The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Campaign of Sedan, by George Hooper

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BOHN’S STANDARD LIBRARY

THE CAMPAIGN OF SEDAN

“The policy of your Government will bring you to Jena,” said M. de Moustier to Herr von Bismarck during the Crimean War. “Why not to Waterloo?” was the prompt and prophetic reply.

Wo Kraft und Muth in deutscher Seele flammen.

THE
CAMPAIGN OF SEDAN
THE
DOWNFALL OF THE SECOND EMPIRE
AUGUST–SEPTEMBER 1870
BY
GEORGE HOOPER

AUTHOR OF “WATERLOO: THE DOWNFALL OF THE FIRST NAPOLEON: A
HISTORY OF THE CAMPAIGN OF 1815,” ETC.

WITH MAP AND PLANS

LONDON
GEORGE BELL AND SONS
1909

CHISWICK PRESS: CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO.
TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON.

PREFACE.

When it was decided to publish a new and cheaper edition of Mr. George Hooper’s “Sedan,” the question arose whether anything should be added to it. My father had intended, should a new edition be called for, to revise and correct the work, and to furnish it with an index. After due consideration it has been decided to make no additions to the book, except the index, which has been carefully compiled. A few errors that had crept into the text of the original edition have been corrected; but in other respects the volume remains as it was left by its author.

WYNNARD HOOPER.

SOUTH KENSINGTON,
October, 1897.

PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.

The War of 1870–71 was opened by a campaign of thirty days, complete in itself, and the author must plead the dramatic unity of the great event as a reason for treating it in a separate form. Although the foundation of those ulterior successes which enabled the Germans to proclaim the King of Prussia Emperor in Germany, and to do so in the palace of Louis XIV., yet, from an historical point of view, the astonishing series of battles and marches which ended in the Investment of Metz, and the Capitulation of Sedan may be regarded as standing apart, because they carried with them the Downfall of the Second Empire. The Campaign of Sedan, in this respect, is the supplement of the Campaign of Waterloo; but, of course, there is no resemblance between Napoleon III. and Napoleon I., nor in the political and military conditions and results of the two catastrophes.

The materials at the disposal of any author who ventures to narrate the campaign are abundant and yet incomplete. The History of the War prepared by the German Staff is minute even to weariness, but it must always stand as the authentic foundation of every narrative. Unreadable to the general public, it is invaluable to the soldier-student, and to all who wish to know what the German Army is like, and how it wages war. It need scarcely be said that the Staff narrative is the basis of this book, which is an endeavour to present its essence in a succinct and readable form. Unhappily, the French accounts are wanting in precision, so that it is difficult to comprehend how they fought their battles, and impossible to ascertain accurately what was their numerical strength at any moment. The deficiency is serious, because it mars the completeness of the story, and frustrates every attempt to do them full justice. For, if the Army, as an Army, was wasted by incapable commanders, the soldiers fought well and did nothing to derogate from their old renown. They had to encounter better commanders, more numerous and better soldiers, and they were beaten, but they were not disgraced. The whole lesson of the war is lost, if the fact is ignored that the German Army, from top to bottom, was superior in every way to that of Napoleon III., as well as more numerous; and that what made it superior was the spirit of Duty, using the word in its highest sense, which animated the host, from the King, who was its shining exemplar, to the private who was proud to rival his King.

The contrast, which this war exhibited, between the French and German methods of making and using an Army is so violent, that it becomes painful, and imparts an air of one-sidedness to the narrative. But the facts must be stated, although the bare statement suggests partiality in the narrator. I have, nevertheless, tried to be impartial, and in doing my best, I have found it impossible to read the abounding evidence of Imperial neglect, rashness and indecision, without feeling pity for the soldiers and the nation which had to bear the penalties. The French Army has been remodelled and increased enormously; the secular quarrel between Germany and France is still open; and some day it may be seen whether the Republicans, out of the same materials, have been able to create an Army such as the Imperialists failed to produce. Whether they have succeeded or not, it may be fervently hoped that the deep impression which the examples of thoroughness, revealed by the wars of 1866 and 1870, made on our own country will never be effaced; and that the public will insist that our small Army, in every part, shall be as good as that which crossed the French frontier in 1870, and triumphed in the Campaign of Sedan.

KENSINGTON, April 6th, 1887.

CONTENTS.

[ INTRODUCTION]

[ CHAPTER I.]

THE CAUSES OF THE WAR.

French Demands for the Rhine—Luxemburg—An Interlude of Peace—The Salzburg Interview—The Emperor seeks Allies—The Hohenzollern Candidature—The French Government and the Chamber

[ CHAPTER II.]

THE GATHERING OF THE HOSTS.

German Mobilization—French Mobilization—War Methods Contrasted

[ CHAPTER III.]

STAGE THUNDER.

The Combat at Saarbrück—Preparing to go Forward—Positions on August 4—The Moral and Political Forces

[ CHAPTER IV.]

INVASION IN EARNEST.

The Combat on the Lauter—French Position on the Saar—German Position on the Saar

[ CHAPTER V.]

TWO STAGGERING BLOWS.

1. Woerth—The Battle Begins—Attack on Woerth—Attack on the French Right—Attack on Elsasshausen—MacMahon Orders a Retreat—The Close of the Battle. 2. Spicheren—The Battle-field—The Germans Begin the Fight—The Red Hill Stormed—Progress of the Action—Frossard Retires

[ CHAPTER VI.]

VACILLATION IN METZ.

The Emperor Resigns his Command—The German Advance—The German Cavalry at Work—The Germans March on the Moselle

[ CHAPTER VII.]

VON MOLTKE KEEPS THE WHIP HAND.

The French Propose to Move—The Battle of Colombey-Nouilly—Von Golz Dashes In—The End of the Battle—The French Retreat—The Germans Cross the Moselle—The Cavalry Beyond the Moselle—Orders for the Flank March—The Emperor Quits the Army

[ CHAPTER VIII.]

THE FRENCH RETREAT THWARTED.

Vionville-Mars la Tour—The Vionville Battlefield—The French are Surprised—The Third Corps Strikes In—Arrival of Bazaine—Bredow’s Brilliant Charge—The Fight becomes Stationary—Arrival of the Tenth Corps—The Great Cavalry Combat—End of the Battle

[ CHAPTER IX.]

PRESSED BACK ON METZ.

Marshal Bazaine—The Battlefield of Gravelotte—The German Plans—The Battle of Gravelotte—Prince Frederick Charles at the Front—Steinmetz Attacks the French Left—Operations by the German Left Wing—General Frossard Repels a Fresh Attack—The Last Fights near St. Hubert—The Prussian Guard on the Centre and Left—The Capture of St. Privat

[ CHAPTER X.]

THE STATE OF THE GAME, AND THE NEW MOVES.

The King Marches Westward—The Cavalry Operations—The Emperor at Chalons and Reims—MacMahon retires to Reims—The Chalons Army Directed on the Meuse

[ CHAPTER XI].

THE GRAND RIGHT WHEEL.

The Cavalry Discover the Enemy—Movements of the French—The Marshal Resolves, Hesitates, and Yields—Movements of the Germans—Effects of MacMahon’s Counter-orders—German and French Operations on the 29th—The Combat at Nouart—The State of Affairs at Sundown—The Battle of Beaumont—The Surprise of the Fifth Corps—The Flight to Mouzon

[ CHAPTER XII.]

METZ AND STRASBURG.

The Battle of Noisseville

[ CHAPTER XIII.]

SEDAN.

German Decision—Confusion in the French Camp—The Movements of the Germans—The Battlefield of Sedan—The Battle of Sedan—MacMahon’s Wound and its Consequences—Progress of the Battle on the Givonne—The March on St. Menges—The Eleventh and Fifth Corps Engage—The Condition of the French Army—The French Cavalry Charge—General de Wimpffen’s Counter stroke—The Emperor and his Generals—King William and his Warriors—How the Generals Rated Each Other—The Generals Meet at Donchery—Napoleon III. Surrenders—The French Generals Submit—The End

[APPENDICES.]

[I.] The German Field Armies—[II.] The French Army—[III.] The Protocol of Capitulation—[IV.] A List of the Principal Works Consulted for the Campaign of Sedan

[INDEX]

MAP AND PLANS.

1. [GENERAL MAP.]
2. [BATTLE OF WOERTH.]
3. [BATTLE OF SPICHEREN.]
4. [BATTLE OF COLOMBEY-NOUILLY].
5. [BATTLE OF VIONVILLE-MARS LA TOUR.]
6. [BATTLE OF GRAVELOTTE.]
7. [BATTLE OF SEDAN.]
8. [GENERAL MAP.]

THE CAMPAIGN OF SEDAN.

INTRODUCTION.

In July, 1870, fifty-five years after the Allied Armies, who had marched from the decisive field of Waterloo, entered Paris, a young diplomatist, Baron Wimpfen, started from the French capital, for Berlin. He was the bearer of a Declaration of War, from the Emperor Napoleon III., to William I., King of Prussia; and the fatal message was delivered to the French Chargé d’Affaires, M. le Sourd, and by him to the Prussian Government on the 19th of July. Thus, once again, a Napoleon, at the head of a French Empire, was destined to try his strength against the principal German Power beyond the Rhine.

Yet, under what different conditions! The Emperor was not now the Napoleon who surrounded the Austrians at Ulm, broke down the combined forces of Austria and Russia at Austerlitz, and extorted a peace which set him free to overthrow, at Jena and Auerstadt, the fine army left by Frederick the Great, and allowed to crystallize by his weak successors. Nor did the late Emperor find in his front a divided Germany, and the mere survival of a great military organization. He found a united people, and an army surpassing in completeness, as it did in armaments—the victors of Prague, Rosbach, and Leuthen. The Germany known to the Congress of Vienna had disappeared—the deformed had been transformed. The little seed of unity, sown early in the century, had grown into a forest tree. The spirit of Arndt had run through the whole Teutonic nation, which, after the turmoil of 1848 had subsided, and the heavy hand of Russia had been taken off by the Crimean War, found a leader in the strongly-organized kingdom of Prussia. When the weak and hesitating will of Frederick William IV. ceased, first, by the operation of a painful disease, and then by extinction, to disturb the course of his country’s fortune, Prussia, in a few years, became practically a new Power. King William I., who crowned himself with his own hands at Königsberg, began his task, as a ruler, in a grave and earnest spirit, holding that kingship was not only a business, but a trust, and taking as his watchwords, Work and Duty. No monarch in any age, no private man, ever laboured more assiduously and conscientiously at his métier, to use the word of Joseph II., than the King of Prussia. He became Regent in 1858, when Napoleon III. was engaged in preparing for his Italian campaign against the House of Austria. French policy, with varying watchwords, had run that road for centuries; and, during the summer of 1859, it was the good fortune of the Emperor to win a series of victories which brought his army to the Mincio, and before the once famous Quadrilateral. The German Bund had taken no part in the fray, but the rapid successes of the French aroused some apprehensions in Berlin, and there went forth an order to mobilize a part of the army, which means to put each corps on a war-footing, and to assemble a force in Rhenish Prussia. Whatever share that demonstration may have had in producing the sudden arrangement between the rival Emperors, who made peace over their cigarettes and coffee at Villafranca, the experiment tried by the Berlin War Office had one important result—it brought to light serious defects in the system then practised, and revealed the relative weakness of the Prussian army. From that moment, the Regent, who soon became King by the death of his brother, began the work of reforming the military system. For this step, at least from a Prussian standpoint, there was good reason; since the kingdom, although it was based on a strong and compact nucleus, was, as a whole, made up of scattered fragments lying between great military Powers, and therefore could not hope to subsist without a formidable army. The relative weakness of Prussia had, indeed, been burnt into the souls of Prussian statesmen; and King William, on his accession, determined that as far as in him lay, that grave defect should be cured. A keen observer, a good judge of character and capacity, his experience of men and things, which was large, enabled him at once to select fit instruments. He picked out three persons, two soldiers and a statesman, and severe ordeals in after years justified his choice. He appointed General von Roon, Minister of War, and no man in modern times has shown greater qualities in the organization of an army. He placed General von Moltke at the head of the General Staff, which that able man soon converted into the best equipped and the most effective body of its kind known to history. It rapidly became, what it now is, the brain of the army, alike in quarters and in the field. Finally, after some meditation, he called Herr Otto von Bismarck from the diplomatic service, which had revealed his rare and peculiar qualities, and made this Pomeranian squire his chief political adviser, and the manager of his delicate and weighty State affairs.

Thenceforth, the long-gathering strength of Prussia, the foundations of which were bedded deep in the history of its people, began to assume a form and a direction which great events revealed to astonished and incredulous Europe. The experiment undertaken by the King and his chief councillors was rendered less difficult by that effect of the Crimean War which so materially lessened the influence of Russia in Germany. The intimate and friendly relations subsisting between the two Courts remained unbroken, and to its preservation in fair weather and foul, Prussia owed, to a large extent, the favourable conditions surrounding the application and development of her policy. It seemed as necessary to Prussian, as it now does to German interests, that the Russian Government should be, at least, benevolently neutral; and probably the art of keeping it so was profoundly studied by Herr von Bismarck when he filled the post of Ambassador to the Court of St. Petersburg. The large military reforms designed by the King and his advisers aroused an uncompromising opposition in the native Parliament, which was only overcome by the firmness with which King William supported his outspoken and audacious Minister. The victory was secured by methods which were called, and were, unconstitutional. The control of the Chamber over the Budget was placed in abeyance, by a clever interpretation of the fundamental law. It was held that if the Deputies could not agree with the Government respecting the estimates of the current year, the law which they had sanctioned in the preceding year still remained valid. Thus the taxes were collected, appropriated and expended, just the same as if the Chamber had not virtually “stopped the supplies” in order to defeat the measures which were intended to give the army stability, numbers, efficiency and cohesion. The whole transaction ran counter to English maxims and customs; but it should be remembered that Parliamentary Government, and especially government by party, were never, and are not even now established in Berlin. The net result of the contest was the renovation and the strengthening of the National Army to an extent which, while it did not exceed, perhaps, the expectations of those who laboriously wrought it out, left some Powers of Europe ignorant, and others incredulous respecting its value.

Not that the military institutions of Prussia, dating back from the “new model,” devised during the stress of the Napoleonic Wars, had been fundamentally altered. Nothing was done except to increase the numbers, close up and oil the machinery, render its working prompt and easy by prudent decentralization, give it a powerful brain in the General Staff, and impart to the whole system a living energy. The art of war, if the phrase may be allowed, was, in accordance with venerable traditions rooted in the Hohenzollern House, taken up as a serious business; and that deep sense of its importance which prevailed at the fountain head, was made to permeate the entire frame. That is the real distinguishing characteristic of the Prussian, now the German army, as contrasted with the spirit in which similar labours were undertaken by some other Powers. The task was a heavy one, but the three men who set about it were equal to the task. King William, with a large intelligence, a severe yet kindly temper, and a thorough knowledge of his work, threw himself heart and soul into the business, and brought to bear upon its conduct that essential condition of success, the “master’s eye.” General von Roon framed or sanctioned the administrative measures which were needed to create an almost self-acting and cohesive organism, which could be set in motion by a telegram, as an engineer starts a complicated piece of machinery by touching a lever. Von Moltke, as chief of the General Staff, supplied the directing intellect, and established a complete apparatus for the collection and classification of knowledge, bearing upon military affairs, which might be applied wherever needed. These men, working with “unhasting, unresting” diligence, founded a school of war, not based on “the law of the Medes and Persians which altereth not,” but upon the vital principle that a good army should possess in itself such a power of adaptation, as will make it always abreast with the latest genuine discoveries in tactics, arms, material appliances, and discipline. Also the army was treated as a great school in which officers and men alike were teaching and learning from dawn to sunset, throughout the allotted period of service. The principal trio had other and able helpers, but they were the main springs moving and guiding the marvellous product of constant labour applied by rare capacity.

The ultimate, although not the immediate, effect of the French successes at Magenta and Solferino, was the creation of an Italian kingdom, which included within its boundaries, Naples, Sicily, the States of the Church, except Rome, and of course the Duchies on the right bank of the Po. The price of compliance, exacted by the Emperor Napoleon, whose plans had been thwarted, was the cession to him of Nice and Savoy. Venice and the territory beyond the Mincio remained Austrian for several years. While the map of Italy was in course of reconstruction, the political conflict in Berlin raged on with unintermitted violence. Simultaneously the Austrian Emperor was induced to assert his claims to predominance in Germany, but the plans laid, in 1863, were blighted by the prompt refusal of William I. to take any share in them. It was the first symptom of reviving hostility between the two Powers, although a little later, on the death of the King of Denmark, they were found, side by side in arms, to assert the claims of the German Bund upon Holstein, Schleswig and Lauenburg, and avert the occupation of those countries by the troops of Saxony and other minor States alone. The campaign which ensued brought the new model of the” Prussian army to the test of actual experiment. But the brave adversaries they had to encounter, if stout in heart, were weak in numbers; and Europe did not set much store by the victories then achieved by Prussia. The public and the Governments were intently occupied with the Secession War in the United States of America, and the astounding expedition to Mexico, which was designed to place an Austrian Archduke on “the throne of the Montezumas,” under illustrious French patronage. Thus the quality of the troops, the great influence of the famous “needle-gun,” the character of the staff, and the excellent administrative services escaped the notice of all, save the observant few. The political aspects of the dispute were keenly discussed. Lord Palmerston and Lord Russell were, at one moment, disposed to fight for the Treaty of 1851; but the Danish King committed grave blunders; Russia stood aloof, the Emperor Napoleon III. distinctly refused to enter the lists, and the House of Commons was decidedly averse to war. Here it should be noted that the French Emperor, meditating on the value to him of the rival Powers in Germany, had determined to stand well with both. He hoped to please Austria by making the brother of Francis Joseph Emperor of Mexico, and to keep open the possibilities of an alliance with Prussia, by throwing no obstacles in her way on the Eider.

Then began the great strife between the two Governments which had wrested the Elbe Duchies from the Dane. When the short war ended, certain divisions from each army were posted in the conquered country, and the rivalry which animated the two Courts was carried on by diplomats and statesmen. Prussian policy, since the days of Frederick II., had leaned always towards, if not an alliance with Russia, yet the maintenance of a solid understanding with that growing Power. Herr von Bismarck, who was a deep student in the history of his own country, and who had always nourished large ideas, kept steadily on the well-trodden path, but imparted to his methods a boldness, an inventiveness, and an energy most unusual in Prussian statescraft. The Polish insurrection of 1864 gave him an opportunity which he did not neglect, and while the poor patriots were assisted from the side of Galicia, on the Posen frontier they were ruthlessly repressed, the Russian and Prussian troops making common cause, and crossing the frontier whenever that step seemed needful. The ill-fated Poles, of course, were defeated; Prussia had recorded a fresh claim upon the benevolent neutrality of Russia, while Austrian “ingratitude,” never forgiven in St. Petersburg, took a deeper tinge in the eyes of the Czar. The Prussian Government had not long to wait for their reward. During the summer of 1865, the abiding quarrel between Vienna and Berlin, respecting the future status of the conquered or restored Duchies, nearly came to an open rupture. Neither side, however, was ready for a blow, and the “Convention of Gastein,” which Bismarck, in a letter to his wife, defined as a mode of “pasting together the cracks in the building,” was devised to gain time. The Prussian army, still incomplete from the royal and the military point of view, had been augmented after the Danish war, and the new levies of horse and artillery had not acquired the requisite instruction. So the summer and autumn of 1865 wore away, revealing the spectacle of King William and Herr von Bismarck battling fiercely with the Parliament, and not so clearly displaying Von Moltke and Von Roon labouring hourly to bring the machine intrusted to their charge up to the highest attainable efficiency. There were other reasons for delay. As it was more than probable that the South Germans, and possible that the King of Hanover would not rank themselves with Prussia, but go with Austria and the Bund, an ally was wanted who would divide the forces of the largest Power. That ally was found in the newly united kingdom of Italy.

But before the Italian envoy astonished the diplomatic world by his apparition at Berlin, in March, the controversy between Austria and Prussia had gone on rapidly, step by step, nearer towards a rupture. Count Mensdorff, on behalf of the Emperor Francis Joseph, set up a claim to full liberty of action in the Duchy of Holstein, and began openly to favour the pretentions of the Duke Frederick of Augustenburg to the Ducal Chair. That position was vigorously contested by Herr von Bismarck, who put an opposite construction on the Treaty, which created what was called the “condominium.” The consequence was a frequent and animated exchange of despatches, containing such “arguments” as seemed proper to the occasion. Into the merits of this dispute it is needless to enter now, since the whole drift of the verbal struggle shows that while Prussia was intent on providing a solid ground on which to fight out a long-standing quarrel—“inevitable,” said Von Moltke, “sooner or later,”—Austria was by no means inclined to shrink from a test directly applied to her position in Germany. Whatever line she had taken her rival would have discovered, or tried to discover, an opposing course; but, it so happened, that, whether by chance or miscalculation, Count Mensdorff, the Austrian Foreign Minister, managed his case so as to give advantages to his abler antagonist. In the last days of February a great council was held in Berlin. Not only the King and his chief Minister, but General von Moltke and General von Manteuffel, from Schleswig, took part in its deliberations. It was the turning point in the grave debate, so far as Prussian action was concerned; for the decision then adopted unanimously, was, that Prussia could not honourably recede, but must go forward, even at the risk of war. No order was given to prepare for that result, because the organization of the army was complete, and moreover, because “the King was very adverse to an offensive war.” Nevertheless, from that moment such an issue of the dispute became certain to occur at an early day. Yet neither party wished to fight over the Duchies; each felt that the cause was too paltry. The Austrians, therefore, extended the field, by appealing to the Bund, a move which gave Herr von Bismarck the advantage he so eagerly sought. He answered it by resolving to push, in his own sense, the cause of federal reform. Learning this determination early in March, M. Benedetti observed to Herr von Bismarck that it would insure peace. “Yes,” answered the Minister President,—“for three months,” a very accurate forecast by a prophet who could fulfil his own prediction, and who desired to fight the adversary promptly, lest a reconciliation should be effected between Vienna and Pesth, and Hungary, from a source of weakness, should thus become a tower of strength.

A few days later, March 14th, General Govone, from Florence, arrived in Berlin. His advent had been preceded by attempts, on the part of Bismarck, to discover how the French would look on a Prusso-Italian alliance. The subject was delicate, and even after the General’s arrival, it was officially stated that he had come, exclusively, to study the progress in small arms and artillery! The pretence was soon abandoned, and the negotiations were avowed; but the conclusion of a treaty was delayed for some days, because no specific date could be fixed on for the outbreak of war, Prussia having determined, at least to make it appear, that she was not the aggressor. At length a form of words was devised, which satisfied both Powers, stipulating that Italy was to share in the war, providing it began within “three months,” and the Convention was signed on the 8th of April. Not, however, before it had been well ascertained that France had really helped on the Prussian alliance and desired to see war ensue, although, avowedly, she did not interfere, giving out that she stood neuter, and that the understanding which might be ultimately come to between France and Prussia would be determined by the march of events, the extension of the war, and the questions to which it might give rise. This language foreshadowed the policy which the Emperor, if not M. Drouyn de Lhuys desired to follow; and as Russia, recently obliged in the Polish troubles, was friendly, if not allied, Herr von Bismarck was convinced that no foreign power would array itself on the side of Austria, unless the campaign were prolonged.

Henceforth, the aim of each disputant was to secure a vantage-ground in Germany. Austria had partially collected troops in Bohemia and Moravia, and had secretly stipulated with several States to call out four Federal corps d’armée; while Prussia, who could wait, being always ready, had only carried her preparations forward to a certain extent. M. von Beust, the Saxon Minister, then intervened with a proposal that the Diet should name arbiters, whose decision should be final; a suggestion instantly rejected by the principals in the quarrel. The Emperor Napoleon III., towards the end of May, when Prussian mobilization had practicably been completed in eight corps, produced his specific—the characteristic proposal that a Conference should be held in Paris to study the means of maintaining the peace. Prussia accepted the offer, but Austria put an end to the hopes of Napoleon, by stipulating that no arrangement should be discussed which would augment the territory or power of any party of the Conference, and in addition that the Pope should be invited to share in any deliberations on “the Italian Question.” These pretensions, by excluding, what everyone wanted, the cession of Venetia to Italy, decided the fate of the Conference. “They desire war at Vienna,” said Von Bismarck to Count Benedetti. “These conditions have been conjured up solely for the purpose of giving the States in South Germany time to complete their military preparations.” And when the news came officially from Paris that the Austrian answer had killed the project, the Minister President shouted in the French Ambassador’s presence “Vive le Roi!” The solution was war. The Prussian army, for once, had been mobilized by slow degrees. More than a month elapsed between the first precautionary and the final steps, but by the 12th of May the entire active army had been summoned to arms. The Conference project was a last attempt, made, indeed, after all hope of arresting the conflict had vanished, alike in Vienna and Berlin; and it was followed by events in Holstein, which put an end to the period of suspense, and formed a prelude to the war. Practically, but without actual fighting, General von Manteuffel compelled the Austrian brigade, under Field-Marshal von Glablenz, to retreat swiftly over the Elbe. The pretext for this strong measure was the fact that Austria, by her sole will, had summoned the Estates to meet at Itzehöe, and had thus infringed the rights of King William! Thereupon Austria requested the Diet at Frankfort to call out all the Federal Corps; and her demand was complied with, on the 14th of June, by a majority of nine to six. The Prussian delegate protested, and withdrew, leaving Austria, Bavaria, Saxony, Wurtemburg, the two Hesses, and several minor States, in open combination against Prussia. But the same stroke which isolated the latter, also destroyed the German Bund, invented by the kings and statesmen of 1815, to preserve internal tranquillity, and safeguard the Fatherland against France. The arrangement implied the co-operation of two Powers; one purely German, yet subordinate; the other parcel German, and mainly consisting of divers peoples outside Germany; and it fell to pieces at a blow, because the time had arrived when one of the two must attain supremacy. Side by side with the secular dynastic conflict arose in the nation that longing for unity which could only be accomplished by a thoroughly German Power.

That Power was Prussia, trained for the task by the steadfast labours of two hundred years. The army she had formed did its work swiftly. Pouring through Saxony and over the Silesian Mountains, the King and his son, July 3rd, crushed the Austrians, on the memorable field of Sadowa, near Königgrätz. The Hanoverian troops, after winning the fight at Langensalza, had been obliged to surrender, and in South Germany the army employed to overcome the Confederates was equally victorious. On the 22nd of July, so swiftly had the main body moved, the Prussians were in front of Vienna and Presburg on the Danube. Four days afterwards, the Emperor Napoleon having struck in with an offer of mediation, which was accepted, the preliminaries of a peace were signed at Nikolsburg, on the 26th of July, and the final treaty was settled and ratified at Prague, on the 23rd of August, long after King William and his formidable Minister were once more in Berlin. By this instrument, Austria was excluded from Germany; a Northern Confederation, reaching to the Main, was founded; Hanover, the Elbe Duchies, Hesse-Cassel, and other territories, were annexed to Prussia; and a formal statement was inserted, declaring that Napoleon III., to whom Austria had ceded Venetia, had acquired it in order to hand over the city and Terra Firma, as far as the Isonzo, to Victor Emmanuel, when the peace should be re-established. Prussia thus became the acknowledged head of Germany, at least as far as the Main; and the national longing for complete unity was about to be gratified in a much shorter time than seemed probable in 1866.

Naturally, the astonishing successes won by Prussian arms against the Federal Corps, as well as the Austrians, compelled the South German States to sue for peace, and accept public treaties, which, while leaving them independent, brought them all, more or less, within the limits of a common German federation. But something more important was accomplished at Nikolsburg. Herr von der Pfordten, the Bavarian Prime Minister, repaired thither towards the end of July, and Bismarck was in possession of information, including a certain French document, which enabled him to state the German case in a manner so convincing and terrifying, that the Bavarian agreed to sign a secret treaty, bringing the army within the Prussian system, and stipulating that, in case of war, it should pass at once under the command of King William. That which Von der Pfordten conceded the Ministers of Wurtemburg and Hesse Darmstadt could not refuse, and thus provision was made, on the morrow of Sadowa, for that concentration of armed Germany which overwhelmed France in 1870–71. So that, although nothing formally constituting a United Germany had been done, Prussia, by securing the control of all her forces, and knowing that a strong and deeply-rooted public sentiment would support her, was satisfied that, providing time could be gained in which to arm, instruct and discipline upon the Prussian model the South Germans and the troops raised from the annexed provinces, she would be more than a match for France. South Germany, indeed, had long known her relative helplessness against the French. Perhaps it would be more correct to say that the real peril was more perceptible to the soldiers and statesmen than to the people, many of whom were strongly imbued with democratic ideas of the French type. Yet, although they hungered for what they understood as liberty and independence, they were still German, and did not fail to see that their cherished desires could not be gratified either under French patronage or French prefects. The soldiers and statesmen had early perceived the full secret of South German dependence. The Archduke Charles, who had great knowledge and harsh experience to guide him, pointed out that the French posts on the Rhine had placed the country south of the Main at the mercy of France. “As long as the Rhine frontier from Huningen to Lauterbourg remains in her hands,” wrote a Prussian staff-officer at a later period, “Germany is open on the Rhine frontier to an invasion directed upon the Southern States.” No stronger testimony to the sense, if not to the reality of insecurity could be adduced, than the remarkable fact that, even so far back as the Crimean War, the then King of Wurtemberg, in conversation with Herr von Bismarck, set forth, significantly, the feelings, the hopes and the dread of South Germany. “Give us Strassburg,” he said, “and we will unite to encounter any eventuality … for until that city shall become German, it will always stand in the way of Southern Germany, devoting herself unreservedly to German unity and to a German national policy.” Hence it will be seen that, beyond the Main, there were traditional, yet very real fears of French invasion; and that these apprehensions had no small share in facilitating the acceptance of the secret military treaties, and in shaping the course of subsequent events.

