you shall be satisfied.”

In view of dissatisfactions among the soldiers and the approach of cold,
rainy weather, the King decided, at the close of the year 1760, to go
into Winter quarters.

                              Chapter XII
                         The Camp at Bunzelwilz

The next year began less fortunately than 1760 closed. The enemy
determined to crush Frederick by weight of numbers. It was a long time,
however, before military operations commenced. The King’s forces had
been so weakened that he dared not take the offensive without reserves
to fall back upon. Nor did the enemy dare to attack singly. Every effort
was made to overwhelm him by united strength. With this end in view, in
August, seventy-two thousand Austrians under General Laudon joined the
Russians, making a total of one hundred and thirty thousand men, while
Frederick’s army was hardly fifty thousand strong. Frederick had never
before confronted so strong a combination.

At the beginning of Spring the King left Saxony for Silesia, most of
which was in the enemy’s possession. The march was made swiftly, for the
Austrians were establishing strong positions here and there. One day,
about noon, he approached a Saxon village near the Bohemian frontier, in
the vicinity of which an entrenched position was held by a detachment
under the command of an Austrian captain. As soon as he noticed the
King’s arrival at the village, he began a vigorous fire. Frederick was
leaning against a shed, deep in thought, and at first seemed to pay no
attention to the firing. His aides besought him to leave, as the place
was too dangerous.

“The bullet which is to hit me,” said the King, “will come from above.”

A few minutes later a shot struck a post three yards away, quickly
followed by a second. Remarking, “They are growing too discourteous,” he
ordered the destruction of the nest. The entrenchment was stormed and
the captain and his men were made prisoners. The Prussian soldiers took
his watch, purse, and whatever else of value he had about him, and at
last cut off the gold ornaments on his hat. This he pronounced an
insult, and demanded to be taken to the King. After a respectful
greeting, the King said:

“Your servant, my dear Captain. What can I do for you?” The captain
complained of his ill treatment.

“Do you not know the usages of war?” said the King. “This is not a
processional. Thank God that you escaped with your life. My people are
very considerate after all.”

The captain was surprised at the light manner in which the King spoke,
for, as he afterward said, he had always supposed the conqueror of
Silesia to be a strong, imperious man.

The march was immediately resumed, and whenever Austrians showed
themselves they were dispersed. Too weak to attack the Austrians at that
time investing Schweidnitz, the King kept on to Bunzelwiltz, a very
favorable position not far from Schweidnitz, where an entrenched camp
was established in such a scientific and formidable manner that it
looked like a fortress. The work of entrenching was rushed at every
point, and officers joined hands with the soldiers in the work.
Earthworks were also constructed in the churchyard in the village of
Jauernick by soldiers sent for that purpose, who worked under the
supervision of an officer. As they were throwing up the earth an old box
was struck. They did not remove it with the usual care, but broke it
open a little and found there was money in it. They would have instantly
pounced upon it, but the officer drove them back and took the box
himself, assuring them he would divide the money fairly when the work
was done. They were satisfied with this, and the box was placed by the
church door. The officer quietly retired to an unseen position, took off
his stockings and went back with bare feet in his boots. He then took
the box, shook the money out when unobserved, placed the stockings on
the bottom of it and threw in what money it would hold. When the men
were through with their work they asked for the box. The officer brought
it at once, emptied out the money, and showed them there was nothing
more in it but some old rags. There was great dissatisfaction, however,
for they suspected the captain was not dealing fairly with them; seeing
which, he threatened them with a stick. At this juncture the King came
up to inspect the work. He asked what the matter was. They related the
whole occurrence to him, whereupon he requested them to show him the
box, the money, and the pretended old rags. An old grenadier, who had
the latter in his hands, said: “Your Majesty, these are not old rags,
but a pair of linen-thread stockings with a name on them.”

Thereupon he showed them to the King, who clearly enough saw the name
“V——” on them. The King summoned the officer and asked his name. He
answered “V——.”

“Well,” said the King to the men, “don’t you see the money belongs to
him? His ancestors buried it here. Here is his name on the stockings, as
plain as if it were put there recently. Stupids, what do you mean? Give
the officer his money. I will have the box filled with genuine
two-groschen pieces, and they shall be divided equally among you. Will
that satisfy you?”

“Oh, yes, Your Majesty,” was the answer of all. They were all the better
satisfied as the coins in the box were mostly little old copper pieces.
In this way the King saved the officer from the embarrassment naturally
consequent upon discovery of dishonesty, and left him standing
speechless and ashamed.

The defences were at last completed, and in that strong position
Frederick awaited whatever might happen. As he was situated he could not
undertake an attack, and was forced to act upon the defensive. Unusual
precautions were taken in the camp. During the day the men slept by
turns, and at night officers and men were awake and ready for action. As
a rule the King left his tent every night, betook himself to a battery,
and there awaited the morning under the open heavens. One night, as he
was sitting upon the ground by the fire, enveloped in his cloak, he
seemed to be tired and somewhat sleepy. A soldier of the Wolfersdorf
regiment, noticing it, said to him: “I will make Your Majesty a pillow.”

