaled.
 It was a dreary winter to Frederick in Breslau. Sad, silent, and
often despairing, he was ever inflexibly resolved to struggle till the
last possible moment, and, if need be, to bury himself beneath the
ruins of his kingdom. All his tireless energies he devoted to the
Herculean work before him. No longer did he affect gayety or seek
recreations. Secluded, solitary, sombre, he took counsel of no one.
In the possession of absolute power, he issued his commands as
with the authority of a god.
Frederick made several unavailing efforts during the winter to
secure peace. He was weary of a war which threatened his utter
destruction. The French were also weary of a struggle in which they
encountered but losses and disgraces. England had but little to hope
for from the conflict, and would gladly see the exhaustive struggle
brought to a close.
“Many men in all nations long for peace. But there are three
women at the top of the world who do not. Their wrath, various in
quality, is great in quantity, and disasters do the reverse of
126
appeasing it.”
Of these three women who then held the destinies of Europe in
their hands, one only, Maria Theresa, in the estimation of the public,
had good cause for war. Frederick was undeniably a highway robber,
seeking to plunder her. She was heroically, nobly struggling in self-
defense. The guilty Duchess of Pompadour, who, having the entire
control of the infamous king, Louis XV., was virtually the Empress of
France, stung by an insult from Frederick, did not hesitate to deluge
Europe in blood, that she might take the vengeance of a “woman
scorned” upon her foe. Catharine II., Empress of Russia, who in
moral pollution rivaled the most profligate of kings—whom Carlyle
satirizes as “a kind of she Louis XIV.”—also stung by one of
Frederick’s witty and bitter epigrams, was mainly impelled by
personal pique to push forth her armies into the bloody field.
The impartial student of history must admit that, were the
government of the world taken from the hands of men, and placed
in the hands of women, still the anticipated millennium of
righteousness and peace might be far distant.
In the following letter, which Frederick wrote at this time to his
friend D’Argens, he unbosoms his sorrows with unusual frankness.
The letter was dated Breslau, March 1, 1759:
“I have passed my winter like a Carthusian monk. I dine alone. I
spend my life in reading and writing, and I do not sup. When one is
sad, it becomes, at last, too burdensome to hide one’s grief
continually. It is better to give way to it than to carry one’s gloom
into society. Nothing solaces me but the vigorous application
required in steady and continuous labor. This distraction does force
one to put away painful ideas while it lasts. But alas! no sooner is
the work done than these fatal companions present themselves
again, as if livelier than ever. Maupertuis was right; the sum of evil
does certainly surpass that of good. But to me it is all one. I have
almost nothing more to lose; and my few remaining days—what
matters it much of what complexion they be?”
During this dismal winter of incessant and almost despairing
labor the indefatigable king wrote several striking treatises on
military affairs. It is manifest that serious thoughts at times occupied
his mind. He doubtless reflected that if there were a God who took
any cognizance of human affairs, there must be somewhere
responsibility to Him for the woes with which these wars were
desolating humanity. To the surprise of De Catt, the king presented
him one evening with a sermon upon “The Last Judgment,” from his
own pen. He also put upon paper his thoughts “On the new kind of
tactics necessary with the Austrians and their allies.” He seems
himself to have been surprised that he had been able so long to
resist such overpowering numbers. In allusion to the allies he writes:
“To whose continual sluggishness and strange want of concert—
to whose incoherency of movements, languor of execution, and
other enormous faults, we have owed, with some excuse for our
127
own faults, our escape from destruction hitherto.”
 CHAPTER XXX.
FOURTH CAMPAIGN OF THE SEVEN YEARS’
WAR.

Desperate Exertions of Frederick.—Aid from England.—Limited Resources.

—Opening of the Campaign.—Disgraceful Conduct of Voltaire.—Letter
to Voltaire.—An Act of Desperation.—Letter to Count Finckenstein.—
Frankfort taken by the Prussians.—Terrible Battle of Kunersdorf.—
Anguish of Frederick.—The Disastrous Retreat.—Melancholy Dispatch.—
Contemplating Suicide.—Collecting the Wrecks of the Army.—
Consternation in Berlin.—Letters to D’Argens.—Wonderful Strategical
Skill.—Literary Efforts of the King.

