CHAPTER XIII. SEDAN.

German Decision.

While Strasburg was enduring the agonies of a siege and bombardment, and the “Army of the Rhine,” already oppressed by “la question des vivres,” was chafing in its restricted camps under the cannon of Metz; while Paris was quivering with excitement and barely restrained from bursting into open revolt, the victorious German host was closing steadily, yet swiftly, round the distracted and misguided Army of Chalons. It was pressed in so closely on the Belgian frontier that, during the afternoon of the 30th, before De Failly had been driven over the Meuse, Count Bismarck sent a formal communication to the German Minister at Brussels, in which he expressed a hope that, should MacMahon lead his soldiers across the boundary, the Belgian authorities would immediately deprive them of their arms. At night, in his quarters at Buzancy, King William sanctioned a decisive order to his son and the Saxon Prince. The troops were to march at dawn, attack the enemy wherever he could be found on the left and right bank of the Meuse, in order that he might be crushed up as much as possible between the river and the Belgian border. The Saxon Prince was to operate beyond the Meuse, with two Corps; the Prussian Prince [p 286] on the front and left; movements designed to bar the road to Montmédy, prevent any attempt to recross the river, and, eventually, to interpose the German left wing between the French and Mézières. “Should the adversary enter Belgium and not be immediately disarmed, he is to be followed at once without waiting for fresh orders.” These were not the final instructions which led to the investment of an Army, but they prepared the way towards, and foreshadowed the accomplishment of that astonishing result.
Confusion in the French Camp.

Marshal MacMahon, perplexed, but not dismayed, by the events of the 30th, remained for some time in doubt. “I do not know what I shall do,” said the Marshal early in the evening to Ducrot’s aide-de-camp. “In any case, the Emperor should at once start for Sedan.” At that time the Emperor was in the camp of Ducrot, who, instructed to protect the retreat of the Army either by Douzy or by Carignan, that is, towards Sedan or Montmédy, had divided his Corps between those two places. At a later period, when darkness had set in, MacMahon, seated at a bivouac fire, on the heights above Mouzon, sent for General Lebrun, and directed him to retreat, at once, upon Sedan, not by the highway, which was crowded with fugitives and wagons, but by cross roads leading upon Douzy. “We have had a bad time,” said the Marshal, “but the situation is not hopeless. At the most, the German Army before us cannot exceed in numbers sixty or seventy thousand men. If they attack us, so much the better; we shall be able, doubtless, to fling them into the Meuse.” The Marshal, who never spared himself, and seemed to live without sleep, rode back to Sedan, and Lebrun, stumbling along devious tracks, in the darkness, and apparently in dubious military array, [p 287] fearing all the time that he might be attacked, entered Douzy at eight in the morning, and did not reach Bazeilles, his destination, until ten o’clock.

Meantime Ducrot, embarrassed by the presence of the Emperor, awaited anxiously, at Carignan, the final orders of MacMahon. He respectfully urged His Majesty to depart by train for Sedan, but the Emperor refused—“he wished to be with the Corps which covered the retreat.” He was astonished and incredulous when the rout before Mouzon was described. “It is impossible,” he repeatedly exclaimed, “our positions were magnificent!” In the night he vanished from Carignan; and it was only some hours after he had gone that Ducrot was informed of his departure by train. The General then, in concert with Margueritte, whose cavalry were on the Chiers, resolved to retreat in the morning, without waiting longer for orders, and to move upon Illy, because he assumed that MacMahon would certainly direct the Army on Mézières. He was mistaken. On reaching Villers-Cernay, about four in the afternoon of the 31st, Ducrot learned that he was to retire upon Sedan, and not upon Mézières, “whither I have not any intention of going,” said the Marshal’s despatch. In fact, the two Divisions of the 1st Corps, left at Douzy on the 30th, had been already ordered to retire on the Givonne. Lebrun, whom we saw follow in their wake, after his painful night march, did not destroy the bridge over the Chiers; so that, when he was passing Francheval, Ducrot actually saw the enemy—they were Saxon horsemen—issuing from the village, and cutting in upon the baggage and transport trains.

On that memorable 30th, when the Emperor informed the Empress by telegram, from Carignan, that there had been an “engagement of no great importance,” an officer destined to be conspicuous, dropped in upon the Army; it [p 288] was De Wimpffen. He has been defined by General Lebrun, who was with him at St. Cyr, as a man of firm will, and “an unlimited confidence in his own capacity.” Indeed, he had come to restore victory. When he passed through Paris, the Comte de Palikao was good enough to tell him—so he writes, although Palikao “thinks” he could not have so expressed himself—that MacMahon chimed in too easily with the suggestions of the Emperor, which was not the fact; that His Majesty was in a false position, and that he caused the greatest embarrassment. “Send me to the Army,” said De Wimpffen, “I shall impart the needed boldness and decision.” So he was sent to supersede De Failly in command of the 5th Corps, carrying in his pocket a letter which authorized him to succeed MacMahon in command of the Army, should any accident befall the Marshal. It was this audacious personage who supervened on the 30th, and to his horror, found the Army he might have to guide and govern, falling to pieces under his eyes. He met troops in flight from Mouzon; they were frightened, famished, and could hardly be persuaded that the “Prussians” were not at their heels. As evidence of the reigning disorder, De Wimpffen says that he collected on the 30th, three regiments belonging to the 5th, 7th, and 12th Corps, some squadrons of De Failly’s cavalry, and several hundreds of men belonging to the 1st Corps, who obeyed a non-combatant officer. The General led them during the night to Sedan. A like confusion prevailed on all sides, as the soldiers, hungry and thoroughly wearied, fell asleep as they dropped on the ground in their dreary bivouacs.