“How will you do it?” said the King.

The soldier took off his knapsack and fixed it so the King could rest
his head upon it. He could not sleep, however, and so he talked with the
soldier about his native land, his service, and other things. The latter
asked the King several rather bold questions, which he answered very
affably. The following conversation occurred between them:

Soldier. “If Your Majesty should be taken prisoner, how could you get
released, as you are a King?”

King. “As a general, not otherwise.”

Soldier. “Hm! I don’t believe that. You are more than a general.”

King. “No! With the army I am only a general.”

Soldier (shaking his head). “They would get rich booty if they took
you.”

King. “Oh, no, they would not. I have not a groschen in my pockets.”

Soldier. “Your Majesty is trying to deceive me.”

King. “No! I tell you I have not a kreutzer” (and to convince him, the
King emptied his pockets). “There! do you not see I am right?”

Soldier. “That is strange, but—you have a beautiful ring, which
certainly is worth something.”

King. “Well—and what do you think it is worth? Give a guess.” (Saying
this, the King held up the ring for his examination.)

Soldier. “The ring may well have cost ten thousand thalers.”

King. “Fool! I will let you have it for five hundred thalers, and even
then make money.”

Soldier. “I would not believe that to all eternity. It is not true.”

King. “Certainly it is. Look here—I will count up the cost. This little
stone here is perhaps worth three hundred and some odd thalers. The
large one in the middle is a table diamond, which at the utmost did not
cost over thirty thalers, and the rest of the ring, outside of the plain
setting, is of no value.”

Soldier. “I certainly wouldn’t have believed it.”

Day had dawned in the meantime. The King arose and ordered an aide, who
had come up to make report, to give the soldier a _Friedrich d’or_,
saying at the same time, “Are you convinced now that I have no money?”

Frederick often availed himself of the darkness to ride about and see
what was going on. Once the King and Zieten, riding early in the
morning, came to a little wood. Seeing no signs of an enemy Frederick
began whistling softly, as was often his habit when not talking. All at
once, as they ascended an eminence, Zieten noticed some of the enemy’s
troopers in the distance, wearing white cloaks.

“Be quiet, Your Majesty. Quick, put my white undercoat over your
shoulders and ride slowly. They will think we are friends coming to meet
them.”

This evidently was the Austrians’ opinion, for they seemed to be
directing their course straight toward them; but suddenly the King and
Zieten put spurs to their horses, changed their direction, and
fortunately escaped. The King laughed and said: “My dear Zieten, that
was a neat trick. Now, can I go on with my whistling?”

As was always his habit, the King continued to share all dangers and
privations with his soldiers. Like them, he ate out of tin dishes and
the hard ground was his bed whatever the weather might be.

“Take along a bundle of straw,” he once said, as he started for a ride
through the camp, “so that I won’t have to lie on the bare ground, as I
did last night.”

The King was forced to remain inactive for three weeks in this
distressing situation, for the combined Russian and Austrian forces were
stretched out until they shut him in on all sides. He was in a critical
condition. His stores were giving out and his troops were getting
uneasy. He resolved therefore to risk a decisive stroke. It was
fortunate for him that Laudon did not have supreme command, else he
would have been crushed. The larger part of the army was under command
of the Russian Field-Marshal Butterlin, who disliked Laudon and
frequently quarrelled with him. This of course prevented coöperation. If
one favored attacking, the other would refuse; if one gave an order to
assault at a certain point, the other would issue an exactly contrary
order. In this dissension lay the possibility of the King’s escape,
though he did not know it, for he had never heard even a hint of their
enmity. His situation appeared to him desperate enough. Whichever way he
turned he saw no prospect of escape. This greatly disturbed him. With an
anxious heart he often hurried to old Zieten’s little hut for
consolation. This brave general confidently looked for better days in
the future. His devotion and loyalty to the King never permitted him to
doubt the success of his undertakings. In sheer desperation, the King
would often say: “It cannot be done; it is impossible.”

Whenever he said this, Zieten would reply: “Have courage, Your Majesty.
Everything will come out right.” Once he said this with so much
assurance that the King quickly asked: “Have you secured the help of
some new allies?”

“No,” replied the general, “only our old help from above, which will
never forsake us.”

“Ah!” sighed the King, “the days of miracles are over.”

“There is no need of miracles,” replied the pious old hero. “He is on
our side and will not let us be defeated.”

Brave Zieten spoke truly, for three weeks afterward the Russians
suddenly broke camp and departed. The cause was partly the disagreement
between Butterlin and Laudon, but the principal reason for the sudden
exit was the difficulty of procuring subsistence for man and beast.
Silesia had been the scene of war so long and had been so ravaged that
its people had to kill most of their animals for food and had been
living for some time in a most wretched plight. It was manifestly
impossible therefore to feed this great army. To save his, the Russian
general had no alternative but to break camp and hurry off to Poland.
How delighted was the King when he saw that he was freed from the
enemy’s investment! It was with a strange feeling he left the prison
from which he had never expected to escape alive.