Thus much it seems needful to state, in order that some portion of the earlier transactions which had a great influence in bringing on the war of 1870, may be recalled to the reader’s mind. The short, sharp and decisive duel fought between Austria and Prussia for leadership in Germany, created a profound impression throughout Europe. Austria was irritated as well as humbled; Russia, although the Czar remained more than friendly, was not without apprehensions; but the French ruler and his ministers were astounded, indignant and bewildered. The telegram, which reported the Battle of Sadowa, wrenched a “cry of agony” from the Court of the Tuileries, whose policy had been based on the conjecture or belief that Prussia would be defeated, and would call for help. The calculation was, that Napoleon III. would step in as arbiter, and that while he moderated the demands of Austria, he would be able to extort territorial concessions from Prussia as the reward of his patronage. M. Drouyn de Lhuys would have had his master strike in, at once, and cross the Rhine, or occupy the Palatinate; but the Emperor was not then in the mood for heroic enterprises; he feared that his army was not “ready,” and, besides, he still thought that by arrangement he could obtain some sort of “compensation” from Prussia, at the expense of Germany. But all he did was to pose as mediator at Nikolsburg; and Herr von Bismarck, who had done his utmost to keep him in a dubious frame of mind, regarded it as “fortunate” that he did not boldly thrust himself into the quarrel. The “golden opportunity” slid by; M. Drouyn de Lhuys resigned; and Imperial France acquiesced, publicly, in the political and territorial arrangements which, for the first time, during the lapse of centuries, laid broad and deep the foundations of German Unity, and, as a consequence, rendered inevitable a France-German War.

CHAPTER I.

THE CAUSES OF THE WAR.

The Treaty of Prague, the secret military conventions signed at Nikolsburg, the ascendancy secured by Von Bismarck, now elevated to the dignity of a Count, together with the complete removal of alien Powers from Italy, wrought a radical change in the political relations of the European States. Excluded from Germany, although including powerful German elements, the dominions of Austria still extended to the verge of Venetia and the Lombard plains; but as the Prussian statesman had already hinted, her future lay Eastward, and her centre of gravity had been removed to Buda-Pesth. In the South German Courts, no doubt, there was a bias towards Vienna, and a dislike of Prussia; yet both the leaning and the repugnance were counterbalanced by a deeper dread of France rooted in the people by the vivid memories of repeated and cruel invasions. Russia, somewhat alarmed by the rapid success of King William, had been soothed by diplomatic reassurances, the tenour of which is not positively known, although a series of subsequent events more than justified the inference made at that time, that promises, bearing on the Czar’s Eastern designs, were tendered and accepted as a valuable consideration for the coveted boon of benevolent neutrality, if not something more substantial. Like Russia, France had lost nothing by the campaign of 1866; her territories were intact; her ruler had mediated between Austria and Prussia; and he had the honour of protecting the Pope, who, as a spiritual and temporal Prince, was still in possession of Rome and restricted territorial domains. But the Napoleonic Court, and many who looked upon its head as a usurper, experienced, on the morrow of Sadowa, and in a greater degree after the preface to a peace had been signed at Nikolsburg, a sensation of diminished magnitude, a consciousness of lessened prestige, and a painful impression that their political, perhaps even their military place in Europe, as the heirs of Richelieu, Louis XIV., and Napoleon, had been suddenly occupied by a Power which they had taught themselves to contemn as an inferior. Until the summer of 1866 the Emperor Napoleon fancied that he was strong enough to play with the Prussian Minister a game of diplomatic finesse; indeed, he seems to have thought that the Pomeranian gentleman would be an easy prey; but having thus put it to the proof, he did not concur in the maxim that it is as pleasant to be cheated as to cheat, especially when the result is chiefly due to complaisant self-deception. On the other hand, Herr von Bismarck had no longer any delusions concerning Louis Napoleon. If, at an early period, when the English Radicals were considering whether the new Emperor was “stupid,” a proposition they had taken for granted theretofore, he had over-estimated the capacity of the self-styled “parvenu,” later experience had reduced the estimate to just proportions, and had produced a correct judgment upon the character of one who, down to the last, was always taken for more than he was worth. If any one knew him well, it was probably his cousin, the Duc de Morny, and M. St. Marc Girardin has preserved a sentence which is an illuminative commentary upon so many curious transactions during the Second Empire. “The greatest difficulty with the Emperor,” said De Morny, “is to remove from his mind a fixed idea, and to give him a steadfast will.” His fixed ideas were not always compatible one with another. He professed great devotion to the “principle of nationalities;” yet he desired to carry the French frontiers as far as the Rhine, adding further German populations and Flemish towns whose inhabitants are not French to those acquired by Louis XIV. He wished for peace, no doubt, when he said that the Empire was synonymous with that word, but he also hungered for the fruits of war; and, knowing that his internal position and his external projects required, to uphold the one and realize the other, a strong and complete army, he had neither the wit to construct a trustworthy instrument, nor the ceaseless industry needed to make the most of an inferior product, nor that absolute independence of the party whose audacity gave him his crown, which would have enabled him to select, in all cases, the best officers for the higher and highest commands. Before, and during the war of 1866, he wavered between two lines of policy, hoping to combine the advantages of both; and when it was over he demanded compensation for his “services” as an alarmed spectator, although he had made no bargain for payment, but had stood inactive because he conjectured that it would be the more profitable course.

French demands for the Rhine.

In making that calculation he erred profoundly. M. Benedetti, the French Ambassador to the Court of Berlin, was instructed as early as the first week in August, 1866, to claim the left bank of the Rhine as far as, and including the important fortress of Mainz. “Knowing the temper of the Minister-President,” and knowing also, as he had repeatedly told his Government, that all Germany would resist any proposal to cede the least portion of territory, he first sent in a copy of M. Drouyn de Lhuys’ despatch, and afterwards called on the Minister. Prince von Bismarck, in 1871, published in the official newspapers his account of the famous interview, which shows that Benedetti, as he had pledged himself to do, resolutely pressed the large demand. He was told that it meant war, and that he had “better go to Paris to prevent a rupture.” Unmoved, he replied that he would return home, “but only to maintain a proposition the abandonment of which would imperil the dynasty.” “The parting words” of the Prussian statesman to Count Benedetti, as nearly as they could be remembered by the man who spoke them, were calculated to suggest grave reflections. “Please to call His Majesty’s attention to this,” said Herr von Bismarck. “Should a war arise out of this complication, it might be a war attended by a revolutionary crisis. In such a case the German dynasties are likely to prove more solid than that of the Emperor Napoleon.” It was a menace and a prophetic warning, which touched a sensitive fibre in the heart of the French ruler, who, after a conversation with Count Benedetti, wrote, on the 12th of August, a remarkable letter to M. de Lavalette, who became the ad interim successor of M. Drouyn de Lhuys. Expressing his fears lest “the journals” should taunt him with the refusal of his demand for the Rhine provinces, he directed that the report should be contradicted, flatly; and he added, “the true interest of France is not to obtain an insignificant increase of territory, but to aid Germany in constituting herself after a fashion which will be most favourable to our interests and those of Europe.” Neither Dodona nor Delphos could have been more oracular. Alarmed as he was, he did not altogether recede from his position, but occupied it in a different way. On the 16th of August a fresh set of proposals was forwarded to Count Benedetti, comprising a regular scale of concessions—the frontiers of 1814 and the annexation of Belgium, or Luxemburg and Belgium, or the Duchy with Belgium, without Antwerp, which was to be “declared a free city.” The last-named device was designed “to obviate the intervention of England” when the projected act of violence was committed. “The minimum we require,” wrote the French Government to M. Benedetti, “is an ostensible treaty which gives us Luxemburg, and a secret treaty which, stipulating for an offensive and defensive alliance, leaves us the chance of annexing Belgium at the right moment, Prussia engaging to assist us, by force of arms, if necessary, in carrying out this purpose.” If Herr von Bismarck asked what he should gain by such a treaty, the answer was to be that he would secure a powerful ally, and that “he was only desired to consent to the cession of what does not belong to him.” The official papers on which these statements are founded were discovered and acquired by the Germans in Cerçay, M. Rouher’s château, during the war of 1870; neither their authenticity nor the construction put on them have ever been contested; and they show, plainly, what was the kind of projects nourished by the French Court in 1866–67. The precise manner in which Count von Bismarck actually dealt with them has not been revealed, but he kept a rough copy of the project drawn up by Benedetti, which was handed to him by the French Ambassador in 1867, and the boxes of papers found at Cerçay gave him the draft treaty itself annotated by the Emperor. Practically, the secret negotiation dropped, was not renewed for several months, and was only “resumed, subsequently, at various times,” without producing any other result than that of letting Bismarck know the plans which were conceived in Paris, and inducing him to keep the Napoleonic Government in play. There can be no doubt on one point. The Prussian statesman did, at various periods, probably at Biarritz in 1865, when he captivated Prosper Merimée, and afterwards, while refusing point-blank to cede an inch of German soil, ask his interested auditors why they could not indemnify themselves by seizing Belgium. But a grim smile of irony must have lighted up his face when he pointed to a prey which would not have to be ceded, but caught and overpowered by main strength. He was tempting, probing, playing with the Frenchman, employing what he called the “dilatory” method, because he wanted time to equip the new and still imperfect Germany; and, considering their own dark schemes, can it be said that they deserved better treatment?

Having direct knowledge of the steps taken by France in August, 1866, the earliest recorded formal attempt to procure secret treaties on the basis of territorial concessions, with what searching comment must Bismarck have read the astonishing diplomatic circular, signed by M. de Lavalette, and sent out on the 2nd of September, at the very time when the dark proceedings just briefly sketched were in full swing! It was a despatch framed for public consumption, and intended to present the Imperial policy in a broad, generous, and philosophic light, having no relation to the course which, either then or afterwards, the French ruler followed. Louis Napoleon told the whole world that France could not pursue “an ambiguous policy,” at the moment when he was meditating the forcible acquisition of Belgium. The Emperor painted himself as one who rejoiced in the change effected by the war, perhaps because it shattered the treaties of 1815. Prussia, he said, had insured the independence of Germany; and France need not see in that fact any shadow cast over herself. “Proud of her admirable unity, and indestructible nationality, she cannot oppose or condemn the work of fusion going on in Germany.” By imitating, she took a step nearer to, not farther from, France; and the Imperial philosopher professed not to see why public opinion “should recognize adversaries, instead of allies, in those nations which—enfranchised from a past inimical to us—are summoned to new life.” But there was consolation for those alarmed patriots who could read between the lines. Petty states, they were assured, tended to disappear and give place to large agglomerations; the Imperial Government had always understood that annexations should only bring together kindred populations; and France, especially, could desire only such additions as would not affect her internal cohesiveness—sentences which, like finger-posts, pointed to the acquisition of Belgium. The war of 1866, it was admitted, showed the necessity of perfecting the organization of the army; yet smooth things were predicted by the Imperial soothsayer, for, on the whole, the horizon, in September, as scanned from Paris, seemed to be clear of menacing possibilities, and a lasting peace was secure! The despatch was, in fact, prepared and administered as a powerful anodyne. By keeping the French moderately quiet, it suited the purposes of Bismarck, who, well aware of the uneasiness which it covered, felt quite equal to the task of coping with each fresh attempt to obtain “compensation” as it might arise. Perhaps Louis Napoleon was sincere when he dictated this interesting State paper, for it is not devoid of some “fixed ideas” which he cherished; yet probably it may take rank as a curious example of the subtle tactics which he often applied to deceive himself, as well as to cajole his people and his neighbours. At all events, his will, if he willed peace, did not endure for he soon sanctioned and set in motion renewed projects, for he intended to push forward the boundary posts of France.

Luxemburg.

As he found Prussia polite yet intractable, and prompt to use plain language, if concessions were demanded, the Emperor Napoleon formed, or was advised to form, an ingenious plan whereby he hoped to secure Luxemburg. He entered into secret negotiations with Holland for the purchase of the Duchy. The Queen of Holland, a Princess of the House of Würtemburg, was a keen partizan of France. She it was, who, in July, 1866, uttered a cry of warning which reached the Tuileries. “It is the dynasty,” she wrote, “which is menaced by a powerful Germany and a powerful Italy, and the dynasty will have to suffer the consequences. When Venetia was ceded, you should have succoured Austria, marched on the Rhine, and imposed your own conditions. To permit the destruction of Austria is more than a crime, it is a blunder.” Perhaps the notion that Luxemburg could be acquired by purchase came from this zealous, clear-sighted, and outspoken lady. Wherever it may have originated, the scheme was hotly pursued, negotiations were opened at the Hague, the usual Napoleonic operations were actually begun to obtain a plébiscite from the Duchy. Count von Bismarck was discreetly sounded by M. Benedetti, with the usual indefinite result, and the consent of the King of Holland was obtained without much difficulty. At the same time there was a strong current of opposition in the Dutch Government, and Prince Henry, the Governor of Luxemburg, made no secret of his hostility. The King himself was subject to recurring tremors caused by his reflections on the possible action of the Prussian Court; and his alarms were only mitigated or allayed from time to time by assurances based, in reality, on M. Benedetti’s “impressions” that the Chancellor was not unfavourable to the plan of cession. The truth is that M. Benedetti did not accurately perceive the position which Bismarck had taken up from the outset. It might be thus expressed: “Luxemburg belongs to the King of Holland. It is his to keep or give away. If you want the Duchy, why don’t you take it, and with it the consequences, which it is for you to forecast.” The French Court and its Ministers still laboured under the belief that they could manage the Berlin Government, and they put their own interpretation on the vague, perhaps tempting language of the Chancellor. At a certain moment, the fear, always lurking in the King of Holland’s breast, gained the mastery, and he caused the secret to be disclosed to the public. “He would do nothing without the consent of the King of Prussia;” and by revealing the negotiations he forced on a decision. The incident which terrified the King of Holland was, no doubt, startling. M. Thiers had made a strong anti-German speech in the Chamber, and M. Rouher had developed his theory of the “trois tronçons,” or triple division of Germany. The Chancellor, who had acquired full knowledge of French pretensions from French Ministers, answered both statesmen by printing, in the foreground of the “Official Gazette,” the treaty which gave King William the control of the Bavarian army, in case of war. That fact also produced a decisive effect upon the Dutch monarch, who saw in this characteristic indirect retort to the French parliamentary display a menace specially directed against himself. Hence the revelation sufficed to thwart the bargain, then so far finished that signatures were alone wanting to render it binding. The German people fired up at the bare mention of such a proposal as the cession of a German province. M. de Moustier, vexed and taken aback, called on Bismarck to restrain the passions of his countrymen, and vainly urged the Dutch monarch to sign the treaties. On the morning of the day when he was to be questioned in the Reichstag, Bismarck asked Benedetti whether he would authorize the Minister to state in the Chamber that the treaties had been signed at the Hague. The Ambassador could not give the required authority, seeing that although the King, under conditions, had pledged his word to the Emperor, the formal act had not been done, because Prussia had not answered the appeal for consent from the Hague. On April 1, 1867, while Napoleon was opening the Exhibition in Paris, Herr von Bennigsen put his famous question respecting the current rumours about a treaty of cession. If the French were not prepared for the fierce outburst of Teutonic fervour, still less could they relish the question put by Herr von Bennigsen and the answer which it drew from the Chancellor. The former described the Duchy as an “ancient province of the collective Fatherland,” and the latter, while “taking into account the French nation’s susceptibilities,” and giving a brief history of the position in which Luxemburg stood towards Germany, made his meaning clear to the French Court. “The confederate Governments,” he said, “are of opinion that no foreign power will interfere with the indisputable rights of German States and German populations. They hope to be able to vindicate and protect those rights by peaceful negotiations, without prejudicing the friendly relations which Germany has hitherto entertained with her neighbours.” Napoleon and his advisers were not likely to misconstrue language which, although it lacked the directness of Von Bennigsen’s sentences, obviously meant that the French scheme could not be worked out. Indeed, a few days earlier, the Chancellor had used a significant phrase. Answering a question in the Chamber, he said:—“If the previous speaker can manage to induce the Grand Duke (of Luxemburg) to come into the North German Federation, he will be able to say that he has called an European question into existence; what more, Time alone can show.” The phrase could hardly have escaped the notice of M. de Moustier, and coupled with the second reply, already quoted, gave rise to indignation not unmixed with alarm. At first the Emperor seemed determined not to recede, and he took counsel with his generals, who could not give him encouragement, because they knew that the Government was absolutely without the means of making even a respectable defence against an invasion. The period of suspense at the Tuileries did not endure long. Shortly after the scene in the Reichstag, the Prussian Minister at the Hague brought the matter to a crisis by a message which he delivered to the Dutch Government. The King of the Netherlands, he is reported to have said, can act as he pleases, but he is responsible for what he may do. If he had believed that the meditated cession was a guarantee of peace, it was the Minister’s duty to destroy the illusion. “My Government,” he added, “advises him in the most formal manner, not to give up Luxemburg to France.” The blow was fatal; the King of course, took the advice to heart, and such a stroke was all the more deeply felt in Paris because there the Emperor, who had considered the end gained, now knew from Marshal Niel that it would be madness to provoke a war. Yet, unless a loophole of escape could be found, war was imminent. M. de Moustier discovered a safe and dignified line of retreat. The Chancellor had referred to the treaty of 1839 which governed the status of Luxemburg; M. de Moustier took him at his word, and virtually brought the dispute within the purview of Europe, by formally demanding that the Prussian garrison should be withdrawn. He held that since the German forces were practically centred in the hands of Prussia, Luxemburg, no longer a mere defensive post, had become a menace to France. In this contention there was much truth, seeing that the new Confederation of the North, and its allies in the South, constituted a political and military entity far more formidable and mobile than the old Bund. When the Chancellor refused a demand, which his adversaries assert he was at one time prepared to grant, the French Government, declaring that they had no wish for other than friendly relations with Berlin, appealed to Europe. The dispute ended in a compromise arranged as usual beforehand, and settled at a conference held in London. The garrison was withdrawn, the fortifications were to be razed, and the Duchy, like Belgium, was thenceforth to be neutral ground, covered by a collective guarantee of the Powers; but it still remained within the German Zollverein.

There were at work several influences which largely operated to determine a peaceful issue. The French possessed no real army, and the Emperor had only just begun to think about the needful military organization on a new model; he had, besides, on hand an international Exhibition, by which he set great store; and in addition a summons to withdraw a garrison did not provide a casus belli certain to secure the support of public opinion. Nor did the Prussian Government consider the moment opportune, or the question raised a suitable ground on which to determine the inveterate cause of quarrel between France and Germany. Upon this subject Dr. Busch has recorded some characteristic observations made by the Chancellor, at Versailles, in 1870. “I remember,” he said, “when I was at the Paris Exhibition of 1867, I thought to myself ‘how would it have been by now, if we had fought out the Luxemburg quarrel? Should I be in Paris, or the French in Berlin?’ We were not nearly as strong then as we are now. The Hanoverians and Hessians of that day could not have supplied us with so many good soldiers as to-day. As for the Schleswig-Holsteiners, who have lately been fighting like lions, they had no army at all. The Saxon army was broken up, and had to be entirely reconstructed. And there was but little to be expected from the South Germans. What splendid fellows the Würtembergers are now, quite magnificent! but in 1866 no soldier could help laughing at them, as they marched into Frankfort like a civic guard. Nor was all well with the Baden forces; the Grand Duke has done a great deal for them since then. Doubtless public opinion throughout Germany was with us, if we had chosen to make war about Luxemburg. But that would not have made up for all those shortcomings.” It is plain, from this retrospective comment, which comes in aid of other evidence, that the great conflict, deferred to 1870, was nearly brought about in 1867, and that France was saved from utter rout, at that early period, by the operation of a set of influences over which neither of the principal actors had full control. The Franco-Dutch negotiation was the last attempt which the Emperor Napoleon made to obtain territory by direct or furtive diplomatic processes. In the early stages of the risky business he had full confidence in his own ascendancy, not to say “preponderance” in European councils. He was rudely undeceived. Herr von Bismarck had tempted him with all kinds of suggestions, but the Emperor himself, his Ministers and Ambassadors had been content to take the “impressions,” which they derived from confidential conversations, for definite, binding promises. One French agent correctly described the fact when he said that “Herr von Bismarck is ready, not to offer us compensations, but to allow us to take them;” he might have added, “if we can and at our own risk.” There is no published evidence that the Prussian statesman ever offered to cede Luxemburg, or sanction the annexation of Belgium, or preclude himself from adopting, at any conjuncture, the line which appeared most accordant with German interests. On the contrary, long after the interviews at Biarritz and in Paris, and the battle of Sadowa, Napoleon III., to use his own terms, wanted, at least, “une certitude relative” that the Prussian Government would not interpose any obstacle in the way of French “aggrandizement” in the North. He asked, not for words, but an act which he could never obtain; and the Luxemburg incident proved to him conclusively that nothing could be gained by making demands on the Court of Prussia. In 1867 and afterwards in November, 1870, according to Dr. Busch, Bismarck described with his usual frankness the hesitation of the Emperor. He had not understood his advantages, in 1866, when he might have done a good business, although not on German soil, was the earlier commentary. The later was more illuminative. “In the summer of 1866,” said Bismarck, “Napoleon had not the pluck to do what was the right thing from his point of view. He ought—well, he ought to have taken possession of the subject of Benedetti’s proposal [Belgium], when we were marching against the Austrians, and have held it in pawn for whatever might happen. At that time we could not stop him and it was not likely that England would attack him—at least he might have waited to see.” On this it may be observed that the influence of Lord Cowley and Lord Clarendon would probably have sufficed to turn him from such a plan had it entered into the Emperor’s mind; and had he delivered the blow, in defiance of their protests, or without consulting them, England, at that time, would have been enraged at the treachery, and would have certainly occupied Antwerp. The Emperor was a man who caressed audacious projects which he had not always the nerve and courage to carry out. What is more astonishing, he did not or could not provide the means essential to the accomplishment of his desires. Thus the precedent afforded by his conduct in 1866 was followed in 1867, and in each case the result was the same—vexatious failure.

An Interlude of Peace.

The war-clouds sank below the horizon, the Paris Exhibition was duly opened, sovereigns and princes, statesmen and generals, journeyed to the French capital, and the Court of the Tuileries gave itself up to amusement, gaiety, and dissipation, neglecting nothing which could give pleasure to its illustrious guests. It was the last hour of splendour, the sunset of the Empire. Yet the brilliant scenes, which followed each other day by day, were even then flecked with dark shades. If politics were evaded or ignored in the palace, they were not absent from the highways. Polish hatred found vent in the attempt of Berezowski to slay the unfortunate Emperor Alexander II., and M. Floquet shouted in his ear as he passed through the Courts of Justice, “Vive la Pologne!” The crime and the insult augured ill for the future of that Franco-Russian alliance which Charles X. endeavoured to establish and certain French statesmen have always sighed for. M. Hansen records a sharp observation made by Prince Gortchakoff during the Polish insurrection which the Western Powers regarded with friendly eyes. The Vice-Chancellor held that France and Russia were natural allies, because their interests were the same. “If the Emperor Napoleon will not admit it,” he roughly said, “so much the worse for him. Governments vanish, nations remain.” Still, in 1867, he did not find the nation more favourable than the Government had been in 1864. Twenty years later, although Russia had become less unpopular, at least with the politicians, and a yearning for a Russian alliance had gathered strength, the ultras proved how little they understood some conditions essential to its gratification by clamoring for the pardon and liberation of Berezowski! The Prussian King and Queen were not exposed to any outrage, and the Parisians gazed with curiosity upon Bismarck and Moltke, whom they admired, and had not yet learned to detest; but the sparkling and joyful assemblies, although the actors, on both sides, were doubtless sincere at the time, nevertheless suggests a famous incident in the French Revolution which figures on historical pages as “le baiser de l’amourette.” And underneath the shining surface were concealed gnawing anxieties and fears. The Emperor Napoleon had dreamed that he could found a Mexican empire, and he had induced the Austrian Archduke Maximilian to accept at his hands an Imperial crown. The enterprise, which was pushed on by French troops, not only failed, but irritated England, who had been deceived, and offended the United States, whose Government, victors in a civil war, would not tolerate the establishment of the “Latin race” in the centre of the huge continent. Not only had it become necessary to recall the troops, but to bear a still deeper misfortune—if the word may be applied to the consequences of a reckless and unscrupulous adventure. It was while opening the Exhibition that the earliest hints reached the Emperor of an event which dealt him a heavy blow; and, on the eve of the day fixed for the distribution of prizes to the competitors he had assembled, came the confirmation of the dreaded intelligence, whispered weeks before. The gallant Archduke and Emperor Maximilian, who had fallen into the hands of the triumphant and implacable Mexicans, had been tried and shot, a deed which his French patron was powerless to avenge.

The Salzburg Interview.

The tragedy of Quaretaro reacted upon European politics, and incidentally emphasized afresh the perennial antagonism between France and Germany. Still smarting from the wounds of 1866, Austria hungered for an ally, and the Saxon Count von Beust, whom the Emperor Francis Joseph had made his Chancellor, was eager to try one more fall with Count von Bismarck. Swayed by political reasons, the Austrian Emperor not only did not resent the death of his brother, but was even willing to welcome as his guest Louis Napoleon, who had so successfully seduced the Archduke by dangling before him the bait of an Imperial crown. The French Emperor and his Empress, therefore, travelled in state through South Germany to Salzburg, where they met their Austrian hosts. The occasion was, nominally, one of condolence and mourning, and the vain regrets on both sides were doubtless genuine. Yet it so chanced that the days spent in the lovely scenery of Salzburg were given up to gay mirth and feasting—not to sorrow and gloom; and that the irrepressible spirit of politics intruded on the brilliant company gathered round an open grave. Both emperors felt aggrieved; one by the loss of his high estate in Germany and his Italian provinces, the other because his demand for the Rhenish territory had been rejected, and he had not been allowed to take Belgium or buy Luxemburg. The common enemy was Prussia, who had worsted Austria in battle, and France in diplomacy and at Salzburg, perhaps earlier, the ground plans were sketched for an edifice which the architects trusted might be built up sufficiently large and strong to contain, at least, two allies. The sketch was vague, yet it was definite enough at least to reveal the designs of the draughtsmen; and the Emperors returned home still in jubilation.

Perhaps the Emperor Napoleon suffered some pangs of disappointment. “Austria was his last card,” says M. Rothan, who, from the French standpoint, has so keenly studied the period preceding the war of 1870. He wanted an offensive and defensive alliance, which Austria would not accord, Count von Beust fearing that so grave a fact would never escape the lynx-eyes of Bismarck, who, when it came to his knowledge, would not fail to provoke a war before either ally had fully, or even partially, completed his military preparations, then so much in arrear. Not only were they backward in 1867, but Austria, at all events, was still unprovided in 1870. The Archduke Albrecht, who visited Paris during the month of February of that year, impressed the fact on the Emperor Napoleon. “The story runs,” says M. Rothan, “that, after having quitted the study of his Majesty, the Archduke returned, and; through the half-opened door, exclaimed, ’sire, above all things do not forget, whatever may happen, that we shall not be in a fit state to fall into line before a year.’” Hence, it may well be that the Austrian Chancellor was even then determined, in case of a conflict, to shape his policy in accordance with the first victories; and that the meditations of the Emperor Napoleon, as he re-crossed the Rhine, were tinged with bitter reflections on his political isolation. A little later, when he knew that Bismarck had discovered the drift of the conversation at Salzburg, his anxieties must have become more poignant. That Chancellor, who had secured afresh the goodwill of Russia, and beheld with satisfaction the effect of the Imperial display on Germany, enlarged, in a circular despatch, on the proof thus once more afforded that German national feeling could not endure “the mere notion” of “foreign tutelage” where the interests of the Fatherland were concerned. Germany had a right to mould her own fortunes and frame her own constitution. So that, as Von Buest had foreseen, the dreaded Chancellor had promptly turned to account even the colloquies of Salzburg. “France, with one hand,” he said, “presents us with soothing notes, and with the other permits us to see the point of her sword.” There was no open quarrel between the two antagonists, but each suspected and closely watched the other. M. Rothan, himself a vigilant and zealous official, furnishes an amusing example. In November, 1866, he learned from “a Foreign minister accredited to a South German Court,” what was to him the appalling fact that the Imperial work of mediation at Nikolsburg had been counteracted, “even before it had been sanctioned by the Treaty of Prague.” He referred to the now famous military treaties. M. de X—, his informant, he says, obtained his knowledge of the secret by a sort of inquisitorial method, “a la façon d’un juge d’instruction,” that is, he affirmed the existence of the documents, and thus extorted confessions, express or implied. “The Bavarian Foreign Minister,” he said, blushed; “the Minister of Würtemberg was confused; the Minister of Baden did not deny it, and the Minister of Hesse avowed everything.” Further, M. de X— asserted that, when it was no longer necessary to keep France in good humour, Prussia would enforce the clauses which gave her supreme command, and would bring the Southern armies into harmony with her own organization. Apparently, this authentic information did not obtain a ready belief in the autumn of 1866; but it alarmed and disturbed the French Court, and the public confirmation of the unwelcome report, less than a year afterwards, visible to all men in the actual re-organization of the Southern armies, together with the failure to purchase Luxemburg, still further increased the suspicion, deepened the alarm, and aroused the indignation of the Emperor at the slights inflicted on France, who, as the “predominant” Continental power and the “vanguard of civilization,” always considered that she ought to have her own way.

The Emperor seeks Allies.