The Emperor entered Sedan about midnight. The Marshal urged him to embark afresh in the train, and seek security in Mézières, where General Vinoy was expected, and where he did, indeed, arrive that night with the advance [p 289] guard of one division of the 13th Corps. The Emperor refused to quit Sedan, but the Prince Imperial had been sent away. The movement of Vinoy was delayed several hours, because a train running to Avesnes, and bearing the young Prince, “his baggage, his escort, and his suite,” barred the way to Mézières.

When morning dawned upon the discomfited Army, Marshal MacMahon had not ceased to ponder. As he said before the Parliamentary Commission of Inquiry in 1872, he had no intention of fighting a battle at Sedan, but he wished to supply the Army afresh with provisions and munitions; and he spent part of the day in considering what he should do on the morrow, and in watching from the citadel the march of his foes. There were, he believed, a million rations in Sedan, but eight hundred thousand of these were stored in wagons at the station, and as shells reached them from beyond the Meuse, the station-master sent away the train to Mézières. With it went a company of engineers, instructed to blow up the bridge at Donchery; but frightened by the shells, the driver halted long enough to drop the engineers, and then hastily fled with the powder and tools. The Marshal did not hear of the mishap until ten o’clock at night, and when another company of engineers reached the bridge, they found it in possession of the enemy! Early in the morning, before that event occurred, Captain des Sesmaisons, carrying a message from Vinoy, entered Sedan, after having been fired on by a German battery established near Frenois. He saw the Emperor in the hotel of the Sub-Prefect, delivered his message, and received a despatch from His Majesty directing Vinoy to concentrate his troops in Mézières. Anxious that the Captain should return in safety, the Emperor gave him a horse, and traced on a map the road he should take, observing that the Army would retire by that route the next day; that the road [p 290] would be open and safe, as it was new, had not been marked on the map, and was unknown to the enemy. But we learn from the German Staff history, that this recently opened road, although not laid down on the French, was duly figured in the German map, a contrast between diligence and negligence not easily paralleled. The Captain saw MacMahon, who then, nearly midday, seemed resolved to march on Mézières, and believed that he could crush any opposition.

At this moment General Douay arrived, and gave a new turn to his thoughts. Douay had surveyed the position in front of his camp with an anxious eye, and had noted that, unless reinforced, he could not hold the cardinal point—the Calvaire d’Illy. He got additional troops in the end. “But,” said the Marshal, who seemed to share Douay’s apprehensions, “I do not want to shut myself up in lines; I wish to be free to man?uvre.” “M. le Maréchal, to-morrow the enemy will not leave you the time,” was the General’s answer. According to Captain des Sesmaisons, it was Douay’s comments on the position which made the Marshal modify his judgment, and think of fighting where he stood rather than of retreating on Mézières. The Captain rode back to his General, and carried with him a gloomy account of the condition and outlook of the Army of Chalons. No troops were sent forth to watch the Meuse below Sedan and communicate with Vinoy. Later in the day, an old soldier who lived in the neighbourhood, sought out General Douay and told him that the enemy was preparing to pass the Meuse at Donchery—a fact, it might be thought, which could not escape the notice of the watchers in Sedan—and then it was that the General occupied the position between Floing and Illy, and began to throw up intrenchments as cover for men and guns. He had not done so hitherto, because his soldiers, thoroughly exhausted [p 291] by incessant marches, sleepless nights, want of food, and rear-guard combats, needed some rest. Enough has been said to indicate the lamentable weakness of mind at head-quarters, and the dire confusion prevailing throughout the limited area between the Belgian frontier and the Meuse, within which the French soldiers were now potentially inclosed. It is time to show a different example of the practice of war.
The Movements of the Germans.

The decision adopted by the Great Head-quarters at Buzancy were, as usual, anticipated, and the Commander-in-Chief of the Meuse Army, before the formal orders reached him, had directed the Guard and the 12th Corps to cross the river, by the bridge at Pouilly, constructed on the 30th, and a new one made at Létanne soon after daybreak on the 31st. The Saxon cavalry commander, indeed, taking with him a squadron at dawn, rode down the right bank, then shrouded in fog, as far as Mouzon, entered the town with four lancers, and crossed the bridge to the faubourg. Thereupon a Prussian battalion instantly passed over and took possession of the town. This adventurous squadron had actually captured prisoners and many wagons loaded with provisions. When the two divisions of cavalry, preceding the infantry advance, rode towards Douzy and Carignan, they struck the tail of Lebrun’s Corps, and fired into the distant columns which Ducrot, on the other side of the Chiers, was leading by the hill roads to Francheval. In fact, by noon the Guard horsemen were masters of Carignan and such provision stores as the French had not time to destroy; and the Saxons, passing through Douzy, had fallen upon a convoy on the right bank. The fire of infantry forced them back upon [p 292] the town, but they held that and the unbroken bridge until the advance guard of the 12th came up in the afternoon and established themselves in the place. The Prussian Guard meanwhile, after a long march, had reached, with its leading battalions, Porru aux Bois and Francheval, the main body halting between Sachy and Missincourt, and the cavalry remaining in the rear. Thus, the Saxon Prince’s Army had secured all the bridges over the Chiers and the important passage at Mouzon, where the 4th Corps stood on both banks of the Meuse. The outposts formed a chain from the right bank of the river in front of Douzy, through Francheval to the Belgian frontier, at that point only nine miles from the Chiers, and sixteen from the Meuse. This narrow belt of territory was thus barred against French enterprise; the road to Montmédy and Metz was definitely closed. The Saxon Prince did not push farther westward, because he knew that the Great Staff had planned a passage of the Meuse below Sedan for the next day, and, therefore, he did not wish to alarm the French. Enough had been done and his troops needed rest, especially the Guard, the whole of which had marched during the day upwards of thirty miles, and the advance guards more. No wonder the French were astounded at the “prodigious marches” made by Germans, whom they had considered to be incapable of such energy and endurance. Some share of the French disasters must be attributed to that fatal form of error—contempt for the enemy.