The close of the year, however, brought fresh trouble. The fortress of
Schweidnitz, in Silesia, at last fell into the hands of the Austrians,
and this strengthened the Russian force at Colberg, in the East.
Frederick’s immediate situation was not very enviable in any sense, for
there had been a lack of subsistence for his troops for a long time,
resulting in general discontent as well as disobedience. His financial
resources were also well-nigh exhausted. But what made him most
despondent was the great shrinkage of his numerical strength and the
apparent impossibility of making it good. It was no longer possible to
maintain discipline among his troops after they had been reduced to the
bare necessities. The _Garde du Corps_ and _gens d’armes_, who had been
most loyally devoted to the King, now loudly asserted that if they were
attacked, they would surrender. Such was the spiritless condition of his
army! Is it any wonder the King was dejected as he contemplated the
situation? Only his feeling of duty and his love for the Fatherland
helped him to bear this heavy burden of trouble and care. In a letter
written immediately after the taking of Schweidnitz, he says:

“This painful duty of service to the Fatherland is a heavy burden. With
sadness I see its glory dimmed, its people despairing of deliverance,
and devastation everywhere. Fatherland! Beloved name! Thy sorrows have
moved me to devote the last remaining energies of my unfortunate life to
thy rescue. Away with fruitless complaints—I will again take the field.
Patriotism inspires me. A new day is dawning. I will revenge the State
and end its troubles. I will forget my own distress and think only of
it. My strong arm shall be its support. Notwithstanding his inclinations
one must swim with the current, die for Fatherland, or accomplish his
purposes.”

                              Chapter XIII
                           The Dawn of Peace

The King entered upon another year with serious anxiety, for he could
not escape the conviction that the longer the war continued the worse
was his situation. His army was continually dwindling away. The old and
tried troops, with which he had almost done wonders at the beginning of
field operations, were now nearly all gone. His former sources of money
had also run dry. Saxony, which until now had helped him greatly with
its generous contributions, had paid out its last mark, and Prussia was
so utterly exhausted that it could do nothing in any direction. With the
enemy it was different. They confronted him with renewed strength and
increased numbers. The combination of the two great armies was the most
serious danger to his small force. It was by this combination that the
fall of Schweidnitz was hastened. Frederick saw no prospect of victory
anywhere, and yet the truth of his saying, “When necessity is greatest,
help is nearest,” was confirmed at that very time.

The Empress Elizabeth of Russia,[24] a faithful ally of Maria Theresa,
died January 5, 1762. Both empresses, in alliance with France, had sworn
to ruin the King of Prussia. Elizabeth’s successor was Peter III, who
was friendly to the King, and who at the very beginning of the war
expressed his regret that Russia had taken part in hostilities against
the King whom he greatly esteemed for his heroism. Frederick knew this,
and hence was inclined to regard the death of the Empress as a fortunate
event which would make for his success. He reckoned rightly, for hardly
had Peter ascended the throne before he sent a messenger with orders to
his army to retire from all of Frederick’s provinces, to release all
prisoners without further ceremony, and hand over the contents of the
great storehouses in Pomerania to the people living there without cost.
In place of a bitter enemy, the King had a warm friend in Russia. On May
fifth, Peter made peace with Prussia; and not only this, but soon
afterward he sent Czernichef with his twenty thousand men to join the
Prussians. When this was known, Sweden, which had also been a party to
the alliance, out of deference to Russia, decided to forego the pleasure
of making war upon Prussia any longer. It did not waste any time in
acquainting Frederick with its wishes. In fact, the proposition was made
so suddenly that the great King facetiously said to the messenger who
brought it:

“I was not aware I had been at war with Sweden. To be sure, I have heard
of some dealings which my General Belling has had with that people, but
they shall have peace if they wish it.” The treaty of peace with Sweden
was concluded May twenty-second.

How suddenly the aspect of his affairs changed! All at once Frederick
was free from all danger, and was in a position to attack once more. Up
to this time his weakness had forced him to act on the defensive. Now he
was able to take the offensive, and make a stout resistance to his
remaining enemies. He did not wait long, but marched his army with its
Russian reënforcement into Silesia, to expel the Austrians and save that
province from the enemy. Daun was seized with consternation when he
heard of the King’s advance. He hastily fell back, took a new position
on the Burkersdorf hills, and entrenched himself as well as he could. It
was Frederick’s firm intention to attack the enemy at that point, and he
had even fixed the day upon which he would measure strength with the
foe, but an entirely unexpected as well as unfortunate event occurred,
which frustrated all his plans and menaced both him and the Fatherland.
After ruling six months, Peter was dethroned by conspirators, and died
shortly afterward.[25] His wife, Catharine, was made regent by the
dominant party. The shrewd Frederick may have anticipated such an
occurrence, for, in all his letters to the young Emperor, he gave him
much fatherly advice, and particularly entreated him to be prudent in
his administration, and conciliatory in all his relations to his wife.
This was a fortunate thing for the King, for when the ambitious Empress
read this correspondence she was so deeply touched by Frederick’s
attitude toward her that she hastened negotiations for peace, declared
she would have nothing to do with the war, and furthermore ordered her
armies to return home at once.

