With Frederick the Great: A Story of the Seven Years' War by G. A. Henty (parable of the sower read online txt) 📖

Nevertheless, by great diligence the Austrians had to some extent succeeded. Leuthen was the centre of the new position. Lucchesi was hastening up, while Nadasti swung backwards and tried, as he arrived, to form the left flank of the new position. All this was being done under a storm of shot from the whole of the Prussian artillery, which was so terrible that many battalions fell into confusion as fast as they arrived.

Leuthen, a straggling hamlet of over a mile in length, and with two or three streets of scattered houses, barns, farm buildings, and two churches, was crowded with troops; ready to fight but unable to do so, line being jammed upon line until sometimes a hundred deep, pressed constantly behind by freshly arriving battalions, and in front by the advancing Prussians. Some regiments were almost without officers.

Into this confused, straggling, helpless mass, prevented from opening out by the houses and inclosures, the Prussians, ever keeping their formation, poured their volleys with terrible effect; in such fashion as Drake's perfectly-handled ships poured their broadsides into the huge helpless Spanish galleons at Gravelines. With a like dogged courage as that shown by the Spanish, the Austrian masses suffered almost passively, while those occupying the houses and churches facing the Prussians resisted valiantly and desperately. From every window, every wall, their musketry fire flashed out; the resistance round the churchyard being specially stubborn. The churchyard had a high and strong wall, and so terrible was the fire from the roof of the church, and other spots of advantage, that the tide of Prussian victory was arrested for a time.

At last they made a rush. The churchyard gate was burst in, and the Austrians driven out. Leuthen was not yet won, but Frederick now brought up the left wing, which had till this time been held in reserve. These came on with levelled bayonets, and rushed into the fight.

The king was, as always, in the thick of the battle; giving his orders as coolly as if at a review, sending fresh troops where required, changing the arrangements as opportunity offered, keeping the whole machine in due order; and by his presence animating all with the determination to win or die, and an almost equal readiness to accept either alternative.

At last, after an hour's stubborn resistance, the Austrians were hurled out of Leuthen, still sternly resisting, still contesting every foot of the ground. Lucchesi now saw an opportunity of retrieving, with his great cavalry force, the terrible consequences of his own blunder, and led them impetuously down upon the flank of the Prussians. But Frederick had prepared for such a stroke; and had placed Draisen, with the left wing of the cavalry, in a hollow sheltered from the fire of the Austrian batteries, and bade him do nothing, attempt nothing, but cover the right flank of the infantry from the Austrian horse. He accordingly let Lucchesi charge down with his cavalry, and then rushed out on his rear, and fell suddenly and furiously upon him.

Astounded at this sudden and unexpected attack, and with their ranks swept by a storm of Prussian bullets, the Austrian cavalry broke and fled in all directions, Lucchesi having paid for his fault by dying, fighting to the last. His duty thus performed, Draisen was free to act, and fell upon the flank and rear of the Austrian infantry; and in a few minutes the battle was over, and the Austrians in full retreat.

They made, however, another attempt to stand at Saara; but it was hopeless, and they were soon pushed backwards again and, hotly pressed, poured over the four bridges across the Schweidnitz river, and for the most part continued their flight to Breslau. Until the Austrians had crossed the river the Prussian cavalry were on their rear, sabring and taking prisoners, while the infantry were halted at Saara, the sun having now set.

Exhausted as they were by their work, which had begun at midnight and continued until now without pause or break, not yet was their task completely done. The king, riding up the line, asked if any battalion would volunteer to follow him to Lissa, a village on the river bank. Three battalions stepped out. The landlord of the little inn, carrying a lantern, walked by the king's side.

As they approached the village, ten or twelve musket shots flashed out in the fields to the right. They were aimed at the lantern, but no one was hurt. There were other shots from Lissa, and it was evident that the village was still not wholly evacuated.

The infantry rushed forward, scattered through the fields, and drove out the lurking Croats. The king rode quietly on into the village, and entered the principal house. To his astonishment, he found it full of Austrian officers, who could easily have carried him off, his infantry being still beyond the village. They had but a small force remaining there and, believing that the Prussians had halted for the night at Saara, they were as much astonished as Frederick at his entrance. The king had the presence of mind to hide his surprise.

"Good evening, gentlemen!" he said. "Is there still room left for me, do you think?"

The Austrian officers, supposing, of course, that he had a large force outside, bowed deeply, escorted him to the best room in the house, and then slipped out at the back, collected what troops they could as they went, and hurried across the bridge. The Prussians were not long in entering, and very speedily cleared out the rest of the Austrians. They then crossed the bridge, and with a few guns followed in pursuit.

The army at Saara, on hearing the firing, betook itself again to arms and marched to the king's assistance, the twenty-five thousand men and their bands again joining in the triumphant hymn, "Nun danket alle Gott," as they tramped through the darkness. When they arrived at Lissa they found that all was safe, and bivouacked in the fields.

Never was there a greater or more surprising victory, never one in which the military genius of the commander was more strikingly shown. The Austrians were in good heart. They were excellent soldiers and brave, well provided with artillery, and strongly placed; and yet they were signally defeated by a force little over one-third their number. Had there been two more hours of daylight, the Austrians would have been not only routed but altogether crushed. Their loss was ten thousand left on the field, of whom three thousand were killed. Twelve thousand were taken prisoners, and one hundred and sixteen cannon captured.

To this loss must be added that of seventeen thousand prisoners taken when Breslau surrendered, twelve days later, together with a vast store of cannon and ammunition, including everything taken so shortly before from Bevern. Liegnitz surrendered, and the whole of Silesia, with the exception only of Schweidnitz, was again wrested from the Austrians. Thus in killed, wounded, and prisoners the loss of the Austrians amounted to as much as the total force of the Prussians.

The latter lost in killed eleven hundred and forty one, and in wounded about five thousand. Prince Maurice, upon whose division the brunt of the battle had fallen, was promoted to the rank of field marshal.

Fergus Drummond had been with the king throughout that terrible day. Until the battle began his duties had been light, being confined to the carrying of orders to Prince Maurice; after which he took his place among the staff and, dismounting, chatted with his acquaintances while Karl held his horse.

When, however, the fir tree wood was carried, and the king rode forward and took his place there during the attack upon the Austrian position at Sagschuetz, matters became more lively. The balls from the Austrian batteries sung overhead, and sent branches flying and trees crashing down. Sagschuetz won, the king followed the advancing line, and the air was alive with bullets and case shot.

After that Fergus knew little more of the battle, being incessantly employed in carrying orders through the thick of it to generals commanding brigades, and even to battalions. The roar of battle was so tremendous that his horse, maddened with the din and the sharp whiz of the bullets, at times was well-nigh unmanageable, and occupied his attention almost to the exclusion of other thoughts; especially after it had been struck by a bullet in the hind quarters, and had come to understand that those strange and maddening noises meant danger.

Not until after all was over was Fergus aware of the escapes he had had. A bullet had cut away an ornament from his headdress, one of his reins had been severed at a distance of an inch or two from his hand, a bullet had pierced the tail of his coatee and buried itself in the cantle of his saddle, and the iron guard of his claymore had been pierced. However, on his return to the king after carrying a despatch, he was able to curb his own excitement and that of his horse, and to make the formal military salute as he reported, in a calm