Chapter 10 A TERRIBLE STRUGGLE.

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 H?tel 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 W?rth,[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 Chalons,[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.

Napoleon III.

(From the painting by J. H. Flandrin at Versailles.)

The Emperor now joined his victorious army, and Bazaine continued his retreat, which was to be by way of Verdun[129] to Chalons. 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 Chalons, and all will yet be well."

The Germans at Gravelotte. From the picture by E. J. Hünten.

That was the difficulty-to bring the army to Chalons. I am sure you do not suppose that the Germans were idle while the French were slowly moving along the crowded road to Gravelotte. As soon as King William heard of the fight at Colombey he ordered his 2nd army to cross the Moselle at a point nine or ten miles south of Metz, from which the Roman road runs by way of Verdun to Chalons. When the army reached the river it discovered that the bridges had not been destroyed, and was therefore able to cross unmolested and hasten forward to cut off the French retreat. Not a moment was wasted. On the morning of Tuesday, August 16th, the French army left Gravelotte, and found before it two roads, both running across the downs to Chalons, the one a few miles to the north of the other. One column travelled by the northern road, the other by the southern road.

Napoleon and the Prince Imperial sped along the more northern road in their carriage, and soon after bidding them farewell Bazaine learnt that great masses of Prussian troops were rapidly advancing northwards to cut him off. He halted some of his troops, and rode on towards the first village on the road-Rezonville.[131] At that time the leading cavalry of the French were at the village of Mars-la-Tour, some miles farther along the same road. One German corps struck at the left of the French line, while another tried to turn its flank at Mars-la-Tour. The battle was long and fierce, and both sides claimed the victory. Bazaine telegraphed to the Emperor: "The enemy left us masters of the battlefield;" while Moltke sent the following message to King William: "Our troops, worn out by a twelve hours' struggle, encamped on the victorious field, opposite the French lines."

The fight was largely between cavalry, and there were several magnificent charges. Two German cavalry regiments made a charge that day which is remembered in the Fatherland as we in Great Britain remember the charge of the "Six Hundred" at Balaclava. They dashed down on the French guns, and sabred or rode down all the gunners save one. Then they charged through a line of infantry, and turned to return. Out of 600 men who rode in that "death-ride," only 194 ever came back.

Metz as it was in 1870. From the picture by Meyret.

Next day the French retired to a line of hills lying north of the road from Gravelotte to Metz. Here they dug trenches and threw up embankments, and thus fortified themselves in a strong position. The Germans attacked this position, but again the battle was indecisive. The hardest fighting was near the village of St. Privat,[132] on the French right wing, where the line was fiercely bombarded for several hours. Attack after attack was made at this point, but none was successful until the French defenders ran short of cartridges. Even then they fought most stubbornly with the bayonet in and around the village, but were overcome at last, and the left wing was turned. This meant that the whole French army had to retire for protection to the forts of Metz.

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Visitors to this battlefield need no guide to show them the line of heights which the Germans stormed so desperately and the French held so stubbornly on that day. All along the ridge are monuments and mounds marking the graves of the dead. Beneath some of the mounds hundreds of bodies lie buried. "They rise like green islands out of the growing corn or the ridges of the cultivated ground." A gigantic bronze statue of St. Michael,[133] leaning on a long sword, has been erected on the summit within a few hundred yards of the present frontier between France and Germany. This statue was unveiled by Kaiser William II., who said that he wished it to be a memorial not only to those who fought and died for the German Fatherland but to those equally brave men who gave their lives for France. In this terrible fight the loss of the French was 7,850 killed and wounded; that of the Germans, 19,640.

Advance of the German Grenadiers at Nuits.

(From the picture by G. Emelé.)

[This battle took place near Dijon, in December 1870.]

When Bazaine reached Metz with his army he discovered that the railway running north had been cut, and that he was surrounded. Two German armies, numbering 160,000 men, were left to hem him in and wait until starvation drove him to surrender. Two other armies were sent to meet MacMahon, who was supposed to be at Chalons. The cavalry, however, soon discovered that Chalons was deserted; MacMahon had marched north, with what purpose could only be guessed. The cavalry hunted the country for him, and at last found him trying to reach Metz so as to relieve Bazaine. Had he pushed on with all speed he might have relieved Metz, and, with the troops in that city, have formed a strong army which could have faced the German legions once more. But he had wasted ten precious days on the road, and this gave the Germans time to catch him up. They came upon him unawares, for his watch had been carelessly kept, and his men were cooking their dinners as the advance guards of the enemy burst upon them. MacMahon found to his dismay that the Germans were between him and Metz and that he was obliged to retreat. They drove him northwards to the town of Sedan,[134] which you will find on the Meuse, in a corner of the country from which there was no escape unless he crossed the Belgian border. He might have done this and avoided the onslaught of the Germans; but, as you know, the French had promised that they would not trespass on Belgian soil, and they kept their word, though it cost them dear.