By the most extraordinary exertions, which must have almost

depopulated his realms of all the young men and those of middle
age, Frederick succeeded in so filling up his depleted ranks as to
have in the opening spring of 1759 two hundred thousand men in
field and garrison. Indeed, regardless of all the laws of nations, he
often compelled the soldiers and other men of conquered provinces
to enlist in his armies. How he, in his poverty, obtained the
pecuniary resources requisite to the carrying on of such a war, is to
the present day a matter of amazement.
England furnished him with a subsidy of about four million
dollars. He immediately melted this coin, gold and silver, and
adulterated it with about half copper, thus converting his four
millions into nominally eight millions. But a few weeks of such
operations as he was engaged in would swallow up all this. The
merciless conscription, grasping nearly every able-bodied man,
destroyed nearly all the arts of industry. The Prussian realms, thus
impoverished by war’s ravages and taxation, could furnish the king
with very meagre supplies. When the king invaded any portion of the
territory of the allies, he wrenched from the beggared people every
piece of money which violence or terror could extort. Wealthy
merchants were thrown into prison, and fed upon bread and water
until they yielded. The most terrible severities were practiced to
extort contributions from towns which had been stripped and
stripped again. Still violence could wrench but little from the skinny
hand of beggary. These provinces, swept by war’s surges year after
year, were in the most deplorable state of destitution and misery.
From the schedule which Frederick has given of his resources, it
seems impossible that he could have raised more than about fifteen
million dollars annually, even counting his adulterated coin at the full
value. How, with this sum, he could have successfully confronted all
combined Europe, is a mystery which has never yet been solved. It
was the great object of both parties in this terrible conflict to destroy
every thing in the enemy’s country which could by any possibility
add to military power. All the claims of humanity were ignored. The
starvation of hundreds of thousands of peasants—men, women, and
children—was a matter not to be taken into consideration. The
French minister, in Paris, wrote to Marshal De Contades on the 5th of
October, 1758,
“You must make a desert of Westphalia. With regard to the
countries of Lippe and Padeborn, as these are very fertile provinces,
you must take great care to destroy every thing in them without
exception.”
Early in the spring of 1759 the Prussian king had gathered the
main body of his troops in fortresses and strong positions in the
vicinity of Landshut, on the southwestern frontier of Silesia. The
enemy, under General Daun, faced him, in longer and denser lines,
equally well intrenched. At the same time, powerful bands of the
allies were in various parts of Europe, menacing the domains of
Frederick at every vulnerable point. The allies dreaded the prowess
of their foe. Frederick was compelled to caution by the exhaustless
numbers of his opponents. Thus for many weeks neither party
entered upon any decisive action. There was, however, an almost
incessant series of fierce and bloody skirmishes.
The ability which Frederick displayed in striking his enemies
where they would most keenly feel the infliction, and in warding off
the blows they attempted in return, excited then the surprise of
Europe, and has continued to elicit the astonishment of posterity. It
would but weary the reader to attempt a description of these
conflicts at the outposts, terrible as they often were.
During this time, in May, the king wrote a very bitter and satirical
ode against Louis XV.—“the plaything of the Pompadour,” “polluted
with his amours,” “and disgracefully surrendering the government of
his realms to chance.” The ode he sent to Voltaire. The unprincipled
poet, apprehending that the ode might come to light, and that he
might be implicated, treacherously sent it to the prime minister, the
Duke De Choiseul, to be shown to the king. At the same time, he
wrote to Frederick that he had burned the ode. In the account which
Voltaire himself gives of this disgraceful transaction, he writes:
“The packet had been opened. The king would think I was guilty
of high treason, and I should be in disgrace with Madame De
Pompadour. I was obliged, in order to prevent my ruin, to make
known to the court the character and conduct of their enemy.
“I knew that the Duke De Choiseul would content himself with
persuading the King of France that the King of Prussia was an
irreconcilable enemy, whom it was therefore necessary, if possible,
to annihilate.
“I wrote to Frederick that his ode was beautiful, but that he had
better not make it public, lest it should close all the avenues to a
reconciliation with the King of France, incense him irremediably, and
thus force him to strain every nerve in vengeance.