In the beginning of 1868 the principal parties were engaged in preparing for a conflict which each considered to be inevitable; and the other Powers, great and small, more or less concerned, were agitated by hopes and fears. Russia desired to recover her freedom of movement in the East, and especially to throw off what Prince Gortchakoff called his “robe de Nessus,” the clause in the treaty of Paris which declared the Euxine to be a neutral sea. Austria aimed at the restoration of her authority in Germany, and was not yet convinced that her path lay eastward. Italy had many longings, but her pressing necessity was to seat herself in the capital of the Cæsars and the Popes, once again occupied by the French, who had re-entered the Papal States to expel the Garibaldians. It was in the skirmish at Mentana that the new breech-loading rifle, the Chassepot, “wrought miracles,” according to General de Failly, and established its superiority over the “needle gun.” Holland, Belgium, and even Switzerland were troubled by the uncertain prospect which the Imperial theory of “large agglomerations” had laid bare; Spain was in the throes of a revolutionary convulsion; and England—she had just mended her constitution, and had begun to look on Continental politics with relative indifference, except in so far as they affected the fortunes of “parties,” and might be used strategically as a means of gaining or holding fast the possession of power. Yet so strained were the relations of France and Prussia that General von Moltke actually framed, in the spring of 1868, the plan of campaign which he literally carried out in 1870—a fact implying that even then he considered that his Government was sufficiently prepared to encounter the new and imperfectly developed scheme of army organization and armament originally devised by the Emperor and Marshal Niel, and modified to satisfy the objections and suspicions raised in a deferential Senate and an obliging Chamber of Deputies. For while the Opposition distrusted the Emperor, the whole body shrank from the sacrifices which Cæsar and his Minister of War considered necessary to the safety of the State from a defensive, and absolutely indispensable from an offensive point of view. The prime actors in the drama expressed a love of peace, perhaps with equal sincerity: but as Germany thirsted for unity, all the more because France, true to her traditional policy, forbad it, the love so loudly avowed could not be gratified unless Germany submitted, or France ceased to dictate. “I did not share the opinion of those politicians,” said Bismarck in July, 1870, “who advised me not to do all I could to avoid war with France because it was inevitable. Nobody,” he added, “can exactly foresee the purposes of Divine Providence in the future; and I regard even a victorious war as an evil from which statesmanship should strive to preserve nations. I could not exclude from my calculations the possibility that chances might accrue in France’s constitution and policy which might avert the necessity of war from two great neighbour races—a hope in connection with which every postponement of a rupture was so much to the good.” The language is a little obscure, but the meaning will be grasped when it is remembered that his remark on the “chances” referred to the probable grant of increased freedom to the French Parliament, which he thought would fetter the Court and thwart the politicians. That forecast was not justified by the event, since it was the partially-liberated Chamber and the Liberal Ministry which so hastily sanctioned the declaration of war. The truth is, however, that each rival nationality inherited the liabilities contracted in the past. The French had been accustomed for more than two hundred years to meddle directly in Germany and find there allies, either against Austria, Prussia, or England; and the habit of centuries had been more than confirmed by the colossal raids, victories, and annexations of Napoleon I. A Germany which should escape from French control and reverse, by its own energetic action the policy of Henri IV., Richelieu, Louis XIV., his degenerate grandson, Louis XV, and of the great Napoleon himself, was an affront to French pride, and could not be patiently endured. The opposing forces which had grown up were so strong that the wit of man was unable to keep them asunder; and all the control over the issue left to kings and statesmen was restricted to the fabrication of means wherewith to deliver or sustain the shock, and the choice of the hour, if such choice were allowed.

To that end the adversaries had, indeed, applied themselves after the last French failure to obtain any material compensation, not even what M. Rouher called such a rag of territory as Luxemburg. Thenceforth, keeping an eye on Prussia, the French Government sought to gain over Austria and Italy, and form a defensive alliance which, at the fitting moment, might be converted into an offensive alliance strong enough to prevent the accomplishment of German unity, win campaigns, and enable each confederate to grasp the reward which he desired. Carried on during more than two years, the negotiations never got beyond a kind of vague preliminary understanding which signified the willingness of the three Courts to reach a definite, formal treaty if they could. But obstacles always arose when the vital questions lying at the root of the business had to be solved. Italy demanded and Austria was willing that she should have Rome. To that France steadfastly demurred, even down to the last moment, as will presently be seen. Austria also, besides being unready, in a military sense, was visited by the chronic fear that, if she plunged into war against Germany, Russia would at once break into her provinces from Lithuania and the Polish Quadrilateral, and settle the heavy account opened when Prince Schwarzenberg displayed his “immense ingratitude” during the Crimean war. Nor was the Court of Vienna exempt from apprehensions growing out of the possible, even probable conduct of half-reconciled Hungary. Count von Beust also deluded himself with the notion that the Prussian treaties with the South German States were mere “rags of paper,” and nourished the fond belief, except when he had a lucid interval, that the South German people would not fight for the Fatherland. Waiting on Providence, the would-be confederates, at the same time, counted on the fortune of war, arguing that France was certain to win at first, and that one victory under the tricolour would bring the inchoate alliance instantly to maturity, and the armies it controlled into the field. Based on such conjectural foundations, and opposed by such solid obstacles, the grand design was doomed to fail; indeed it never got nearer to completion than an exchange of letters by the Sovereigns; grounded on the very eve, and went to pieces on the day of battle.

Diverted from Luxemburg, the French Government did not relax its efforts to pave the way for the annexation of Belgium. During the spring and summer of 1869 a successful effort was made to secure political, commercial, and strategic advantages by obtaining a certain control over the Belgian railways, notably the line which runs from Luxemburg to Liège, and thence to the North Sea ports. These proceedings, of course, did not escape notice at Berlin, where the ends in view were perfectly appreciated; but they form only a petty incident in the great struggle, and can only be mentioned with brevity in order to indicate its growth. It may be stated here that, in 1873, the German Chancellor reversed the process, and secured for his Government the control of the Luxemburg lines. Another railway question which cropped up in May, 1870, was the famous railway which, by means of an ingenious tunnel within the Alps near St. Gothard, placed Germany in direct communication with Italy through neutral territory. Count von Bismarck openly said it was a Prussian interest, and the Northern Confederation paid a part of the cost, which aroused indignation in France. At one moment it seemed possible that this enterprise would serve as a casus belli; but the French Government, after careful deliberation, decided, in June, 1870, that they could not reasonably oppose the project, although it certainly was regarded at the Foreign Office in Paris as a further proof of German antagonism, and a sort of bribe tendered to Italy. Since the beginning of the year France had been in the enjoyment of certain Liberal concessions made by the Emperor, and confirmed, in May, by the famous “plébiscite,” which gave him a majority of more than five millions. Now, although the Emperor’s reflections on this triumphant result of an appeal to universal suffrage were embittered by the knowledge that large numbers of soldiers had helped to swell the million and a half of Frenchmen who voted “No,” still the Foreign Minister and his agents, according to M. Ollivier, were so elated that they exclaimed with pride, “Henceforth, all negotiations are easy to the Government,” since the world thoroughly understood that, for France, peace would never mean “complaisance or effacement.” Yet Prince Napoleon, in his brief sketch of these critical months, says plainly that the Government concerned itself less with foreseeing the political complications which might lead up to war, than with the best mode of proceeding when war arrived. So true is this, that a General was sent to Vienna to discuss the bases of a campaign with the Austrian War Office. But in the spring of 1870 fortune seemed to smile on official France; and on the last day of June M. Ollivier, instructed by the Foreign Minister, considered himself authorized to boast before the admiring Deputies that the peace of Europe had never been less in danger than it was at the moment when he delivered his optimistic declaration. In England, also, the Foreign Secretary could not discern “a cloud in the sky.”

The Hohenzollern Candidature.

One week later, not only M. Ollivier and Lord Granville, but Europe, nay, the whole world, saw plainly enough the signs and portents of discord and convulsion. On the 3rd of July the Duc de Gramont learned from the French Minister at Madrid that Prince Leopold of Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen, with his own full consent, had been selected as a candidate for the vacant throne of Spain, and that, at no distant date, the Cortes would be formally requested to elect him. The French Government quivered with indignation, and the political atmosphere of Paris became hot with rage. Not that the former were unfamiliar with the suggestion. It had been made in 1869, considered, and apparently abandoned. Indeed, the Emperor himself had, at one time, when he failed to obtain the Rhenish provinces, proposed that they should be formed into a State to be ruled by the King of Saxony, and at another, that the Sovereign should be the Hereditary Prince of Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen; the very Prince put forward by Marshal Prim. He had been grievously hampered and perplexed in the choice of a Sovereign of Spain by some Powers, especially by France; but now the Imperial Government turned the whole tide of its resentment, not upon Madrid, but Berlin, which, it was assumed, aimed at establishing an enemy to France beyond the Pyrenees. Explanations were demanded directly from the Prussian Government, but M. Le Sourd, the chargé d’affaires, could extract no other answer than this—that the Prussian Government knew nothing about the matter. The Duc de Gramont, who had succeeded Lavalette, in May, as Minister for Foreign Affairs, regarded the statement as a subterfuge, and forthwith determined to fasten on the King a responsibility which he could not fasten on the Government. The Duc de Gramont was not a wise counsellor; he was deep in negotiations having for their object an offensive and defensive alliance against Prussia, and he was hardly less moved by a noisy external opinion than by his own political passions. He ordered M. Benedetti, who had only just sought repose at Wildbad, to betake himself at once to Ems, whither King William, according to custom, had repaired to drink the waters. The French Ambassador reached the pleasant village on the Lahn late at night on the 8th of July, and the next day began a series of interviews with the King, which take rank among the most curious examples of diplomacy recorded in history.

Before the ambassador could commence his singular task, an event had occurred in Paris which seemed to render a war unavoidable. The politicians of the French capital had become feverish with excitement. Not only did a species of delirium afflict the immediate advisers of the Emperor, but the band of expectants, who, more ardent Imperialists than he was, still believed that nothing could withstand the French army; while the opposition, loving France not less, but what they called liberty more, were eager to take advantage of an incident which seemed likely to throw discredit on the Bonapartes. Wisdom would have prevented, but party tactics demanded a movement in the Chamber which took the innocent-looking form of an inquiry. The Government dreaded, yet could not evade, the ordeal, and M. Cochery put his question on the 6th of July. Had the Duc de Gramont been a clever Minister, or had he represented a Government strongly rooted in the national respect and affection, he would have been able to deliver a colourless response, if he could not have based a refusal to answer upon public grounds. The truth is, he was carried off his feet by the sudden storm which raged through the journals and society, and it may be surmised that, even then, despite the plébiscite, fears for the stability of the dynasty had no small share in determining his conduct. Yet, it must be stated, that he was only one of the Council of Ministers who sanctioned the use of language which read, and still reads, like an indirect declaration of war. After expressing sympathy with Spain, and asserting, what was not true, that the Imperial Government had observed a strict neutrality with regard to the several candidates for the crown, he struck a note of defiance: “We do not believe,” he exclaimed, “that respect for the rights of a neighbouring people obliges us to endure that a foreign State, by placing one of its princes on the throne of Charles V., should be able to derange, to our injury, the balance of power in Europe, and to imperil the interests and honour of France.” The pacific sentences uttered by M. Ollivier on this memorable occasion were forgotten; the trumpet-blast of the Duc de Gramont rang through the world, and still rings in the memory. Prussia was not named by the Minister, but everyone beyond the Rhine knew who was meant by the “German people,” and a “foreign Power;” while, as Benedetti has stated in a private despatch to Gramont, the King deeply felt it as a “provocation.”

Not the least impressive characteristic of these proceedings is the hot haste in which they hurried along. M. Benedetti neither in that respect nor in the swiftness and doggedness which he imparted to the negotiations, is to blame. The impulse and the orders came from Paris; he somewhat tempered the first, but he obeyed the second with zeal, and, without overstepping the limits of propriety in the form, he did not spare the King in the substance of his demands. Nor, in the first instance, were they other than those permitted by diplomatic precedent; afterwards they certainly exceeded these limits. The first was that the King himself should press Prince Leopold to withdraw his consent: indeed, direct him so to do. The answer was that, as King, he had nothing to do with the business; that as head of the Hohenzollern family he had been consulted, and had not encouraged or opposed the wish of the Prince to accept the proffered crown; that he would still leave him entire freedom to act as he pleased, but that his Majesty would communicate with Prince Antoine, the father of Prince Leopold, and learn his opinion. With this reply, unable to resist the plea for delay, the ambassador had perforce to be content. Not so the Imperial Government. The Duc de Gramont sent telegram on telegram to Ems, urging Benedetti to transmit an explicit answer from the King, saying that he had ordered Prince Leopold to give up the project, and alleging, as a reason for haste, that the French could not wait longer, since Prussia might anticipate them by calling out the army. The ambassador, to check this hurry, prudently warned his principals, saying, that if they ostentatiously prepared for war, then the calamity would be inevitable. “If the King,” wrote De Gramont, on the 10th of July, “will not advise the Prince to renounce his design—well, it is war at once, and in a few days we shall be on the Rhine.” And so on from hour to hour. A little wearied, perhaps, by the pertinacity of the ambassador, and nettled by the attempt to fix on him the responsibility for the Spanish scheme, the King at length said that he looked every moment for an answer from Sigmaringen, which he would transmit without delay. It is impossible, in a few sentences, to give the least idea of the terrier-like obstinacy displayed by M. Benedetti in attacking the King. Indeed, it grew to be almost a persecution, so thoroughly did he obey his importunate instructions. At length the King was able to say that Prince Antoine’s answer would arrive on the 13th, and the ambassador felt sure of a qualified success, inasmuch as he would obtain the Prince’s renunciation, sanctioned by King William. But, while he was writing his despatch, a new source of vexation sprang up in Paris—the Spanish Ambassador, Señor Olozaga, announced to the Duc de Gramont the fact that Prince Antoine, on behalf of his son, had notified at Madrid the withdrawal of his pretensions to the crown. It was reasonably assumed that, having attained the object ostensibly sought, the French Government would be well content with a diplomatic victory so decisive, and would allow M. Benedetti to rest once more at Wildbad. He himself held stoutly that the “satisfaction” accorded to the wounded interests and honour of France was not insufficient. The Emperor and the Duc de Gramont thought otherwise, because, as yet, no positive defeat had been inflicted, personally, upon King William. The Foreign Minister, therefore, obeying precise instructions from St. Cloud, directed Benedetti to see the King at once, and demand from him a plain declaration that he would not, at any future time, sanction any similar proposal coming from Prince Leopold. The Duc de Gramont’s mind was so constructed that, at least a year afterwards, he did not regard this demand as an ultimatum! Yet how could the King, and still more Bismarck, take it in any other light? Early on the 13th the King, who saw the ambassador in the public garden, advanced to meet him, and it was there that he refused, point blank, Louis Napoleon’s preposterous and uncalled-for request, saying that he neither could nor would bind himself in an engagement without limit of time, and applying to every case; but that he should reserve his right to act according to circumstances. King William brought this interview to a speedy close, and M. Benedetti saw him no more except at the railway station when he started for Coblenz. Persistency had reached and stepped over the limits of the endurable, and King William could not do more than send an aide-de-camp with a courteous message, giving M. Benedetti authority to say officially that Prince Leopold’s recent resolution had his Majesty’s approval. During the day the ambassador repeated, unsuccessfully, his request for another audience; and this dramatic episode ended on the 13th with the departure of the King, who had pushed courtesy to its utmost bounds.

During that eventful 13th of July Count Bismarck, recently arrived in Berlin from Pomerania, had seen and had spoken to Lord Augustus Loftus in language which plainly showed how steadfastly he kept his grip on the real question, which was that France sought to gain an advantage over “Prussia,” as some kind of compensation for Königgrätz. The Duc de Gramont also conversed with Lord Lyons in Paris, and induced him to set in motion Lord Granville, from whose ingenious brain came forth a plausible compromise wholly unsuitable to the exigency, and promptly rejected at Berlin, but having an air of fairness which made it look well in the pages of a Blue Book. It was a last effort on the part of diplomacy, and served well enough to represent statesmanship as it was understood by the Cabinet to which Lord Granville belonged. On the evening of that day Count Bismarck entertained at dinner General von Moltke and General von Roon; and the host read aloud to them a telegram from Ems, giving an account of what had occurred, and the royal authority to make the story public. “Both Generals,” writes Dr. Moritz Busch, “regarded the situation as still peaceful. The Chancellor observed—that would depend a good deal upon the tone and contents of the publication he had just been authorized to make. In the presence of his two guests he then put together some extracts from the telegram, which were forthwith despatched to all the Prussian Legations abroad, and to the Berlin newspapers in the following form:—‘Telegram from Ems, July 13th, 1870. When the intelligence of the Hereditary Prince of Hohenzollern’s renunciation was communicated by the Spanish to the French Government, the French Ambassador demanded of His Majesty the King, at Ems, that the latter should authorize him to telegraph to Paris that His Majesty would pledge himself for all time to come never again to give his consent, should the Hohenzollerns hark back to their candidature. Upon this His Majesty refused to receive the French Ambassador again, and sent the aide-de-camp in attendance to tell him that His Majesty had nothing further to communicate to the Ambassador.’”

Substantially, it was the grotesque pile of misrepresentation built up on this blunt telegram—M. Benedetti read it next morning in the “Cologne Gazette,” and took no exception whatever to the brief and exact narrative it contained—which set the Parisians on fire. Travestied in many ways by calculating politicians, as well as gossips, the message became a “Note,” or a “despatch,” imputing the extreme of intentional rudeness to King William, and imposing the depth of humiliation, publicly inflicted, upon France through her representative, who, all the time, was not only unconscious of any insult, but emphatic in his acknowledgments of the King’s courtesy, kindness, and patience. Probably Count Bismarck wrote his telegram for Germany, but its effect in satisfying the Fatherland, was not greater than its influence upon the fiery French, who never read the text until months afterwards, and in July, 1870, were set a-flame by the distorted versions freely supplied by rumour’s forked tongue.

The French Government and the Chamber.

War was now plainly inevitable, yet the decisive word still rested with the Imperial Government. In Paris there were two currents running strongly in opposite ways, and, for a moment, it seemed possible that the tide which made for peace would overpower the surging stream which drove onwards towards war. More than one-half the Ministry believed, and some, M. Ollivier for one, said that the retreat of Prince Leopold, with the consent of the King, a great diplomatic victory for France, was enough, and had, indeed, brought the quarrel to an end. At midday, on the 13th, M. Robert Mitchell, meeting M. Paul de Cassagnac, said, “I have just left Ollivier, and, thank God, peace is secured.” “My father,” was the reply, “has just quitted the Emperor; war is resolved on.” The statement was not then exact, but it may be accepted as a forecast. For, in truth, it was only at noon the next day that the Ministers assembled in council at the Tuileries to answer the momentous question which so profoundly agitated their minds. They sat six hours; they were divided in opinion; yet, although Marshal Lebœuf was authorized to call out the reserves—he had threatened to resign unless that were done—the Ministers separated with the understanding that a peaceful line of action should be adopted, based on a demand for a Congress of the Powers to sanction the principle that no member of any reigning house should accept a foreign throne. The Duc de Gramont’s brief account of this notable Council shows that the hankering after war was powerful therein; since he says that “the Government decided, not without hesitation, but influenced by a love of peace, to propose this pacific solution.” But all, or some of the Ministers, and still more the Emperor, stood in dread of two things: they were alarmed lest the “dynasty” should be injured by a course which bore the semblance of a forced retreat, and they could not rely with confidence on the sober opinion of the Chambers. The Court war-party operated upon the Senators and Deputies through M. Clément Duvernois, a schemer, and M. Jérôme David, by birth and training a fanatical Bonapartist, the second accentuating the questions of the first, and giving to his own language a substance which made retreat almost impossible. Both these men had a double object. They intended to extort a declaration of war and, at the same time, expel Emile Ollivier, together with what they called the Parliamentary element, from the Ministry. The energetic, aggressive and relentless group were really the mouthpieces of the Emperor and Empress, and in a less degree of M. Rouher, who had been deposed by the new Imperial constitution, and of the Duc de Gramont, who all through the business desired to secure a prolongation of peace, solely because it would give him time to ripen the projects of alliance with Austria and Italy, and also to make war, lest “la Prusse,” aware of his design, should choose her own hour for battle. It so chanced that Marshal Lebœuf, after despatching the orders calling out the reserves, received a note from the Emperor, which, he says, seemed to suggest a regret at the decision adopted by the Council; and thinking, innocent man, that some constitutional scruples had sprung up in the Imperial mind, the Marshal begged that the Ministers might be summoned once more. That night they met again, talked for an hour, and had nearly resolved that the mobilization of the army should be deferred, when papers were placed in the hands of the Duc de Gramont. The exact contents of these documents have not been described, but they seemed to have contained some report of language held by Count Bismarck which exasperated the war party; and, in an instant, the Council resolved on war. That same night, M. Robert Mitchell, walking in the garden of the Foreign Office, asked M. Ollivier why he did not resign? The Minister gave a host of plausible reasons having no real weight; adding these prophetic words: “Whatever happens, I am sacrificed; for the war will sweep away the régime to which I have attached my name. If we are beaten, God protect France! If we are victorious, God protect our Liberties!”

So that, having a clear perception of the future, this Minister, at least, met the Chambers on the morrow. The exciting events of the past week, imperfectly understood and carelessly or purposely misrepresented, had aroused a tempest of passion in Paris and France, which, by its violence and uproar, overpowered, but could not wholly silence, the voices of sagacity and sober judgment. The Senate was unanimous for war. In the Chamber the Opposition waged courageously a desperate contest, so desperate from the outset, that even M. Thiers, perhaps because he told unpleasant truths, could not command an unbroken hearing, while M. Gambetta only secured one by making a rare display of forensic tact, basing himself on Parliamentary ground, and tempering his appeal for “more light” with evidences of his indisputable patriotism. The Duc de Gramont favoured the Senators with a version of the facts, which was neither complete nor candid. M. Emile Ollivier allowed an unhappy phrase to escape from his lips—he went into the war “à cœur leger.” A committee was appointed to inspect the diplomatic documents on which the Court relied; it was easily satisfied, and late in the night, sustained by a large majority, the policy of the Government was amply sanctioned.

Perhaps a sentence spoken by M. Guyot Montpayroux best illustrates the predominant feeling. “Prussia,” he said, “has forgotten the France of Jena, and the fact must be recalled to her memory.” Thus was war declared by these infuriated legislators on the night of July 15th. M. Thiers, who desired a war with Prussia “at the proper time,” has left on record his judgment that the hour then selected was “detestably ill-chosen.” Yet even he and M. Gambetta were both anxious that “satisfaction” should be obtained for Sadowa; while the thought which animated the Court is admirably expressed in the phrase imputed to the Empress who, pointing to the Prince Imperial, said, “This child will never reign unless we repair the misfortunes of Sadowa.” Such was the ceaseless refrain. The word haunted French imaginations incessantly, and it was the pivot on which the Imperial policy revolved, and it exercised a spell scarcely less powerful and disastrous upon Monarchists like M. Thiers, and Republicans like Gambetta and Jules Favre. Still, it may be said that France was divided in opinion. Consulted through the Prefects, only sixteen departments were for war; no fewer than thirty-four were adverse, and the remainder could not be said to hold with the one or the other. Nor should it be overlooked that these estimates of popular feeling were transmitted by functionaries who have always a wish to please the superior Powers. Germany, on the other hand, was united as it had never been since 1813. King William was applauded everywhere. When he reached Berlin on the evening of the 15th, he was met at the railway station by the Crown Prince, Count von Bismarck, General von Moltke, and General von Roon. There the decision was formally taken to accept the challenge, the fact was repeated to the crowd who had assembled, and whose shouts were loud, deep, and prolonged; and that same night went forth the brief telegraphic orders which from one centre touched a thousand springs, and called into instant being an army, perfectly organized, equipped, trained and supplied. So that when Baron Wimpfen, a secretary of legation, entered Berlin on the 19th of July, and handed to M. Le Sourd the French declaration of war—the sole official document on the subject received by Prussia, as Von Moltke bluntly remarks—that work had already begun which finished in little more than a fortnight, enabled the King to break into France at the head of more than three hundred thousand soldiers.

Only one word more need be said on this subject—the causes of the war. Clearing away the diplomatic mist which hides the realities, the student will discover two deadly opposites; on one side the determination of France to insist on a right of meddling with internal German affairs, and even of prescribing the form or forms which the national aggregate should assume; on the other, the fixed resolve of the German people that the French should no longer dictate or pretend to dictate beyond the Rhine, that an end should be put to the policy of seeking political profits by fomenting the spirit of discord in the petty German Courts; and that, if possible, by dint of “Kraft und Muth,” Germany should secure palpable safeguards against French invasions, and resume possession of the strongholds and dependent territories which were acquired, in times of adversity and disunion, by Louis XIV. Thus, the causes of war were deeply rooted in essential facts. The moment to be chosen, if it can be said to have been chosen, was for statesmen to decide. The Imperial Government, down to the last hour, sought to form a combination adverse to Prussia, intending to wage war at its own time. Prussia refused to be made the victim of a triple alliance, and taking a fair advantage of the imperious conduct of the French Court, seized the golden opportunity, promptly answered the declaration of war, and struck down the French Empire before its hesitating and unprepared allies could move a finger to avert a defeat which neither attempted, nor dared attempt to repair. Austria, the unready, stood in fear of Russia: Italy, the ambitious, demanded the right to enter Rome. “We can grant nothing of the kind,” said the over-confident Duc de Gramont, so late as July 30. “If Italy will not march,” he exclaimed, “let her sit still.” Abundant evidence exists to prove that war between France and Germany was solely a question of time, and Prussia cannot be blamed justly for selecting or seizing the hour most suitable to her and least suitable to her adversaries. The Duc de Gramont asserts that neither the Emperor nor the Government nor France, desired war—certainly not just then; but they intended to make war at a time and under conditions chosen by themselves. He admits that it was the duty of the Imperial Government to evade a war, but also prepare for a war as much as possible; and, failing to do the former, he further confessed many months afterwards, that too much confidence in the army and in its untested military virtues, and the dazzling splendour of a glorious past dragged France, its Government and its representatives, into an unequal struggle. “We believed ourselves too strong to stoop,” he says, “and we knew not how to resist the system of provocations so ably combined and directed by the Cabinet of Berlin.” A frank confession, especially from the pen of a statesman who was himself endeavouring to combine a system of alliances, and who was anticipated by the Power against whom his plans were directed. M. Prevost Paradol, who in a moment of weakness had accepted from the Emperor the post of Minister at Washington, saw more clearly into the future than the Duc de Gramont and some of his colleagues. On the very afternoon of the day when the unhappy journalist killed himself, he saw a countryman, the Comte d’Hérisson, and his language to the young man showed how deeply he was moved, and with what sagacity he estimated the near future. In his opinion, expressed on the 10th of July, war was even then certain, because not only “la Prusse” desired war, but because, as he said, “The Empire requires war, wishes for it, and will wage it.” The young Frenchmen to whom he spoke made light of the peril, and said he should like to travel in Germany, and study in the libraries of her conquered cities. But the Minister checked his natural exultation, saying, “You will not go to Germany, you will be crushed in France. Believe me, I know the Prussians. We have nothing whatever that is needed to strive with them. We have neither generals, men, nor matériel. We shall be ground to powder. Nous serons broyés. Before six months are over there will be a Revolution in France, and the Empire will be at an end.” Mourning over the error he made in laying down his sharp critical pen to put on a diplomatic uniform, and maddened by the retrospect and prospect, Paradol, a few hours after uttering his predictions, escaped from unendurable misery by a pistol-shot. It was like an omen of the coming catastrophe.

CHAPTER II.

THE GATHERING OF THE HOSTS.

German Mobilization.

The great contest, thus precipitated by the formal defiance which Baron Wimpfen bore from Paris to Berlin, excited deep emotion all over the world. The hour had at length struck which was to usher in the deadly struggle between France and Germany. Long foreseen, the dread shock, like all grave calamities, came nevertheless as a surprise, even upon reflective minds. Statesmen and soldiers who looked on, while they shared in the natural feelings aroused by so tremendous a drama, were also the privileged witnesses of two instructive experiments on a grand scale—the processes whereby mighty armies are brought into the field, and the methods by means of which they are conducted to defeat or victory. The German plan of forming an Army was new in regard to the extent and completeness with which it had been carried out. How would it work when put to the ultimate test? Dating only from 1867, the French scheme of organization, a halting Gallic adaptation of Prussian principles, modified by French traditions, and still further by the political exigencies besetting an Imperial dynasty, having little root in the nation, besides being new and rickety, was in an early stage of development; it may be said to have been adolescent, not mature. No greater contrast was ever presented by two parallel series of human actions than that supplied by the irregular, confused, and uncertain working of the Imperial arrangement of forming an Army and setting it in motion for active service, and the smoothness, celerity, and punctuality which marked the German “mobilization.” The reason is—first, that the system on which the German Army was built up from the foundations was sound in every part, and that the plan which had been designed for the purpose of placing a maximum force under arms in a given time, originally comprehensive, had been corrected from day to day, and brought down to the last moment. For example, whenever a branch or section of a railway line was opened for traffic, the entire series of time-tables, if need be, were so altered as to include the new facility for transport. The labour and attention bestowed on this vital condition was also expended methodically upon all the others down to the most minute detail. Thus, the German staff maps of France, especially east of Paris, actually laid down roads which in July, 1870, had not yet been marked upon any map issued by the French War Office. The central departments, in Berlin, exercised a wide and searching supervision; but they did not meddle with the local military authorities who, having large discretionary powers, no sooner received a brief and simple order than they set to work and produced, at a fixed time, the result desired.

When King William arrived in Berlin, on the evening of July 15, the orders already prepared by General von Moltke received at once the royal sanction, and were transmitted without delay to the officers commanding the several Army Corps. Their special work, in case of need, had been accurately defined; and thus, by regular stages, the Corps gradually, but swiftly, was developed into its full proportions, and ready, as a finished product, to start for the frontier. The reserves and, if needed, the landwehr men filled out the battalions, squadrons, and batteries to the fixed strength; and as they found in the local depôts arms, clothing, and equipments, no time was lost. Horses were bought, called in, or requisitioned, and transport was obtained. As all the wants of a complete Corps had been ascertained and provided beforehand, so they came when demanded. At the critical moment the supreme directing head, relieved altogether from the distracting duty of settling questions of detail, had ample time to consider the broad and absorbing business problems which should and did occupy the days and nights of a leader of armies. The composition of the North German troops, that is, those under the immediate control of King William, occasioned no anxiety; and there was only a brief period of doubt in Bavaria, where a strong minority had not so much French and Austrian sympathies, as inveterate Prussian antipathies. They were promptly suppressed by the popular voice and the loyalty of the King. Hesse, Würtemberg, and Baden responded so heartily to the calls of patriotism that in more than one locality the landwehr battalions far exceeded their normal numerical strength, that is, more men than were summoned presented themselves at the depôts. The whole operation of bringing a great Army from a peace to a war footing, in absolute readiness, within the short period of eighteen days, to meet an adversary on his own soil, was conducted with unparalleled order and quickness. The business done included, of course, the transport of men, guns, horses, carriage, by railway chiefly, from all parts of the country to the Rhine and the Moselle; and the astonishing fact is that plans devised and adopted long beforehand should have been executed to the letter, and that more than three hundred thousand combatants—artillery, horse, infantry, in complete fighting trim, backed up by enormous trains—should have been brought to specified places on specified days, almost exactly in fulfilment of a scheme reasoned out and drawn up two years before. The French abruptly declared war; the challenge was accepted; the orders went forth, and “thereupon united Germany stood to arms,” to use the words of Marshal von Moltke. It is a proud boast, but one amply justified by indisputable facts.