The friendly sentiments of the Empress were very agreeable to Frederick,
and yet he was greatly disappointed, as the Empress’ order came just at
the time he was about to strike a blow at the enemy. It was necessary to
strike quickly, and yet he must act very cautiously. He knew the weak
side of General Czernichef, his love of gold, and with this inducement
he persuaded him to make a show of marching out with his army and
occupying a threatening position, with the understanding that after
three days he should return home. It was a rash act on the general’s
part, and one that might easily have cost him his head; but his
good-will to the King, and his avarice, overcame all scruples.
Frederick, happy that his wishes were now realized, vigorously attacked
the enemy at Burkersdorf, while the Russians held their position, as
agreed, a little distance off. Daun, who was ignorant of this
arrangement, feared Czernichef and his strong force more than he did the
King, and sent a considerable force against him. This was just what
Frederick wished. This division of the enemy’s strength made the battle
easier, and the result was a complete victory for the Prussians. When
the Austrians approached, the Russians retired, and on the day after the
battle they began their homeward march.

Frederick now set out for Schweidnitz, and most skilfully and closely
invested that fortress. His impatience at the slow progress of his
laborers excited him to such a degree as to threaten serious physical
consequences, and one day he decided to be bled in the open field. He
inquired if there were a surgeon near by, and one was brought. The King
alighted, took off his coat, seated himself, and the operation began.
The cut was already bleeding, when a shell struck near the King, and
sprinkled him and the surgeon with blood. The surgeon fled as fast as he
could, leaving the King sitting. The latter was perfectly composed, and
ordered him to come back and bandage the cut, adding some of his very
emphatic threats. The surgeon finally returned in a very uneasy frame of
mind. “I know your heart is in the right place; bandage the cut,” said
the King. Half scared to death, the surgeon did as he was ordered with
trembling hands, after which the King mounted and rode away.

Notwithstanding all of Frederick’s blustering the laborers made slow
progress on account of the hardness of the soil, which the King did not
take into consideration. He visited his displeasure principally upon his
engineers. He spoke very harshly with a staff captain of that corps
about the trenches, and at last in a burst of temper exclaimed: “Go to
the d—l!”

The officer quietly withdrew, but the King called him back and said: “I
wish that you would take charge of the work and then it may get on.”

The officer at once replied: “Your Majesty, I am gratified that you will
allow me to have a leg or an arm shot off before I leave the service,
but I have great need of both, and beside, it will save Your Majesty the
expense of carrying me back home.”

The King was not displeased at his boldness, but laughed and ordered him
back to work and handsomely remembered him.

The investment was now rapidly pushed on all sides and the fall of the
fortress was inevitable. At this time Frederick had his headquarters at
Peterswaldau, not far from Reichenbach, where he was much surprised by a
sudden attack from the besieged. After the Austrians were driven back
the Prussians strengthened their position, and the King decided that on
the following day he would celebrate the victory by a general parade of
the army. Frederick rode out from Peterswaldau with the Prussian princes
to view the spectacle. A colonel from Schwerin, seeing him approach,
rode quickly forward to receive his orders, but had the misfortune to be
thrown from his horse, which stumbled. He was uninjured, and his horse
waited quietly for him. The colonel remounted and galloped to meet the
King as if nothing had happened. As they met, the King said: “You have
had a fall!”

“Yes, but not from your favor.”

“No,” was the King’s reply, “only out of the saddle into the sand.”

The storming of Schweidnitz was successful and Frederick looked for
important results to come from its fall, especially hoping it would
revive the old battle spirit of his troops. This proved to be the case.
Almost immediately came the glad tidings that Prince Henry, on the
twenty-ninth of October, had completely routed the enemy in a sanguinary
battle at Freiberg, Saxony. This was the last battle in the Seven Years’
War, and good fortune did not again desert Frederick. As gloriously and
successfully as he had maintained himself against the Austrians and
Russians did Henry in the last year of the war maintain himself against
the French, notwithstanding the meagre help he received. Though often
forced to fall back, yet he always managed to advance again and
successfully cope with the enemy. He so misled them by his extraordinary
craftiness that his marches and counter-marches were a puzzle to the
French. It was due to his military discipline and strategic skill that
he won victories over a much stronger force at Billingshausen,
Wilhelmsthal, and Luttenberg. Next he captured the capital at Cassel,
November 1, 1762, and was preparing to take advantage of the favorable
season to drive the French over the Rhine, when his plans were
interrupted by an unlooked-for event. France asked for peace, and the
King made no delay in seizing the opportunity to secure what he had long
desired. The treaty between France, England, and Prussia was formally
negotiated February 10, 1763.

