The new Prussian army was trained by a great soldier named von Moltke,[72] whose nephew was chief of the German staff[73] when the war in which we are now engaged broke out. When this new army was strong enough, Bismarck meant to go to war with Austria; but until that time arrived he intended to keep the peace with her. In the year 1863 the King of Denmark died, and when the new king came to the throne a dispute arose about the two duchies of Schleswig and Holstein,[74] which you will see on the map to the south of Denmark. I cannot explain here to you all the rights and wrongs of this dispute. An English statesman of the time said that only two men understood it—one was dead, and the other was in a lunatic asylum. Both these duchies were subject to Denmark; but the people of Holstein were Germans, while those of Schleswig were Danes. There were constant quarrels between the Danes and the Germans in these duchies, and Bismarck thought that the time had come for Prussia to seize them. So, like the far-sighted man that he was, he made preparations, and took care that none of the other nations would interfere. He made a treaty with Russia on the eastern border, and asked Austria to join him in fighting the Danes. The idea of joining these duchies to Germany was very popular in all the German states, and Austria felt bound to take part in their conquest. If she had not done so, Prussia would have stood forward as the leader of Germany, and this was the very thing that Austria was determined to prevent. You now begin to perceive what a wily man Bismarck was.
To make a long story short, the two giants, Prussia and Austria, attacked the little kingdom of Denmark; and, though the Danes fought like heroes, they were crushed, and the two duchies were seized. But what was to become of them?—that was the question. Prussia soon showed that she meant to have them both. To this Austria would not agree, and thus the robbers fell out over the division of their booty. Before they came to blows, King William made Bismarck a count, and thus addressed him: "In the four years which have elapsed since I summoned you to the head of the State Government, Prussia has gained a position which is worthy of her history, and which promises a fortunate and glorious future."
During the spring of 1866 von Moltke was rapidly preparing his army, and studying his plan of campaign. He had a surprise in store, not only for Austria, but for all the world. What that surprise was you shall now learn.
In the year 1806 a Prussian boy, named John Nicholas Dreyse, finished his apprenticeship as a locksmith. The battle of Jena[75] had just been fought, and Dreyse wandered on to the battlefield, where the Prussians lay thick on the ground, with their muskets beside them. He picked up one of these guns and examined it carefully. He was a clever and inventive lad, and he soon saw that the musket was a poor weapon, and that his countrymen had been beaten because Napoleon's army had a much better gun. Thereupon he began to dream of inventing a gun for his country that should be the best in the world. He found his way to Paris, and obtained employment in the workshop of a Swiss gunmaker who was trusted by the Emperor Napoleon.
The clever, hard-working Prussian boy soon gained the confidence of his master, who one day told him that he was going to make for the Emperor a gun that would be loaded at the breech. Dreyse had never thought of this before. All the guns that he had ever seen were muzzle-loaders—that is, they were loaded by pouring powder into the barrel and ramming home a bullet. The new idea filled his mind, and night and day he thought of ways in which such a quick-loading gun might be made. When Napoleon heard how he was occupied, he encouraged him to further effort by promising him a gift of money and the Cross of the Legion of Honour.[76] Before, however, the gun was made, Napoleon was sleeping his last sleep under the willow-tree on the island of St. Helena.
At length, in 1835, after thirty years of thought and trial and disappointment, Dreyse made a breech-loading gun which was fired by the prick of a needle. At once he offered his gun to the Government of his own country. It was tried against the Danes, and proved so successful that the Prussian Government set up a large factory in which to manufacture it.
By the month of June 1866, many of the Prussian soldiers were armed with this needle-gun, and had learned how to use it. Then when all was ready war began.
