inety thousand men. Frederic, bringing every
nerve into action, succeeded in collecting and bringing again into the
field fifty thousand troops.[16] Notwithstanding the disparity in
numbers, it seemed absolutely necessary that the King of Prussia
should fight, for the richest part of his dominions was in the hands
of the allied Prussians and Austrians, and Berlin was menaced. The
field of battle was on the banks of the Oder, near Frankfort.

[Footnote 16: Some authorities give the Russians eighty thousand and
the Prussians forty thousand.]

On the 12th of June, 1759, at two o'clock in the morning, the King of
Prussia formed his troops in battle array, behind a forest which
concealed his movements from the enemy. The battle was commenced with
a fierce cannonade; and in the midst of the thunderings and carnage of
this tempest of war, solid columns emerged from the ranks of the
Prussians and pierced the Russian lines. The attack was too impetuous
to be resisted. From post to post the Prussians advanced, driving the
foe before them, and covering the ground with the slain. For six hours
of almost unparalleled slaughter the victory was with the Prussians.
Seventy-two pieces of cannon fell into the hands of the victors, and
at every point the Russians were retreating. Frederic, in his
exultation, scribbled a note to the empress, upon the field of battle,
with the pommel of his saddle for a tablet, and dispatched it to her
by a courier. It was as follows:

"Madam: we have beat the Russians from their entrenchments. In
two hours expect to hear of a glorious victory."

But in less than two hours the tide of victory turned. The day was one
of excessive heat. An unclouded sun poured its burning rays upon the
field, and at midday the troops and the horses, having been engaged
for six hours in one of the severest actions which was ever known,
were utterly beat out and fainting with exhaustion. Just then the
whole body of the Russian and Austrian cavalry, some fourteen thousand
strong, which thus far had remained inactive, came rushing upon the
plain as with the roar and the sweep of the whirlwind. The foe fell
before them as the withered grass before the prairie fire. Frederic
was astounded by this sudden reverse, and in the anguish of his spirit
plunged into the thickest of the conflict. Two horses were shot
beneath him. His clothes were riddled with balls. Another courier was
dispatched to the empress from the sanguin