Not less success attended the operations of the Prussian Crown Prince, whose business it was to secure possession of the left bank of the Meuse, and, if practicable, bring batteries to bear upon the French troops. We have already described the effect produced by the horse artillery batteries established under the protection of the cavalry at Frenois [p 293] upon the railway officials who sent off the provision trains, and upon the drivers who ran away with the powder and tools required to destroy the bridge at Donchery. Behind the cavalry the whole Army was soon in motion. The Würtembergers marched from Verrières to the neighbourhood of Flize, where they became engaged with Vinoy’s outposts, and induced them to burn the bridge over the Meuse. The 11th Corps moved upon Donchery, and, during the afternoon, not only secured the important bridge at that place, but constructed a second. The 5th Corps stood close in rear of the 11th, and the Second Bavarians halted at Raucourt. On the extreme left the 6th Corps, covering the rear, went to Attigny, Semoy, and Amagne; the 5th Division of Cavalry was at Tourteron, and the 6th at Poix, both scouting over the railway to Reims, and one breaking the line at Faux.

The 1st Bavarian Corps, which led the infantry advance upon the Meuse, moved early from Raucourt upon Remilly and Aillicourt. They had only started at eight o’clock, yet their guns were in position opposite Bazeilles before the last division of Lebrun’s Corps, marching from Douzy, could gain the village. The guns opened at very long range, and Lebrun, who was on the watch, was so impressed that he ordered the division to turn back and enter the position by Daigny, where there was a bridge over the Givonne. The French drew out their guns, which led Von der Tann to reinforce his own, so that there was soon a powerful line of batteries in action, and some houses in Bazeilles broke out into flames. Then the Bavarian infantry brigades arrived to support the advance guard, and the French threw out infantry to annoy the hostile gunners. Presently a sharp-eyed artilleryman observed that barrels of powder had been brought down to the railway bridge, apparently with intent to blow it up. Thereupon General [p 294] von Stephan directed a J?ger battalion to frustrate this design; and just as the French were lowering some barrels under the furthest arch, the J?gers, dashing on to the bridge, fell upon the working party, drove it off, and poured the powder into the Meuse. In this daring fashion was the railway viaduct saved from destruction under the noses of the 12th Corps. Von der Tann, having the fear of Von Moltke before his eyes, desired to save the bridge but not engage beyond the stream. The J?gers, however, who, in the judgment of their comrades, held a post of peril, were promptly supported, and the forward spirit gaining the upper hand, the little troop, driving in the French skirmishers, actually held for some time the fringe of Bazeilles; but not being supported by the General, who refused to disobey orders and bring on a premature engagement, the hardy adventurers had to retire with loss, to the right bank. Yet they secured the bridge from destruction, and to this day, apparently, General Lebrun cannot understand how it came to pass that MacMahon’s orders were not executed. The French say that the powder was spoilt and that no fresh supply could be got from Sedan; but no effort is made to explain why, when the Bavarians threw a pontoon bridge over the Meuse, just above the railway crossing, Lebrun’s people did nothing to prevent it. The truth is that they could not prevent one bridge from being preserved, and the other from being built.

The gain on the day’s resolute operations, therefore, was the acquisition of three permanent bridges over the Meuse, two above and one below Sedan; the seizure of all the passages across the Chiers; and the concentration of both Armies upon the right and left banks of the river within striking distance of the French troops packed up in a narrow area about Sedan. The Crown Prince brought his [p 295] head-quarters to Chémery, and the King went through that place on his way to Vendresse. At Chémery, “a brief conference was held between the Generals Von Moltke, Von Podbielski, and Von Blumenthal, relative to the general state of the campaign and the next steps which should be taken.” It was a notable meeting, and few words, indeed, were required to indicate the finishing touches of an enterprise, so unexpectedly imposed on them, and so resolutely carried out by these skilful, far-seeing, and audacious captains. They had come to the conclusion that the French had before them only one of two courses—they must either retreat bodily into Belgium, or sacrifice the greater part of their Army in an endeavour with the remainder to reach Paris by way of Mézières. There was a third—to remain and be caught—but a finis so triumphant was not foreseen by the trio of warriors who met in the village of Chémery.
PLAN VI: BATTLE of SEDAN, ABOUT 10. A.M.
Weller & Graham Ltd. Lithos.? London, Bell & Sons
The Battlefield of Sedan.