“I added that my niece had burned his ode from fear that it
should be imputed to me. He believed me and thanked me; not,
however, without some reproaches for having burned the best
128
verses he had ever made.”
The latter part of June, an army of a hundred thousand
Russians, having crossed the Vistula, was concentrated, under
General Soltikof, at Posen, on the River Warta, in Poland. They were
marching from the northeast to attack the Prussian forces near
Landshut in their rear. General Daun, with a still larger force of
Austrians, was confronting Frederick on the southwest. The plan of
the allies was to crush their foe between these two armies. Frederick
had lost the ablest of his generals. The young men who were filling
their places were untried.
The Russians, triumphantly advancing, entered Silesia, and
reached Crossen, on the Oder, within a hundred miles of Frederick’s
encampment.
Some trifling unavailing efforts had been made for peace. In
reply to a letter from Voltaire, alluding to this subject, Frederick
wrote, under date of 2d July, 1759:
“Asking me for peace is indeed a bitter joke. It is to Louis XV.
129
you must address yourself, or to his Amboise in petticoats. But
these people have their heads filled with ambitious projects. They
wish to be the sovereign arbiters of sovereigns. That is what persons
of my way of thinking will by no means put up with. I like peace as
much as you could wish, but I want it good, solid, and honorable.
Socrates or Plato would have thought as I do on this subject had
they found themselves in the accursed position which is mine in the
world.
“Think you there is any pleasure in living this dog’s life, in seeing
and causing the butchery of people you know nothing of, in losing
daily those you do know and love, in seeing perpetually your
reputation exposed to the caprices of chance, passing year after
year in disquietudes and apprehensions, in risking without end your
life and your fortune?
 “I know right well the value of tranquillity, the sweets of society,
the charms of life. I love to be happy as much as any one whatever.
But, much as I desire these blessings, I will not purchase them by
baseness and infamies. Philosophy enjoins us to do our duty
faithfully, to serve our country at the price of our blood, of our
130
repose, and of every sacrifice which can be required of us.”
Soon after this Frederick dispatched a young and impetuous
officer, General Wedell, invested with dictatorial powers, at the head
of twenty-six thousand men, to attack the Russian army, at every
hazard, and arrest its march. The heroic little band of Prussians met
the Russians at Züllichau. One of General Wedell’s officers
remonstrated against the attack.
“The risk is too great,” said he; “Soltikof has seventy thousand
men, and no end of artillery. We have but twenty-six thousand, and
know not that we can bring a single gun to where Soltikof is.”
Still the order was given for the assault. The Prussians plunged
into the dense ranks of their foes, regardless of being outnumbered
nearly three to one. A terrible battle was fought. General Wedell was
overpowered and beaten. He retreated across the Oder, having lost
six thousand men in killed, wounded, and prisoners. The victorious
Russians did not pursue him. They marched down the river to
Frankfort, where they effected a junction with other troops, giving
them an effective force of ninety-six thousand fighting men.
Frederick received the disastrous news on the 24th of July, the
day after the calamity. In the exercise of an unusual spirit of
forbearance, he sent word to the defeated general, “It is not your
fault; I dreaded something of the kind.” The king’s brother Henry
was in command of a few thousand men near Bautzen, in Saxony.
Frederick wrote to him to forward his troops immediately, so as to
form a union with the retreating army under Wedell. Henry himself
was to repair to the vicinity of Landshut, and take command of the
army which was to be left in that vicinity confronting General Daun.
The king took about thirty thousand picked troops, and hurried to
the north to gather up by the way the troops of Henry and of
Wedell, and with that combined force of forty-eight thousand men
131
make a new attack upon the ninety-six thousand Russians.
It was an act of desperation. The king fully appreciated its peril.
But the time had long since passed when he could rely upon the
ordinary measures of prudence. In despair was his only hope.
On the 29th of July the king joined his brother Henry at Sagan,
on the Bober, about sixty miles above or south of Frankfort. The
marches which had been effected by the king and his brother were
the most rapid which had then ever been heard of. Greatly perplexed
by the inexplicable movements of the Russians, the king pressed on
till he effected a junction with the remnant of Wedell’s defeated
army, near Müllrose, within twelve miles of Frankfort. He reached
this place on the 3d of August. To Count Finckenstein he wrote:

“I am just arrived here after cruel and frightful marchings.

There is nothing desperate in all that. I believe the noise and
disquietude this hurly-burly has caused will be the worst of it.
Show this letter to every body, that it may be known that the
state is not undefended. I have made about one thousand
132
prisoners from Haddick. All his meal-wagons have been
133
taken. Finck, I believe, will keep an eye on him. This is all I
can say. To-morrow I march to within two leagues of
Frankfort. Katte must instantly send me two hundred tons of
meal and one hundred bakers. I am very tired. For six nights
I have not closed an eye. Farewell.
F.”

The Russians, with empty meal-wagons and starving soldiers,

had taken possession of Frankfort-on-the-Oder on the 29th of July.
The city contained twelve thousand inhabitants. The ransom which
the Russian general demanded to save the city from pillage by the
Cossacks was four hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Pillage by the
Cossacks! No imagination can conceive the horrors of such an event.
Nearly one hundred thousand men, frenzied with intoxication, brutal
in their habits, restrained by no law, would inflict every outrage
which fiends could conceive of. Well might fathers and mothers, sons
and daughters, turn pale and feel the blood curdle in their veins at
the thought. Four hundred and fifty thousand dollars ransom! That
was nearly forty dollars for each individual, man, woman, and child!
Compliance with the demand was impossible. Frankfort, in its
impoverishment, could by no possibility raise a tenth part of the
sum. Dreadful was the consternation. There was no relenting; the
money or the pillage!
With the utmost exertions, inspired by terror, thirty thousand
dollars were at length raised. The Russian general, Soltikof, naturally
a humane man, seeing, at the close of a week of frantic exertions on
the part of the magistrates of Frankfort, the impossibility of extorting
the required sum, took the thirty thousand dollars, and kept his
barbarian hordes encamped outside the gates.
 FREDERICK CROSSING THE ODER.