Through the dark night, amidst a heavy downpour of rain, the men toiled along the heavy roads in great confusion, and reached Sedan at nine next morning. The Emperor, who was following MacMahon's army, arrived late at night, without baggage or escort, and walked almost alone from the railway station to the little town. Next day MacMahon tried to restore some sort of order in his ranks and prepare his forces to meet the enemy; but by nightfall the two German armies had so completely hemmed them in that he could neither hope to break through nor escape if defeated. His army was massed under the walls of Sedan in a valley known as the Sink of Givonne,[135] in a sort of horse-shoe line, concave to the enemy.

At five the next morning, on all the hills around, appeared the dark masses of the German troops. Two hundred and fifty thousand men were in a circle on the heights round the Sink of Givonne. They had come as stealthily as serpents. They were there when the sun rose, and when the French saw them they knew that all was over. The German guns commanded every part of the crowded valley, and when they opened fire the result was a massacre. One of the first to fall was MacMahon, who was struck down by a bursting shell, and was carried from the field. Another commander took his place, but no general, however great, could save the French army, which was now a helpless, beaten mob.

That night the miserable Emperor, worn out by fatigue and suffering, sent an aide-de-camp to the King of Prussia with a note containing this message: "Not having been able to die in the midst of my troops, it only remains for me to place my sword in the hands of your Majesty.-I am, your Majesty's good brother, Napoleon."

Next day the fallen Emperor and Bismarck met in a weaver's house upon the banks of the Meuse. Chairs were brought out, and they talked in the open air. It was a glorious autumn morning. The Emperor looked careworn, as well he might. He wished to speak with the King of Prussia before the terms of surrender were drawn up, but William refused to see him. When, however, terms had been arranged, the king visited the Emperor, who had taken refuge in a country house, and showed him much kindness. The next day the royal prisoner was sent to a palace in Germany, where he remained until the end of the war.

Thus, on September 2, 1870, 80,000 French soldiers yielded, and were marched as prisoners into Germany.

But what of Bazaine, who was shut up in Metz with 170,000 men? Several times he tried to break through the ring of steel surrounding him, but in vain. Famine and fever struck down his soldiers every day, and after ten weeks he too was obliged to yield. On the 27th of October he handed over the fortress, 170,000 prisoners, including three marshals of France, and more than 1,500 guns. From this second great blow France could not recover.

As soon as MacMahon's army had yielded at Sedan, the Germans without loss of time began their march on Paris. When the news of the disaster arrived, the Parisians deposed the Emperor and set up a republic. The new government at once determined to defend Paris to the last. Meanwhile, the Germans had entirely surrounded the city, and had begun to starve it into submission. They did not fire on the city. There was no need to do that, for hunger and disease were far more deadly weapons. During four months the Parisians held out. When all the meat in the city was consumed, they slaughtered the animals in the Zoological Gardens, and at length were so short of food that a sewer rat was a delicacy. From time to time balloons were sent up, and men and letters thus found their way to the outer world. Carrier pigeons were also used to carry messages, which were tucked into quills and concealed beneath their wings. The new French Government, which had its headquarters at Tours, called out every able-bodied man in the country, and strove with all its might to relieve Paris. But the new soldiers, though full of heroism, could not stand against the well-drilled and well-tried armies of Germany. One by one the new French armies were defeated, and all hope of relieving the capital vanished. At length Paris could hold out no longer. On January 30, 1871, she yielded, and the hosts of Germany marched through the streets in triumph and took possession of the city. The ruin of France was complete.

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At this point let us pause a moment to notice with what great rapidity the French were overcome. On the 4th of August the Germans crossed the frontier; by the 22nd of the same month Bazaine was shut up in Metz; and on the 2nd of September Napoleon and 80,000 men surrendered at Sedan. Thirteen days later the siege of Paris began. Bazaine surrendered at Metz on the 27th of October, and when Paris fell on the 30th of January all was over. The whole campaign, from the moment the first gun was fired to the day Paris fell, lasted only six months. As we shall see later, the Germans believed that what they did in 1870-71 they could do again in 1914.

The Defence of Paris. From the picture by J. L. Meissonier.

[This picture does not represent an actual scene, but is intended to illustrate the heroism of the defenders who freely gave their lives for their city and country. France is shown in the centre of the picture as a female figure. The angel of destruction, attended by a carrion crow is seen on the upper corner on the left.]