cavalry, and still presenting, notwithstanding their losses, a solid front of ninety 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 sanguinary field, in the hottest speed.  The note he bore was as follows: 

     “Remove from Berlin with the royal family.  Let the archives be
     carried to Potsdam, and the capital make conditions with the
     enemy.”

As night approached, Frederic assembled the fragments of his army, exhausted and bleeding, upon some heights, and threw up redoubts for their protection.  Twenty thousand of his troops were left upon the field or in the hands of the enemy.  Every cannon he had was taken.  Scarcely a general or an inferior officer escaped unwounded, and a large number of his most valuable officers were slain.  It was an awful defeat and an awful slaughter.