French Mobilization.

How differently was the precious time employed on the other side of the Rhine. When the Imperial Government rushed headlong into war, they actually possessed only one formed Corps d’Armée, the 2nd, stationed in the camp of Chalons, and commanded by General Frossard. Yet even this solitary body was, as he confesses, wanting in essential equipments when it was hurriedly transported to St. Avold, not far from Saarlouis, on the Rhenish Prussian frontier. Not only had all the other Corps to be made out of garrison troops, but the entire staff had to be provided in haste. Marshal Niel, an able soldier, and the Emperor, had studied, at least, some of Baron Stoffel’s famous reports on the German Army, and had endeavoured to profit by them; but the Marshal died, the Corps Législatif was intractable, favouritism ruled in the Court, the Emperor suffered from a wearing internal disease, and the tone of the Army was one not instinct with the spirit of self-sacrificing obedience. In time it is possible that the glaring defects of the Imperial military mechanism might have been removed, and possible, also, that the moral and discipline of the officers and men might have been raised. Barely probable, since Marshal Lebœuf believed that the Army was in a state of perfect readiness, not merely to defend France, but to dash over the Rhine into South Germany. His illusion was only destroyed when the fatal test was applied. Nominally, the French Army was formidable in numbers; but not being based on the territorial system, which includes all the men liable to service in one Corps, whether they are with the colours or in the reserve, and also forms the supplementary landwehr into local divisions, the French War Office could not rapidly raise the regiments to the normal strength. For a sufficient reason. A peasant residing in Provence might be summoned to join a regiment quartered in Brittany, or a workman employed in Bordeaux called up to the Pas de Calais. When he arrived he might find that the regiment had marched to Alsace or Lorraine. During the first fortnight after the declaration of war thousands of reserve men were travelling to and fro over France in search of their comrades. Another evil was that some Corps in course of formation were split into fragments separated from each other by many score miles. Nearly the whole series of Corps, numbered from One to Seven, were imperfectly supplied with a soldier’s needments; and what is more astonishing, the frontier arsenals and depôts were sadly deficient in supplies, so that constant applications were made to Paris for the commonest necessaries. There were no departmental or even provincial storehouses, but the materials essential for war were piled up in three or four places, such as Paris and Versailles, Vernon and Chateauroux. In short, the Minister of War, who said and believed that he was supremely ready, found that, in fact, he was compelled almost to improvise a fighting Army in the face of an enemy who, in perfect order, was advancing with the measured, compact, and irresistible force of a tidal wave.

The plan followed was exactly the reverse of the German method. East of the Rhine no Corps was moved to the frontier, until it was complete in every respect, except the second line of trains; and consequently, from the outset, it had a maximum force prepared for battle. There were some slight exceptions to the rule, but they were imposed by circumstances, served a real purpose, and disappeared when the momentary emergency they were adapted to meet had been satisfied. West of the Rhine, not one solitary Corps took its assigned place in a perfect state for action. All the battalions of infantry, and of course the regiments, were hundreds short of their proper strength. Before a shot had been fired, General de Failly, at Bitsche, was obliged to send a demand for coin to pay the troops, adding notes won’t pass—“les billets n’ont point cours.” General Frossard, at St. Avoid, reported that enormous packages of useless maps had been sent him—maps of Germany—and that he had not a single map of the French frontier. Neither Strasburg, Metz, Toul, Verdun, Thionville, nor Mézières, possessed stores of articles—such as food, equipments, and carriage—which were imperatively required. The Intendants, recently appointed to special posts, besieged the War Office in Paris, to relieve them from their embarrassments—they had nothing on the spot. The complaints were not idle. As early as the 26th of July, the troops about Metz were living on the reserve of biscuits; there were sent only thirty-eight additional bakers to Metz for 120,000 men, and even these few practitioners were sadly in want of ovens. “I observe that the Army stands in need of biscuit and bread,” said the Emperor to the Minister of War at the same date. “Could not bread be made in Paris, and sent to Metz?” Marshal Lebœuf, a day later, took note of the fact that the detachments which came up to the front, sometimes reserve men, sometimes battalions, arrived without ammunition and camp equipments. Soldiers, functionaries, carts, ovens, provisions, horses, munitions, harness, all had to be sought at the eleventh hour. These facts are recorded in the despairing telegrams sent from the front to the War Office. The very Marshal who had described France as “archiprête,” in a transcendent state of readiness for war, announced by telegram, on the 28th of July, the lamentable fact that he could not move forward for want of biscuit—“Je manque de biscuit pour marcher en avant.” The 7th Corps was to have been formed at Belfort, but its divisions could never be assembled. General Michel, on the 21st of July, sent to Paris this characteristic telegram: “Have arrived at Belfort,” he wrote: “can’t find my brigade; can’t find the General of Division. What shall I do? Don’t know where my regiments are”—a document probably unique in military records. Hardly a week later, that is on the 27th, Marshal Lebœuf became anxious respecting the organization of this same Corps, and put, through Paris, some curious questions to General Félix Douay, its commander. “How far have you got on with your formations? Where are your divisions?” The next day General Douay arrived at Belfort, having been assured in Paris by his superiors that the place was “abundantly provided” with what he would require. After the War, Prince Georges Bibesco, a Roumanian in the French Army, attached to the 7th Corps, published an excellent volume on the campaign, and in its pages he describes the “cruel deception” which awaited Douay. He writes that, for the most part, the troops, had “neither tents, cooking pots, nor flannel belts; neither medical nor veterinary canteens, nor medicines, nor forges, nor pickets for the horses—they were without hospital attendants, workmen, and train. As to the magazines of Belfort—they were empty.” In the land of centralization General Douay was obliged to send a staff and several men to Paris, with instructions to explain matters at the War Office, and not leave the capital without bringing the articles demanded with them. Other examples are needless. It would be almost impossible to understand how it came to pass that the French were plunged into war, in July, 1870, did we not know that the military institutions had been neglected, that the rulers relied on old renown, the “glorious past” of the Duc de Gramont, and that the few men who forced the quarrel to a fatal head, knew nothing of the wants of an army, and still less of the necessities and risks of war.

War Methods Contrasted.

As the story is unfolded, it will be seen that the same marked contrast between the principles and methods adopted and practised by the great rivals prevailed throughout. The German Army rested on solid foundations; the work of mobilization was conducted in strict accordance with the rules of business; allowing for the constant presence of a certain amount of error, inseparable from human actions, it may be said that “nothing was left to chance.” The French Army was loosely put together; it contained uncertain elements; was not easily collected, and never in formed bodies; it was without large as well as small essentials; it “lacked finish.” And similar defects became rapidly manifest in the Imperial plan for the conduct of the war. Here the contrast is flagrant. The Emperor Napoleon, who had lived much with soldiers, who had been present at great military operations, and had studied many campaigns, could not be destitute of what the French call “le flair militaire.” He had, also, some inkling of the political side of warfare; and in July, 1870, he saw that much would depend upon his ability to make a dash into South Germany, because, if he were successful, even for a brief time, Prussia might be deprived of South German help, and Austria might enter the field. There was no certainty about the calculation, indeed, it was almost pure conjecture; seeing that Count von Beust and the Archduke Albert had both warned him that, “above all things,” they needed time, and that the former had become frightened at the prospect of Hungarian defection, and a Russian onfall. Yet it was on this shadowy basis that he moved to the frontier the largest available mass of incomplete and suddenly organized batteries, squadrons and battalions. He and his advisers were possessed with a feverish desire to be first in the field; and the Corps were assembled near Metz, Strasburg, and Belfort, with what was called a reserve at Chalons, on the chance that the left might be made to join the right in Alsace, and that the whole, except the reserve which was to move up from Chalons, could be pushed over the Rhine at Maxau, opposite Carlesruhe, and led with conquering speed into the country south of the Main. Before he joined the head-quarters at Metz, on the 28th of July, the Emperor may have suspected, but on his arrival he assuredly found that the plan, if ever feasible, had long passed out of the range of practical warfare. He reaped nothing but the disadvantages which spring from grossly defective preparation, and “raw haste half-sister to delay.” He knew that he was commander-in-chief of a relatively weak and ill-found Army, and he acquired the certainty at Metz, that, unless he were conspicuously victorious, neither Austria nor Italy would move a man.

His mighty antagonist, on the other hand, was advancing to the encounter with such large resources, and so thoroughly equipped, that no fewer than three Army Corps were left behind, because even the admirably man managed and numerous German railway lines were not able to carry them at once to the banks of the Rhine. Moreover, General von Moltke, the Chief of the Great Staff, had, in 1868–69, carefully reasoned out plans, which were designed to meet each probable contingency, either a march of the French through Belgium, an early irruption into the Rhenish provinces, or the identical scheme upon which the Emperor founded his hopes; while, if the French allowed the Germans to begin offensive operations on French soil, then the method of conducting the invasion, originally adopted, would come into play. The memorandum on this great subject, the essential portions of which have been published by its author, Von Moltke, is, for breadth, profundity, and insight, one of the most instructive to be found in the records of war. This is not the place to deal with its general or detailed arguments. For present purposes, it is sufficient to set forth the main operative idea. The contention was, that an army assembled on the Rhine between Rastadt and Mainz, and on the Moselle below Treves, would be able to operate successfully, either on the right bank of the main stream, against the flank of a French Army, which sought to invade South Germany; or, with equal facility, concentrate on the left bank, and march in three great masses through the country between the Rhine and Moselle, upon the French frontier. Should the French make a precipitate dash into the German country towards Mainz, then the Corps collected near that fortress would meet them in front, and those on the Moselle would threaten their communications or assail them in flank. The soundness of the reasoning is indisputable; its application would depend upon the prompt concentration of the Armies, and that had been rendered certain by careful and rigorously enforced preparations. The great Prussian strategist had calculated the move of troops and railway trains to a day; so that he knew exactly what number of men and guns, within a given area, he could count upon at successive periods of time; and, of course, he was well aware that the actual use to be made of them, after the moment of contact, could not be foreseen with precision, but must be adapted to circumstances. But he foresaw and prepared for the contingency which did arrive. “If,” he said, “the French desired to make the most of their railways, in order to hasten the assembly of all their forces,” they would be obliged to disembark, or as we now say, “detrain” them, “at Metz and Strasburg, that is, in two principal groups separated from each other by the Vosges.” And then he went on to point out how, assembled on the Rhine and Moselle, the German Army would occupy what is called the “interior lines” between them, and “could turn against the one or the other, or even attack both at once, if it were strong enough.”

The grounds for these conclusions, succinctly stated, were the conformation of the frontier, an angle flanked at each side by the neutral states of Switzerland and Luxemburg, restricting the space within which operations could be carried on; the possession of both banks of the Rhine below Lauterbourg; the superior facility of mobilization secured by the Germans, not only as regards the rapid transition of Corps from a peace to a war footing, but by the skilful use of six railway lines running to the Rhine and the Moselle; and, finally, the fact that, fronting south between those rivers, the advancing German Army would be directed against an adversary whose line of retreat, at least so far as railways were concerned, diverged, in each case, to a flank of any probable front of battle. The railway from Strasburg to Nancy traversed the Vosges at Saverne; the railway from Metz to Nancy on one side, and Thionville on the other, followed the valley of the Moselle; and as the important connecting branch from Metz to Verdun had not been constructed, it follows that the French Army in Lorraine had no direct railway line of retreat and supply. The railway from Metz to Strasburg, which crossed the Vosges by the defile of Bitsche and emerged in the Rhine valley at Hagenau, was, of course, nearly parallel to the German front, except for a short distance west of Bening. The frontier went eastward from Sierck, on the Moselle to Lauterbourg on the Rhine, and thence southerly to Basle. The hill range of the Vosges, starting from the Ballon d’Alsace, overlooking the Gap of Belfort, runs parallel to the river, and extends in a northerly direction beyond the French boundary, thrusting an irregular mass of uplands deep into the Palatinate, ending in the isolated Donnersberg. It follows that the main roads out of, as well as into, France were to the east and west of this chain, and it should be observed that the transverse passes were more numerous south than north of Bitsche, and that, practically, while detachments could move along the secluded valleys, there was no road available for large bodies and trains through the massive block of mountain and forest which occupies so considerable a space of the Palatinate. Thus, an army moving from Mainz upon Metz would turn the obstacle on the westward by Kaiserslautern and Landstuhl; while if Strasburg were the goal, it would march up the Rhine valley by Landau, and through the once famous Lines of the Lauter. If two armies, as really happened in 1870, advanced simultaneously on both roads, the connection between them is maintained by occupying Pirmasens, which is the central point on a country road running from Landau to Deux Ponts, and another going south-east to Wissembourg.

The influence of this mountain range upon the offensive and defensive operations of the rival armies will be readily understood. The French could only unite to meet their opponents in the Prussian provinces at or north of Kaiserslautern; while the Germans, assuming that their adversaries assembled forces in Alsace, as well as in Lorraine, would not be in direct communication until their left wing had moved through the hill-passes and had emerged in the country between the Sarre and Meurthe.

It has been seen that the available French troops, including several native and national regiments from Algeria, had been hurried to the frontier in an imperfect state of organization and equipment. There were nominally seven Corps d’Armée and the Guard; but of these, two, the 6th and 7th, were never united in the face of the enemy. Marshal Canrobert, commanding the 6th, was only able to bring a portion of his Corps from Chalons to Metz; and General Douay, the chief of the 7th, had one division at Lyons, and another at Colmar, whence it was sent on to join the 1st Corps assembling under Marshal MacMahon near Strasburg. The principal body, consisting of the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th Corps, ultimately joined by the greater part of the 6th, and the Guard were posted near and north of Metz; while the 5th occupied positions on the Saar, and formed a sort of link, or weak centre, between the right and left wings. Nothing indicated cohesion in this array, which, as we have shown, was adopted on the vain hypothesis that there would be time to concentrate in Alsace for the purpose of anticipating the Germans and crossing the Rhine at Maxau.

No such error was made on the other side. The German troops were divided into three armies. The First Army, consisting of the 7th and 8th Corps, under the veteran General von Steinmetz, formed the right wing, and moved southward on both banks of the Moselle. The Second Army, composed of the Guard, the 3rd, 4th, and 10th Corps, commanded by Prince Frederick Charles, was the central body, having in rear the 9th and 12th Corps as a reserve. They were destined to march on the great roads leading from Manheim and Mainz upon Kaiserslautern. The Third Army, or left wing, under the Crown Prince, was made up of the 5th and 11th and the two Bavarian Corps, together with a Würtemberg and a Baden Division. Each Army had one or more divisions of cavalry, and, of course, the due proportion of guns. By the 31st of July, the whole of these troops, except the Baden and the Würtemberg Divisions, were on the west of the Rhine, with foreposts on the Saar, below Saarbrück, in the mountains at Pirmasens, and on the roads to the Lauter; the great mass of troops being close to the Rhine. The advantages, in point of concentration, were already secured by the German Staff; the First Army alone, one-half at Treves, and the other strung out between the Moselle and the Nahe, was in apparent danger; yet little apprehension was felt on that score, because the country through which it moved was highly defensible—its right was covered by neutral Luxemburg, and part of the Second Army was sufficiently forward to protect the left.

A week earlier, there had been, indeed, a slight perturbation in Berlin, where the head-quarters still remained. By unceasing observation, a careful collation of reports, a diligent use of French newspapers, the King’s Staff had arrived at a tolerably accurate estimate of the strength, positions, and internal state of the French Corps. They were cognizant of the prevailing disorder, and were well aware that not one Corps had received its full complement of reserve men. Arguing that the enemy would not have foregone the advantages of mobilization unless he had in view some considerable object, such as an irruption into the Palatinate, the Staff modified the original plan, as it affected the Second Army, and, on the 23rd of July, directed the Corps of which it was composed to quit the railway trains transporting them on, and not beyond, the Rhine. This was purely a measure of precaution, the contingency of which had been foreseen; yet one which was needless, as the French had already learned that they could not take the offensive in any direction. No other changes were made, and the only result of this modification was that the soldiers had to march further than they would have marched, and they probably benefited by the exercise. During this period, the bridge at Kehl had been broken, the boats and ferries removed from the Rhine from Lauterbourg to Basle, the railway pontoon bridge at Maxau protected, a measure suggested by the presence of river gunboats at Strasburg, and an unremitting watch had been kept on the land frontier by small detachments of horse and foot. Not the least surprising fact is that no attempt was made by the French to destroy the bridges over the Saar at Saarbrück, or penetrate far beyond that river on its upper course. On the other hand, parties of German horse and foot made several incursions between Sierck and Bitsche, and one small party rode as far as into Alsace at Niederbronn. It was not until the end of the month that large bodies of cavalry were sent to the front to begin a career demonstrating afresh, if a demonstration is needed, the inestimable services which can be performed by that indispensable arm. The German Army had been placed in the field in little more than a fortnight, although the 1st and 6th Corps were still en route from the far North. The Crown Prince reached Spires on the 30th, and the next day, the King, with the Great Staff, left Berlin for Mainz. He had restored the “Order of the Iron Cross,” and had warmly expressed his gratitude for the unexampled spirit manifested by the whole German nation, “reconciled and united as it had never been before.” Germany might find therein, he said, “a guarantee that the war would bring her a durable peace, and that the seed of blood would yield a blessed harvest of liberty and unity.”

Here it may be stated that a French squadron had appeared off the coast of Denmark on the 28th of July, but only to disappear with greater promptitude, thereby relieving the timid from any apprehension of a descent. Large German forces were set free to face westward, and in a brief space, not only the French marines and sailors, but the ship guns were vehemently required to fight in severe battles and defend the capital of France.

GENERAL MAP OF WAR-FIELD

Weller & Graham Ltd. Lithos.  London, Bell & Sons

CHAPTER III.

STAGE THUNDER.

The Combat at Saarbrück.

King William did not reach Mainz until the forenoon of the 2nd of August; and it is characteristically remarked in the official history of the War, that the journey from Berlin had been relatively slow, because it was necessary to fit the six supplementary trains bearing the great head-quarters into the series of military trains in such a way as would not retard the transport of troops. It is a small fact, but an apt illustration of the preference uniformly given to essentials in the Prussian arrangements for war. Soon after the Staff had arrived in the “Deutsche Haus,” lent by the Grand Duke, whose son, Prince Louis, the husband of the British Princess Alice, commanded the Hessian Division, unexpected information greeted them. Telegrams reported first that a serious action was in progress at Saarbrück, and later that the Prussian troops had withdrawn from the town.

This was the famous combat, known at the time as the Baptême de feu of the unfortunate Prince Imperial. The Emperor Napoleon entered Metz on the 28th of July, and took the command of the “Army of the Rhine.” Until that moment, the seven corps d’armée in the field were under the orders of Marshal Bazaine, who received his instructions from Paris through Marshal Lebœuf. They were to act strictly on the defensive, advice which may be said to have been needless, since, as we have shown, not one of the corps was in a condition to march and fight. When the Emperor appeared on the scene, no great change for the better had taken place, and there was still a dearth of real information respecting the strength and position of the enemy, while the reports brought in contained an enormous percentage of error. Nevertheless, there was a vague feeling at head-quarters that something must be done to satisfy a public opinion which thought that the French armies should have been already beyond the Rhine; and on the 30th of July Marshal Bazaine received orders to cross the Saar and occupy Saarbrück. The task was to be intrusted to General Frossard, supported by troops on the right and left, drawn from the Corps of De Failly and Bazaine. Yet this modest operation dwindled down, when discussed in a sort of Council of War held the next day at Forbach, into a simple cannonade, and the occupation of the heights on the left bank! The Emperor was told that his project could not be executed, and resigning himself, as he always did, to the inevitable, he warned MacMahon that no movement should be made on his side before the lapse of eight days. The ostentatious movement on Saarbrück was to be made on the 2nd of August. Now, at that date, the place was occupied by fractions of the 8th German Corps, posted on both banks of the river above and below the town. They consisted of four battalions of foot, several squadrons of horse, and one battery, and the nearest immediate support was some miles to the rear, near Lebach. Colonel von Pestel had held the position from the outset of the war, and was allowed to remain, at his own request, although a considerable army stood in his front at no great distance, that is, the three leading corps of the Army of the Rhine. But on the 2nd Count von Gneisenau was in command of the German outposts, and had orders, if pressed, to retire upon Lebach, but he stood fast, and even assumed the offensive, in order to ascertain exactly what the pressure might be, and test the intentions of the adversary. Against him, in the forenoon, advanced Frossard in the centre, Bazaine on the right, and De Failly, who had crossed the river at Saareguemines, on his left. It was a wonderful spectacle. The Emperor and the Prince Imperial were present on the hills to behold so vast an array moving out in parade order, to fight a sham battle with real shot and shell, against a dozen companies and six guns. It is not necessary to enter into a detail of this combat; it is sufficient to say that the Prussians held on to the left bank until they were obliged, after an hour’s fighting, to retire before the development of several brigades. Finally, when a French battery on the Reppertsberg had opened fire on the bridges and the town, Count von Gneisenau withdrew his troops, first to a place near the town, and afterwards to a position further in the rear. At other points on the river the French had failed to pass, but in the evening they sent parties into Saarbrück, then unoccupied. The French in this skirmish lost eighty-six, and the Prussians, eighty-three officers and men killed and wounded. It was the first occasion on which the soldiers of Napoleon III. had an opportunity of testing the qualities of the German Army, and they found that their secular adversaries, disciplined on a different model, and broken to new tactics, were as hardy, active, and formidable as those of Frederick the Great.

After this striking example of stage thunder, there was a pause—the French did not pursue the retreating companies of the 40th and 69th, hold the town, or even destroy the bridges. Indeed, General Frossard, in his pamphlet, explains that although so few were visible, there must have been large numbers of the 8th Prussian Corps near at hand, and insists that they were held back because the adversary did not wish to show his strength; so that the result actually had an unfavourable influence on the French—it inspired in them a feeling of apprehension. They dreaded the unknown. Without exact, and with what was worse, misleading information, the Marshals and Generals were bewildered by every adverse strong patrol, which boldly marched up and even looked into their camps; and out of these scouting parties they constructed full corps ready to pounce upon them. No master mind at head-quarters filled them with confidence, or gave a firm direction to their soldiers. At a very early period, even in the highest ranks, arose a querulous dread of “Prussian spies,” and a belief that the hills and woods concealed countless foes. The apprehensions had no solid foundation, since the First Army was not nearer the Saar than Losheim and Wadern, and the only troops in the immediate front of General Frossard were those composing Gneisenau’s weak detachment, which retired some miles on the road to Lebach. Yet the feeble operation of August the 2nd induced the Great Staff to concentrate the First Army at Tholey, that is nearer to the main line of march of the Second Army, and on the left flank of the probable French advance. None took place, and thenceforward the swift and measured development of the German movement southwards went steadily onwards.

Preparing to go forward.

After reviewing the general position of the opposing armies, the German head-quarters fixed on the 4th of August as the day on which offensive operations should be begun. It was known in a sufficiently authentic way, that there were between Metz and the Saar, four French Corps and the Guard, the Left being at Bouzonville, south of Saarlouis, and the Right at Bitsche; that the 1st Corps was south of Hagenau, in Alsace, and that the two remaining Corps were still incomplete, one being at Chalons, the other at Belfort. It was, therefore, determined that the Prussian Crown Prince should cross the Lauter on the 4th, while Prince Charles and General von Steinmetz, at a later date, should move upon Saarbrück, and grapple with the main Imperial Army as soon as they could bring the foe to battle. Practically, the skirmish on the 2nd put everyone on the alert. Acting, as was usual in the German Army on their own discretion, yet still in the spirit of their instructions, the divisional and Corps commanders at once sprang forward to support Gneisenau; so that on the 3rd, the front lines of the First Army were nearer to the enemy than had been prescribed, and General von Steinmetz came up from Treves to Losheim.

During this period, the Second Army had continued its movement upon Kaiserslautern, and its cavalry had already established a connection with the First Army. It was not the intention of General von Moltke, who really spoke with the voice of His Majesty, that the Saar should be crossed until a later day. He seems to have been under the impression that the French might still assume the offensive; he therefore held back the somewhat impetuous Steinmetz, and so ordered the movements that both armies should take up positions between Tholey and Kaiserslautern, which would enable them to act in concert. Thus, on the 3rd, the vast array between the Rhine and the Moselle, was in motion, left in front, in other words, the Prussian Crown Prince was the most forward, while the centre and right were drawn together, preparatory to an advance in a compact form. The French, it was noted with surprise, had not only refrained from breaking the substantial bridges over the Saar, but had left untouched the telegraph wires and stations on both banks of the stream, so that, says the official narrative, the Staff at Mainz were kept constantly informed by telegrams of the enemy’s doings and bearing near Saarbrück. Such negligence would not be credited were it not thus authentically recorded by the General who found it so profitable.

By the 4th of August, the entire front of the Armies advancing towards the Saar was covered by several regiments of cavalry, actively engaged on and near the river, especially at Saarbrück, in closely watching the French, and sending information to the rear. There was not a point between Pirmasens and Saarlouis which escaped the notice of these vigilant and tireless horsemen. Behind them came the masses of the First and Second Armies, which latter, on the 4th, had passed “the wooded zone of Kaiserslautern,” and had approached so closely to the First, that a species of controversy for precedence arose between Prince Charles and General von Steinmetz. Fearful of being thrust into the second line, the eager old soldier wanted to push forward on Saarbrück, and reap the laurels of the first battle, or, at all events, keep his place at the head of the advance. General von Moltke, who had his own plans of ulterior action, which were not those of Steinmetz, in order to settle the dispute, drew what he supposed would be an effective line of demarcation between the two Armies. He also added the 1st Corps, which had come up from Pomerania, to the First Army; the 2nd, 10th and 12th to the Second, and the 6th to the Third Army. While directing the Crown Prince to cross the Lauter on the 4th, General von Moltke did not intend to pass the Saar until the 9th, and then to act with the whole force assembled on that side. In fact, rapidly as the business of mobilization, the transit by railway, and the collection of trains for so vast a body of men, horses, and guns, had been performed, the work was not in all respects quite complete, nor had the soldiers been able, good marchers as they were, to cover the ground between them and the adversary, before the date assigned.

Yet Von Moltke proposed, and Von Steinmetz disposed, although he is acquitted by his chief of any deliberate intention to act prematurely. The latter, obliged to make room for Prince Charles, gave directions which brought his two leading Corps within reach of the Saar and his advanced guards close to Völkingen and Saarbrück in actual contact with the French outposts; and that disposition led to a considerable battle on the 6th, a collision not anticipated at the head-quarters in Mainz. It is, however, pointedly declared that at the moment when he thrust himself forward Steinmetz did not know what were the plans which had been formed in that exalted region, to be carried out or modified according to events, and therefore withheld from him. The broad scheme was that the Third Army should, after crossing the Vosges, march on Haney, and that the First should form the pivot on which the Second Army would wheel in turning the French position on the line of the Moselle. Practically that was done in the end, and it was facilitated, perhaps, by the two battles fought on the 6th of August, which shattered the French, and obliged them to act, not as they might have wished, but as they were compelled.

Positions on August 4.

For the sake of clearness, the positions occupied by the rival Armies on the morning of the 4th may be succinctly described. The French stood thus: On the right, two divisions of the 5th Corps, one at Saareguemines, the other at Grossbliedersdorf; in what may be called the centre, three divisions of the 2nd Corps, on and over the frontier immediately south of Saarbrück; three divisions of the 3rd Corps echelonned on the high-road from Forbach to St. Avold, with one division at Boucheporn; on the left, three divisions of the 4th Corps, one at Ham, a second at Teterchen, and a third at Bouzonville. The guard were in rear of the left at Les Etangs. The position of the cavalry it is difficult to determine, but they were not where they should have been—feeling for and watching the enemy. Nor is it easy to ascertain the numerical strength of the French Army at any given moment, because the reserves and battalions, as they could be spared from garrisons, were constantly arriving; but on the 4th there were about 150,000 men and 500 guns in front of Metz. That fortress, however, like all the other strong places on or near the frontier, such as Toul, Verdun, Thionville, and Belfort, had no garrison proper, or one quite inadequate to its requirements.

The German Armies on the 4th were posted in this order: The Crown Prince’s was behind the Klingbach, south of Landau, assembled at dawn for the march which carried it over the frontier; the Second, or Central Army, under Prince Charles, was in line of march through the Haardt Wald by Kaiserslautern, the advanced guard of the 4th Corps being at Homburg, and that of the 3rd at Neunkirchen; while the Guard, the 10th, 12th, and 9th were still north or east of Kaiserslautern, which they passed the next day. The First Army, held back by orders from the Great Staff, was cantonned between Neunkirchen, Tholey, and Lebach. In front of the whole line, from Saarlouis to Saareguemines, were several brigades of cavalry, from which parties, both strong and weak, were sent out constantly to discover and report on the positions and doings of the enemy. The three Armies, as far as can be estimated from the official figures, brought into the field at the outset of the campaign, say the 4th of August, the First, 83,000 men and 270 guns; the Second, 200,000 men and 630 guns; and the Third, 170,000 men and 576 guns, an overwhelming array compared with that mustered by the adversary. These totals include only the active Army. The aggregate from which they were drawn amounted to the enormous sum of 1,183,389 men and 250,373 horses, which, of course, includes garrisons, depôts, and landwehr in course of formation. It has been laid down on indisputable authority that the number available for active operations, namely, that which can be put into the field, is, in all cases, as it was in this, less than half the nominal effective. The proportion of mobilized, to what may be called immobilized, troops in the French Army was for the moment, at all events, necessarily somewhat lower than in the German, because the Imperial military system, as we have already explained, was so clumsy, as well as so incomplete.

The Moral and Political Forces.