                              Chapter XIV
                      End of the Seven Years’ War

Maria Theresa and the Elector of Saxony realized that under such
circumstances as these they were in no condition to continue the war
alone against Prussia and that, whether they would or not, they must
take steps to conclude a treaty of peace. The Seven Years’ War had
convinced both of them that they could never take beautiful Silesia from
the hands of their brave enemies, much less humble the Margrave of
Brandenburg. So they extended the hand of peace to the King. The hunting
castle of Hubertsburg[26] was selected as the place for the negotiations
and there the plenipotentiaries made peace, the King of Prussia being
represented by Minister Von Herzberg. As he had fought many enemies in
the field he had to make treaties with many, and they were concluded in
such an honorable and skilful manner that Frederick was once more in
possession of Silesia, and the county of Glatz did not lose a foot of
its old possessions. The treaty was signed February 15, 1763, and caused
unbounded enthusiasm in city and country. Those who have not experienced
the horrors of war have little idea of the true significance of the word
“peace.” It recalls Schiller’s beautiful words: “Gentle peace, sweet
concord, abide with us. May that day never come when war’s hordes shall
devastate this quiet valley and when the evening sky, tinged with
roseate hues, shall reflect the dreadful glare of burning villages and
towns.”

Crowned with victory, the King returned to his capital amid the
rejoicings of his subjects. The Berliners had arranged an ovation for
the homecoming hero. In view of the devastation and misery caused by the
war he declined an immediate reception. On the thirtieth of March, a
little later than he had intended, he entered his capital in the dusk of
evening, remained there a short time, and then hastened on to Potsdam
and Charlottenburg. At the latter place he one day summoned his
musicians and fixed a time at which they should sing the chorale, “We
praise thee, O God.”

They assembled punctually, supposing that the church would be filled
with a large and brilliant audience. Instead of this, the King alone
appeared, seated himself, and gave them the signal. The singers began,
and each one did his utmost to contribute to the success of the
performance. As the music of the hymn of praise, majestic as a song of
cherubim, filled the house of God, Frederick was so affected that he
reverently fell upon his knees and with tears in his eyes expressed his
sincere gratitude to the Almighty for his many deliverances and for the
help which had been vouchsafed him through the long and dreadful war now
so happily ended. It was thus the victorious King celebrated his peace
festival, and his devout attitude was so impressive that there was not a
dry eye among the singers. Never before had they taken part in such a
solemn and inspiring ceremony.

Frederick always spoke freely of the battles in the long war and liked
to hear the accounts of his generals. On one occasion General Seydlitz
was dining with him at Potsdam. After a general conversation, mention
was made of the battle of Rossbach, and the King said: “My dear
Seydlitz, I am greatly indebted to you, to your officers, and to your
whole division for that victory.”

Seydlitz replied: “Excuse me, Your Majesty, not alone my division, but
my chaplain, Balke, also conducted himself most gallantly. When the
battle began he buckled on a sword and fought splendidly.”

“You don’t say so,” said the King. “He must be rewarded in some special
way for such unusual service. The Provost[27] has just died. Balke shall
have the place.” The chaplain was summoned to Potsdam, and was not a
little surprised to receive an appointment to the vacant position.

The King extended his generosity not only in individual cases, but all
over the country. There was urgent necessity to awaken fresh life and
secure prosperity once more for the exhausted provinces. The war, which
had been conducted with great bitterness and sometimes barbarity, had
not only greatly distressed Prussia, but had left all Germany in a
wretched plight. An entire circuit of towns and villages had been
destroyed. The luxuriant fields had been trodden down by hoofs of horses
and were lying waste. Entire villages were destitute of men, for their
former residents had either been killed or driven away by the enemy. The
Prussian army alone lost over two hundred thousand men during the war,
and its allies, England, Hanover, Hesse, and others one hundred and
sixty thousand more. The losses of the enemy were still greater, for
they amounted to more than half a million men. Austria lost one hundred
and forty thousand, Russia, one hundred and twenty thousand, France
twenty-two thousand, Sweden, twenty-five thousand, and the German Reich,
twenty-eight thousand.

Under such circumstances, it is not strange there were not enough men
left in the country to till the soil. Women had to do that work, and in
some places there were not women enough. Consequently the King issued an
order to take a hundred of the strongest boys from the Potsdam Orphan
Asylum, and set them at work in these depopulated localities. He devised
still other means to make up this lack of men. He released Prussians
from the army, filled their places with foreign recruits, and then
ordered that as few Prussians as possible should be enlisted until the
deficiency was made good. The number thus released was thirty thousand
seven hundred and eighty. Every effort was made to assist them in the
habits of self-reliance and industrial life, and orders were also issued
that soldiers in such districts should be allowed to marry without a
license from the authorities. Many buildings abandoned by their owners
were going to ruin, and more than thirteen thousand houses in Prussia
were destroyed. Fertile fields after the war looked like a barren
wilderness, for there was a lack of seed-corn and products, and
implements of every kind needed to put them in good condition again.