The battlefield of Sedan may be described as the space lying within the angle formed by the Meuse, and its little affluent, the Givonne, which flows in a southerly direction from the hills near the Belgian frontier. After passing Bazeilles and its bright meadows, the greater river meanders towards the north-west, making, a little below Sedan, a deep loop inclosing the narrow peninsula of Iges on three sides, and then running westward by Donchery, Dom le Mesnil and Flize to Mézières. From the northern end of the loop to the Givonne, the ground is a rugged, undulating upland, attaining its maximum of height a little south of the Calvaire d’Illy, at a point where the Bois de la Garenne begins to clothe the steep slopes on the south and east. Lower still is a deep defile, called the Fond de Givonne, through which, turning the wood, runs the highway [p 296] from Sedan to Bouillon, a town on the Semoy in Belgium. The eastern face of the position, therefore, was the line of the Givonne, a belt of cottages, gardens, factories and villages; the southern and south-western was the fortress and the Meuse; the north-western front was on the hills between Floing and Illy, and the lowlands on the loop of the Meuse. The interval between Illy and the Givonne was, at first, neglected because the French held that no troops could work through the dense forest and broken ground. The issues from this man-trap were the narrow band of territory between the head of the Meuse loop and the wooded Belgian frontier; the high road to Bouillon; the routes eastward to Carignan up the Chiers, and the gate of Torcy on the south. They were all difficult, and in the nature of defiles which can only be traversed slowly, even in time of peace, by large bodies of men, horses, guns and wagons.

Within this remarkable inclosure the French Army sat down on the 31st of August. The 12th and the 1st Corps, Lebrun’s and Ducrot’s, held the line of the Givonne, looking east and south-east, because Lebrun had to guard the Meuse at Bazeilles. The 5th Corps, now under De Wimpffen, was partly in the “old camp,” close under the fortress, and partly behind the 7th, which, as we have said, occupied the rolling heights between Floing and Illy with a strong outpost in St. Menges, at the head of the Meuse loop on the road which led to Mézières through Vrigne aux Bois—the road supposed to be unknown to the Germans, because it was not laid down on the French maps. The cavalry posted in rear of the 7th were the divisions of Margueritte, Bonnemains and Amiel, while Michel was behind Ducrot’s left at the village of Givonne. The sun set, and the night passed, yet Marshal MacMahon expressed no decision. Believing that the enemy’s numerical strength [p 297] had been exaggerated, or that he could break out in any direction when he pleased, or trusting to fortune and the opportunities which might offer during the conflict, perhaps imagining that Von Moltke would grant him another day, the Marshal became the sport of circumstance which had escaped his control. “The truth is,” he said to the Parliamentary Commission, “that I did not reckon on fighting a battle on the ground we occupied. I knew already that we had no provisions, and that the place was barely supplied with munitions, but I did not yet know on which side I ought, on the morrow (the 1st) to effect my retreat.” The unfaltering adversary had no such doubts, and his firm purpose brought on not only the Battle, but the Investment of Sedan. For the information which reached the Great Head-quarters during the evening of the 31st, induced Von Moltke to quicken the operations. He inferred that no attempt would be made by the French to break out by Carignan; that they might try to reach Mézières or pass into Belgium; and as he was eager to frustrate their escape by any route, he instructed the Prussian Crown Prince to set his Corps in motion during the night. The Prince immediately issued the needful orders, and directed Von der Tann to attack with his Bavarians at dawn, without awaiting the arrival of the 12th Corps, so that Lebrun in Bazeilles being held fast, the attention of the French might be attracted towards that side. The Saxon Prince, being duly informed, entered with characteristic spirit and daring into the plan, and not only determined to be early on the scene of action with the 12th and the Guard, but to push the latter well forward, so as to anticipate the French should they endeavour to gain the Belgian border. Thus a common motive animated the German chiefs who, in taking firm steps to gain a decisive result, were so well seconded by their tireless and intrepid soldiers.

[p 298]
The Battle of Sedan.

A thick white mist filled the valley of the Meuse on the morning of the 1st of September, 1870, so thick that Von der Tann’s Bavarians, marching towards the railway bridge and the pontoons above it, could not see many steps ahead, as in two columns they moved at four o’clock in careful silence through the dense and clammy atmosphere. At that very time General Lebrun, whose anxieties kept him awake, started up, and rushing forth, made the first bugler he encountered sound the call, which roused the wearied troops sleeping on the hills between Bazeilles and Balan. Yet it would seem that, outside the former village, no adequate watch was kept, for when the leading Bavarians emerged from the fog, they gained at once possession of several houses, and even entered the principal street without firing a shot. It was only when the enemy were within the place, that the gallant Marine Infantry, posted in the houses and behind barricades, abruptly arrested the intruders by opening a smart fire. Then began a sanguinary contest for the possession of Bazeilles, which raged during many hours; a series of street fights in which the inhabitants took an active part; combats ebbing and flowing through and round the market-place, the church, the larger mansions, and the pretty park of Monvillers, washed and beautified by the stream of the Givonne. Without a detailed plan, the incidents of this terrible episode in the battle, are unintelligible. Vassoigne and Martin des Pallières, before the latter was wounded on the 31st, had devised a plan of resistance worthy of the gallant division they led, and it may be said that the defence of Bazeilles was the most creditable feat of arms performed by the French on that dreadful day. During the earlier hours, indeed, they kept the upper hand, driving the Bavarians [p 299] out of the village on all sides, but being unable to eject them from two stone houses abutting on the chief street. The Bavarian batteries beyond the Meuse could not open fire until six o’clock, because the fog had shut out the view, which even then was indistinct. About this time General Lebrun, who was quickly on the scene, had called reinforcements from the 1st and 5th Corps; but then the Saxons had come up opposite La Moncelle, where one battery, firing at long range, astonished Lebrun, who saw that the shells from his own guns fell short, or burst in the air. When the 12th assailed La Moncelle fresh Bavarian columns had crossed the Meuse, and the fierce conflict which began in Bazeilles, had extended to the park of Monvillers, where the French fought steadily. After four hours strenuous battle, no marked progress had been made in this quarter, where three Bavarian brigades had fallen almost wholly into skirmishing order, scattered amidst the houses and lanes of the villages, and some part of the park on the left bank of the Givonne. Von der Tann bringing over another brigade and the reserve artillery from the left bank of the Meuse, called up a division of the 4th Corps which he held back as a reserve. During the course of this stubborn combat, the Saxon Corps had seized La Moncelle, and had brought ten batteries to bear on that village and Daigny, their left flank being prolonged by two Bavarian batteries. The accuracy of their fire still further astonished General Lebrun, who confesses that he had never seen such artillery. He and his staff, six or eight persons, were on an eminence above La Moncelle. “The shells,” he writes, “cut off one branch after another, from the tree at the foot of which I stood holding my horse;” and he goes on to say that in quick succession, one officer was killed, two mortally wounded, and two men who bore his fanion were hit. He was as much impressed by the “avalanche [p 300] de fer” as Marshal Canrobert himself. The infantry in Bazeilles resisted superbly, but the French General was none the less amazed by the terrible fire of the German guns. Between eight and nine the wave of battle was flowing up the Givonne, for the Guard were now approaching from Villers-Cernay.
MacMahon’s Wound and its Consequences.