One other fact may be usefully noticed, because it had a considerable influence on the campaign. It is this—the moral force, represented by public opinion in politics, and in the Armies by what the French call the moral, which has nothing to do with morals, but means cheerfulness, good will, confidence—had passed wholly over to the German side. Public opinion, which ran in a strong and steady current, condemned the declaration of war, although a certain superstitious belief in the invincibility of French soldiers, at least when opposed to Germans, still prevailed, even among military men who ought to have been better informed and less under the sway of prejudice. While Germany was united and hearty, and willingly obeyed an executive which no one questioned, while Saxony and Hanover, Würtemberg and Bavaria vied in patriotic ardour with Pomerania and Brandenburg; there was no such complete and consentaneous feeling in France; and there was, on the one hand, a powerful, ambitious, and indignant group of Imperialists, who thirsted for the possession of office, which they strove to snatch from Emile Ollivier and his semi-Liberal colleagues, and on the other, outside all the Imperialist sections, the repressed, enraged, and sturdy republicans of Paris who, it is not too much to say, waited for the first decisive defeat of the Imperial Armies to overturn an arbitrary system of government which they detested on account of its treacherous origin, and dreaded, as well as despised, while they writhed beneath its power. Jérôme David and Clement Duvernois were resolved to expel the so-called constitutionalists; and Gambetta, Favre, and their friends were equally determined, if an opportunity occurred, to destroy the Empire, root and branch. There were no such elements of weakness beyond the Rhine.

Nor, as we shall see, did the conduct of the Empress Eugénie, in her capacity as Regent, supply strength to the Government or impart wisdom to its councils. She had one dominant idea—the preservation of the dynasty—and aided by a willing instrument, the Comte de Palikao, she was the prime agent in the work of depriving the French nation of the best and last chance of saving Paris from investment and capitulation. If the political conditions were adverse to the Imperialists in respect of unity and moral force, they were not less so when estimated from a military standpoint. The French Army we will not say lost courage, but confidence, from the moment when it was brought to a standstill. The soldiers knew quite as well as the generals why, on the 4th of August, the larger host, under an Emperor Napoleon, was pottering to and fro, driven hither and thither by orders and counter-orders, in the country north of Metz, and why the smaller, commanded by Marshal the Duke of Magenta, was still south of the Lauter. They knew also, from daily experience, how imperfect the Armies were, because the weakness of the battalions, the scarcity of provisions, the defects of equipment, the lack of camp utensils were things which could not be hidden. They were also inactive and unable to develop the power which springs up in a French Army when engaged in successful offensive operations; they deteriorated hourly in morale. The Germans gained confidence at every step they took towards the frontier, not only because they were animated by a formidable patriotic spirit and were eager for battle with their ancient foes, but because each battery, squadron, and battalion had its full complement of men, because they put trust in their royal chief and his illustrious assistant, and because they were intensely proud of an almost perfect war-apparatus, in which each officer and soldier was able, so solid yet elastic was the system of training, to harmonize obedience to orders with, when the need arose, discretionary independent action. So that as the huge but perfectly articulated masses of the German Armies moved swiftly and steadily to the frontier behind which the adversary awaited them, they bore along in their breasts that priceless belief in themselves and their cause which had so often carried troops to victory, even when they were few and their foes were many. The contrast is painfully distressing; but it is also profoundly instructive, because when closely scrutinized it reveals the open secrets which show, not only how empires are lost and won, but what severe duties a great self-respecting people must perform to obtain securities for the right of cementing and preserving National Independence.

CHAPTER IV.

INVASION IN EARNEST.

The first blow struck in the war—for the parade at Saarbrück does not deserve the name of a blow—was delivered on the Lauter by the Crown Prince. The French Army in Alsace, commanded by Marshal MacMahon, had been collected at Strasburg from the garrisons in the Eastern region. At first it consisted of the 1st Corps, which included four infantry divisions, troops of the Line, to which were added, before the end of July, three regiments of Zouaves, and three of native Algerians, which were distributed among the French infantry brigades. There were three brigades of cavalry, ninety-six guns, and twenty-four mitrailleuses, the Emperor’s pet arm. The Divisional Commanders were Ducrot, Abel Douay, Raoult, and Lartigue; and the horsemen were under the orders of Duhesme. The 7th Corps, nominally at Belfort, under Félix Douay, actually distributed in several places, one division being at Lyons, another at Colmar, was also within the command of MacMahon; so that, on the 4th of August, he was at the head of two Corps, one of which was many miles distant from his head-quarters. He had, however, moved forward with Ducrot and Raoult to Reichshofen and Lartigue to Hagenau, while Abel Douay was pushed still further northward at Wissembourg, which he reached on the 3rd, but with a portion only of his troops. In fact, at that date, the army of MacMahon was strung out between the Lauter and Lyons, and even the portion which may be described as concentrated, consisted of fragments posted or on the march between Wissembourg and Hagenau. That very morning, the 1st Division of the 7th Corps started by railway from Colmar to join the Marshal. It was upon this scattered array that the Crown Prince was advancing. MacMahon, who had intended to assume the offensive himself on the 7th of August, did not know how near and how compact was the host of his foes. Abel Douay, established on the Lauter, was obliged to part with several battalions to keep up his communications, through Lembach, with the main body. He sent out a party on the evening of the 3rd, and early on the 4th, yet each returned bearing back the same report—they had seen and learned nothing of the enemy. Indeed, it would be difficult to find a single instance in which the researches of the French were thrust far enough to touch the Germans, all their reconnoitring excursions being carried on in a routine and perfunctory manner. Nevertheless, they had a strong force of cavalry in Alsace as well as Lorraine; but it was mostly in the rear, rarely much, never far in front. On the other hand, the Baden horsemen had looked, unseen themselves, into the French cavalry camp at Selz, and the scouts on the hills had signalled the successive arrival of battalions and artillery at Wissembourg. It must be stated, however, that the Germans did not know, precisely, until they came in contact with them, what forces were in, or were within reach of Wissembourg.

The object of the German forward movement was two-fold—if MacMahon had crossed the Vosges to join the Emperor, Strasburg was to be invested, and the rest of the Third Army was to pass through the hills to the Saar and effect a junction with the Second. If the Marshal were still east of the hills, then he was to be assailed wherever found. Consequently, the whole Army was set in motion, but it was by a gift of fortune, who, however, rarely favours the imprudent, that they were enabled to defeat the division exposed to their onset. At four and six in the morning, the Corps moved out on a broad front stretching from the hills to the Rhine. Bothmer’s Bavarians, on the right, marched direct on Wissembourg, followed by the other divisions of the Bavarian Army. Next in order, to the left, came the 5th Corps, which was directed upon Altenstadt; the 11th, which pushed through the Bien Wald; and the Badeners, whose object was Lauterbourg; while the remainder of the Army was still far to the rear.

The Combat on the Lauter.

Wissembourg, a picturesque old town, standing upon the Lauter at a point where it enters the plain, is defended by walls not armed with guns, and surrounded by deep ditches filled from the stream, one arm of which curves through the place. There were three gates. Under the archway of the northern, named after the town of Hagenau, passed the great road from Strasburg, which, turning to the eastward, quitted the ramparts by the gate of Landau. The western gate, a mere entrance cut through the wall, having in advance a small lunette, received the road from Pirmasens. It took its name from the fort of Bitsche, but the track from that place came down the folded hills by the Col du Pigeonnier, or Dove-cote Neck, and joined the Strasburg highway just outside the Hagenau gate. Beyond the walls were factories, pottery fields, and mills; above and below were the once famous Lines of the Lauter thrown up on, and following the right bank of the stream through the forest to Lauterbourg; while on the foot-hills were vines, which do not add to the beauty of any scene, and hop-gardens; and here and there the usual rows of stiff trees bordering, yet not shading, the roads. Distant about a mile or so to the eastward is a spur of the Vosges, the Geisberg, thrust into the plain, falling steeply towards it, and crowned by a substantial château, seated above terraces difficult of access. From this elevation were visible, spread out like a map, the woodlands stretching towards the Rhine, the roads to the east and south, and the town, with its railway station, now silent, near the gate of Landau.

As Abel Douay had only available about eight thousand troops, he could not defend the approaches through the Bien Wald, or prevent a turning movement round his right flank. Still, had he not been under a delusion respecting the proximity of the enemy, he could and would have destroyed the few bridges over the Lauter, and so disposed his troops as not to be surprised. But his scouts had reported that the foe was not near, and thus, when the Bavarian advance appeared on the hills at eight o’clock and opened fire from a battery, the French soldiers were engaged in the ordinary routine of camp labours. Startled by the guns, they ran to their arms with alacrity; but an encounter begun under such conditions is always disadvantageous to the assailed. General Douay, an able soldier, came to a rapid decision. He placed two battalions in the town, another with a battery at the railway station, and posted the rest and twelve guns on the slopes of the Geisberg. The walls and ditches of the town, the railway buildings, and part of the Lauter Lines, brought the Bavarians to a stand, and the combat of small arms and artillery on this point continued amid the vineyards and hop-grounds, while the German centre and Left were swinging round through the forest. The operation occupied considerable time, as two hours passed by, from the firing of the first gun, before the leading battalions of the 5th Corps were brought into play. At length, they came into action against the railway station, and as the 11th Corps had also developed an attack on the Geisberg from the east, it was evident that the combat could not last long. The combined efforts of the Bavarians and the Prussians, after severe fighting and some loss, drove the French out of the station, and captured the town, together with a battalion of the French regiment of the Line, the 74th, which was cut off, and forced to surrender. The assailants had penetrated by the gates after they had been broken in by artillery, and thus the town was won. It was really the strong pivot of the defence, and its resistance delayed the onset upon the Geisberg for some time. In the meantime, General Abel Douay had been killed by the explosion of the ammunition attached to a mitrailleuse battery; and the command had devolved upon General Pellé.

The whole stress of the action now fell upon the Geisberg and its castle. The height was steep, the building pierced for musketry and strong enough to resist anything but cannon-shot. The front was approached by successive terraces, and there was a hop-garden near by on the Altenstadt road. The main body of the French and all their artillery, except one disabled gun which had been captured after a sharp fight, were on the hills to the south, threatened every moment on their right flank by the development of the 11th Corps which had entered the area of battle. The little garrison in the castle made a stout resistance, slew many of the assailants, who swarmed upon all sides, and compelled the more daring among them to seek shelter at the foot of the walls. Then the Germans with great labour brought up in succession four batteries, by whose fire alone they could hope to master the obstinate defenders who had manned even the tiled roof with riflemen. Surrounded, threatened with the weight of twenty-four guns, and seeing their comrades outside in full retreat, the garrison which had done its uttermost, surrendered as prisoners of war. They were two hundred, had killed and wounded enemies amounting to three-fourths of their own number, and had seriously injured General von Kirchbach, the commander of the 5th Corps. When the castle had fallen the French retired altogether. Making only one show of resistance they disappeared among the hills, and what is remarkable were not pursued, for the Crown Prince riding up, halted all the troops and even the cavalry who were in full career on the track of the enemy. The Germans lost in killed and wounded no fewer than 1,550 officers and men; but the French loss is not exactly known. They left behind, however, nearly a thousand unwounded prisoners, their camp, and one gun.

It may fairly be said of this combat, especially considering they were surprised and greatly outnumbered, that the French sustained their old renown as fighting men and that the first defeat, although severe, reflected no discredit on the soldiers of the 1st Corps. By no chance could they have successfully withstood the well-combined and powerful onsets of their more numerous adversaries. Nevertheless, the death of Douay, the defeat, and the disorganization of the division had a profound moral effect, keenly felt at Metz and more keenly in Hagenau and Reichshofen. Marshal MacMahon called for instant aid from the 7th Corps; and the Emperor, moved by the news, decided to send him the 5th Corps, which General de Failly was at once ordered to assemble at Bitsche and then move up the great road to Reichshofen. In the German head-quarters and camps, on the contrary, there was rejoicing and that natural accession of confidence in the breasts of the soldiers now pressing towards the Saar which springs up in fuller vigour than ever when they learn that their common standard has floated victoriously over the first foughten field. The First and Second Armies were still distant from the rocky steeps and thick woods where they also were to gain the day; but the Third Army, which, by the way, was a fair representative of South and North Germany, had actually crossed the frontier, had penetrated into Alsace, through woods and field-works and over streams renowned in story, and had inflicted a sharp defeat upon the Gallic troops, whose rulers had challenged the Teutons to wager of battle.

It is admitted that, on the evening of August 4th, the Germans had lost touch of the adversary. The reason was that the 4th Cavalry Division, which had been ordered up by the Crown Prince early in the day, had found the roads blocked by an Infantry Corps, and the vexatious delay prevented the horsemen from reaching the front before nightfall. So difficult is it to move dense masses of men, horses, and guns, in accurate succession through a closed country, along cross-roads and field-lanes. The few squadrons at hand were not strong enough to pursue on the several roads which radiate from Wissembourg, and the defect could not be remedied until the next day. It was known that the fugitives could not have followed the southern roads, yet there were hostile troops in that direction, and it was surmised that they must have retreated into the highlands by the western track, yet they might have traversed another way, lying under the foot of the hills. On the 5th of August, the cavalry, starting out at daylight, soon gathered up accurate information. General von Bernhardi, with a brigade of Uhlans, rode forward on the highway, into the Hagenau forest, where he was stopped by a broken bridge guarded by infantry; but he heard the noise of trains, the whistling of engines, and, of course, inferred the movement of troops; while on the east, nearer the Rhine, the squadrons sent in that direction were turned back both by infantry and barricaded roads. Towards the west, a squadron of Uhlans crossed the Sauer at Gunstett, a place we shall soon meet again; while Colonel Schauroth’s Hussars found the bridge at Woerth broken, were fired on by guns and riflemen, and saw large bodies in motion on the heights beyond the stream. Hence it was inferred that the army of MacMahon was in position about Reichshofen, an inference confirmed by the reports from the Bavarians who had marched on Lembach, from the 5th Corps whose leading columns attained Preuschdorf, with outposts towards Woerth, and from the Badeners on the left, who found the enemy retiring westward. At night, the Crown Prince’s Army had not wholly crossed the frontier. In front, were Hartmann’s Bavarians at Lembach, the 5th Corps before Woerth, the 11th, on the railway as far as Surburg; the Badeners on their left rear behind the Selz; Von der Tann’s Bavarians at Ingolsheim, and the head-quarters and 4th Cavalry Division at Soultz, otherwise Sulz. The 6th Corps—having one division at Landau, formed a reserve. MacMahon’s troops, except Conseil-Dumesnil’s division of the 7th Corps, near Hagenau, were all in position between Morsbronn and Neehwiller behind the Sulz and the Sauer, a continuous line of water which separated the rival outposts. The Emperor had placed the 5th Corps at the disposal of MacMahon, yet he finally detained one-half of Lapasset’s division at Saareguemines, and drew it to himself; while that of Guyot de Lespart was sent, on the 6th, towards Niederbronn, and Goze’s, not wholly assembled at Bitsche on the 5th, remained with General de Failly, who, at no moment in the campaign—such was his ill-fortune—had his entire Corps under his orders.

French Position on the Saar.

We may now revert to the positions occupied by the rivals on both banks of the Saar, in order to complete the survey of an extensive series of operations which stretched without a break, in a military sense, from the Rhine opposite Rastadt, towards the confluence of the Saar and Moselle. If the German Head-Quarter Staff at Mainz, considering how well it was served, and what pains were taken to acquire information, remained in some doubt as to the positions and projects of the Imperialists, at Metz, ill-served and hesitating, all was bewilderment and conjecture. Neither the Emperor Napoleon, nor his chief adviser Marshal Lebœuf, seemed capable of grasping the situation now rapidly becoming perilous to them; they had, indeed, fallen under an influence which tells so adversely on inferior minds—dread of the adversary’s combinations; and, perplexed by the scraps of intelligence sent in from the front, they adopted no decisive resolution, but waited helplessly on events. No serious attempt was made to concentrate the Army in a good position where it could fight, or manœuvre, or retreat, although, as General Frossard and Marshal Bazaine both state such a central defensive position had been actually studied and marked out, in 1867. Whether the occupation of the country between Saareguemines and Œtingen would have produced a favourable effect on the campaign or not, it would have prevented the Army from being crushed in detail, and have given another turn to the war. But there was no firmness nor insight at Metz. The orders issued by the Emperor look like the work of an amateur who had read much of war, but who possessed neither the instincts of the born soldier, nor the indefatigable industry and business-like skill of a man who, thrust into an unwonted employment, compelling him to face hard realities, endeavours to cope with them by a steady and intelligent application of the principles of common sense.

On the morning of the 4th, the Emperor did no more than shift his left wing a little nearer to his centre, by bringing General de Ladmirault into closer contact with Marshal Bazaine, leaving Frossard in front of Saarbrück, and directing De Failly to assemble two divisions at Bitsche, and report to Marshal MacMahon. The notion prevailing in the Imperial head-quarters was, that the Germans designed to march upon Nancy, which was not their plan at all, and that the 7th Corps, reported to be on the march from Treves, might make an offensive movement to protect Saarlouis, forgetting, as Frossard observes, that their rule was concentration and not isolated operations; and that the railroad from Saarbrück afforded the only serious inlet into Lorraine. In the evening the news of Abel Douay’s defeat and “wound,” not death, reached Metz, and created alarm, but did not cause any serious modification of the Imperial plans. The next day the Emperor, still retaining the supreme direction of the Army, and keeping the Guard to himself, formally handed over the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th Corps to Marshal Bazaine, “for military operations only;” and the 1st, 5th, partly at Bitsche, and 7th, mainly at Belfort, to Marshal MacMahon. The incomplete 6th Corps, under Marshal Canrobert, had not yet moved out from the camp at Chalons. Thus, there were practically two Corps remote from the decisive points, and one in an intermediate position, so handled by the Imperial Commander as to be useless. Not only was the force called out for war scattered over an extensive area, but—and the fact should be borne in mind—the fortresses were without proper and effective garrisons, and, what was equally important, they had no adequate stores of provisions, arms, and munitions; while the great works at Metz itself, upon which such reliance had been placed, were far from being in a defensive condition. Early on the 5th, in answer to a suggestion from Frossard, who was always urging concentration, the Emperor directed him, yet not until the 6th, to fix his head-quarters at Forbach, and draw his divisions round about in such a manner that, when ordered, he might remove his head-quarters to St. Avold; instructions which left him in doubt, and inspired him with anxiety. During the evening, however, acting on his own discretion, he thought it fit to place his troops in fresh positions, somewhat to the rear on the uplands of Spicheren, with one division, upon higher ground in the rear, yet that step, though an improvement, did not remove his apprehension respecting his left flank, which had been weakened by the withdrawal of Montaudon’s division of the 3rd Corps to Saareguemines. General Frossard has been much censured, but he was a man of real ability, and almost the only general who, from first to last, always took the precaution of covering his front with field works.

German Position on the Saar.

We have indicated, in the preceding chapter, the stages attained by the First and Second German Armies on the 4th; and have now only to repeat, for the sake of clearness, a summary of their array on the evening of the 5th. The several Corps of the Second were still moving up towards the Saar. The 4th Corps was at Einöd and Homburg, the Guard near Landstuhl; the 9th about Kaiserslautern, and the 12th a march to the rear. Further westward, the 10th halted at Cusel, and the 3rd was in its front, between St. Wendel and Neunkirchen. The First Army remained in the villages where it was located on the 4th, that is the 7th and 8th between Lebach and Steinweiler, with one division of the incomplete First Corps at Birkenfeld. On the evening of that day, however, General Steinmetz issued an order of movement for the next, which carried the leading columns of the 7th and 8th close to Saarbrück, and, as a consequence, brought on the battle of Spicheren, the narrative of which sanguinary and spirited fight will fall into its natural place later on. As the main current of the campaign flowed Metzward, it will be convenient to recount, first, the operations of the Crown Prince’s Army, which though in a measure subsidiary, produced more telling and decisive effects upon the fortunes of the French, than the engagement which broke down their foremost line of battle on the Saar.

CHAPTER V.

TWO STAGGERING BLOWS.

1.—Woerth.

Alike in Alsace and Lorraine, the actions which made the 6th of August a date so memorable in this swiftly moving war were undesigned on the part of the assailant and unexpected on the part of the assailed. In other words, as General von Moltke did not intend to throw the force of his right and centre against the main body of the Imperialists until all the Corps were closer to the frontier and to each other, so the Crown Prince proposed to employ the day in changing front from the south to the west and then direct his serried lines upon the front and flanks of MacMahon’s Army, which he confidently expected to find in position behind the Sulz and the Sauer, covering the road to Bitsche. The despatches of the French Marshal also show that he counted on a day’s respite, since his orders to De Failly were that the two divisions commanded by that ill-used officer were to march on the 6th to join the 1st Corps, so that they might be in line to fight a battle on the following day. But De Failly, harassed by fluctuating orders from Metz, shifted hither and thither, now to the right, now to the left, and never permitted to keep his Corps in hand, was unable to do more than start one division on the road to Reichshofen, while he assembled the other at Bitsche, and left one-half the third on the Saar to share the misfortunes of Napoleon and Bazaine. No such hesitation and infirmity of purpose characterized the conduct of the German commanders. They had well-defined plans, indeed, and issued clear and precise orders, yet both the one and the other were so framed that they could be modified to deal with unexpected incidents, and adapted at once to the actually ascertained circumstances of the moment, which is the very essence of war. The spirit of the German training gives a large discretion to superior officers, who are taught to apply the rules issued for their guidance to the military situation which, in the field, is certain to vary from day to day, or even from hour to hour. Moreover, a German general who attacks is certain to receive the ready support of comrades who may be near, while those more remote, who hear the sound of battle or receive a request for help, at once hasten forward, reporting the fact to, without awaiting orders from, superior authority. Nothing testifies more effectively to the soundness of the higher education in the Prussian military system than the fact that it is possible not only to confer these large powers on subordinates, but to encourage the use of them. At the same time it must be acknowledged that, in any army where the officers do not make the study of war their daily and hourly business, and where the best of the best are not selected for command and staff duty, the latitude enjoyed by the Germans could not be granted, because its capricious and unintelligent use would lead to needless bloodshed, the frustration of great designs, and perhaps shameful defeat.

It has been already stated that both commanders had intended to assume the offensive and fight a battle on the 7th, the Crown Prince proposing to bring up the greater part of his Army and envelop the French, and Marshal MacMahon, who thought he was dealing with the heads of columns, having drawn up a plan to attack the Germans in front with the 1st and turn their right flank with the 5th Corps. Had he known how strong and how compact was the array of his opponent he never could have framed a scheme which would have transferred to the enemy all the advantages possessed by himself. The contingency of a forward movement on his part had been foreseen and guarded against, and the precautions adopted on the evening of the 5th would have become far more formidable had the next day passed by without a battle. But those very protective measures, as will be seen, tended to precipitate a conflict by bringing the troops into contact on the front and left flank of the French position. Marshal MacMahon had selected and occupied exceptionally strong ground. He posted his divisions on a high plateau west of the Sauer and the Sulz, between Neehwiller and Eberbach, having Froeschwiller as a kind of redoubt in the centre, and the wooded slopes of the hills running steeply down to the brooks in his front. The left wing, where General Ducrot commanded, was thrown back to guard the passages through the woodlands, which led down the right bank of the Sulz from Mattstal into the position. The centre fronted Woerth, which was not occupied, and the right, without leaning on any special protective obstacle, was in the woods and villages south-east of Elsasshausen, with reserves in the rear which, says the German official narrative, together with the open country, were a sufficient guard against a direct flank attack, an opinion not justified by the result. The Sauer was deep, the bridges had been broken, and the ascents on the French side were prolonged, except on one point, and swept by musketry and cannon. Among the vines and copses, in the villages and farmsteads, everywhere protected by open ground, over which an assailant must pass, stood the French Army—Ducrot on the left, facing north-west, Raoult in the centre, Lartigue on the right, having behind him Conseil-Dumesnil’s division of the 7th Corps. Pellé, who succeeded Abel Douay, was in reserve; and the cavalry were partly in rear of the right, and partly behind the centre. The official German history speaks of the position as especially strong, regards the mass of troops seated there, put down at forty-five thousand men, as amply sufficient for a vigorous defence, and contends that the defect of numbers was balanced by a respectable artillery and the superiority of the Chassepot over the far-famed needle-gun. A Bavarian soldier-author, Captain Hugo Helvig, however, says that the ground held by the French had all the disadvantages of so-called “unassailable” positions—it had no issues to the front, consequently the defenders could not become the assailants; its right was “in the air” and its left “rested on that most doubtful of all supports to wings—a wood.” Thus the Bavarian captain differs from the General Staff. The fact seems to be that the position was so formidable that it could only be carried by onsets on both flanks, which, of course, implies that the assailant must have the control of superior numbers. Another point to be noted is that the great road to Bitsche was a prolongation of the front and in rear of the left, and that, as happened, in case of a severe defeat, the temptation would be all powerful to retreat by cross roads on Saverne, that is, away from instead of towards the main body of the Imperial Army. Marshal MacMahon had hoped to be the assailant, but he held that if the German Army continued its march southward beyond Hagenau, he would have to retreat, a movement the Crown Prince was not likely to make, since the orders from the King’s head-quarters were to seek out and fight the enemy wherever he might be found, a rule which governed all the German operations up to the fatal day of Sedan.

Early on the morning of the 6th, the German columns were approaching, from the north and the east, the strong position just described. Hartmann’s Bavarians, after marching westward through the Hochwald to Mattstal, had turned south, down the Sulzbach. The 5th Corps, in position overnight at Preuschdorf, had, of course, strong advanced posts between Goersdorf and Dieffenbach, while von der Tann’s Bavarians were on the march from Ingolsheim, also through the lower Hochwald road, by Lampertsloch upon Goersdorf and the Sauer. Further to the left, the 11th Corps and Von Werder’s combined divisions were wheeling up to the right, so as to extend the line on the outer flank of the 5th Corps. The Hochwald rose five or six hundred feet above the battlefield. Like most uplands, it was intersected by vales and country roads, and nearly every hollow had its beck which flowed into the principal stream. This was the Sauer. Rising in hills beyond Lembach, it ran in a southerly direction along the whole German front, receiving the Sulz at Woerth, and dividing into two streams opposite Gunstett. These greater and lesser brooks, though spanned by few bridges, were well supplied with mills, which always facilitate the passage of streams. Large villages, also, filled up the valley bottoms here and there, and the country abounded in cultivation. Through this peopled and industrious region the main roads ran from north to south, generally speaking, the road and railway from Bitsche to Hagenau, and on to Strasburg, passing in rear of MacMahon’s position close to Niederbronn and Reichshofen, and another highway to Hagenau, a common centre for roads in these parts, descended from Lembach, and, after crossing, followed the right bank of the Sauer. Thus there were plenty of communications in all directions, despite the elevated, wooded and broken character of a district, wherein all arms could move freely, except cavalry.

PLAN I: BATTLE of WOERTH, ABOUT NOON

Weller & Graham Ltd. Lithos.  London, Bell & Sons

The Battle Begins.

The action was brought on by the eagerness of each side to discover the strength and intentions of the other. In this way, General von Walther, at daybreak, riding towards the Sauer, hearing noises in the French camp, which he construed to mean preparations for a retreat, ordered out a battery and some infantry, to test the accuracy of his observations. The guns cannonaded Woerth, and the skirmishers, finding the town unoccupied, but the bridge broken, forded the stream, and advanced far enough to draw fire from the French foot and four batteries. The Prussian guns, though fewer, displayed that superiority over the French which they maintained throughout, and the observant officers above Woerth knew, by the arrival of the ambulance men on the opposite hills, that their shells had told upon the enemy. The skirmish ceased after an hour had passed, but it served to show that the French were still in position. Opposite Gunstett there stood a Bruch-Mühle, or mill in the marsh, and in this place the Germans had posted a company, supported by another in the vines. Their purpose was to protect the left flank of the 5th Corps, and keep up a connection with the 11th, then on the march. The French sent forward, twice, bodies of skirmishers against the mill, supporting them the second time by artillery, and setting the mill on fire; but on neither occasion did they press the attack, and the Germans retained a point of passage which proved useful later in the day.

These affairs at Woerth and Gunstett ceased about eight o’clock, but the cannonade at the former, echoing among the hills to the north, brought the Bavarians down the Sulz at a sharp pace, and thus into contact with Ducrot’s division. For General Hartmann, on the highlands, could see the great camp about Froeschwiller, and, directing his 4th Division on that place, and ordering up the reserve artillery from Mattstal, the General led his men quickly down the valley. An ineffective exchange of cannon-shots at long range ensued; but as the Bavarians emerged into the open, they came within reach of the French artillery. Nevertheless they persisted, until quitting the wood, they were overwhelmed by the Chassepot and fell back. A stiff conflict now arose on a front between Neehwiller and the Saw Mill on the Sulz, and even on the left bank of this stream, down which the leading columns of a Bavarian brigade had made their way. In short, Hartmann’s zealous soldiers, working forward impetuously, had fairly fastened on to the French left wing, striking it on the flank which formed an angle to the main line of battle, and holding it firmly on the ground. The French, however, had no thought of retiring, and besides, at that moment, they had the vantage. When the combat had lasted two hours, General von Hartmann received an order directing him to break it off, and he began at once his preparations to withdraw. The task was not easy, and before it was far advanced a request arrived from the Commander of the 5th Corps for support, as he was about to assail the heights above Woerth. It was heartily complied with, all the more readily, as the roar of a fierce cannonade to the south swept up the valley; but as the Bavarians had begun to withdraw, some time elapsed before the engagement on this side could be strenuously renewed.

Attack on Woerth.