Frankfort is on the west side of the Oder. The Russian army was
encamped on the eastern side of the river. The force collected there
consisted of about seventy-eight thousand Russians and eighteen
thousand Austrians. Frederick had, by great exertions, gathered fifty
thousand troops to attack them. He was approaching Frankfort from
the southwest. In a secret midnight march he crossed the river by
bridges of boats some miles north of the city, near Cüstrin. At four
o’clock in the morning of the 11th of August his troops had all
accomplished the passage of the stream, and, to the surprise of the
Russians, were marching down upon them from the north.
Vastly superior as was the Russian army in numbers, General
Soltikof did not venture to advance to attack his terrible foe. He had
selected a very strong position on a range of eminences about one
hundred feet high, running for several miles in an easterly direction
from the river. Upon this ridge, which was called “the Heights of
Kunersdorf,” the Russian general had intrenched himself with the
utmost care. The surrounding country was full of bogs, and sluggish
streams, and a scraggy growth of tough and thorny bushes, almost
impenetrable.
Had the Prussian troops been placed on those heights, behind
that formidable array of ramparts, and palisades, and abatis, they
could with ease have repelled the assaults of three or four times
their number. But now they were to undertake the desperate
enterprise of advancing to the assault under the greatest
disadvantages, with one to attack where there were two to defend.
Frederick rapidly advanced from crossing the stream, and the same
evening, Saturday, August 11th, encamped at Bischofsee, at the
distance of about two miles to the northeast of the intrenched camp
of his foes. The king, accompanied by a small escort, rode forward
to the knolls of Trettin, and anxiously surveyed with his glass the
fearful array of his foes in their long, compact, well-defended lines,
arranged in an elongated irregular parallelogram.
About three o’clock the next morning, Sunday, August 12th,
Frederick’s army, in two columns, was again in motion. By a slightly
circuitous march through the dense forest the king placed his troops
in position to approach from the southeast, so as to attack the left
flank of the enemy, being the northern extremity of the
parallelogram.
I shall not attempt to describe the battle which ensued—so
bloody, so disastrous to the Prussians. It was, like all other
desperate battles, a scene of inconceivable confusion, tumult, and
horror. At eight o’clock in the morning, General Finck (who was in
command of the right wing of the Prussians) was in position to move
upon the extreme northern point of attack. It was not until half past
eleven that Frederick, in command of the main body of the army,
was ready to make a co-operative assault from the east. At the point
of attack the Russians had seventy-two cannons in battery. The
Prussians opened upon them with sixty guns. Templeton describes
the cannonade as the loudest which he had yet ever heard.
After half an hour of rapid and terrific fire, the Prussian troops
were ordered to advance and storm the works of the foe on the
Mühlberg Hill. Like wolves in the chase, these men of iron nerves
rushed forward through torrents of grape-shot and musket-shot,
which covered their path with the dead. In ten minutes they were in
possession of the hill-top, with all its batteries. The left wing of the
Russian army was thrown into a maelstrom whirl of disorder and
destruction. One hundred and eighty of the artillery pieces of the
enemy fell into the hands of the victors.
Frederick was overjoyed. He regarded the day as his own, and
the Russian army as at his mercy. He sent a dispatch to anxious
Berlin, but sixty miles distant: “The Russians are beaten. Rejoice
with me.” It was one of the hottest of August days, without a breath
of wind. Nearly every soldier of the Prussian army had been brought
into action against the left wing only of the foe. After a long march
and an exhausting fight, they were perishing with thirst. For twelve
hours many of them had been without water. Panting with heat,
thirst, and exhaustion, they were scarcely capable of any farther
efforts.
Just then eighteen thousand fresh Russian troops advanced
upon them in solid phalanx from their centre and their right wing. It
was nearly three o’clock in the afternoon. The fugitive Russians were
rallied. With new impetuosity the re-enforced band hurled itself upon
the Prussians. They speedily regained their hundred and eighty
guns, and opened upon the ranks of Frederick such torrents of
grape-shot as no flesh and blood could endure. Huge gaps were torn
through his lines. His men recoiled, whirled round, and were driven
pell-mell from the hill.
Thrice Frederick in person led the charge against the advancing
foe. He had three horses shot under him. A gold snuffbox in his
pocket was flattened by a bullet. His friends entreated him not thus
to peril a life upon which every thing depended. He was deaf to all
remonstrances. It is manifest that, in his despair, he sought a
soldier’s grave.
On came the Russians in ever-increasing numbers. Frederick’s
heavy artillery, each piece drawn by twelve horses, could not be
brought forward through the bogs, and the entangling woods, and
over the rugged heights. Though the Prussians fought with all the
energies mortal valor could inspire, and though the king flew from
post to post of peril and of death, animating his troops by voice and
gesture, and by his own reckless courage, it was all in vain. Hope
soon died in all hearts. The king was heard despairingly to exclaim,
“Is there not one bullet which can reach me, then?”
Frederick had seen many dark days before, but never one so
dark as this. In the frenzy of his exertions to retrieve the lost battle,
he cried out to his soldiers, his eyes being flooded with tears,
“Children, do not forsake me, your king, your father, in this pinch!”
The retreat became a flight. In endeavoring to cross the little stream
called the Hen-Floss, there was such crowding and jamming at the
bridges that the Prussians were compelled to leave one hundred and
sixty-five guns of various calibre behind them. Had the Russians
pursued with any vigor, scarcely a man of the Prussian army could
have escaped. But General Soltikof stood in such fear of his
opponent, who had often wrested victory out of defeat, that he
attempted no pursuit.
In broken bands the Prussians retreated down by the way of
Oetscher to the bridges at Göritz, where they had crossed the Oder,
and where their heavy baggage was stationed. Frederick was among
the last to quit the fatal field. As a swarm of Cossacks approached
the spot where he stood, a party of his friends charged them
fiercely, cutting to the right and left, and held them for a moment at
bay. One of Frederick’s adjutants seized the bridle of his horse, and
galloped off with the unresisting monarch.
At the bridges Frederick found but three thousand men of his
late army. The huts around were filled with the wounded and the
dying, presenting an aspect of misery which, in these hours of
terrible defeat, appalled his majesty. In one of these huts,
surrounded by mutilated bodies, groans, and death, Frederick wrote
the following dispatch to his minister (Finckenstein) at Berlin. It was
dated Oetscher, August 12, 1759:

“I attacked the enemy this morning about eleven. We

134
beat him back to the Jews’ Church-yard, near Frankfort. All
my troops came into action, and have done wonders. I
reassembled them three times. At length I was myself nearly
taken prisoner, and we had to quit the field. My coat is riddled
135
with bullets. Two horses were killed under me. My
misfortune is that I am still alive. Our loss is very
considerable. Of an army of forty-eight thousand men, I have
at this moment, while I write, not more than three thousand
together. I am no longer master of my forces.
In Berlin you will do well to think of your safety. It is a
great calamity. I will not survive it. The consequences of this
battle will be worse than the battle itself. I have no resources
more; and, to confess the truth, I hold all for lost. I will not
survive the destruction of my country. Farewell forever.
F.”
 BATTLE OF KUNERSDORF, AUGUST 12, 1759.

a a a. Russian Army. b b. Austrians, under Loudon. c c. Russian Abatis. d. Russian

Wagenburg. e e. Position of Prussian Army Evening of 11th. f f. Vanguard, under Finck.
g. Prussian Heavy Baggage. h. Attack of Prussian Grenadiers. i i. Prussian main Army.
k k. Finck’s Line of Attack.

Probably the reader will infer from the above letter that the king
felt that the hour had come for him to die, and that he intended to
resort to that most consummate act of folly and cowardice—suicide.
He had always avowed this to be his intention in the last resort. He
had urged his sister Wilhelmina to imitate his example in this
respect, and not to survive the destruction of their house. Ruin now
seemed inevitable. In the battle of Kunersdorf Frederick had lost, in
killed and wounded, nineteen thousand men, including nearly all the
officers of distinction, and also one hundred and sixty pieces of
artillery. The remainder of his army was so dispersed that it could
not be rallied to present any opposition to the foe.
Though General Soltikof had lost an equal number of men, he
was still at the head of nearly eighty thousand troops flushed with
victory. He could summon to his standard any desirable re-
enforcements. An unobstructed march of but sixty miles would lead
his army into the streets of Berlin. The affairs of Frederick were
indeed desperate. There was not a gleam of hope to cheer him. In
preparation for his retirement from the army, from the throne, and
from life, he that evening drew up the following paper, placing the
fragments of the army which he was about to abandon in the hands
of General Finck. By the death of the king, the orphan and infant
child of his brother Augustus William (who had died but a few
months before) would succeed to the throne. Frederick appointed
his brother Henry generalissimo of the Prussian army.
This notable paper, which reflects but little credit upon the
character of Frederick, was as follows:

“General Finck gets a difficult commission. The unlucky

army which I give up to him is no longer in a condition to
make head against the Russians. Haddick will now start for
136
Berlin, perhaps Loudon too. If General Finck go after
these, the Russians will fall on his rear. If he continue on the
Oder, he gets Haddick on his flank. However, I believe, should
Loudon go for Berlin, he might attack Loudon and beat him.
This, if it succeeded, would be a stand against misfortune,
and hold matters up. Time gained is much in these desperate
circumstances. Cöper, my secretary, will send him the news
 137
from Torgau and Dresden. You must inform my brother of
every thing, whom I have declared generalissimo of the army.
To repair this bad luck altogether is not possible. But what my
brother shall command must be done. The army swears to
my nephew. This is all the advice in these unhappy
circumstances I am in a condition to give. If I had still had
resources, I would have staid by them.
Frederick.”