On the 23rd of June three Prussian armies entered Bohemia[77] by different routes, with orders to drive back the Austrians and gather in force near Sadowa.[78] These armies had to advance through the passes in the wall of mountains which forms the natural rampart of Bohemia. What the Austrians should have done was to fling themselves against the Prussians as they issued from the passes; but, as of old, the Austrian generals were slow to move, and before they did anything the Prussians were all in Bohemia. At Sadowa, or Königgrätz,[79] as the Germans call it, a terrible battle took place. The Austrians were posted in a strong position, and they had good artillery, with which they caused many losses in the Prussian ranks. After three or four hours' fighting, it seemed as if the Austrians had driven off their foes. Suddenly, however, the second army, under the Crown Prince,[80] arrived on the field of battle. Regiment after regiment of Prussians in their dark-blue uniforms advanced, all armed with the needle-gun. Then a rapid and deadly fire burst upon the Austrian army. Nothing so terrible had been known before. The Austrians held their ground for an hour, suffering fearful losses; but they were obliged to give way at last, and the battle was won. Thirty-two thousand Austrians were killed, wounded, or missing; the Prussians had lost only nine thousand men.
The defeat was so crushing that Austria could no longer resist. The Prussians marched on Vienna, and peace was made. Austria had to pay the Prussians a great deal of money; she had to give up her claim to the duchies, and agree to let the German states form a union, from which she was excluded. The whole campaign had only lasted seven weeks. At the end of it Prussia stood without a rival in Germany. She was now a large, compact state of nearly thirty millions of people, stretching over the whole of North Germany from Frankfort in the south to Kiel[81] in the north. Not only had Prussia become the greatest state of Germany, but she had cleared away the great obstacle that stood in the path of a united German Empire of which she was to be the head.
The finest of all the squares of Paris is the Place de la Concorde.[82] Let us stand in the middle of this square and look around. To the west we see a long avenue of chestnut trees, the Champs Elysées;[83] to the north we catch a glimpse of the Madeleine,[84] one of the most famous of all the Parisian churches; to the south, across the river, is the noble building in which the French Members of Parliament (Deputies) meet; and to the east we see the terraces and trees of the Garden of the Tuileries,[85] leading by the pond on which children sail their toy yachts to the Louvre Museum. If we stroll in the park of the Champs Elysées, we shall be sure to see roundabouts and swings, and hear the squeak of our old friend Punch, whom the French children call Guignol.[86]
The Place de la Concorde is very bright and gay now, and does not in the least suggest sad scenes to your mind. But it was here in January 1793 that the guillotine[87] was set up, and hundreds of the nobility and gentry of France were executed. Louis XVI. and his queen, Marie Antoinette, here saw the light of the sun for the last time before the cruel axe descended, and all was over. The square was then known as the Place de la Révolution.
As you glance round the square you will see a number of statues. Each of the following towns has its own statue—Marseilles, Lyons,[88] Lille,[89] Rouen,[90] Brest, Nantes, Bordeaux,[91] and Strassburg. You can look these places out for yourselves on a map of France. It is the statue of Strassburg to which I wish to direct your special attention. Up to the end of July in the year 1914, it was draped in black, and mourning wreaths were placed on it. As soon as the war broke out, the students of Paris tore away the black drapery, and replaced it with the French flag. They also removed the mourning wreaths, and put bright, fresh flowers in their place.
Perhaps you wonder why the statue of Strassburg remained in mourning from the year 1871 to the end of July in the year 1914. By the time you have read the next two chapters you will understand.
Now we must return to the story of Germany. In the former chapter I told you how Austria was overthrown, and how Prussia became the leading power amongst the German peoples. Thus, by means of "blood and iron," the first step towards German unity was taken. After the Austrian War the German states north of the Main[92] were united into a Nord-Bund, with Prussia at their head. The states south of the Main remained outside the combination, and had still to be brought into it. Bismarck knew that this could only be done by means of war. I will now tell you how this war came about.
In the year 1852 France had once more an emperor, who was a nephew of the great Napoleon,[93] but was by no means a man of the same military genius. His throne was not secure, and he believed that he could make it so by restoring the old martial glory of his country. His troops fought along with us in the Crimea[94] against the Russians, and in 1859 he sent them to the help of the Italians, who were then throwing off the yoke of Austria. In the course of a few weeks he took a leading part in winning three victories, and returned to Paris in triumph, where he was hailed as the saviour of Italy.