Meanwhile, inside the French lines, the drama had deepened, for the Commander-in-Chief had been wounded. Marshal MacMahon has related how, before daybreak, fearing lest the Germans should have moved troops over the Meuse at Donchery, he had sent two officers to look into matters in that quarter, and was awaiting their return when, about five o’clock, he received a despatch from Lebrun, which made him mount his ready-saddled horse and ride towards Bazeilles. Arrived there he saw that the place was well defended, and went to the left intending to examine the whole line of the Givonne, especially as Margueritte had sent word that German troops were moving towards Francheval. Halting above La Moncelle, not far from Lebrun, the Marshal has stated that while he was gazing intently upon the heights in front of the Bois Chevalier, and could not see anything, he was struck by the fragment of a shell. At first he thought that he was only bruised, but that being obliged to dismount from his horse, which was also wounded, he fainted for a moment, and then found that his wound was severe. Unable to bear up any longer he gave over the command of the Army to General Ducrot, and was carried to Sedan. That officer did not hear of the event until seven or later; it is impossible to fix precisely the moment when the Marshal was hit, nor when Ducrot learned his destiny, the evidence is so contradictory; but sometime [p 301] between seven and eight Ducrot took the reins. His first act was to order a retreat on Mézières; Lebrun begged him to reflect and he did, but soon afterwards became positive. “There is not a moment to lose,” he cried; and it was arranged that the retreat should be made in echelons, beginning from the right of the 12th Corps. Neither General knew the real facts of the situation, nor guessed even how vast were the numbers of the enemy.

The retreat began; it attracted the notice of Napoleon III., who had ridden on to the field above Balan; and it roused De Wimpffen. He carried in his pocket an order from Palikao authorizing him to succeed MacMahon, if the Marshal were killed or disabled. He had kept the fact secret; after the Marshal fell he still hesitated to use his letter, but not long. The combat about Bazeilles was well sustained; the cavalry had been out a little way beyond St. Menges and, as usual, after a perfunctory search, had “seen nothing,” the attack on the Givonne even was not fully developed. General de Wimpffen, perhaps from mixed motives, resolved to interfere and show his old comrades how a man who really knew war could extricate a French Army from perils in which it had been placed by weakness and incompetence. He certainly thought himself a great man, and he roughly stopped the retreat. Ducrot was indignant, but he obeyed. Lebrun was not more favourably affected by De Wimpffen’s loud voice and overbearing manner. “I will not have a movement upon Mézières,” he exclaimed. “If the Army is to retreat, it shall be on Carignan and not on Mézières.” It should again be observed that the new Commander-in-Chief was quite as ignorant of the facts as his predecessors, and even when he wrote his book many months afterwards had not learned from sources open to all the world how many men stood at that moment between him and Carignan, nor was he at all acquainted [p 302] with the difficult country through which he would have to move. Ducrot’s plan, which would have placed the Army between the Meuse below Sedan and the forest on the frontier, leaving a clear sweep for the guns of the fortress, was far more sensible than that of his imperious rival. Still, to have a chance of success, it should have been begun early in the morning, when the 5th and 11th German Corps were struggling towards the woods; even then it would have probably failed, but there would have been no capitulation of Sedan. General de Wimpffen, although he did not know it, was actually playing into the hand of Von Moltke, who desired above all things that the French Corps on the Givonne should remain there, because he knew, so great were his means, so firm his resolution, and so admirable as marchers and fighters were his soldiers, that the gain of a few hours would enable him to surround the Army of Chalons.