We have already said that the Crown Prince, not having all his Corps in compact order, did not intend to fight a battle until the next day. But what befell was this. The officer at the head of the staff of the 5th Corps reached the front after the reconnaissance on Woerth was over. Just as he rode up, the smoke of Hartmann’s guns was visible on one side, and the noise of the skirmishers at Gunstett on the other. In order to prevent the French from overwhelming either, it was agreed, there and then, to renew the contest, and shortly after nine o’clock the artillery of the 5th Corps, ranged on the heights, opened fire. At the same time, a portion of the 11th Corps, hearing the guns, had moved up rapidly towards Gunstett, and three of their batteries were soon in line. Thus, the Bavarians rushed into battle in order to support the 5th Corps, this body resumed the combat to sustain the Bavarians, and the advanced guard of the 11th fell on promptly, because the 5th seemed in peril. The Prussian artillery soon quelled, not the ardour, but the fire of the French gunners; and then the infantry, both in the centre and on the left, went steadily into action, passing through Woerth, and beginning to creep up the opposite heights. They made no way, and many men fell, while further down the stream, opposite Spachbach and Gunstett, part of the troops which had gone eagerly towards the woods, were smitten severely, and driven back headlong over the river. Still some clung to the hollow ways, Woerth was always held fast, and when the foot recoiled before the telling Chassepot, the eighty-four pieces in battery lent their aid, averted serious pursuit, and flung a shower of shells into the woods. It was at this period that the defect of the French position became apparent. If the hardy Gauls could repel an onset, they could not, in turn, deliver a counter stroke, because the advantages of the defensive would pass, in that case, to the adversary. But the Germans across the Sauer, who still held their ground, had much to endure, and were only saved by the arrival of fresh troops, and by seeking every available shelter from the incessant rifle fire. In the meantime, the 11th Corps was marching to the sound of the guns. General von Bose, its commander, had reached Gunstett in the forenoon, and, seeing how matters stood, had called up his nearest division, had ordered the other to advance on the left, and had informed Von Werder that an action had begun, in consequence whereof the Badeners and Würtembergers were also directed on the Sauer.

It was about one o’clock when the Crown Prince rode up to the front and took command. He had ridden out from Soultz at noon, because he plainly heard the sounds of conflict, and on his road had been met by an officer from Von Kirchbach, bearing a report which informed the Commander-in-Chief that it was no longer possible to stop the fray. At the time he arrived, the advanced brigade of Von der Tann’s Bavarians had thrust itself into the gap between Preuschdorf and Goersdorf, and had brought three batteries into action, but the remainder of the Corps were still in the rear. The Crown Prince thus found his front line engaged without any reserve close at hand, and that no progress had been made either on the centre or the wings; but he knew that the latter would be quickly reinforced, and that the former, sustained by two hundred guns, constituted an ample guarantee against an offensive movement. No better opportunity of grappling with a relatively weak enemy was likely to occur, and it was to be feared that if the chance were offered, he would escape from a dangerous situation by skilfully extricating his Army. The Crown Prince, therefore, determined to strike home, yet qualifying his boldness with caution, he still wished to delay the attack in front and flank until the troops on the march could reach the battlefield. No such postponement was practicable, even if desirable, because the fighting Commander of the 5th Corps had already, before the advice came to hand, flung his foremost brigades over the Sauer. So the action was destined to be fought out, from beginning to end, on places extemporized by subordinate officers; but they were adapted to the actual facts, and in accordance with the main idea which was sketched by the Chief. It may be said, indeed, that the battle of Woerth was brought on, worked out, and completed by the Corps commanders; and the cheerful readiness with which they supported each other, furnished indisputable testimony to the soundness of their training, the excellence of the bodies they commanded, and the formidable character, as well as the suppleness of the military institutions, which, if not founded, had been carried so near to perfection by Von Roon, Von Moltke and the King.

Begun in the early morning by a series of skirmishes on the river front, the action had developed into a battle at mid-day. The resolute Von Kirchbach, acting on his own responsibility, had thrown the entire 5th Corps into the fight; yet so strong was the position occupied by the defenders, that a successful issue depended upon the rapidity and energy with which the assaults on both flanks were conducted by brigades and divisions only then entering one after the other upon a fiercely contested field. At mid-day, the French line of battle had been nowhere broken or imperilled. Hartmann’s Bavarians on one side had been checked; the advance brigade of the 11th Corps, on the other, had been driven back over the Sauer, and Lartigue’s troops were actually pressing upon the bridges near the mill in the marsh, which, however, they could not pass. The enormous line of German guns restrained and punished the French infantry, when not engaged in silencing the inferior artillery of the defender. But no impression had been made upon the wooded heights filled with the soldiers of Ducrot, upon Raoult’s men in the centre above Woerth, or on Lartigue’s troops, who, backed by Conseil-Dumesnil, stood fast about Morsbronn, Eberbach, and Elsasshausen. So it was at noon, when the hardihood of Von Kirchbach forced on a decisive issue. Passing his men through, and on both sides of Woerth, he began a series of sustained attacks upon Raoult, who stiffly contested every foot of woodland, and even repelled the assailants, who, nevertheless, fighting with perseverance, and undismayed by the slaughter, gradually gained a little ground on both sides of the road to Froeschwiller. By comparatively slow degrees, they crept up the slopes, and established a front of battle; but the regiments, battalions, companies, were all mixed together, and, as the officers fell fast, the men had often to depend upon themselves. While these alternately advancing, receding, and yet again advancing troops were grappling with the centre, Hartmann renewed his onsets, part of Von der Tann’s Corps dashed over the Sauer, filling up the gap in the line, and joining his right to Hartmann’s left; and the leading brigades of a fresh division of the 11th Corps, moving steadily and swiftly over the river below Gunstett, backed by all the cannon which the nature of the ground permitted the gunners to use, assailed the French right with measured and sustained fury, and, indeed, decided the battle.

Attack on the French right.

The French were posted in great force on their right—where they had two divisions, one in rear of the other, between the Sauer and the Eberbach, having in support a powerful brigade of horsemen, Cuirassiers and Lancers, under General Michel. The infantry, as a rule, faced to the eastward; while the attacking columns not only fronted to the westward, but also to the north-west; in other words, they fastened on the front from Spachbach, struck diagonally at the outer flank from Morsbronn, and even swept round towards the rear. The area of the combat on this part of the field was included on an oblong space bounded on the west by the Eberbach, and on the east by the Sauer, having Morsbronn at the south-eastern angle and outside the French lines; Albrechtshaüser, a large farmstead, a little to the north of the former, and opposite Gunstett; and beyond that point to the north-west the undulating wooded uplands, called the Niederwald, whence the ground slightly fell towards Elsasshausen, and rose again to a greater height at Froeschwiller, the centre and redoubt of the position. As the 22nd Division of the 11th Corps came up from Dürrenbach, they broke obliquely into this oblong, the direction of their attack mainly following the cross road through the forest from Morsbronn to Elsasshausen, while their comrades pierced the woods to the north of the great farmstead. No difficulty was encountered in expelling the handful of French from the village, but at the farm the Germans had a sharper combat, which they won by a converging movement, yet the defenders had time to retire into the forest. Thus two useful supports were secured, almost perpendicular to the French flank, and the pathways leading towards Reichshofen were uncovered. General Lartigue at once discerned the peril, and, in order that he might obtain time to throw back his right, he directed General Michel to charge the left flank of the Germans before they could recover from the confusion consequent on a rapid and irregular advance through the villages, outbuildings, and hopfields, and array a less broken front.

The French cavalry appear to have considered that their main function was restricted to combats in great battles. The traditions handed down from the days of Kellerman and Murat and Lasalle survived in all their freshness, and the belief prevailed that a charge of French horseman, pushed home, would ride over any infantry, even in serried formation. They had disdained to reckon with the breech-loader in the hands of cool, well-disciplined opponents; and as their chance of acting on their convictions had come, so they were ready and willing to prove how strong and genuine was their faith in the headlong valour of resolute cavaliers. Instead of using one regiment, Michel employed both, and a portion of the 6th lancers as well. He started forth from his position near Eberbach, his horsemen formed in echelon from the right, the 8th Cuirassiers leading in column of squadrons, followed by the 9th and the Lancers. Unluckily for them, they had to traverse ground unsuitable for cavalry. Here groups of trees, there stumps, and again deep drains, disjointed the close formations, and when they emerged into better galloping ground, indeed before they had quitted the obstructions, these gallant fellows were exposed to the deadly fire of the needle-gun. Nevertheless, with fiery courage, the Cuirassiers dashed upon the scattered German infantry, who, until the cavalry approached, had been under a hail of shot from the Chassepots in the Niederwald. Yet the Teutons did not quail, form square, or run into groups—they stood stolidly in line, hurled out a volley at three hundred yards, and then smote the oncoming horsemen with unintermitted fire. The field was soon strewn with dead and wounded men and horses; yet the survivors rushed on, and sought safety by riding round the German line or through the village, where they were brought to bay, and captured by the score. Each regiment, as it rode hardily into the fray, met with a similar fate, and even the fugitives who got into the rear were encountered by a Prussian Hussar regiment, and still further scattered, so that very few ever wandered back into the French lines. As a charge Michel’s valiant onset was fruitless; yet the sacrifice of so many brave horsemen secured a great object—it enabled General Lartigue to throw back his right, rearrange his defensive line in the woods, and renew the contest by a series of violent counter-attacks.

A furious outburst of the French infantry from the south-west angle of the Niederwald overpowered the German infantry, and drove them completely out of the farmstead so recently won. Yet the victors could not hold the place, because the batteries north of Gunstett at once struck and arrested them with a heavy fire, which gave time for fresh troops to move rapidly into line, restore the combat, and once more press back the dashing French infantry into the wood. On this point the fighting was rough and sustained, for the French charged again and again, and did not give way until the Germans on their right, forcing their way through the wood, had crowned a summit which turned the line. The sturdy adversary, who yielded slowly, was now within the forest, and the German troops on the left had come up to Eberbach, capturing MacMahon’s baggage, thus developing a connected front from stream to stream across the great woodland. In short, nearly all the 11th Corps was solidly arrayed, and in resistless motion upon the exposed flank of MacMahon’s position, while part of the Würtembergers, with some horse, were stretching forward beyond the Eberbach, and heading for Reichshofen itself. The Germans, indeed, had gained the north-western border of the woodland, and General von Bose had ordered the one-half of his guns and his reserve of foot to cross the Sauer, and push the battle home. His right was now in connection with the left of the 5th Corps, which had continued its obstinate and sanguinary conflict with Raoult’s division on both sides of the road from Woerth to Froeschwiller, without mastering much ground. As the Bavarians were equally held at bay by the French left, the issue of the battle plainly depended on the vigorous and unfaltering energies of the 11th Corps.

Attack on Elsasshausen.

That fine body had been in action for two hours and a half, and, despite a long march on to the field, was still fresh, its too impetuous advanced brigade, alone, having been roughly handled, and thrust back earlier in the day. The task now before them was the capture of Elsasshausen, which would open the road to Froeschwiller, take off the pressure from the 5th Corps, place Ducrot’s steadfast infantry in peril, and enable the whole available mass of German troops to close in upon the outnumbered remnant of MacMahon’s devoted Army. For these brave men, although obliged to give ground, were fighting in a manner worthy of their old renown, now dashing forward in vehement onslaughts, again striking heavy blows when overpowered and thrust back. Lartigue’s and some of Raoult’s troops stood on the right and left of Elsasshausen, supported by batteries on the higher ground, and two cavalry brigades in a hollow near the Eberbach. The foremost infantry occupied a copse which was separated from the main forest by a little glade, and this defensive wooded post had, so far, brought the extreme right of the 11th Corps to a stand. About half-past two, the centre and left had come up to the north-western edge of the Niederwald, and thus the French in the copse had fresh foes on their hands. They replied by a bold attack upon the adversary, whose front lines of skirmishers were immediately driven in. The gallant effort carried the assailants into the great wood, but not far; for behind the flying skirmishers, on both sides of the road, were troops which had more or less maintained a compact formation. Instead of yielding before the French advance, the German infantry, accepting the challenge, came steadily forward along the whole front, bore down the skirmishers, dispersed the supporting battalion, and, following the enemy with unfaltering steps, crossed the glade, and drove him into, and out of, the copse-wood, which had hitherto been an impassable obstacle. As the entire line rushed forward, they arrived at the skirt of the wood, and, coming at once under the fire of the French guns on the heights, and the infantry in Elsasshausen, they suffered severe losses. Then their own artillery drove up and went into action, setting the village on fire, yet not dismaying its garrison. The tension was so great, and the men fell so fast, that General von Bose resolved to risk a close attack upon an enemy whose position was critical, and whose endurance had been put to so exhausting a strain.

Thereupon, at the welcome signal, the bands of disordered foot soldiers—for nearly every atom of regular formation had long disappeared—dashed, with loud shouts, into the French position, carrying the village at a bound, and, pushing up the hillsides, took two guns and five mitrailleuses. The troops of the 11th had now crossed the deep road running south-westward from Woerth, had effected a junction with groups of several regiments belonging to the 5th, which formed a sort of spray upon the inner flank; and had besides, as already noted, extended south-westward towards the road to Reichshofen. Once more the French strove, if not to retrieve a lost battle, at least to insure time for retreat. They fell upon the Germans along the whole line, making great gaps in its extent, and driving the adversary into the forest; but here, again, the artillery saved the foot, and, by its daring and effective fire, restored the battle, giving the much-tried infantry time to rally, and return upon their tracks. The Germans had barely time to recover from the confusion into which they had been thrown by a furious onset, than the four Cuirassier regiments, commanded by General Bonnemains, were seen preparing to charge. Unluckily for these stout horsemen, the tract over which they had to gallop was seamed with deep ditches, and barred by rows of low trees, so that not only could no compact formation be maintained, but the cavaliers were not, in some instances, able to reach their foes, who were well sheltered among the vine-stocks, and behind the walls of the hop-gardens. Moreover, the German infantry were assisted by batteries of guns, which were able to begin with shells, and end with grape-shot. The cavalry did all they could to close; but their efforts were fruitless, and the enormous loss they endured may be fairly regarded as a sacrifice willingly made to gain time for the now hardly bested army to retire.

MacMahon Orders a Retreat.

Indeed, the hour when a decision must be taken had struck, and MacMahon, who had cleverly fought his battle, did not hesitate. He determined to hold Froeschwiller as long as he could to cover the retreat, and then fly to Saverne. For, although neither Hartmann nor Von der Tann, despite their desperate onsets, had been able to shake or dismay Ducrot, still, he was well aware that Raoult’s and Lartigue’s divisions had been driven back upon Froeschwiller, and he could see from the heights one fresh column of Bavarians moving towards Neehwiller, on his left, and another descending from the Hochwald to join the throng on the right bank of the Sulz. Moreover, two brigades of Würtembergers had come up to support the 11th Corps, and one part of them, with horsemen and guns, threatened Reichshofen, a Bavarian brigade, as we have said, was heading for Niederbronn. In addition, some of Ducrot’s intrenchments were carried by a Prussian Regiment on the right of the 5th Corps, and it was evident that the fierce struggle for Froeschwiller would be the last and final act of the tragedy. Yet, so slowly did the French recede, that an hour or more was consumed in expelling them from their last stronghold; and except on that point, their does not seem to have been any serious fighting. The reason was that the place was held to facilitate the withdrawal of such troops as could gain the line of retreat, and although the disaster was great, it would have been greater had not Raoult, who was wounded and captured in the village, done his uttermost to withstand the concentric rush of his triumphant enemies.

The Close of the Battle.

No specific and detailed account, apparently, exists, of this last desperate stand. But it is plain that, as the French centre and right yielded before Von Kirchbach and especially Von Bose, as the impetuous infantry onsets were fruitless, as the cavalry had been destroyed and the French guns could not bear up against the accurate and constant fire of their opponents, so the Germans swept onwards and almost encircled their foes. When Ducrot began to retire, the Bavarians sprang forward up the steeps and through the woods, which had held them so long at bay; the stout and much-tried 5th Corps pushed onward, and the 11th, already on the outskirts of Froeschwiller and extending beyond it, broke into its south-eastern and southern defences; so that portions of all the troops engaged in this sanguinary battle swarmed in, at last, upon the devoted band who hopelessly, yet nobly, clung to the final barrier. How bravely and steadfastly they fought may be inferred from the losses inflicted upon the Germans, whose officers, foremost among the confused crowd of mingled regiments and companies, were heavily punished, whose rank and file went down in scores. Even after the day had been decided, the French in Froeschwiller still resisted, and the combats there did not cease until five o’clock. But in the open the German flanking columns had done great execution on the line of retreat. A mixed body of Prussian and Würtemberg cavalry had ridden up on the extreme left, one Bavarian brigade had moved through Neehwiller upon Niederbronn, and another had marched through Froeschwiller upon Reichshofen. The horsemen kept the fugitives in motion and captured matériel; the first mentioned Bavarian brigade struck the division of General Guyot de Lespart, which had reached Niederbronn from Bitsche; and the second bore down on Reichshofen. The succouring division had arrived only in time to share the common calamity, for assailed by the Bavarians and embarrassed by the flocks of fugitives, one-half retreated with them upon Saverne, and the other hastily retraced its steps to Bitsche, marching through the summer night. The battle had been so destructive and the pursuit so sharp that the wrecks of MacMahon’s shattered host hardly halted by day or night until they had traversed the country roads leading upon Saverne, whence they could gain the western side of the Vosges. Nor did all his wearied soldiers follow this path of safety. Many fled through Hagenau to Strasburg, more retreated with the brigade of Abbatucci to Bitsche, and nine thousand two hundred officers and men remained behind as prisoners of war. The Marshal’s Army was utterly ruined, Strasburg was uncovered, the defiles of the Vosges, except that of Phalsbourg, were open to the invader who, in addition to the mass of prisoners, seized on the field, in some cases after a brilliant combat, twenty-eight guns, five mitrailleuses, one eagle, four flags, and much matériel of war. The actual French loss in killed and wounded during the fight did not exceed six thousand; while the victors, as assailants, had no fewer than 489 officers and 10,153 men killed and wounded. It was a heavy penalty, and represents the cost of a decisive battle when forced on by the initiative of Corps commanders before the entire force available for such an engagement could be marched up within striking distance of a confident and expectant foe.

One other consequence of an unforeseen engagement was that the 5th Division of cavalry, which would have been so useful towards the close of the day, was unable to enter the field until nightfall. The Crown Prince and General Blumenthal, not having the exact information which might have been supplied by horsemen who rode at the heels of the fugitives, remained in doubt as to the line or lines of retreat which they followed. It was not until the next day that reports were sent in which suggested rather than described whither the French Army had gone. Prince Albrecht, who led the cavalry, had hastened forward to Ingweiler, on the road to Saverne, but he notified that, though a considerable body had fled by this route, the larger part had retired towards Bitsche. Later on the 7th he entered Steinburg, where he was in contact with the enemy, but, as infantry were seen, he was apprehensive of a night attack from Saverne, and judged it expedient to fall back upon Buchswiller. The division had ridden more than forty miles in a difficult country during the day. From the north-west came information that the patrols of the 6th Corps had been met at Dambach, and that the French were not visible anywhere. The explanation of this fact is that one division of the 6th, directed on Bitsche, had, in anticipation of orders, pushed troops into the hills, and had thus touched the right of the main body. The reason why neither MacMahon nor De Failly were discovered was that the Marshal had fallen back to Sarrebourg, and that the General had hurried to join him by Petite-Pierre; and thus contact with the enemy was lost by the Germans because the defiles of the Vosges were left without defenders.

2.—Spicheren.

As the critical hours drew nearer when the capacity of the Emperor Napoleon and Marshal Lebœuf, applied to the conduct of a great war, was to be put to the severest test, so their hesitation increased and their inherent unfitness for the heavy task became more and more apparent. Marshal Bazaine had been intrusted with the command of three corps “for military operations only,” yet the supreme control was retained in Metz, and the Corps commanders looked more steadily in that direction than they did towards the Marshal’s head-quarters at St. Avold. Along the whole front, at every point, an attack by the enemy was apprehended. General de Ladmirault was convinced that the 7th Prussian Corps would strive to turn his left; Marshal Bazaine was disturbed by the fear that the same body of troops would come upon him from Saarlouis; General Frossard felt so uncomfortable in the angle or curve on the Saar, which he occupied, that he vehemently desired to see the Army concentrated in the position of Cadenbronn, a few miles to the rear of Spicheren; General Montaudon, who had a division at Sarreguemines, was certain that the enemy intended to swoop down upon him; and General de Failly was in daily alarm lest the Prussians should advance upon the gap of Rohrbach. At Metz all these conflicting surmises weighed upon, we might almost say collectively governed the Emperor and the Marshal, who issued, recalled, qualified, and again issued perplexing orders. It is true that, owing to the supineness of the cavalry, and the indifference of the peasantry on the border, they were without any authentic information; but if that had been supplied it is very doubtful whether they would have been able to profit by it; and they were evidently unable to reason out a sound plan which would give them the best chances of thwarting the adversary’s designs or of facing them on the best terms. The sole idea which prevailed was that every line should be protected; and thus, on the 5th, the Guard was at Courcelles; Bazaine’s four divisions, hitherto echeloned on the line from St. Avold to Forbach, were strung out on a country road between St. Avold and Sarreguemines; De Ladmirault, who had been ordered to approach the Marshal, misled by the apparition of Prussian patrols, gave only a partial effect to the order; while Frossard, on the evening of that day, instead of the next morning, made those movements to the rear which attracted the notice of his opponents and drew them upon him. At dawn on the 6th, “the Army of the Rhine” was posted over a wide space in loosely-connected groups; yet, despite all the errors committed, there were still three divisions sufficiently near the 2nd Corps on the Spicheren heights to have converted the coming defeat into a brilliant victory. That great opportunity was lost, because the soldierly spirit and the warlike training, in which the French were deficient, were displayed to such an astonishing degree by the Germans whom they had so unwisely despised.

The watchful cavalry on the right bank of the Saar had noted at once the retrograde movement which General Frossard effected on the evening of the 5th, and the German leaders were led to infer from the tenour of the reports sent in, that the whole French line was being shifted to the rear, which was not a correct inference at that moment. Yet it was true and obvious that Frossard had withdrawn from the hills in close proximity to Saarbrück. In order to ascertain, if possible, how far and in what degree the French had retired, small parties of horsemen crossed the river soon after daylight, and rode, not only along the direct route to Forbach until they were stopped by cannon fire, but swept round the left flank, and even looked into the rear, observed the French camps, and alarmed both Marshal Bazaine and General de Ladmirault. Above Sarreguemines they tried to break up the railway, and did destroy the telegraph; and thus, by appearing on all sides, these enterprising mounted men filled the adversary with apprehensions, and supplied their own Generals with sound intelligence. Some information, less inaccurate than usual, must have reached the Imperial head-quarters at Metz, seeing that a telegram sent thence, between four and five in the morning, warned Frossard that he might be seriously attacked in the course of the day; but it does not appear that the same caution was transmitted to Bazaine, with or without instructions to support his comrade. It is a nice question whether the general conduct of the war suffered the greater damage from the active interference or the negligence of the Emperor and his staff.

While the cavalry were keeping the French well in view, the leading columns of the 7th and 8th Corps were moving up towards the Saar, and one division of the Third was equally on the alert. General von Rheinbaben had already ridden over the unbroken bridges, had posted some squadrons on the lower ground, and had drawn a sharp fire from the French guns. The German staff were astonished when they learned that the bridges had not been injured. The reason was soon apparent. The Emperor still cherished the illusion that he might be able to assume the offensive, a course he had prepared for by collecting large magazines at Forbach and Sarreguemines on the very edge of the frontier; and his dreams were now to be dispelled by the rude touch of the zealous and masterful armies whose active outposts were now over the Saar.

PLAN II: BATTLE of SPICHEREN, 3.30 P.M.

Weller & Graham Ltd. Lithos.  London, Bell & Sons

The Battle-field.

The ground occupied by the 2nd Corps was an undulating upland lying between the great road to Metz and the river, which, running in a northerly direction from the spurs of the Vosges, turns somewhat abruptly to the west a couple of miles above Saarbrück on its way to the Moselle. The heights of Spicheren, partly wooded and partly bare, fall sharply to the stream in the front and on the eastern flank, while on the west lies the hollow through which the highway and the railroad have been constructed. The foremost spur of the mass, separated by a valley from the Spicheren hills, is a narrow rocky eminence, which Frossard names the Spur, and the Germans call the Rotheberg, or Red Hill, because its cliffs were so bright in colour, and shone out conspicuously from afar. On the French right of this rugged cliff were dense woods, and on the left the vale, having beyond it more woods, and towards Forbach, farms, houses and factories. The upper or southern end was almost closed by the large village of Stiring-Wendel, inhabited by workers in iron, and having on the outskirts those unseemly mounds of slag with which this useful industry defaces the aspect of nature. The village stands between the road and railway, and as the heights rise abruptly on each side, all the approaches, except those through the woods on the west and north-west, were commanded by the guns and infantry on the slopes. It should be noted that west of the neck which connected the red horse-shoe shaped hill with the central heights in front of Spicheren village, there is a deep, irregular, transversal valley, which proved useful to the defence. General Frossard placed Laveaucoupet’s division upon the Spicheren hills, in two lines, and occupied the Red Hill, which he had intrenched, with a battalion of Chasseurs. In rear of all stood Bataille’s division at Œtingen. On the left front, Jolivet’s brigade of Vergé’s division occupied Stiring, and Valazé’s was placed to the west of Forbach, looking down the road to Saarlouis. As Frossard dreaded an attack from that side, especially as the road up the valley from Rosseln turned the position, his engineer-general threw up a long intrenchment, barring the route. It was in this order that the 2nd Corps stood when some daring German horsemen trotted up the high road to feel for it, while others, on the west, pressed so far forward that they discerned the camps at St. Avold. Below the front of the position, and just outside Saarbrück, the foot-hills, Reppertsberg, Galgenberg, Winterberg, and so on, and the hollows among them were unoccupied by the French, and it was into and upon these that Rheinbaben pushed with his cavalry and guns, which, from the Parade ground, exchanged shots with the French pieces established on the Red Hill or Spur.

The Germans begin the Fight.

On the German side, the determination to lay hands upon, and arrest what was supposed to be a retreating enemy, was identical and simultaneous; and it is the spontaneous activity of every officer and soldier within reach, to share in the conflict which is the characteristic of the day’s operations. General Kameke, commanding the 14th Division, 7th Corps, when on the march, heard that Frossard had drawn back, and, asking whether he might cross the river, was told to act on his own judgment; so he pressed southward. General Goeben, chief of the 8th Corps, had ridden out to judge for himself, and finding his comrades of the 7th ready to advance, offered his support. General von Alvensleben, commanding the 3rd Corps, a singularly alert and ready officer, ordered up his 5th Division, commanded by General von Stülpnagel, but before the order arrived, General Doering, who had been early to the outposts, had anticipated the command, because he thought that Kameke might be overweighted. General von Schwerin, later in the day, collected his brigade at St. Ingbert, and sent a part of them forward by rail. In like manner General von Barnekoff, commanding the 16th Division, 8th Corps, hearing the sound of artillery, had anticipated the desire of Goeben, and by mid-day his advanced guard, under Colonel von Rex, was close upon the scene of action. General von Zastrow, who had permitted Kameke to do what he thought fit, applied to Von Steinmetz for leave to push forward the whole 7th Corps, and the fiery veteran at once complied, saying, “The enemy ought to be punished for his negligence,” a characteristic yet not necessarily a wise speech, as the business of a General is not to chastise even the negligent, unless it serves the main purpose of the operations in hand. Thus we see that the mere noise of battle attracted the Germans from all quarters; and hence it happened that the fronts of the two armies, then in line of march, hastened into a fight by degrees—in detachments, so to speak—which would have produced a heavy reverse had all the French brigade and divisional commanders who were within hail, been as prompt, persistent and zealous as their impetuous opponents.

Until near noontide, there had been merely a bickering of outposts, chiefly on the north-western side; and it was only when the 14th Division crossed the river and moved up the foothills, that the action really began. At this time it was still supposed that the battalions, batteries, and sections of horsemen visible were a rear-guard, covering what is now called the “entrainment” of troops at Forbach; for the greater part of Laveaucoupet’s soldiers were below the crests, and in the forest-land, while Jolivet’s brigade made no great show in and about the village of Stiring. Kameke’s young soldiers went eagerly and joyously into their first battle. They consisted of six battalions, led by General von François, and were soon extended from the Metz road on the German right, to the wooded ascents east of the Red Hill, which, in reality, became the main object of attack. The plan followed was the favourite tactical movement, so often practised with success—a direct onset on the enemy’s front, and an advance on both flanks. These operations were supported by the fire of three batteries, which soon obliged the French gunners on the Red Spur to recede. An extraordinary and almost indescribable infantry combat now began over a wide space, sustained by the battalions of the 14th Division fighting by companies. On one side they endeavoured to approach Stiring; in the centre they were a long time huddled together under the craigs of the Rotheberg; further to the left they dashed into the Giffert Wald, and emerged into comparatively open ground, only to find themselves shattered by a heavy fire, and obliged to seek cover. For the battalions engaged soon discovered that, instead of a rear-guard, they had to encounter half a corps d’armée; and, although reinforcements were rapidly approaching, yet, as the afternoon wore on, it became evident that the assailants could only maintain their footing by displaying great obstinacy, and enduring bitter losses. After two hours’ hard fighting five fresh battalions, belonging to Von Woyna’s brigade of Kameke’s division came into action on the right, and sought to operate on the French left flank, some following the railway, others pressing into the thick woods on the west. The density of the copses threw the lines into confusion, so that the companies were blended, and, as guidance was almost impossible, trust had to be reposed in the soldierly instincts and training alike of officers and men, and on the genuine comradeship so conspicuous throughout all ranks of the Prussian Army. Practically, at this moment, the French, although beset on all sides by their enterprising foes, had a distinct advantage, for they smote the venturesome columns as they emerged here and there, and it may be said that, between three and four o’clock, the German artillery on the Galgenberg and Folster Höhe, held the French in check, and averted an irresistible offensive movement. Yet the German infantry were tenacious; when pressed back they collected afresh in groups, and went on again; and General Frossard was so impressed by the audacity of his foes, that he brought up Bataille’s division from Œtingen, and directed Valazé to quit the hill above Forbach, and reinforce the defenders of Stiring. Indeed, threatened on both flanks, the whole of the 2nd Corps was gradually drawn into the fray, and its commander, though somewhat late, appealed for aid to Marshal Bazaine, who himself did not feel secure at St. Avold.

The Red Hill Stormed.