It will be perceived that this paper is slightly less despairing than

the preceding letter which he had written to Count Finckenstein.
Frederick, having written the order to General Finck, threw himself,
in utter exhaustion, upon some straw in a corner of the hut, and fell
soundly asleep. The Prussian officers, passing by, gazed sadly
through the open door upon the sleeping monarch. A single sentinel
guarded the entrance.
The next morning Frederick crossed the river to Reitwein, on the
western bank. Here, during the day, broken bands of his army came
in to the number of twenty-three thousand. It would seem that a
night of refreshing sleep had so far recruited the exhausted energies
of the king that he was enabled to look a little more calmly upon the
ruin which enveloped him. He that day wrote as follows from
Reitwein to General Schmettau, who was in command of the
Prussian garrison at Dresden:

“You will, perhaps, have heard of the check I have met

138
with from the Russian army on the 13th of this month.
Though at bottom our affairs in regard to the enemy here are
not desperate, I find I shall not be able to make any
detachment for your assistance. Should the Austrians attempt
any thing against Dresden, therefore, you will see if there are
means of maintaining yourself; failing which, it will behoove
you to try and obtain a favorable capitulation—to wit, liberty
to withdraw, with the whole garrison, moneys, magazines,
hospital, and all that we have at Dresden, either to Berlin or
elsewhere, so as to join some corps of my troops.
“As a fit of illness has come on me, which I do not think
will have dangerous results, I have, for the present, left the
command of my troops to Lieutenant General Von Finck,
whose orders you are to execute as if coming directly from
139
myself. On this I pray God to have you in his holy and
worthy keeping.
F.”

FREDERICK ASLEEP IN THE HUT AT OETSCHER.

 The consternation at Berlin, as contradictory reports of victory
and defeat reached the city, was indescribable. M. Sulzer, an eye-
witness of the scene, writes under date of Berlin, August 13th, 1759:
“Above fifty thousand human beings were on the palace
esplanade and the streets around, swaying hither and thither in an
agony of expectation, in alternate paroxysms of joy, of terror, and of
woe. Often enough the opposite paroxysms were simultaneous in
the different groups. Men crushed down by despair were met by
men leaping into the air for very gladness.”
As we have mentioned, the Russian general had such a dread of
Frederick that he did not dare to pursue him. In his report of the
victory to the Czarina Charlotte, speaking of his own heavy loss of
over eighteen thousand men, he writes, “Your majesty is aware that
the King of Prussia sells his victories at a dear rate.” To some who
urged him to pursue Frederick, he replied, “Let me gain but another
such victory, and I may go to Petersburg with the news of it myself
alone, with my staff in my hand.”
Frederick remained at Reitwein four days. He was very unjust to
his army, and angrily reproached his soldiers for their defeat. It is
true that, had every soldier possessed his own spirit, his army would
have conquered, or not a man would have left the field alive. The
Russians, with almost inconceivable inactivity, retired to Lossow, ten
miles south of Frankfort-on-the-Oder. The king, having by great
exertions collected thirty-two thousand men, marched up the valley
of the Spree, and placed himself on the road between the Russians
and Berlin.
While on this march he wrote from Madlitz, under date of August
16th, to Marquis D’Argens, at Berlin:
“We have been unfortunate, my dear marquis, but not by my
fault. The victory was ours, and would even have been a complete
one, when our infantry lost patience, and at the wrong moment
abandoned the field of battle. The Russian infantry is almost totally
destroyed. Of my own wrecks, all that I have been able to assemble
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