How far the retreat from the front line was carried, when it was stayed, and in what degree it injured the defence, cannot possibly be gleaned from the French narratives, which are all vague and imperfect in regard to time and place. We know that the Germans did not carry Bazeilles until nearly eleven o’clock, and then only by dint of turning movements executed by the Saxons and fresh Bavarian troops from the direction of La Moncelle. General Ducrot, in his account, places his stormy interview with De Wimpffen at a little after nine; and he says that when it ended he spurred in haste towards his divisions—Pellé’s and L’Hériller’s—and made them descend a part of the positions which they had climbed a few instants before. Lebrun is equally vague. He says in one place that when De Wimpffen came up his first brigades had “partly” crossed the Fond de Givonne, and in another, that the Marine Infantry had abandoned Bazeilles, which they had [p 303] not done before nine o’clock. General de Wimpffen’s recollections are still more confused and his chronology unintelligible; so that it is impossible to ascertain precisely what happened beyond the Givonne after Ducrot ordered and his successor countermanded the retreat. If we take the German accounts, and try to measure the influence of the much-debated retreat by the resistance which the assailants encountered, we may doubt whether it had much greater influence on the issue than that which grew out of the impaired confidence of the troops in their antagonistic and jealous commanders. Nevertheless, it is probable that the swaying to and fro in the French line between Bazeilles and the village of Givonne, after nine o’clock, did, in some degree, favour the assailants, and render the acquisition of Bazeilles as well as the passage of the brook less difficult and bloody. In any case, the intervention of De Wimpffen can only be regarded as a misfortune for the gallant French Army, which can hardly find consolation in the fact that within four-and-twenty hours he was obliged to sign with his name the capitulation of Sedan.

This needful explanation and comment serves to illustrate the disorder, the infirmity of purpose, and the rivalries which existed in the French camp; and we may well agree with Marshal MacMahon when he says that the blow which obliged him to relinquish the command was a grievous event. Doubtless he would have taken a decided course had he not been wounded, and would have marched, if he could, with all his forces, either on Mézières or Carignan; and besides, he says, there was Belgium near at hand. He would not have tried to do all three at once. It is only an Army, well compacted and educated from the bottom to the top which can, without serious detriment, bear three successive commanders in three hours.

[p 304]
Progress of the Battle on the Givonne.

While the French generals, almost in the presence of the helpless Emperor, were using high words and thwarting each other’s plans, the German onset had proceeded on all sides with unabated vigour. But, about nine o’clock, or a little earlier, the French dashed forward so impetuously that the foremost German troops on the Givonne as far as Daigny, had to give ground; and the batteries were so vexed by musketry fire that they also fell back on some points. In fact Lebrun’s left and Ducrot’s right came on with great spirit, and shook, but did not arrest long the hostile line. It was not until this period that the French in Daigny pushed a brigade on to the left bank of the Givonne and occupied ground which, by the confession of their staff officers, had never been reconnoitred. They brought over a battery, and General Lartigue rode with them. The brunt of the onslaught, falling upon the Saxon infantry immediately in front, these were hard bested; but reinforcements arriving on either hand closed in upon the enemy’s flanks, and, not only was he routed from the field, but, being swiftly pursued, his battery was captured, and the Saxons following the French into Daigny wrested from them the village, the bridge, and the opposite bank of the brook. General Lartigue’s horse was killed by a shell, and he narrowly escaped capture, and was then, or shortly afterwards, wounded. His chief of the staff, Colonel d’Andigné, hit twice, dropped in a field of beet-root. Shells from his own side fell near him, and he was grateful to them because they drove away a pig which came and sniffed at his wounds. Saxon soldiers gave him wine and lumps of sugar, but one of them stole his watch and cross; in the end he was tenderly carried to an ambulance. Some of the Zouaves engaged in this combat about Daigny, cut off [p 305] from the main body of fugitives, turned northward, entered the woods, and reached Paris after traversing the Belgian border.

The Germans owed their quick success at Daigny to the fact that Lartigue was not supported, and to the fortunate advent, at a critical moment, of the leading troops of the Second Saxon Division, the whole of the 12th Corps being now on the ground, engaged or in reserve. It need scarcely be remarked that the batteries, as usual, preceded the bulk of the infantry, for it was the Saxon guns which extorted the admiration of Lebrun. The attack, which had been made from his side, upon the Saxons and Bavarians about La Moncelle, was equally brilliant at the outset, for, as we have stated, the German batteries were driven back by the close musketry, and the French were advancing impetuously, when a Saxon regiment and part of a Bavarian brigade striking into the fight, stopped the French and drove them across the rivulet. Then the artillery returned; soon there were ninety-six guns in action; and the infantry pressing on, restored the battle. But in Bazeilles itself the Marines had gained ground, and fresh troops had to be poured into the village or upon its outskirts to sustain the assailants, who were still held at bay by the stout defenders. Yet the final stroke at the village was delivered shortly after this check. The troops in Monvillers and La Moncelle simultaneously swept forward from the orchards, and osier-beds, and gardens, until they emerged on the heights beyond, and showed a front which threatened the road from Bazeilles to Balan.

The French stronghold in the place was a large villa on the north, which had resisted all day; but now the freshly arrived Bavarians penetrated into the garden and turned the building on one side; while the Saxons grouped in the park of Monvillers, cutting a path through the hedges [p 306] with their billhooks, appeared on the other. The French then retreated; but the splendid defence of the whole position had inflicted a heavy loss on the adversary.

In Bazeilles itself a conflict continued between the armed inhabitants and the Bavarians, and soon after the whole village was in flames. Whether it was set on fire purposely or not is to this day a matter of bitter controversy; but it stands on record that only thirty-nine lay persons met their deaths, during this long contest, from fire or sword. It was not the interest of the Germans to create a furnace across a line of road; and one effect of the conflagration was that the German pioneers, unable to quench it, were compelled to open a line of communication with the troops on the fighting line outside the burning village.