Shortly after three o’clock, General von François, obeying the orders of his chief, Von Kameke, resolved to storm the Red Hill. The German leader was under the impression that the French were yielding on all sides, which was not strictly correct, for the fresh troops were just coming into action, and the Germans were superior, alone, in the range and accuracy of their superb artillery. The gallant François, sword in hand, leading the Fusilier battalion of the 74th Regiment, climbed the steep, springing from ledge to ledge, and dashed over the crest, and drove the surprised French chasseurs out of the foremost intrenchment, and fastened themselves firmly on the hill. The Chasseurs, who had retired into a second line of defences, poured in a murderous fire; General von François, heading a fresh onset, fell pierced by five bullets, yet lived long enough to feel that his Fusiliers and a company of the 39th, which had clambered up on the left, had gained a foothold they were certain to maintain. There were many brilliant acts of heroism on that day, but the storming of the Red Hill stands out as the finest example of soldiership and daring. Nor less so the stubbornness with which the stormers stood fast; especially as the French, at that moment, had thrown a body of troops against the German left, so strong and aggressive, that the valiant companies in the Giffert Wald were swept clean out of the wood.

Fortunately, at the same time, the advanced guards of the 5th and 16th Divisions, already referred to, had crossed the Saar. General von Goeben, who had also arrived, took command, and formed a strong resolution. He decided that, as the battle had reached a critical stage, it would be unwise to keep reserves; so he flung everything to hand into the fight, on the ground that the essential thing was to impart new life to a combat which had become indecisive, if not adverse to the assailant. Accordingly, the artillery was brought up to a strength of six batteries, and one part of the fresh troops was sent to reinforce the left, and another towards the Red Hill. Shortly afterwards, Von Goeben had to relinquish the command to his senior, Von Zastrow, the commander of the 7th Corps; but the chief business of the principal leaders consisted in pushing up reinforcements as they arrived; the forward fighting being directed by the Generals and Colonels in actual contact with the enemy.

Progress of the Action.

For two hours, that is, between four and six o’clock, the front of battle swagged to and fro, for the French fought valiantly, and, by repeated forward rushes, compelled their pertinacious assailants to give, or repelled their energetic attempts to gain, ground. A German company would dash out from cover, and thrust the defenders to the rear; then, smitten in front and flank, it would recede, followed by the French, who, taken in flank by the opportune advent of a hostile group, would retreat to the woods, or the friendly shelter of a depression in the soil. Nevertheless, in the centre, and on their own left, the Germans made some progress. A battalion of the 5th Division mastered the defence in the Pfaffen Wald on the French right; a group of companies crowned the highest point in the Giffert Wald; and the new arrivals, drawn alike from the 8th and the 3rd Corps, pushed up the ravine on the east, and the slopes on the west of the Red Hill, until their combined fire and frequent rushes forced the French out of their second line of intrenchments on the neck of high land which connected the Red Hill with the heights of Spicheren. The French strove fiercely, again and again, to recover the vantage ground, yet could not prevail; but their comrades below, in the south-west corner of the Giffert Wald, stoutly held on, so that the fight in this quarter became stationary, as neither side could make any progress.

On the German right, during the same interval of time, there had been sharper alternations of fortune. Here the French held strong positions, not only in the village of Stiring-Wendel, but on the hillsides above it, and especially on the tongue of upland called the Forbacher Berg. The assailant had succeeded in taking and keeping the farmsteads on the railway, the “Brême d’or” and the “Baraque Mouton,” but the efforts of General von Woyna to operate on the French left had been so roughly encountered that he drew back his troops to a point far down the valley. In fact, General Frossard had strengthened Vergé, who held fast to Stiring, by Valazé’s brigade, and General Bataille had also sent half his division to support his comrade. The consequence was that the German projects were frustrated; while, on the other hand, their heavy batteries on the Folster Höhe had such an ascendancy that the French could not secure any advantage by moving down the vale.

Yet they were not, as yet, worsted in the combat at any point, save on the salient of the Red Hill. Upon that eminence the German commanders now determined to send both cavalry and guns. The horsemen, however, could gain no footing, either by riding up the hillsides, or following the zigzags of the Spicheren road, which ascends the eastern face of the promontory. The artillery had better fortune. First one gun, and then another, was welcomed by the shouts of the much-tried and steadfast defenders; eight pieces first succeeded in overcoming all obstacles; finally, four other guns, completing the two batteries, came into action, and their fire was efficacious in restraining the ardour of the French, and rendering the position absolutely secure from assault. But they suffered great losses, which were inflicted not only by the powerful batteries on the opposite height, but by the Chassepot fire from the front and the Giffert Wald. The German commanders had discovered by a harsh experience that the battle could not be won either by an offensive movement from the centre, or flanking operations on the left, because the neck of highland south of the Red Hill was too strongly held, while the deep valley interposed between the forests and the Spicheren Downs brought the flanking battalions to a halt, under cover. It was then determined to employ the latest arrivals, the troops of the 5th Division, in an effort to storm the Forbacher Berg from the Metz road valley, and at the same time to renew a front and flank attack upon Stiring-Wendel.

Here we may note two facts which are apt illustrations of that efficiency, the fruit of wise forethought, which prevailed in the German host. One is that a battery, attached to the 1st Corps, arrived on the Saar, by railway, direct from Königsberg, on the confines of East Prussia, and, driving up, actually went into position, and opened fire from the Folster Höhe. It was the first light battery commanded by Captain Schmidt, whose exploit was, then, at least, without parallel. The other is that the 2nd battalion of the 53rd Regiment, starting at six in the morning from Wadern, actually marched, part of the time as artillery escort, nearly twenty-eight miles in thirteen hours, and, towards sunset, stood in array on the field of battle. The like goodwill and energy were displayed by all the troops; but this example of zeal and endurance deserves special record.

Frossard Retires.

The final and decisive encounters on this sanguinary field were delivered on the western fronts. Four battalions were directed along or near the Metz road upon the heights above Stiring, while the troops on the extreme German right, which, it will be remembered, had suffered a reverse, resumed their march upon the village. These simultaneous onsets were all the more effective, because the French commander was alarmed by the advance guard of the 13th Division, which, having moved up from Rosseln, was now near to Forbach itself. He had become apprehensive of being turned on both flanks, for Laveaucoupet was, at that moment, engaged in a desperate, although a partially successful strife against the Germans in the Giffert Wald. The flank attack on the Forbacher Berg, skilfully conducted, drove back the adversary, yet could not be carried far, because he was still strong and it was growing dusk. In like manner, Stiring itself was only captured in part. On the other hand, so vehement a rush was made upon the Giffert Wald that the French once more penetrated its coverts. Practically, however, the battle had been decided. General Frossard, receiving no support from Bazaine’s divisions, greatly disturbed by the news that the head of a hostile column was close to Forbach, unable to oust the Germans from the Red Hill or effectively repel their onsets on the Metz road had, half an hour before a footing on the Forbacher Berg was won, given orders for a retreat upon Sarreguemines, so that the furious outburst of French valour in the Giffert Wald was only the expiring flash of a finely-sustained engagement, and the forerunner of a retrograde night march.

Indeed, General Frossard is entitled to any credit which may accrue from the stoutness with which he held his main position until nightfall. He himself assigns the march of Von Golz from Rosseln upon Forbach as the reason for his retreat. Having been obliged to leave the heights north-west of Forbach practically undefended, in order to support Vergé in Stiring-Wendel, he lost, or thought he had lost, control over the high road and railway to Metz, and felt bound to retire eccentrically upon Sarreguemines, a movement which it is not easy to comprehend. It is true that the guns of Von Golz, firing from the hills above Forbach, drove back a train bringing reinforcements from St. Avold, but a couple of miles to the rear was Metman’s entire division; and it was from and not towards this succour that the main body of the French took their way. The most astonishing fact connected with this battle is that during the whole day three of Bazaine’s divisions were each within about nine miles of the battlefield. It was not the Marshal’s fault that not one assisted the commander of the 2nd Corps. Each had been directed to do so, but none succeeded. General Montaudon did, indeed, move out from Sarreguemines, but halted after covering a few miles. General de Castagny, as soon as he heard the guns, and without waiting for orders, marched his division from Puttelange; but, unluckily for him, the sound led him into the hills, where the dense woods and vales obstructed the passage of the sound. Hearing nothing he returned to Puttelange, but no sooner had he got there than the roar of artillery, more intense than ever, smote his ear. The ready veteran at once set out afresh, this time following the route which would have brought him into the heart of the Spicheren position. He was too late; night came on apace, the distant tumult died down, he endeavoured to communicate with Frossard, but his messenger only found Metman, who, coming on from Marienthal, had halted at Bening, and did not move upon Forbach until nearly dark. Thus were three strong divisions wasted, and a force which would have given the French victory, spent the day in wandering to and fro or in weak hesitation. General de Castagny was the only officer who really did his utmost to support the 2nd Corps; for Metman awaited orders, and they came too late. During the night, or early in the morning, they all, except De Castagny, who was called up to St. Avold, assembled near Puttelange, wearied and disgusted with their fruitless exertions; and there they were joined by the 2nd Corps.

The Germans bivouacked on the field. They had had in action twenty-seven battalions and ten batteries, and the day’s irregular and confused fighting had cost them in killed and wounded a loss of no fewer than 223 officers and 4,648 men; while the French lost 249 officers and 3,829 men, including more than two thousand prisoners. The great disproportion is due to the fact that the Germans were the assailants and that throughout the day and on all points they fought the battle with relatively small groups, parts of the 7th, 8th, and 3rd Corps, which arrived in succession on the scene. That the victory was not more complete must be ascribed to the improvised character of the conflict. Both Woerth and Spicheren were accidental combats due to the initiative of subordinate officers, a practice which has its dangers; but the success attained in each case is a striking proof that the discipline and training of all ranks in the German Army had created a living organism which could be trusted to work by itself.

CHAPTER VI.

VACILLATION IN METZ.

Two such staggering and unexpected blows filled the civil population with terror, the aspiring soldiers at head-quarters with anger, and the Imperial Commander-in-Chief with dismay. Disorder, consternation, and amazement reigned in Metz. And no wonder. From Alsace came the appalling news that the 1st Corps had been hopelessly shattered and that the Marshal was already fleeing for safety, by day and night, through the passes of the Vosges. Strasburg reported the arrival of fugitives and the absence of a garrison. “We have scarcely any troops,” wrote the Prefect; “at most from fifteen hundred to two thousand men.” The chief official at Epinal asked for power to organize the defence of the Vosges at the moment when the passes were thronged with MacMahon’s hurrying troops. It was known that General Frossard had been defeated and that he was in full retreat, but during twenty-four hours no direct intelligence came to hand from him. That De Failly, left unsupported at Bitsche, would retire at once was assumed, but the orders directing his movements did not reach him until, after a severe night march, he had halted a moment at Lutzelstein, or, as the French call the fort, La Petite Pierre. From Verdun and Thionville arrived vehement demands for arms and provisions; and from the front towards the Saar no report that was not alarming. Turning to the south-east, the Imperial head-quarters did not know exactly where Douay’s 7th Corps was; and in an agony of apprehension ordered the General, if he could, to throw a division into Strasburg, and “with the two others” cover Belfort. When the telegram was sent one of these had been heavily engaged at Woerth, and the other was at Lyons not yet formed! The anxiety of the Emperor and his assistants was embittered by the knowledge that not one strong place on the Rhine had a sufficient garrison; and that the rout of MacMahon had not only flung wide open the portals of Lorraine, but had made the reduction of ill-provided Strasburg a question of weeks or days. So heedlessly had the Ollivier Ministry, the Emperor and Empress rushed into war, at a time when even the fortifications of Metz were glaringly incomplete, when the storehouses of the frontier fortresses were ill-supplied, when arms and uniforms were not or could not be furnished to the Mobiles; when, in short, nothing could be put between the Germans and Paris except the troops hastily collected in Alsace and Lorraine—now a host in part shattered, in part disordered, and the whole without resolute and clear-sighted direction.

Prince Louis Napoleon, sitting passively on his horse in the barrack-yard of Strasburg, in 1836, was defined by a caustic historian as a “literary man” whose characteristic was a “faltering boldness.” The phrases apply to the Emperor in Metz. It may be said that he could use the language employed by soldiers, that he had some military judgment, but that, when called on, he could not deal at all with the things which are the essence of the profession he loved to adopt. After a lapse of more than thirty years, he found himself, not alone in a barrack-yard facing an “indignant Colonel,” but at the head of a great, yet scattered and roughly handled Army, with formidable enemies pressing upon his front, and equally formidable enemies pouring through the rugged hill paths upon his vulnerable flank, and threatening the sole railway which led direct through Chalons to Paris. He was now a man, old for his years, and a painful disease made a seat on horseback almost intolerable. He could not, like his uncle in his prime, ride sixty miles a day, sleep an hour or two, and mount again if needful. He was an invalid and a dreamer, who had, against his fluctuating will, undertaken a task much too vast for his powers. The contemptuous words applied to him by Mr. Kinglake seem harsh, still, in very truth, they exactly describe Louis Napoleon as he was at Strasburg in 1836, and as he sat meditatively at Metz in 1870. Yet, be it understood, he never at any period of his career was wanting in coolness and physical courage, though what Napier has finely called “springing valour” had no place in his temperament. He was scared by the suddenness of the shock and the rapidity of events, and he was bewildered because he was incapable of grasping, co-ordinating, or understanding the thick-coming realities presented by war on a grand scale; and stood always too much in awe of the unknown. He could not “make up his mind,” and in the higher ranks of the French Army there was not one man who could force him to make it up and stand fast by his resolution. But, inferior as they were when measured by a high standard, it is probable that any one of the Corps Commanders, clothed with Imperial power, would have conducted the campaign far better than the Emperor. Another disadvantage which beset him was a moral consequence inseparable from his adventurous career. He could not add a cubit to his military stature; but he need not have “waded through slaughter to a throne.” In Paris before he started for the frontier, in Metz on the morning of August 7th, he must have felt, as the Empress also felt, that his was a dynasty which could not stand before the shock of defeat in battle. He had, therefore, to consider every hour, not so much what was the best course of action from the soldier’s standpoint, as how any course, advance, retreat or inaction, would affect the political situation in Paris. Count von Bismarck’s haughty message through M. Benedetti in 1866, if Benedetti faithfully delivered it, must have come back to the Emperor’s memory in 1870. Remind the Emperor, said Bismarck, that a war might bring on a revolutionary crisis; and add, that “in such a case, the German dynasties are likely to prove more solid than that of the Emperor Napoleon.” It was a consciousness of the weak foundations of his power, breeding an ever-present dread alike in the capital and the camp, which, making him ponder when he should act, falter when he should be bold, imparted to his resolutions the instability of the wind.

It is on record that the first impulse of the Emperor and his intimate advisers was to retreat forthwith over the Moselle and the Meuse. General de Ladmirault was ordered to fall back on Metz; the Guard had to take the same direction; Bazaine, who had responsibility without power, was requested to protect the retirement of Frossard, who, driven off the direct, was marching along the more easterly road to Metz, through Gros Tenquin and Faulquemont, which the Germans call Falconberg; De Failly was required, if he could, to move on Nancy. MacMahon, it was hoped, would gather up his fragments, and transport them to Chalons, where Canrobert was to stand fast, and draw back to that place one of his divisions which had reached Nancy. Paris was placarded with the Emperor’s famous despatch; and the Parisians read aloud the ominous sentences which heralded the fall of an Empire. “Marshal MacMahon,” said the Emperor, “has lost a battle on the Sauer. General Frossard has been obliged to retire. The retreat is conducted in good order.” And then followed the tell-tale phrase, used by Napoleon I. himself on a similar occasion—“Tout peut se rétablir,” all, perhaps, may come right again. But so inconstant was the Imperial will, that the hasty resolve to fly into Champagne faded out almost as soon as it was formed; for the next day the dominant opinion was that it would be better to remain on the right bank of the Moselle. MacMahon and De Failly accordingly got counter orders, indicating Nancy as a point of concentration, and based on a feeble notion that they could both be drawn to Metz; while once again Canrobert was told to bring the infantry of the 6th Corps up to the same place by rail. Orders and counter orders then showered down on De Failly—thus, he was and he was not to move on Toul—but the enemy’s movements dictated the future course of a General rendered as powerless as his superiors were vacillating; and finally both the Marshal and his luckless subordinate, as well as Douay’s 7th Corps, made their way deviously to the camp of Chalons.

The Emperor resigns his command.

When the Emperor suddenly revoked the order to retire upon Chalons, he was influenced partly by military, but chiefly by political considerations. Remonstrances were heard in the camps, remonstrances arrived from Paris, and the combined effect of these open manifestations produced an order to establish the Army in position behind the French Nied, a stream which, rising to the southward, flows parallel to the Moselle, and, after receiving the German Nied, runs into the Saar below Saarlouis. The weather had been wet and tempestuous; the retiring troops, exhausted by night marches and want of food, struggled onward, yet showed signs of “demoralization;” in other words, were out of heart, and insubordinate. Frossard’s men, who had passed the prescribed line before receiving the new instructions, had to retrace their steps; and Decaen, now in command of the 3rd Corps, begged for rest on behalf of his divisions. Yet the three Corps and the Guard occupied, on the 10th, the new position which, selected by Marshal Lebœuf, extended from Pange to Les Etangs. It was intended to fight a battle on that ground, and the men were set to work on intrenchments, some of which were completed before another change occurred in the directing mind. The position was found to be defective; and, on the 11th, the entire Army, abandoning its wasted labours, moved back upon the outworks of Metz itself, almost within range of its guns. Thus had three precious days been spent in wandering to and fro at a time when the military situation required that the Army should be transferred to the left bank of the Moselle, and placed in full command of the route to Chalons, even if it were not compelled to fall back further than the left bank of the Meuse. One explanation, drawn by the official writers of the German Staff history, from French admissions, is that, instead of Metz protecting the Army, the Army was required to protect Metz, seeing that the forts were not in a state to hold out against a siege of fifteen days! The Imperial Commander had not even yet quite made up his mind; but, late on the 12th, finding the burden too severe, and the clamour of public opinion too great, he appointed Marshal Bazaine Commander-in-Chief of “the Army of the Rhine.” It was a damnosa hæreditas; for the campaign was virtually lost during ten days of weakness and vacillation, and especially by the want of a prompt decision between the 7th and the 10th of August, while there was yet time.

As we have said, the main reason was political. The eager aspirants for power, and the friends of the Empress in Paris, ousted the Ollivier Ministry on the 9th, and the new combination, with the Comte de Palikao at its head, felt that they could not retain office, that the “dynasty” even could not survive unless the Emperor and the Army fought and won. Everything must be risked to give the dynasty a chance. The Regency and the Camp fell under the influence of hostile public opinion, which had already begun to associate the name of Napoleon, not only with the reverses endured, but the utter want of preparation for war, now painfully evident to the multitude as well as to the initiated. Yet so menacing and terrible did the actual facts become that even the Emperor could not resist them, and, in handing over the command to Bazaine on the 13th, he ordered that unfortunate, if ambitious, officer to transfer the Army with the utmost speed to the left bank of the Moselle, place Laveaucoupet’s Division in Metz, and gain Verdun as quickly as possible. It was too late, as we shall see; for the Prussians were ready to grasp at the skirts of a retreating Army, and once more thwart the plans of its leaders. In order to track the course of events to this point, the narrative must revert to the morrow of Spicheren.

The German Advance.

On the morning of the 7th of August, some French troops were still in Forbach, and Montaudon’s Division had not departed from Sarreguemines. The fronts of the two invading armies were hardly over the frontier, and the chiefs had not yet learned the full extent of the double shock inflicted on the adversary. A thick fog enveloped the Spicheren battlefield, and clung to the adjacent hills and woods, and through the mist the patrols had to feel their way. No serious resistance could be offered by the French detachments at any point; Forbach, together with its immense stores, was occupied at an early hour; while, so soon as the vigilant cavalry saw the rear-guard of Montaudon quit the place, they rode into Sarreguemines. Patrols were pushed out along the roads towards Metz, but no advance was made, partly because the respective Corps composing both the German Armies were still on the march, and partly because the Staff, mistaken respecting the route followed by MacMahon, had ordered several movements with the object of intercepting and destroying his broken divisions. The consequence was that the leading columns stood fast while the Corps to the rear and left were brought up to and beyond the Saar. MacMahon and De Failly, as we have seen, were hurrying southward, and thus Von Moltke’s precautions proved needless. During the 8th, the cavalry, despatched far and wide, between St. Avold and the Upper Saar, found foes near the former, who at once retired, but none on the course of the river. The next day, the horsemen, still more active, sent in reports which satisfied the cautious Chief of the Staff that the French had really fallen back on Metz, yet inspired him with some doubts respecting their intentions. He thought it possible that they might assume the offensive in the hope of surprising and routing part of the German Armies—a project actually discussed by the Emperor and Bazaine, but soon thrown aside. Von Moltke, however, determined to guard against that design, kept his several Corps within supporting distance; and, on the 10th, began a great movement forward. The First Army, in the post of danger, was to serve as a pivot upon which the Second, effecting a wheel to the right, swung inwards towards the Moselle above Metz. Von Steinmetz, much to his disgust, had to halt about Carling, with his supports towards Teterchen and Boulay, and the 9th Corps in support at Forbach. On his left, the Second Army was advancing in echelon on roads between Harskirchen, near Saar Union, where the 4th Corps touched the outposts of the Crown Prince’s Army, and Faulquemont, where the 3rd Corps stood on the railway, having on its left the 10th about Hellimer, and the Guard at Gueblange. The 12th was still on the Saar, and the 2nd, awaiting its last battalions, in Rhenish Prussia. Thus the two Armies stood on the 11th, covered by brigades of cavalry, whose operations, better than anything else, illustrate the audacious, yet elastic and painstaking, methods employed by the Germans in war.

The German Cavalry at Work.

Never before had the principle that cavalry are the eyes and ears of an army been more extensively applied. We have already seen these well-trained horsemen watching the line of the Saar, and even looking into the rear of the French camps; we shall now see them literally infesting the country between the Saar and the Moselle without let or hindrance from the French cavaliers. After Spicheren, the German cavalry divisions were distributed along the front of the Corps in motion; and the hardy reiters were soon many miles ahead of the infantry, some penetrating up the easy western slopes of the Vosges, where they found no enemies, others riding towards Nancy and the points of passage over the river below that town; and others again hovering pertinaciously on the rear of the backward moving French Corps, picking up stragglers, capturing prisoners, interrogating officials, and inspecting, from coigns of vantage, the camps and positions of the enemy. In this way they learned that the Emperor had visited Bazaine at Faulquemont; that the greater part of the French were Metzward, and that on the left towards the hills there were none to be seen. The cavalry divisions rode out long distances, detaching flanking parties and pushing patrols to the front, so that the whole range of country between the right and left of the Infantry Corps was thoroughly searched by these indefatigable and daring explorers. Thus, a troop of Uhlans, starting from Faulquemont, rode as far as the woods near Berlize, and keeping well under cover, yet quite close to the enemy, took note of his positions at and beyond Pange, saw large bodies moving from Metz to take ground behind the Nied, and learned that reinforcements, the leading brigades of the Canrobert’s Corps, in fact, had arrived at Metz. Another patrol of lancers, moving on the St. Avold road, confirmed the report that the French had occupied the Nied line; while, on the opposite flank, a Hussar patrol found no enemy about Château Salins, but laid hands on the bearer of important despatches. On the 11th, the screen of inquisitive horsemen became thicker and more venturesome, trotting up to the river Seille itself at Nomény, on the road to Pont à Mousson. The mounted men of the First Army had hitherto been held back, but now the two divisions, passing forth on the flanks, approached and examined the left of the French line. One troop arrived near Les Etangs just in time to see De Ladmirault’s Corps folding up their tents, and soon beheld the French march off towards Metz; indeed the deep columns were moving in that direction from the left bank of the Nied. The Uhlans followed De Ladmirault through Les Etangs until they saw him go into position at Bellecroix close to the place. In like manner, other Uhlans, operating further up the stream, found the camps and intrenchments abandoned, so that it became certain, on the evening of the 11th, that the French Army had been drawn back under the guns of Metz. The next day the activity of the cavaliers increased, and they pressed forward until they were in contact with the French outposts, and were able to observe the whole new position between Queleu and Bellecroix, working up on the left to a point within three miles of Metz, and proving that as far as the right bank above the town, the country was unoccupied. On the 12th, Uhlans had ridden into Nancy, on one side, and, on the other, a body of Cuirassiers actually found the gates of Thionville open, captured a garde mobile belonging to the garrison, and brought off a Prussian reserve man who had been detained in the town. At Dieulouard a patrol crossed the Moselle on a bridge just constructed by the French, and were only driven from the railway, which they had begun to destroy, by infantry—the last detachments of Canrobert’s Corps allowed to get through by train from Chalons. A daring attempt was made upon Pont à Mousson by some Hussars; but here General Margueritte, sent with his Chasseurs d’Afrique from Metz, drove back the invaders, killing a great number. These examples will suffice to give some idea of the admirable use which the Germans made of their cavalry, to conceal their movements, harass the enemy, and, above all, gain priceless information, while the adversary, whose horse were idle, could obtain none. The dash made by Margueritte to relieve Pont à Mousson is the one solitary instance of alertness shown by the French, and even he and his troopers were withdrawn, leaving the river line above Metz wholly unprotected, and the bridges unbroken!

The Germans March on the Moselle.

From these wide-ranging enterprises, conducted by keen and resolute soldiers, the Great Staff obtained nearly as minute a knowledge of the French proceedings as they possessed themselves, and were enabled to direct the march of the German Armies with firmness and precision. Their great object was to secure the unguarded line of the Moselle by seizing, as rapidly as possible, all the points of passage above Metz, and the only doubt entertained at head-quarters was suggested by the apprehension that the energy displayed by the cavalry might attract attention to these undefended spots. Accordingly, while the First Army, again, was ordered to protect the right of the Second, by advancing on the Nied, taking up ground between Pange and Les Etangs, the Second was to move upon the Seille, and endeavour to secure the bridges at Pont à Mousson, Dieulouard and other places, sending the cavalry once more in force over the stream. Von Moltke’s calculation was that if the French attacked Von Steinmetz, Prince Charles could form up and threaten their flank; if they tried to operate against the Second Army by ascending the Moselle, Von Steinmetz could then assail them in line of march, as they must cross his front; while if passing through Metz they moved up the left bank, Prince Charles could effect a junction with the Crown Prince, and Von Steinmetz could cross the Moselle and attack the French rear. The combination was strong, but the Emperor, as we have stated, had then no idea of assuming the offensive in any direction, his only anxiety being to seek a temporary shelter behind the Meuse.

Throughout the 13th, the German Corps, horse and foot, sprang forward, displaying that alacrity and hardihood which had marked their conduct from the outset of the war. The Dragoon brigade of the Guard swooped down upon Dieulouard, and finally sundered the direct railway communication between Chalons and Metz. Two other cavalry brigades, forming the 5th Division, entered Pont à Mousson early in the morning, and were followed by half the 10th Corps from Delme. In order to hide, as far as possible, the movements of the Second Army, an entire division of cavalry, the 6th, was employed; one brigade extending from Courcelles sur Nied, to Borny on the Moselle, and the other posted at Verny supporting the front line, and linked itself by patrols to the 5th at Pont à Mousson. The 1st Division of Cavalry, during the forenoon, crossed the Nied at Pange, and occupied the villages to the right and left, so that a continuous line of mounted men stretched from the Nied to the Moselle. Behind this barrier, the several Corps toiled forward in full security. At the close of the day, however, only one-half the 10th Corps was over the Moselle, the other moiety being one march to the rear; the head of the 3rd Corps stood at Buchy; the 9th at Herny; the 12th at Chemery; the 2nd, now complete, at St. Avold; the Guard at Lémoncourt, and the 4th at Chateau Salins.

By this time, the Third Army, except the 6th Corps, and the Baden Division which had been directed upon Strasburg, had made its way through the defiles of the Vosges, had emerged into the valley of the Upper Saar, and was, therefore, in direct communication with the Second Army; so that the German host occupied a wide region extending from Sarrebourg to villages in front of Metz; yet at the vital points the Corps stood near enough to support each other should it be necessary to assemble on a field of battle. The passage of the Vosges had been obstructed only by nature and the forts of Bitsche and Phalsbourg. These were turned, and the hardships of cross roads and restricted supplies had been overcome. The divisions trickled through the valleys on a broad front, gathering up as they touched the Saar and the country of lakes about Fenestrange. As Phalsbourg did not command the railway, that important highway fell into the hands of the Germans. The tunnels in the Zorn valley west of Saverne had not been destroyed, and the whole line was complete, yet it could not be used for the transport of troops and stores until a later period. On the 13th, when the First Army was closing in on the French outside Metz, and the Second heading for the Moselle, the Third quitted the Upper Saar, and, once more expanding, approached on a broad front the valley of the Meurthe. During the next day, when their comrades were hotly engaged with the enemy, they reached the banks of that stream, and their forward cavalry rode into the streets of Lunéville and Nancy, the old capital of Lorraine. At this critical moment, Marshal MacMahon was hastening to Chalons; De Failly, after having been ordered hither and thither from hour to hour, had received final orders—he was to join the Marshal; but Douay’s 7th Corps, although Dumont’s Division had arrived, increasing the total to about 20,000 men and 90 guns, had not yet been, and was not for three days, directed from Belfort upon the great camp in the plains of Champagne.

CHAPTER VII.

VON MOLTKE KEEPS THE WHIP HAND.