Gentry and peasants alike had been plundered by so many armies, and had
lost so much by contributions and confiscations, that they were utterly
destitute. The enemy had left them nothing but their lives. The country
was not the only sufferer. Prosperity was ruined and trade was dead in
the cities. There was no longer any regard for habits of order, and the
police administration was wretched. The courts of justice and financial
institutions had been reduced to inaction by these frequent invasions of
the enemy. The silence of the laws had made the people reckless and
produced in them an uncontrollable greed of gain. Nobles, merchants,
farmers, and laborers raised the prices of their commodities, and their
demands were exorbitant beyond belief. The situation called for drastic
remedies, and the King, who was greatly concerned over the country’s
condition, did not hesitate to apply them in a practical way. He
realized that the Provinces could not recover unaided, and so he decided
to help them. By his orders Silesia had to contribute three million;
Pomerania and Neumark, one million four hundred thousand; the
Electorate, seven hundred thousand; the Duchy of Cleve, one hundred
thousand, and the province of Prussia, eight hundred thousand thalers.
Beside this, he distributed among the most needy localities twenty-five
thousand bushels of rye and meal, and seventeen thousand bushels of oats
taken from the public storehouses. He went even further than this. He
reduced the army, and distributed thirty-five thousand horses among the
peasants and gentry. In those parts of the country which had suffered
most severely during the war, particularly Crossen, Hohenstein, and
Halberstadt, the taxes were reduced one-half. In Silesia the payment of
taxes was suspended for six months, and in Pomerania and Neumark for two
years. The gentry also received considerable sums of money for the
arrangement of their affairs and the payment of debts, for their
resources had been so greatly impaired, money was so scarce, and credit
so uncertain, that there was otherwise no hope for their recovery.[28]

It was not only cities and villages that were ruined during this war.
The discipline of the army was so impaired by dissoluteness that more
stringent regulations had to be adopted. The work, however, proceeded so
slowly that permanent results were not apparent until 1775. From that
time the army displayed the genuine military spirit. Everything except
the regulations governing enlistments had been changed.

It was natural that by the reduction of the army many a deserving
soldier found himself badly off. When the free battalions were
organized, a blacksmith’s journeyman in a Silesian village enlisted in
the one commanded by Quintus Icilius, became a corporal, and
subsequently was promoted to the position of major and was given the
decoration for merit. After the battalion was disbanded, he was left to
shift for himself, and as he could find nothing better went back to the
smithy, but still wore his decoration. Seydlitz found him at work, and
inquired where he got that decoration. He told his story, and Seydlitz
told it to the King. Quintus was in attendance upon the King, and, one
day at table, he said to him:

“Quintus, you had some fine specimens of officers in your battalion.
There is, for instance, a blacksmith journeyman who has decorated
himself with a service badge. How did that Cyclops come by it?”

Quintus replied: “I remember the brave fellow. I wish Your Majesty had
had more such smiths in the campaign. This one certainly did well, and
Your Majesty recognized his service and gave him the decoration in
Saxony.”

“Why have you not told me about him before?” said the King.

Quintus answered: “It has been done, but Your Majesty at the time was
much prejudiced against the free battalions and struck the name of this
brave fellow off the list.”

The King smiled and shaking his head, said: “He has had hard luck and I
must help him some way. Now, listen, I will give the man a pension for
service, but he must not wear his decoration when at work and he must
keep quiet until I call him.”

The quondam major shortly after this received a kindly letter, which
assured him a generous pension and made him the happiest of men.

Considering the care with which this sagacious sovereign looked after
matters in general as well as individual affairs, and devoted himself to
the humblest as well as the greatest in his dominions, it is not
surprising that the ruined towns and villages, and the waste lands as
well, soon presented a changed aspect, but it took years before the
sorely oppressed country recovered entirely from the devastating effects
of war. With the increasing industry of the people, however, and the
unfailing encouragement and assistance of the King in advancing the
interests of commerce, trade, and agriculture, Prussia in time rose to a
higher degree of prosperity and culture than ever before.

                                Appendix

The following is a chronological statement of the principal events in
the Seven Years’ War:

                 1756     Frederick invades Saxony.
      October 1, 1756     Frederick’s first victory at Lobositz.
                 1757     Frederick invades Bohemia.
          May 6, 1757     Frederick defeats the Austrians at Prague.
        June 18, 1757     Frederick defeated by the Austrians at Kollin.
        July 26, 1757     French victory at Hastenbeck.
      August 30, 1757     Russian victory at Grossjägendorf.
     November 5, 1757     Frederick’s great victory at Rossbach.
     December 5, 1757     Frederick defeats the Austrians at Leuthen.
      August 25, 1758     Frederick defeats the Russians at Zorndorf.
     October 14, 1758     Frederick defeated by Austrians at Hochkirch.
       August 1, 1759     French defeated at Minden.
      August 12, 1760     Frederick defeated at Kunersdorf.
      August 15, 1760     Frederick defeats the Austrians at Liegnitz.
     November 3, 1760     Frederick’s great victory at Torgau.
      January 5, 1762     Death of Czarina Elizabeth and accession of Peter III.
        March 3, 1762     Peter makes peace with Frederick.
        July 17, 1762     Peter assassinated and succeeded by Catharine.
        July 21, 1762     Frederick’s victory at Burkersdorf.
     October 29, 1762     Victory of Prince Henry at Freiburg.
                          Last battle in the Seven Years’ War.
    February 10, 1763     Peace between France, England, and Prussia.
    February 15, 1763     Peace of Hubertsburg and close of the war.