The French retired and reformed between the Fond de Givonne and Balan, whence their line ran northward, no longer in the valley, but along the uplands to the Calvaire d’Illy; for the Prussian Guard, issuing from Villers-Cernay and Francheval, had thrust the French out of the village of Givonne, and, long before Bazeilles was finally mastered, had established powerful lines of guns which harassed the French troops in the Bois de la Garenne. In fact, by nine o’clock, there were six guard batteries in action, and two hours afterwards the number was increased to fourteen. Givonne was seized a little later, and infantry support afforded to the right of the 12th Corps; but Prince Augustus, in conformity with his instructions, held the main body of the Guard ready to march towards Fleigneux, effect a junction with the Third Army, and bar the road to Bouillon. From an eminence a little east of Givonne and just south of La Viré farm, whereon eighteen guns stood, the Prince, looking westward about nine o’clock, saw the smoke of that combat near St. Menges, which he knew marked the formidable intervention of the 5th and 11th [p 307] Corps, whose operations in the forenoon must now be succinctly described.
The March on St. Menges.

It will be remembered that, on receiving a pressing order from Von Moltke, the Prussian Crown Prince directed the two Corps just named and the Würtemberg division to move out in the dark and occupy the Mézières road in order to intercept the French should they endeavour to retire upon that town. They promptly obeyed. The Würtembergers crossed the Meuse on a bridge of their own making, at Dom le Mesnil; the 5th and 11th at Donchery by the permanent bridge and two improvised passages. The object of the two Corps was to occupy the nearest villages on the Mézières road, Vrigne aux Bois and Vivier au Court, both which were attained about half-past seven, when the contest was fierce on the Givonne. Here the generals commanding, Von Kirchbach and Von Gersdorf, received that despatch from the Prussian Crown Prince which directed them to march on St. Menges and Fleigneux, for at head-quarters a strong hope had now arisen that the Army of Chalons could be surrounded. The 11th moved on the right, next the Meuse, the 5th on the left; but the roads were few between the river and the forest—one column lost its way, and both Corps at the head of the Loop had to use the same road. No French scouts were out along this important line of communication. Margueritte’s horsemen had patrolled a short distance, about six, but neither saw nor heard of the approaching columns; nor until the German Hussars, leading the erring column ascending the Meuse from Montimont, had got close to St. Menges, were they discovered by a French patrol sent out at the suggestion of De Wimpffen.

[p 308]
The 11th and 5th Corps engage.

The shots exchanged by the hostile cavaliers aroused the French infantry in St. Menges; but they offered no resistance when the nearest German battalion attacked the village, which was immediately occupied. Two companies, prolonging the movement, effected a lodgment in Floing and could not be expelled; while three batteries, escorted by the Hussars, dashed upon the ridge south of St. Menges, partly protected by a copse, and opened fire on the French. It was this initial combat which attracted the notice of Prince Augustus of Würtemberg, who looked with interest, from his hill above the Givonne, upon the white battle smoke which curled up beyond the heights of Illy. Shortly afterwards seven additional batteries issued from the defile and formed in succession on the hill—the same which had filled General Douay with anxiety the day before—and some infantry battalions followed; but the body of the 11th Corps was only just clearing the pass, and the 5th was still behind. In order to protect the batteries, infantry supports were advanced on either flank and in front towards the Illy brook. General Margueritte, on the Calvaire d’Illy had watched this unwelcomed development of artillery. Seeing the infantry spread out below, he thought that his horse might ride them down and then disable the line of batteries, which seemed to be without adequate support. Accordingly, by his order, General de Galliffet led forth three regiments of Chasseurs d’Afrique and two squadrons of Lancers against the intrusive foot and audacious gunners. But he never got near the batteries. Swooping down the slope upon the infantry below him, his men and horses soon fell fast, and although they swept through the skirmishers, they were crushed by the fire of the supports and the guns on the hill and the [p 309] squads of infantry on either side. They endeavoured to ride in upon the flanks, but their bravery was displayed in vain, for nothing could live under the fire which smote them, and they rode back, frustrated, to the shelter of their own lines. The cavalry outburst had been repelled by a few companies of foot on an open hill-side. So puissant is the breech-loader in the hands of cool infantry soldiers. But the French foot took up the game, and the chassepot, deftly plied, forced the forward German skirmishers to fall back on the villages and hills.

Gradually the two Corps arrived on the scene. Before eleven o’clock the artillery of the 5th, preceding its infantry, went into line on a second ridge to the westward, and soon twenty-four batteries—that is, 144 guns—were pouring an “avalanche de fer” into the French position, and crossing their fire with that of the Guard batteries, which showered their shells into the right rear of Douay’s men from the heights beyond the Givonne. About this time, also, as reinforcements came up to Fleigneux, the companies there moved westward towards Olly; captured, on their way, eight guns, many horses, much munition, and above a hundred officers and men, who seemed intent on escaping over the frontier, and finally entered Olly, where soon afterwards they were gratified by the arrival of a squadron of Prussian Hussars of the Guard. Thus was the circle completed which placed the two Armies in communication. In front of the right wing the two companies which at the outset obtained a lodgment in Floing, were at length supported and relieved. As the infantry from the wooded region north of the Meuse Loop arrived, they took the place of the battalions near the guns, and these then went forward upon Floing, one after the other, and by degrees got possession of the village. But the French delivered a counterstroke so well pushed that the [p 310] defenders of Floing could not keep them back, and they were only thrust out by the timely intervention of three fresh battalions from St. Menges. The French retired towards the heights of Cazal, and for some time stopped the further advance of their foes.