Weary of his task, weakened in body by a painful malady, depressed in mind by a series of disasters, and worried by advice from Paris, the Emperor Napoleon, on the evening of the 12th of August, transferred to Marshal Bazaine the burden which he could no longer bear. Whatever may have been his other aptitudes, he was not born to command Armies in the field nor had he that power of selection which may enable an inferior to choose and clothe with his authority a superior man. Had a Radetzky, instead of an Emperor, commanded the Austrian Army in 1859 it is probable that the stability of the “dynasty” would have been tried by defeat and the unity of Italy deferred until a later day. Whether the Emperor Napoleon recognized his incompetence, or whether, as he often did, he yielded to pressure, matters little except to the students of character. He nominally gave up the command, yet retained a certain indefinite control, and he placed at the head of his Army a Marshal who, although the senior in rank to the recently promoted Marshal Lebœuf, the late Chief of the Staff, was still the junior of Marshal Canrobert; both, fortunately, were loyal men, and the latter ready to serve under his junior. Yet it is doubtful whether Bazaine ever exercised that moral ascendency which is essential at all times, and never more so than at a crisis when the fate of Armies depends not only on wise direction, but prompt and willing obedience. The Marshal, appointed on the 12th, did not take up his command until the next day, and then he was required to remedy in less than twenty-four hours the deep-seated mischief produced by a fortnight of terrible blundering. His special task was to transport the Army over the Moselle. Four days earlier that might have been done without a shot being fired, because even if the German horse had come up to look on they must have been idle spectators as their infantry comrades were far in the rear. The fatal error was committed when the Emperor did not overrule all opposition, and, adhering with unswerving firmness to his first thought, neither halt, ponder, nor rest until the Moselle flowed between him and his foes. The military position on the morning of the 7th dictated that step; his adversaries believed or surmised that he would take it, because it was the right step to take. Nor can we doubt that, as Commander-in-Chief, Louis Napoleon, who had a little of “le flair militaire,” saw at once the proper course, but that, as Emperor, he dared not, on reflection, run the risk. It was a false calculation, even from a political standpoint, because, so long as he was in the field with, or at the head of an Army, his republican and monarchical enemies would not have moved, and time would have been gained. By retiring promptly over the Moselle, and leaving Metz to defend itself, he might have been defeated in battle or manœuvred back upon Paris; but there would have been no Sedan and no Metz, and even the Parisians would have hesitated to plunge headlong into civil war when a French Army was still afoot, and a formidable host of invaders, pressing on its weaker array, was “trampling the sacred soil.” The fate of the campaign about Metz was, then, really decided when the Emperor did not avail himself of the days of grace, beat down all opposition, and compel his Marshals and Generals to march their troops over the Moselle. Neither Bazaine nor any one officer present with the Army is entitled to be called a great captain; but whatever he was, the blame of failure does not rest on him alone; it must be shared, in a far greater degree, by those who preceded him in command. It is necessary to insist on this fact, because one of the most valuable lessons taught by the campaign would be lost were the capital error committed by the Imperial Staff, when the order for retreat was countermanded and five days were wasted in abortive operations, not described with the emphasis it deserves. Campaigns have been lost as much by postponed retreats as by rash advances; and it was the ill-fortune of the French Generals in August, 1870, to present egregious examples of both forms of fatal error.

The French Propose to Move.

When Marshal Bazaine took over the command, on the morning of the 13th, he was required to do in haste what his superiors might have done at leisure. The prolonged indecision of the Imperial mind, held in suspense down to the last moment and against its better judgment, between the alternative of attack or retreat, was disastrous; no margin was allowed for error of design, error in execution, and—the unforeseen. The Emperor had ordered Coffinières, the Governor of Metz, to build as many bridges as he could above and below the place, and the General declares, what no one disputes, that he did construct from twelve to fifteen bridges, which provided seven lines of march over the stream. He also mined the permanent bridges above the fortress, so that on the 12th facilities for crossing abounded, and the means of destruction were prepared. Then came in the unforeseen. Rain had fallen heavily, and consequently the Moselle rose, flowed over the trestle bridges, damaged the rafts, disconnected the pontoons with the banks, and spread far and wide over the approaches. In short, the increase in the volume of water was so great and unusual, if not unparalleled, that the calamity was attributed to the Germans—they must, it was said, have destroyed the sluices near Marsal and have allowed the lake water of that region free access to the Moselle—as if they did not wish to cross the river themselves! Be the cause what it might, there was the obstruction; so that the first information received by the Marshal was that the retreat, which he had been ordered to execute, could not begin until the next day, except by Canrobert’s 6th Corps, which was near permanent bridges. Consequently, the Army remained another day on the right bank. The Corps were in position between forts Queleu and St. Julien, Frossard on the right, Decaen in the centre, and De Ladmirault on the left, the Guard being in rear of the centre behind Borny, where Marshal Bazaine had set up his head-quarters. Practically the line was a curve extending from the Seille to the banks of Moselle below Metz; and the defensive obstacles were a watercourse with steep banks, patches of dense woods, two châteaus, or country houses, which were readily made defensible, and of course the villages and farms scattered over the pleasant fields. The main body of the Army was covered throughout its front by outposts thrown forward towards the Metz-Saarbrück railway on the right, beyond the brook in the centre, and about Vremy, Nouilly, and Servigny on the left. So they stood all day, some of them aware that the Germans were dangerously near; more who were anxious to get over the river; and yet others who would have staked everything upon the risk of a battle, so intolerable is suspense to men of ardent and excitable temperaments. The night passed over quickly, and on the 14th, yet not until a late hour in the forenoon, the Corps began to file off to the rear. Canrobert was already across; Frossard sent his guns and horsemen over the town bridges, while his infantry splashed through the meadows and over the partially submerged temporary constructions; and leaving Grenier’s division to cover his retreat, De Ladmirault set out for the left bank over the Isle Chambière. The Marshal at Borny, with his old Corps, now under Decaen, and having the Guard in support, remained to protect the extensive and perilous movement to the rear in the face of a watchful and intrepid enemy.

Released on the evening of the 12th from the imperative orders which held him fast, and directed to move forward upon the French Nied, General von Steinmetz advanced the next day with characteristic alacrity. Two Corps, the 7th and the 1st, were posted on a short line between Pange and Les Etangs, the 8th being held back at Varize on the German Nied, and the two cavalry divisions being thrown round the flanks, General von Golz, who commanded the twenty-sixth brigade, took the bold step of transferring it to the left, or French, bank of the stream, and he thus came into contact with the outposts of Decaen’s 3rd Corps. Nevertheless, along the whole line, on the evening of the 13th and morning of the 14th, each side maintained a strictly observant attitude, and held aloof from hostile action; the French because they wished to glide off unassailed, the Germans because their Commander-in-Chief desired to secure a solid footing for the Second Army on the left bank of the Moselle before the French retired. Watched as these were by keen-sighted horsemen, they could not stir without being seen; and so soon as the state of the Moselle permitted a movement to the rear, the fact was reported to the German chiefs. A Hussar party notified, about eleven, that Frossard’s outposts were falling back; a little later that the tents were down; and then that columns of all arms were retiring. So it was in the centre and on the left; Decaen’s Corps remained, but two divisions of De Ladmirault’s Corps, it was noted, were no longer on the ground they had held in the morning. General von Manteuffel, inferring that De Ladmirault might have gone to join in an attack upon the 7th Corps, at once put two divisions under arms, a fortunate precaution, though suggested by an erroneous inference. In front of the 7th Corps, the facts admitted of no misinterpretation. The enemy was plainly in retreat, and General von Golz felt that it was his duty to interrupt the process. Therefore, about half-past three, notifying his intention to the Divisional Commanders of his Corps, and requesting support from the 1st, a request promptly granted, Von Golz sprang forward to attack the French, in full reliance upon the readiness and energy with which his superiors and comrades would follow him into the fray. His bold resolve did stop the retreat, and his onset brought on, late in the afternoon,

PLAN III: BATTLE of COLOMBEY-NOUILLY, 5. P.M.

Weller & Graham Ltd. Lithos.  London, Bell & Sons

The Battle of Colombey-Nouilly.

The scene of this sharp but severe conflict was the gentle uplands immediately to the eastward of Metz, and a little more than cannon-shot beyond the forts which forbid access to that side of the place. The village of Borny, indeed, is nearly on a line with the Fort des Bordes, and no point of the area within which the action raged is more than three miles from the fortifications. The ground slopes upward from the Moselle, rising into undulating hills, the summits of which are two or three hundred feet above the bed of the stream. Near to Metz these elevations are clothed with copses devoid of underwood, the great patches of verdure extending on a curve from Grimont close to the Moselle, as far as the right bank of the Seille. To the northward are more woods just outside the battlefield, the area of which was, from north to south, included between them and the railway to Saarbrück. A little to the north of this line, near Ars-Laquenexy, a village on the road from Sarreguemines, were the sources of a rivulet which flowed northward along the whole front of the French position, receiving on its way brooks which trickle down the hollows in the hills to the eastward. The heights east of the stream were bare of wood, and the most prominent objects were the village and church tower of St. Barbe on the crown of a rounded hill to the north-east. From this elevated hamlet another brook rose, and found its way along the bed of a gully to Lauvalliers, where all the watercourses united, and, under the name of La Vallières, ran thence to the Moselle. The French troops, four divisions of Decaen’s Corps, were posted in the woods, and on the heights above the first-mentioned rivulet from the neighbourhood of Ars-Laquenexy to the point where all the streamlets joined. The outposts were in Mercy le Haut, sometimes called Mercy les Metz, in the woods facing Ars-Laquenexy, in the Château D’Aubigny and Montoy, beyond the brook, in Colombey, a village on the south bank, and in Nouilly, a large village in the St. Barbe ravine. Beyond the confluence of the hill streams stood a division of De Ladmirault’s Corps upon the high ground east of Mey, and it was this body which had its outguards in Nouilly. Although it was divided by the brook Vallières on the left, the French position was strong, chiefly because the approaches were through defiles, over open ground, or up steep banks, but also because the woods afforded shelter to the infantry of the defenders. Three great roads intersected the field—one from Pange, through Colombey, to Borny, a second from Saarbrück, which, after passing La Planchette, ran, at Bellecroix, into the third, which came from Saarlouis, and passed through Lauvalliers, entering Metz near the fort called Les Bordes. The Germans, early in the morning, were on the hills to the eastward, the 1st Corps being beyond St. Barbe, and the 7th near, and west of, Pange, with outposts well forward, and both cavalry and infantry in practical contact with the enemy, into whose position they looked from all sides.

Von Golz Dashes In.

It was the spectacle of a departing and decreasing host which made the eager Von Golz, without awaiting permission, dash impetuously forward with his brigade. So energetic was the onset that the French were at once driven out of the Château d’Aubigny, Montoy, and La Planchette. The usual tactics were applied, the companies working together, turning a flank where the front was too strong, and following up a success until the weight of fire brought them to a halt, or even thrust them back. The batteries attached to the brigade came at once into action and persisted, though they were hard hit by the French. But the advance of Von Golz was not to be arrested, and the impetus of his first movement forward carried part of the brigade over the ravine and watercourse, and into the village and inclosures of Colombey. That point, however, was the limit of his progress, for the French developed strong lines of skirmishers in the woods, and although they were unable to expel the audacious intruders, these were obliged to expend all their energy upon holding what they had won. On the right, that is to the north of Colombey, the assailants were brought to a stand on the eastern edge of the ravine, and at this early stage the farms, gardens and houses of Colombey formed a salient offensive angle exposed to the brunt of the French fire from the side of Borny.

At the first indication of a combat, General von Manteuffel, two of whose divisions were already under arms, sent their advance guards down the hills and through the hollow ways from St. Barbe; joined his line of battle on to the right of Von Golz and fell smartly on the outpost of Grenier’s division which De Ladmirault had left about Mey to cover his retrograde march upon the Moselle. The noise of combat, also, and the appeals sent in from the daring brigadier, put the rest of the 7th Corps in motion, so that the 14th as well as the 13th Division sprang to arms and approached the fight. General von Zastrow, however, did not quite approve of the temerity of his subordinate; but seeing that the Corps was committed to an engagement, he permitted General von Glümer to use the twenty-sixth brigade on the right and General von Woyna to employ the twenty-eighth on the left while he held the twenty-seventh in reserve. In like manner, the French turned fiercely on their adversaries. Canrobert and Frossard were over the Moselle, but Decaen’s four divisions were speedily arrayed; the Guard behind them fell in and marched Brincourt’s brigade towards the Seille to protect Montaudon’s right; and De Ladmirault instantly counter-marched his two divisions, moving De Lorencez towards the north-east, hoping to turn the right of Manteuffel, and ordering De Cissey, who had partially crossed the Moselle, to reinforce Grenier at Mey. About five o’clock, then, in consequence of the hardihood of a brigadier, a furious action raged along the whole French front, towards which comrades were hurriedly retracing their steps, and upon which adversaries were hastening forward with equal ardour.

The rapid development of an attack, which had in it some elements of a surprise, alike unwelcome and unexpected, and the tenacity with which a few battalions clung steadfastly to the advantage gained, astonished but did not disconcert the French, who frankly answered the challenge of their foes. Nevertheless, the opening movements of the 1st Corps were as successful as those of Von Golz. The artillery, always foremost in this campaign, going straight and swiftly to the front, soon had batteries in position, protected by cavalry, while behind them on the roads from Saarlouis and Saarbrück the infantry were quickly moving up. The leading battalions of the 1st Division poured through and round Noisseville and Nouilly, pressing back the French skirmishers and, following them fast, actually stormed the barricaded village of Mey, directly under Grenier’s main position in the wooded hill above. The 2nd Division directed upon Montoy, Lauvalliers and the mills at the confluence of the streams, fell on with alacrity; but the resistance was so keen that although they soon wrested the eastern, they suffered great loss and were once promptly repulsed by the defenders, when attempting to master the western bank. Yet, aided by the fire of batteries concentrated south of the St. Barbe ravine, these persistent troops ultimately crowned the ascent, and established the front of battle on the French side of the brook throughout its length. From one point, however, the French could not be dislodged. There was a cross road leading from Colombey to Bellecroix. It was a hollow way, bordered by trees two or three deep, and having in front, by way of salient, a little fir wood. This position effectually frustrated every effort of the Germans either to debouch from Colombey or push forward towards Bellecroix. Naturally strong and valiantly held, it was not carried until nearly seven o’clock, and then only by the repeated onsets of the twenty-fifth brigade which Von Zastrow, about half-past five, had permitted to take a share in an engagement which he did not like, but which he was bound to sustain. Thus was Von Golz succoured and partially relieved from the heavy pressure put on him; a pressure further mitigated by the advance of the twenty-eighth brigade, 7th Corps, on his left, and the capture of the wood of Borny. Still further to the left the 18th Division of the 9th Corps, which had marched up from Buchy on hearing the cannonade, and some cavalry appeared on the field towards dark and thus added to the disquietude of Montaudon on the French right who, however, held fast to his main position above Grigy.

The action on the French right and centre may fairly be regarded as an indecisive combat, although the front occupied in the morning had been driven inwards, and the daring assailant had won some ground. On the French left the combat had been equally fierce, but less favourable to the defenders. General de Ladmirault, indeed, when obliged to turn and succour his comrade and subordinate, Grenier, had at once resolved to assume the offensive. It was a timely determination, for Grenier’s troops had been pushed back and shaken, and, if left without aid, they would have been driven under the guns of St. Julien. But the approach of De Cissey, and the threatening direction imparted to De Lorencez, at once altered the aspect of affairs: for De Cissey struck in with vigour, and the German troops which had entered Mey retreated fast upon Nouilly; then General von Manteuffel, hastening the march of his brigades which were still on the way to the field formed his line to the north-west, between Servigny, Nouilly, and the mills at the confluence of the brooks, with a reserve at Servigny. As the guns, like the troops, arrived successively, they were arrayed on the new line, and, before De Ladmirault could develop his flank attack effectively, the 1st Corps had ninety guns in position between Lauvalliers and Poix, which enabled them to bar any infantry advance upon St. Barbe. The effect of this disposition was to frustrate the aggressive designs of De Ladmirault, but he is entitled to the credit of having saved his exposed division, and also of having made the only movement during the day which had the semblance of a real endeavour to strike for victory against a foe whose troops and artillery were plainly coming up in detachments along the whole line. Nor can it be denied that his vehement onset drove back the Germans, and recovered a large extent of ground up to the skirts of Nouilly and the water mills. Moreover, it gave great assistance to Aymard’s Division of Decaen’s Corps, and enabled it, at one moment, to scatter the companies operating in the angle formed by the streams, and drive them headlong over the ravine upon Lauvalliers. But the advent of German battalions, and the action of the guns, finally restored the combat, and as the twilight deepened into darkness the German right once more gained the ascendency, and the French divisions retired to their bivouacs nearer to Metz.

Long after the sun had set, portions of the 1st Corps still arrived on the scene; but then the battle was over. General de Ladmirault, three years afterwards, naturally proud of his conduct, insisted that the French had won the day. The German accounts, however, place the fact beyond dispute, since they show that the leading troops of the 1st Corps did reach Vautoux, Mey, and Villers l’Orme, which proves that the adversary must have retired towards Bellecroix and the banks of the Moselle. No doubt the Germans were wisely drawn back, at a late hour, and on that ground the French put in a claim to the victory. For General Steinmetz had ridden on to the field just as the contest was coming to an end. He was angry because a battle had been fought, and apprehensive lest a counter-attack in force should be made at dawn; so he ordered the 1st and 7th Corps to retire upon the positions they occupied on the 13th. Nevertheless, Von Zastrow, who did not receive the order, insisted that his Corps should bivouac under arms on the battlefield, so that the wounded might be collected, and the honour of the Army vindicated.

The End of the Battle.

In this action the French lost not quite four thousand, and the Germans nearly five thousand men; on both sides more than two hundred officers had been killed or wounded, General Decaen, commanding the 3rd Corps, mortally, while Bazaine and Castagny were slightly hurt. The French had actually on the field, including the Guard in reserve, with one brigade in the front line, three Corps d’Armée; for, though Lorencez did not press far forward, still the whole force under De Ladmirault was present, and in action. The Germans brought up successively two Corps and one Division, but a large portion of the 1st could not reach the scene of actual fighting until dark. It is impossible to ascertain exactly, and difficult to estimate the numbers engaged; but one fact is manifest—that the German assailants were numerically inferior, especially during the first two hours; that the disproportion was only lessened between six and seven; and that, at no time, were the French fewer in number. Marshal Bazaine emphatically states, in his report to the Emperor, that he held his position without employing the Guard, which is true, but it is not less true that the whole front of his line was driven in; and that he stood at the close within the range of the heavy guns in the forts. The French fought well, but they fought a defensive battle, and that is why they exacted from the assailant a much heavier penalty than he inflicted on them. The retreat of the Imperialists was delayed; but in the Great Head-quarter Staff serious misgivings began to spring up, and a fear lest the habit of bringing on improvised battles might not become a real source of danger. An able and enterprising General in command of the French at Spicheren and Borny would have read a severe lesson to German advance-guards, and would have made them pay for their temerity.

Not until a late hour did the news of the battle reach the king, who had established his head-quarters at Herny, on the railway. Prince Frederick Charles, at Pont à Mousson, was only informed of the event the next morning. His Army, the Second, had been engaged in marching up to and towards the Moselle, and at eventide the several Corps halted at these points. The 4th Corps was over the Seille, and not far from Custines and Marbache, places just below the confluence of the Meurthe and Moselle; the Guard had one division a little lower down at Dieulouard; the 10th Corps, entire, was at Pont à Mousson, with a brigade to the westward; the 3rd, the 9th, and the 12th, were facing the Moselle between Pont à Mousson and the left of the First Army, prepared either to frustrate a French advance up the right bank—a possible movement always present to the mind of Von Moltke—or cross the river. The 2nd Corps had come up to Falquemont; and a Reserve Landwehr Division, under General Kummer, was being organized at Saarlouis. To complete the survey, it should be added that Gneisenau’s Brigade, sent to surprise Thionville, an enterprise which failed, was returning to rejoin the First Army; and that on the evening of the 14th, the foremost troops of the Crown Prince’s Army were some squadrons of cavalry in Nancy, and an infantry brigade in Lunéville.

The French Retreat.

Throughout the night the wearied French divisions, which had been either engaged in combat or standing under arms, filed over the Moselle, and the Emperor took up his quarters at Longeville, outside the town. Marshal Bazaine’s order, dated the 13th, directed the whole Army on the road to Gravelotte, whence one portion was to continue by Mars la Tour, and the other turn off to the right and march on Conflans. The rigorous construction of the Marshal’s order yields that interpretation, but he contended, at his trial, that he merely indicated the general lines of retreat upon Verdun, and that the Staff and Corps Commanders should have used any and every road or track which would have served the main purpose. There are, or at least were, in 1870, only two roads out of Metz available for the march of heavy columns of troops of all arms and large trains—the excellent highway to Gravelotte, which is a long defile, and the road through Woippy, turning the uplands on the north. All the intermediate lanes or cross-roads are rugged and narrow, and only one, that passing by Lessy, has or had any pretension to the character of an inferior village road. Guns and carts can move along and up them in Indian file, but not easily if numerous, and nowhere at a good pace. Thus, even, on the 14th, the Corps of Frossard and Canrobert, who both started late, found the Gravelotte road so encumbered by trains that they could only make their way slowly, and did not arrive at Rozerieulles until after dark. The Emperor was still at Longeville, anxiously awaiting the issue of the fight which revived all his apprehensions. Metz was excited and alarmed, and the streets were crowded during the afternoon and evening, with passing soldiers, guns, baggage waggons and provision carts. Night brought no rest, for the Guard and the 3rd Corps came hastily over the river, and were densely packed inside the town and outside the ramparts in the space between the walls and Mount St. Quentin; while General de Ladmirault was engaged until morning in passing his divisions across the Isle Chambière, and Metman had also strayed from Bellecroix to that side of the town.

Marshal Bazaine had quitted Borny at dusk. He rode through Metz “with difficulty,” and made his way to the Imperial head-quarters. Here Napoleon, who was in bed, welcomed him with his usual kindness, and when the Marshal explained his fears lest the Germans should cut in on his line of retreat, and referring to his wound, begged to be superseded, the Emperor, he writes, “touching my bruised shoulder and the fractured epaulette, gracefully said, ‘It will be nothing, an affair of a few days, and you have just broken the charm.’” Apparently, Napoleon still clung to the belief that the allies he had sought would come to his aid. “I await an answer from the Emperor of Austria and the King of Italy,” he said; “compromise nothing by too much precipitation, and, above all things, avoid fresh reverses.” He counted on one sovereign whom he had defeated in battle, and another whom he had helped to enlarge his kingdom, and he counted in vain, partly because he was unsuccessful, but chiefly because the national political interests of both countries prevailed over the gratitude felt by Victor Emmanuel, and the desire to turn the tables on the House of Hohenzollern which was still strong in the House of Hapsburg-Lorraine.

“You will drag us out of this hornet’s nest, Marshal, won’t you?” exclaimed an officer, as Bazaine quitted the Imperial quarters. It was a task beyond his strength. When day dawned a thick fog shrouded the valley of the Moselle, and before the camp at Longeville was astir, a shell from the opposite bank burst near a tent, “cut a Colonel in two,” to use the soldatesque language of Marshal Canrobert, “carried off the leg of a battalion commander, and wounded two officers standing near a drummer.” The lucky shot came from a patrol of German cavalry, which had ridden forward as far as the railway station, unopposed, and its commander, observing a camp at Longeville, had brought his guns into action, and proved, once again, that the hornets were abroad and making a bold use of their offensive weapons. A battery hastily ran out, and the heavy metal of St. Quentin drove off the intruders; but they had learned that the foe was over the river before they retired. Soon afterwards, by Bazaine’s order, a mine was fired, and one section of the railway bridge was destroyed.

Then the retreat was continued. Finding the road obstructed by an endless stream of carts and waggons, Marshal Lebœuf turned aside, and struggling on, amid transport vehicles, threaded his way by Lessy and Chatel St. Germain to Vernéville, where about seven in the evening he had assembled the tired infantry Divisions of Castagny and Montaudon; but his cavalry and reserve artillery did not reach the bivouac until night; while Aymard’s Division was forced to halt in the defile, and Metman was at Sansonnet in the Moselle valley. Frossard, followed by Canrobert, had marched during the day as far as Rezonville, where both halted; and the Guard with the Emperor and Prince Imperial attained Gravelotte. General de Ladmirault did not stir at all on the 15th, he put a strict construction on Bazaine’s orders, and affected also to be uncertain whether he was to continue his retreat or not. But he had allowed Lorencez to press through the town and thrust himself into the Lessy defile, where his troops, unable to get on, had to pass the night. These disjointed and irregular movements testify to the confusion of a hurried retreat, to the flurry which had got the upper hand, and to the absence of anything like a firm control over troops and generals. How could it be otherwise? The Emperor still commanded, or was believed to command, and it is plain that at no time did the Marshal secure prompt and cheerful obedience, or inspire confidence, always essential to success, and never more so than when an Army has to be extricated from what the Imperial Guardsman graphically called a “hornet’s nest.”

The Germans cross the Moselle.

Far otherwise had the hours been employed by the German host. Early in the morning King William had ridden from Herny to the heights above the battlefield, and there the Head-quarter Staff, from actual observation, were able to form a correct judgment on the actual state of affairs. At first they took precautionary measures against a possible counter attack, and it was not until eleven o’clock that, evidence sufficient to convince Von Moltke having come in, decisive steps were taken. All the Corps of the Second Army were directed upon or over the Moselle, the 1st Corps was moved to Courcelles-Chaussy; and the 7th was posted at Courcelles sur Nied to guard the railway line and the depôts; and the 8th was on its left, echeloned on the Lunéville road. At nightfall the 3rd Corps had crossed the Moselle between Pagny and Novéant, where they found the bridge intact; the 10th had one division at Pont à Mousson and one westward at Thiaucourt; the Guard was at Dieulouard, and the 4th Corps astride the river at Marbache-Custines. The 2nd Corps had come up to Han sur Nied. The Crown Prince’s advanced troops were at Haney, St. Nicholas on the Meurthe, and Bayon on the Upper Moselle.

The Cavalry beyond the Moselle.

But the most interesting and effective operations were those carried out by the 5th Cavalry Division, commanded by General von Rheinbaben. They had traversed the Moselle on the 14th, and were directed to gain the Verdun road in order to ascertain the exact whereabouts of the French. At the same time the 3rd Cavalry Division attached to the First Army was instructed to pass the river below Metz and push out towards Briey; but the French had removed all the boats, no crossing could be effected, and the division was employed elsewhere. No such obstacles arrested the 5th Division. It consisted of three strong brigades under Von Redern, Von Barby, and Von Bredow, in all thirty-six squadrons, and was accompanied by two batteries of horse artillery. Leaving Barby at Thiaucourt to await the arrival of Bredow coming up from the Moselle, Redern marched through the fog at four in the morning to La Chausée, whence he detached two squadrons towards the Verdun road. During their absence Von Redern, riding on towards Xonville, discovered and was fired on by a body of French cavalry on the hills about Puxieux. These were French dragoons detached from De Forton’s division, then en route for Mars la Tour, and they were reinforced from the main body as soon as the vedettes had opened fire. The French, led by Prince Murat, ascended the hill, and soon after the Germans had brought a battery to bear Murat withdrew his men, followed by Von Redern. On crowning the ridge De Forton’s division was plainly seen moving in the valley, or halting near Mars la Tour, supported by twelve guns. Von Redern, who did not think it prudent to attack, retired until a fold of the hills gave him protection. Here he was joined by two squadrons of hussars, which had approached Rezonville, captured nine prisoners, and when pursued had got deftly away. The sound of the cannon had attracted the rest of the brigade, and Von Redern again moved towards Mars la Tour, and again drew off without a fight. But by this time the cannonade had called up both Barby and Bredow, so that there were soon thirty-four squadrons and two batteries on the ground. The French General, De Forton, who believed erroneously that German infantry occupied Puxieux, was of opinion that he had fought a successful skirmish; yet instead of closing with enemies who were actually close to the line of retreat upon Verdun, he fell back as far as Vionville, and went into camp. Three French divisions of horse in the van of the retiring Army allowed a German division to sit down within a short distance of the Verdun road and many miles from all infantry support. On the other hand, a squadron of Uhlans pushed almost to Conflans, and stumbling on Du Barail’s division, was smartly punished; but a captain of hussars, during the evening, rode towards Rezonville and halted close enough to see Frossard’s fantassins cooking their suppers. Meantime, the Prussian Guard Cavalry, moving north-west from Dieulouard, had placed its advanced brigade at Thiaucourt; and a squadron of Guard Uhlans had audaciously summoned the Governor of Toul to surrender. No such memorable examples of activity can be found in the record of the French cavalry, which had forgotten the traditions of Napoleon the Great.

Orders for the Flank March.

That evening General von Moltke issued a set of memorable instructions to General von Steinmetz and Prince Frederick Charles. The First Army was to leave a corps at Courcelles sur Nied, and place the others at Arry and Pommérieux, between the Seille and the Moselle. “It is only by a vigorous offensive movement of the Second Army,” wrote Von Moltke, “upon the routes from Metz to Verdun by Fresne and Etain that we can reap the fruits of the victory obtained yesterday. The commander of the Second Army is intrusted with this operation which he will conduct according to his own judgment and with the means at his disposal, that is, all the Corps of his Army.” It was further announced that the King would transfer his head-quarters to Pont à Mousson in the afternoon of the 16th. Preparations were thus made to place the whole force on the left bank of the Moselle, except the 1st Corps, the 3rd Division of Cavalry, and the 2nd which was still two marches from the river. In this way Von Moltke hoped to keep the whip hand of his opponents, and cut them off from the shelter they sought beyond the Meuse.

The Emperor Quits the Army.

Before narrating the battle which the French style Rezonville and the Germans Vionville-Mars la Tour, we may turn to the Imperial head-quarters at Gravelotte at dawn on the 16th, because the scene presents so vivid a contrast to that in the German camp. When Marshal Bazaine saw the Emperor on the preceding evening walking meditatively up and down before his quarters, he was surprised by the question, “Must I go?” The Marshal frankly admitted that he had not been informed respecting the situation in front, and asked him to wait. “The answer,” writes Bazaine, appeared to please him, and turning to his suite he said, loud enough to be heard by all, “Gentlemen, we will remain, but keep the baggage packed.” The troops, sad and depressed, continued to defile before the inn; no shout, no vivat was evoked by the sight of the sovereign and his son. Yet that night the Emperor had made up his mind. In the morning he summoned Bazaine, who found him in his carriage with the Prince Imperial and Prince Napoleon. The baggage had already gone on in the night, and the lancers and dragoons of the Guard, commanded by General de France, were in the saddle ready to serve as an escort. Bazaine rode to the side of the carriage, and the Emperor said, “I have resolved to leave for Verdun and Chalons. Put yourself on the route for Verdun as soon as you can. The gendarmerie have already quitted Briey in consequence of the arrival of the Prussians”—a singularly erroneous statement, but one showing how ill-informed the head-quarters were from first to last. The Emperor then drove off from Gravelotte by the road to Conflans, through the wooded ways which were so soon to be the scene of a sanguinary encounter. Three hours after he started Von Redern’s guns opened suddenly on the French cavalry camp near Vionville, and began, by a stroke of surprise, the most remarkable and best-fought battle of the campaign.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE FRENCH RETREAT THWARTED.