                               Footnotes

[1]The Mark or Margravate of Brandenburg was the beginning of the
   Kingdom of Prussia. The Nordmark, now in Saxony, was founded by Henry
   I in 928 to preserve certain German territory. In 1134 it was granted
   to Albert, who took the title of Margrave of Brandenburg. The mark
   was gradually extended during the next three centuries, and in 1618
   the Duchy of Prussia was united to it. During the reign of Frederick
   William, the “Great Elector,” it was largely developed, and in 1700
   it became the Kingdom of Prussia.

[2]This was in the Autumn of 1756.

[3]Pirna is on the Elbe, twelve miles from Dresden. It suffered greatly
   not only during the Seven Years’ but the Thirty Years’ War.

[4]Francis I, son of Leopold, Duke of Lorraine, married Maria Theresa in
   1736 and was elected Emperor of Austria in 1745.

[5]“Very certain it is, at sight of his own regiment in retreat,
   Feld-Marschall Schwerin seized the colors, as did other generals, who
   are not named, that day. Seizes the colors, fiery old man: ‘_Heran,
   meine kinder_’ (‘This way, my sons’), and rides ahead, along the
   straight dam again; his ‘sons’ all turning and with hot repentance
   following. ‘On, my children, _heran!_’ Five bits of grapeshot, deadly
   each of them, at once hit the old man; dead he sinks there on his
   flag: and will never fight more. ‘_Heran!_’ storm the others with hot
   tears. Adjutant von Platen takes the flag; Platen too is instantly
   shot; but another takes it. ‘_Heran_, on!’ in wild storm of rage and
   grief; in a word, they manage to do the work at Sterbohol, they and
   the rest.”—_Carlyle’s “Life of Frederick the Great_,” Book XVIII.

[6]July 5, 1757, Frederick wrote to his sister Wilhelmina at Baireuth:
   “We have no longer a mother. This loss puts the crown on my sorrows.
   I am obliged to act; and have not time to give free course to my
   tears. Judge, I pray you, of the situation of a feeling heart put to
   so cruel a trial. All losses in the world are capable of being
   remedied; but those which death causes are beyond the reach of hope.”

[7]July 22, 1757.

[8]Eisenach is famous as the birthplace of Johann Sebastian Bach, the
   father of modern music. Luther also passed his early days there.
   Wartburg, the princely residence of the Grand Duke of Weimar, is
   there.

[9]A village in Saxony, nine miles southwest of Merseburg.

[10]Carlyle, in his “Frederick the Great,” quotes the following verse
   from one of these hymns:

    “Grant that with zeal and skill this day I do
    What me to do behoves, what thou command’st me to;
    Grant that I do it sharp, at point of moment fit,
    And when I do it grant me good success in it.”

[11]A famous solitary and massive eminence south of Leuthen, known as
   the “Magic Mountain.”

[12]
    “Nun danket alle Gott
    Mit Herzen, Mund, und Händen,
    Der grosse Dinge thut
    An uns und allen Erden.”

    “Now thank God, one and all,
    With heart, with voice, with hands,
    Who wonders great hath done
    To us and to all lands.”

[13]About $3.50 in our money.

[14]About $3,350,000.

[15]“His wardrobe consisted of one fine gala dress, which lasted all his
   life; of two or three old coats fit for Monmouth Street, of yellow
   waistcoats soiled with snuff, and of huge boots embrowned by
   time.”—_Macaulay’s Essays._

[16]George Keith was an English soldier, who fought for the house of
   Stuart in 1715, with his younger brother James. When that cause was
   lost, they went to the Continent and served under various flags,
   finally taking service with Frederick. Macaulay says: “Some of those
   who knew the palace best pronounced that the Lord Marischal (Keith)
   was the only human being whom Frederick ever really loved.”

[17]This letter was written by Daun to the Russian General Fermor. The
   reply sent to Daun was written by the King, but was signed “Fermor,”
   and read: “Your Excellency was in the right to warn me against a
   cunning enemy whom you know better than I. Here have I tried fighting
   him and got beaten.

                                                       “Your unfortunate
                                                               “Fermor.”