For centuries the French had kept a jealous eye on Germany, and had done everything they could to keep it from becoming a rival. Louis XIV. had taken away from Germany the two provinces of Alsace and Lorraine, which you will see on the map between the Moselle and the Rhine. Napoleon I., as you know, stole a good deal of Germany, and gave it away to his marshals and to the members of his own family. After his fall, the Germans began to grow in power by good government and by peaceful industry, and France regarded this growth with a very unfriendly eye. When Prussia beat Austria and made herself head of the North German Bund, the French began to think that the time had come for clipping Prussia's wings.
Soon a quarrel arose, as quarrels always do if you seek for them. The King of Spain died, and Bismarck put forward a German prince as a candidate for the vacant throne. The French people were much alarmed at the prospect of a German king ruling Spain, and there was great excitement in all parts of France. The German prince was withdrawn; but this did not satisfy the French people, who were eager for war.
At this time King William of Prussia was at Ems,[95] enjoying a holiday, and his chief ministers were away on holiday too. The French ambassador went to Ems and demanded that the Prussian king should apologize, and give a promise never to put forward a German candidate for the Spanish throne again. King William refused to do this, and sent a telegram to Bismarck, giving him an account of the interview. Bismarck, you will remember, wanted war in order to unite North and South Germany into an empire. He saw his chance, and cut out part of the telegram so as to make it read in a way that angered both the French and the Germans. Then he published it, and almost at once the French declared war.
On July 16, 1870, the North Bund met, and agreed to fight. Three days later, to the great surprise of Napoleon, the South German states held a meeting, and declared that they would join with the North states in making war against France, under the leadership of the King of Prussia. This was a great triumph for Bismarck, who now saw clearly that if the united German armies could beat France, their comradeship in arms and their common joy in victory would make a German Empire very probable.
The united armies of North and South Germany were far greater than those of France, and the Germans were also far stronger than the French in another important way. For years past they had prepared for war. All their plans had been made. They had all the stores, and guns, and ammunition, and railway trains they needed, and the whole system was arranged like clockwork. On the other hand, the French were very badly prepared. The Minister of War said he could place 400,000 men on the frontier. He also said that everything was in order; that there were huge stores of clothing, and that not even a "gaiter-button" was missing. There were enough cartridges to kill all the Germans twice over, and the army had a new machine gun[96] that would prove more deadly than the needle-gun which the Prussians had used against the Austrians. But all this was mere boasting. The French people had been living in a fool's paradise. They were as ill-prepared for war as they possibly could be.
When the Emperor joined the army at Metz,[97] prepared to lead his eager troops across the Rhine to Berlin, he found to his dismay that he had but 220,000 men in place of the 400,000 promised. The men of the reserve[98] joined the colours very slowly, and when they appeared it was discovered that they had not been drilled in the use of the breech-loading rifle, and that they would not be ready to take the field for weeks. It was discovered, too, that the officers who had learned how to handle the machine guns had been drafted off to other duties, and that those who were in charge of these terrible new weapons knew nothing about them. There were huge stores of food in two or three depots, but there were no means of bringing it rapidly to the army. The transport wagons were stored in one place, while their wheels lay elsewhere at a distance, and wheels and wagons could not be brought together for weeks. The artillery[99] were without horses, and the guns could not be moved until horses were borrowed from the cavalry.[100] The only maps which were provided were those of Germany.
While everything was at sixes and sevens on the French side, the Germans were massing their armies in a perfectly wonderful way. The boast of the French minister was true as regards them: the Germans were prepared to the last gaiter-button. Every detail had been thought out; every difficulty had been foreseen and provided for. By night and day railway trains followed each other to the frontier, laden with soldiers, horses, and guns. In fourteen days 450,000 Germans, well trained, well armed, and well fed, were ready to give battle to the ill-prepared armies of France.
Before I tell you the story of the great struggle between France and Germany in 1870-71, I must ask you to look for a little time at Belgium. You know that it lies between Holland and France, and is one of the smallest countries in the world. The five northern counties of England cover a greater area than the whole of Belgium.
The coast is low and sandy, and is fringed with dunes. There are only two important harbours on the coast—Nieuport, which is the same word as our English "Newport," and Ostend, which simply means "East-end." The eastern part of the country contains a few low ranges of forest-clad hills, but elsewhere the surface resembles that of Holland.
Let us climb to the top of the belfry which happily still remains in the fine old town of Bruges.[101] Looking westwards, we see the North Sea; southwards and eastwards and northwards the country is as flat as the sea, and only just above its level. As you glance across the plain your eye lights upon other towers similar to that upon which you are standing. About twenty-five miles to the south-east you make out the belfry of Ghent,[102] and you might see, if the weather is clear, the ruins of Ypres,[103] an old cloth-working town, far to the south. Bruges, Ghent, Ypres, and the other towns which you see, were rich and flourishing for centuries, and they prove very clearly that the Belgian plain has long been famous for manufactures and trade.
We now proceed to Ghent, and climb its belfry, which is higher than St. Paul's Cathedral. Looking around, we notice that the towns within view are even more numerous than those which we saw from the belfry at Bruges. Below us are two large rivers, the Scheldt[104] and the Lys,[105] which unite and wander away eastwards in a broad, full stream. If we look at the map, we see many other broad and deep rivers, all tributaries or sub-tributaries of the Scheldt.
As we travel eastwards to Brussels, the capital, the flat land begins to get tumbled and uneven. There are no real hills yet, but you feel that you are rising to higher land.
As we proceed eastwards from Brussels we shall ascend higher and higher, until we reach a point from which we can look down a deep valley, through which flows a broad, clear river. This is the Meuse,[106] and you notice at once that it is quite unlike the rivers of the east of Belgium. The Meuse runs everywhere between steep hills, and where it enters Belgium from France it flows through a narrow gorge. From this gorge we can row for a long day down the river between the deep, silent forests covering the hills, which rise hundreds of feet on both sides of us. As we proceed, the hills sink in height, the stream becomes broader, and the towns upon its banks become larger and more frequent. We pass the beautiful town of Dinant,[107] and later on the larger fortified town of Namur,[108] where the river is joined by the Sambre.[109] Still further down the river, near the German frontier, is the great industrial town of Liége,[110] the "Belgian Birmingham."
Beyond the Meuse we find the third and final division of Belgium. It is quite unlike the rest of the country. The hills are lofty and are covered with woods, which on the south are known as the Forest of the Ardennes.[111] Where there are no forests, this part of the country consists of heaths and moors.
If you look at an ordinary map of Belgium you will see a number of crossed swords showing you the position of battlefields. So many battles have been fought in Belgium that it has been called the "Cockpit of Europe." Now why has Belgium been the scene of so many battles? You see that the country stands between England and France and Germany, and I must tell you that before Napoleon I. conquered Holland and Belgium they belonged to Austria. If Germany should go to war with France, and Great Britain should join in, their armies naturally meet in Belgium. An army from North Germany and an army marching north from France would come into contact somewhere on the rolling land between Brussels and the Meuse, where you see so many crossed swords. The French would find a shorter way into Germany, and the Germans into France, across the Ardennes and the high land, but an army with its food and baggage trains always avoids hill country if it can. The reason why the British have fought battles in this district is also clear. They had to meet their allies as rapidly as possible after crossing the sea, and the most convenient meeting-place was the rolling country between Brussels and the Meuse.
You can easily understand that when these armies entered Belgium to fight their battles, the Belgians were sure to suffer. Their fair fields would be trodden down, their industries would cease, food supplies would be seized, houses and public buildings would be destroyed, and many innocent townsfolk and peasants who had no part or lot in the war would be killed by stray shots, or put to death because they gave information to the enemy. The plight of Belgium, when her big neighbours quarrelled and fought out their quarrels on her soil, was always terrible, so in the year 1839 the five great European Powers—Great Britain, France, Russia, Austria-Hungary, and Prussia—made a solemn treaty, by which they promised faithfully that they would never again trespass on Belgian soil in time of war. This is what we mean when we talk about the neutrality[112] of Belgium.