[18]Princess Friederike Sophie Wilhelmina was the favorite sister of
   Frederick the Great. She was born in 1709, married the Margrave of
   Baireuth in 1731, and died in 1758. She wrote her memoirs, but they
   were not published until 1810. Like her brother, she was the frequent
   victim of her father’s cruelty.

[19]Lord George Sackville, third son of the first Duke of Dorset, was an
   English soldier. He was made Major General in 1755 and Lieutenant
   General in 1757. He served second in command to Marlborough at
   Hanover in 1758, and upon the latter’s death succeeded to the chief
   command. For his conduct at Minden he was dismissed from the army.

[20]Frankfurt.

[21]The battlefield of Kunersdorf is near Frankfurt, on the other side
   of the Oder, fifty miles southeast of Berlin.

[22]A ducat was the equivalent at that time of seven thalers.

[23]“In Charlottenburg, certain Saxon-Bruhl dragoons, who by their
   conduct, might have been the dragoons of Attila, smashed the
   furniture and the doors, cut the pictures, much maltreated the poor
   people, and what was reckoned still more tragical, overset the poor
   Polignac Collection of Antiques and Classicalities; not only knocking
   off noses and arms, but beating them small, lest reparation by cement
   should be possible, their officers, Pirna people, looking quietly on.
   A scandalous proceeding, thought everybody, friend or foe,—especially
   thought Frederick; whose indignation at the ruin of Charlottenburg
   came out in way of reprisal by and by.”—_Carlyle’s_ “_Life of
   Frederick the Great._”

[24]Elizabeth Petrovna, born December 29, 1709, Empress of Russia from
   1741 to 1762, was the daughter of Peter the Great and Catharine I.
   She was the founder of the Moscow University and St. Petersburg
   Academy of Fine Arts.

[25]Peter III was born in Holstein in 1728. He was the son of Charles
   Frederick, Duke of Holstein, and Anna, daughter of Peter the Great.
   He was assassinated, and his wife, who was an accomplice, succeeded
   him.

[26]This castle is near Wermadorf, Saxony, twenty-five miles east of
   Leipsic.

[27]An ecclesiastical officer.

[28]The translator has taken the liberty to omit a few paragraphs in
   this connection, setting forth some of Frederick’s financial and
   economical methods for the restoration of prosperity. They have only
   a local interest, and would hardly be entertaining for young people.

                     LIFE STORIES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE

                     _Translated from the German by
                            GEORGE P. UPTON_

                             8 Vols. Ready

  Beethoven
  Mozart
  Bach
  Maid of Orleans
  William Tell
  The Little Dauphin
  Frederick the Great
  Maria Theresa

               _Each, with 4 Illustrations, 60 cents net_

                     LIFE STORIES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE

                         _BIOGRAPHICAL ROMANCES
                     TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN BY_
                            GEORGE P. UPTON

_A new, interesting, and very useful series that will be found especially
      suitable for school libraries and for supplementary reading_

The books in this series are translated from the German, because in that
country a specialty is made of really desirable reading for the young.
Eight titles are now ready and more will follow.

Their simplicity and accuracy make them very useful for every school
library in the grades.

For parents who feel disposed to give their children books that provide
a mild element of historical information, as well as first-class
entertainment, the little books will prove a veritable find.

The “life-stories” retain the story form throughout, and embody in each
chapter a stirring event in the life of the hero or the action of the
time. The dramatis personæ are actual characters, and the facts in the
main are historically correct. They are therefore both entertaining and
instructive, and present biography in its most attractive form for the
young.

          A FULL LIST OF THE TITLES IS GIVEN ON THE NEXT PAGE

The work of translation has been done by Mr. George P. Upton, whose
“Memories” and Lives of Beethoven, Haydn, and Liszt, from the German of
Max Mueller and Dr. Nohl, have been so successful.

       _Each is a small square 16mo in uniform binding, with four
                   illustrations. Each 60 cents net._

                         _FULL LIST OF TITLES_
                          Frederick the Great
                          The Maid of Orleans
                           The Little Dauphin
                             Maria Theresa
                              William Tell
                                 Mozart
                               Beethoven
                         Johann Sebastian Bach

“These narratives have been well calculated for youthful minds past
infancy, and Mr. Upton’s version is easy and idiomatic.”—_The Nation._

“He is a delightful writer, clearness, strength, and sincerity marking
everything to which he puts his hand. He has translated these little
histories from the German in a way that the reader knows has conserved
all the strength of the original.”—_Chicago Evening Post._

“They are written in simple, graphic style, handsomely illustrated, and
will be read with delight by the young people for whose benefit they
have been prepared.”—_Chicago Tribune._

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biographies are very well fitted for the use of young people.... The
volumes are compact and neat, and are illustrated sufficiently but not
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“These books are most entertaining and vastly more wholesome than the
story books with which the appetites of young readers are for the most
part satisfied.”—_Indianapolis Journal._

               _OF ALL BOOKSELLERS OR OF THE PUBLISHERS_

                      A. C. McCLURG & CO., CHICAGO

                          Transcriber’s Notes

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--Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and
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