Now what has all this to do with the war between France and Germany in 1870? We shall soon see. When there was no doubt that Germany and France were going to fight, the British Government sent a message to each of them, saying that it would declare war against that Power which broke its plighted word with regard to Belgium. Bismarck replied by telegraph that she had no intention of invading Belgium, and France gave her answer in the same strain. Thus Belgium was spared untold suffering. A new treaty was made renewing the old one, and this treaty up to the beginning of the present war was Belgium's charter of freedom from foreign invasion.
The Belgian people were very much relieved when they knew that they were to be left alone during the war, and the town council of Brussels sent a beautiful letter of thanks to Queen Victoria. It ran as follows:—
"The great and noble people over whose destinies you preside have just given another proof of its benevolent sentiments towards this country. The voice of the English nation has been heard above the din of arms. It has asserted the principles of justice and right. Next to the unalterable attachment of the Belgian people to their independence, the strongest sentiment which fills their hearts is that of an imperishable gratitude to the people of Great Britain."
Now we must hark back and pick up the threads of the story which we dropped at the end of Chapter IX. Look at the map of the French frontier which you will find on the next page. If you trace the present boundary line between France and Germany, you will see it running south from the little state of Luxemburg,[113] in front of Metz, then turning south-east, and proceeding to the Vosges[114] Mountains, along the ridge of which it continues to the border of Switzerland. In July 1870 the French frontier ran eastwards from Luxemburg to the right bank of the Rhine, and continued south along that river to Basel.[115] France, you will observe, then possessed the two frontier provinces of Lorraine and Alsace.[116] The most important town in these provinces is Strassburg, on the left bank of the Rhine.
Now look closely at the province of Lorraine, and find Metz. You see that it is marked with a star, which indicates that it is a fortress. It stands on a fertile peninsula, formed by the confluence of the Seille[117] and the Moselle, and is surrounded by low-lying meadows, which are now rich market gardens. There is hill country to the west and hill country to the east and south, so that it is naturally a strong place and capable of resisting attacks. At the time of which we are speaking it was the strongest fortress of France.
Let us suppose that we have the invisible cloak of the fairies, and are thus enabled to enter unseen the long dining-room of the Hôtel de l'Europe in Metz during the closing days of July 1870. The first figure to catch our eye is that of the Emperor Napoleon III. We observe that he is a grave, dreamy man, with nothing of the first Napoleon's power and determination. We guess that he is seriously ill, and our guess is true; for he is suffering from an incurable complaint, which will soon render him incapable of directing the affairs of the army and the country. Ever since he was a child the great Napoleon has been his ideal, and he has long dreamed of founding an empire just as great as his uncle's, but far more lasting. By his side you see a boy of fourteen, the Prince Imperial,[118] his only son. Before another month is over this boy will receive his baptism of fire, and will bear himself on the battlefield with a coolness far beyond his years. He will, however, never wear the crown of France, and nine years later will receive his death-wound while fighting for Britain in South Africa.
At a glance you perceive that Napoleon and the staff officers about him are full of anxiety; and well they may be, for not half the expected number of soldiers have mobilized, and the reserves are coming in by driblets. Telegrams arrive every few moments from the generals, beseeching the Emperor to send them transport, horses, and camp equipment. The army is utterly incapable of advancing, and it is very clear that the great dash across the Rhine must be put off. Meanwhile the German armies are moving like a well-oiled machine. Three great masses of men are assembling on the Rhine, ready to invade France. Their plan of campaign has been thought out long ago; it is now being followed to the letter. On the other hand, Napoleon and his generals are powerless to move, and are chopping and changing their plans every day. The Parisians are beginning to growl: "We ought to be across the Rhine by now. Why does the Emperor wait? On to Berlin! to Berlin!"
On the 2nd of August something had to be done to allay the impatience of the French people, and Napoleon ordered an advance on Saarbrücken,[119] where a Prussian detachment of 1,300 lay. After a fight of three hours the Prussians were driven back; but they retired in good order, and were not pursued, neither was Saarbrücken occupied. Shortly afterwards the tide of German invasion began to roll across the frontier. It consisted of three armies, and comprised 447,000 men. Behind these armies was a first reserve of 188,000 men, ready to be sent forward later; and behind them, again, a second reserve of 160,000 men. In addition, there were 226,000 men to fill up the gaps caused by the killed and wounded. Von Moltke's plan was that the three armies should march into France separately, and then unite to give battle.
At Weissenburg,[120] which you will see on your map almost directly east of Metz, the 3rd German army came in contact with the French. MacMahon,[121] the French general, had no idea of how the German armies were disposed, and he had sent but a single division to Weissenburg. This division had to meet a whole German army, and though it struggled gallantly for five hours, it was crushed by overwhelming odds. The Emperor and his staff now lost their heads completely; all was confusion and dismay.
The victorious Germans marched southwards towards Wörth,[122] where Marshal MacMahon was striving to draw his scattered forces together. A careless watch was kept, and early in the morning the marshal was painfully surprised to find himself attacked by a force which greatly outnumbered his own. He was well and strongly posted, and had with him a number of fine Algerian troops;[123] but the enemy attacked with such fierceness that, in spite of the desperate bravery of his men, they could not hold their ground. Under cover of darkness the remnants of the French army escaped.
The same day another calamity befell the French. The 1st and 2nd German Armies had by this time crossed the Rhine, and were marching on Saarbrucken. When the advanced guard reached that place, about nine on the morning of the 6th of August, it discovered that the French, under General Frossard,[124] were strongly entrenched on a plateau with steep wooded sides. Almost immediately the French guns opened fire, and the German troops at a distance from the battlefield marched "to the sound of the guns." As each regiment arrived it was hurried into action, and one of the fiercest and most deadly battles of the war began. The French ought to have won. There were enough of their troops in the neighbourhood to beat back the Germans, but the commanders had not been trained to act together, and the consequence was that several divisions of the army never came into the fight at all.
When darkness began to fall, Frossard fell back, and the Germans had won a victory of which they were hardly aware. The poor, distracted Emperor sent a telegram to Paris announcing this double defeat, and doubtfully declaring, "All may yet be regained."
All the three German armies were now on French soil. The 3rd Army, which formed the German left, was commanded by the Crown Prince, afterwards the Emperor Frederick; the 1st Army, on the right, was under old General Steinmetz;[125] and the 2nd Army, forming the centre, was under King William's nephew, Prince Frederick Charles of Hohenzollern, called by the soldiers the "Red Prince," because of his fondness for wearing the red jacket of the famous Death's Head Hussars. The aged King William held supreme command of these armies, and with him as chief of the staff was von Moltke.
So great was the anger of the Parisians at the French defeats that the Emperor hurried to the capital, leaving Marshal Bazaine[126] to command the "Army of the Rhine." From Paris he ordered Bazaine to retreat on Châlons,[127] the French Aldershot, and there join the remnant of MacMahon's army and a reserve army which was being formed.
At once Bazaine began blundering. While the Germans were sending out their cavalry to scout in all directions and to pick up information as to the movements of the French, Bazaine made no such use of his mounted men, and was quite ignorant of the doings of the Germans. He ought to have retired on Metz with all speed, but he wasted much time. Only part of his army was across the Moselle when the Germans attacked his rearguard at a place called Colombey.[128] After a fight of seven hours, darkness ended the battle, and the French claimed a victory. Both sides had lost heavily, and Bazaine was wounded for the sixth time in his long career, during which he had fought his way up from private to field-marshal.
The Emperor now joined his victorious army, and Bazaine continued his retreat, which was to be by way of Verdun[129] to Châlons. There were four roads by which Bazaine might have marched through the chalk downs to Verdun, but he had ordered his whole army, 150,000 strong, to march by a single road until they reached the village of Gravelotte,[130] which stands seven miles west of Metz. I think you can form a good idea of what this meant. The road was hopelessly cumbered with guns and wagons, mounted men and foot soldiers, and this caused great confusion and delay. So long was the column that it took two days and nights to pass a given point. While it was slowly plodding up the sloping road to Gravelotte, the Emperor lay in a little inn near the village, and Bazaine went to see him. The old marshal was doubtful whether, after having been wounded, he was fit to command the army. "It is nothing," said Napoleon. "You have won a victory. You have broken the spell. Bring the army to Châlons, and all will yet be well."