The battle was now practically won; for the Germans held Balan as well as Bazeilles, supported by one-half the 2nd Bavarian Corps brought up to aid the 1st; one division of the 4th Corps was deep in the fight, and the other in reserve, close at hand; the line of the Givonne, from end to end, was occupied on both banks; the Guard Cavalry, after vainly trying to charge up the Calvaire d’Illy, were behind the 5th Corps; south of the Meuse a Bavarian division faced the fortress; and to the west the Würtembergers interposed between Vinoy’s troops in Mézières and Sedan. Above all, a little after one o’clock, there were no fewer than 426 guns hailing shells upon the unfortunate French, who were almost piled one upon another in an area which did not measure two miles either in depth or breadth. It stands on record that there were in full action twenty-six batteries on the North, twenty-four on the East, ten to the West of La Moncelle, and eleven on the South between Wadelincourt and Villette—an array of force enough to crush out all resistance; but the conflict still continued, for no one had authority sufficient to stop the awful carnage.
The Condition of the French Army.

The main interest of the drama henceforth centres in the despairing efforts of the French to avert the catastrophe of Sedan. Early in the morning the Emperor Napoleon mounted his horse and rode out with his own staff to witness the battle. On his way towards Bazeilles he met [p 311] and spoke to the wounded Marshal, who was being carried to the hospital in Sedan. Then the Emperor rode towards the hills above La Moncelle, and for several hours he lingered on the field, well under fire, for two officers were wounded near him; but he had no influence whatever on the battle. Soon after taking command, De Wimpffen, riding out of the Fond de Givonne, came plump upon Napoleon as he watched the fight near Balan. “All goes well, Sire,” said the General; “we are gaining ground;” and when His Majesty remarked that the left, meaning the front towards St. Menges, was threatened, the General replied, “We shall first pitch the Bavarians into the Meuse, and then, with all our forces, fall upon the new foe.” They parted, the Emperor returning to Sedan, whence he did not emerge again that day, and the General careering towards the fight. Then followed a sharp dispute between De Wimpffen and Ducrot, in the presence of Lebrun, ending in the order to stop the so-called retreat which had scarcely begun. It is impossible to reconcile the conflicting accounts of these officers; but De Wimpffen’s own words show that, at the time, he did not attach great importance to the attack on Douay, for to that General he wrote, “I believe in a demonstration upon your Corps, especially designed to hinder you from sending help to the 1st and 12th Corps,” and he asked him to aid Lebrun. Then he went himself to the position held by Douay, in order to expedite the despatch of reinforcements. “Come and see for yourself,” said Douay, on reaching the heights. “I saw quite a hostile Army extending afar,” writes De Wimpffen, “and a formidable artillery—the big batteries of the 5th and 11th Corps—firing with a precision which, under other circumstances,” he adds, “I should have been the first to admire.” Prince Bibesco says that De Wimpffen promised to send troops from the 1st Corps to occupy the [p 312] Calvaire d’Illy, and then went away. As he was riding back, in that state of emotion which the French describe by the phrase, “le c?ur navré,” he encountered Ducrot. “The events which I predicted,” said the latter, “have happened sooner than I expected. The enemy is attacking the Calvaire d’Illy. Douay is greatly shaken. Moments are precious. Hurry up reinforcements if you would keep that position.” “Well,” retorted De Wimpffen, still believing that he had only Bavarians to deal with, “look after that yourself. Collect what troops you can and hold the ground while I attend to the 12th Corps.” Thereupon Ducrot ordered up guns and infantry; while then, or shortly afterwards, De Wimpffen called for troops from Douay, who, believing the Calvaire was or would be occupied by Ducrot’s people, sent off three brigades, and put his last division in front line. Apparently the cross currents of wandering battalions met in the wood of Garenne; and it is not easy to see how any advantages were obtained by the shifting to and fro which went on. Ducrot was anxious to defend the Illy plateau; De Wimpffen desired to break out towards Carignan. He fondled the idea at one o’clock, when neither object could possibly be attained; but if there had been a chance left, the conflict between the two Generals would have sufficed to destroy it.

That “Army” which De Wimpffen saw from the north-western heights came on in irresistible waves. The French infantry could not endure the thick and ceaseless hail of shells from the terrible batteries. The French artillery, brave and devoted, vainly went into action, for the converging fire from the hostile hills blew up the tumbrils, sometimes two at once, killed and wounded the gunners, and swept away the horses. Ducrot’s reinforcements, despite his forward bearing and animated language, melted [p 313] away into the woods, and the last battalions and the last two batteries led up by Douay were speedily forced to retire. The Germans, already in the village of Illy, advanced to the Calvaire, while the troops of the 11th Corps sallied out of Floing, deployed on both sides, and soon the interval between the two villages was full of hostile troops. General Ducrot pictures himself, and doubtless truly, as using every effort by word and example to rally and hold fast the foot; but they could not be held; they slipped off and vanished under the trees. At this time the only strong body of French was Liébert’s division above the terraced hill which leads up to Cazal, and the cavalry of Margueritte and Bonnemains lurking in the hollows and under the cover of trees. To these men Ducrot appealed, and his appeal was nobly answered.
The French Cavalry Charge.

General Margueritte commanded five regiments of horse, principally Chasseurs d’Afrique. At the request of Ducrot he promptly moved out from cover, and prepared to charge; but wishing to reconnoitre the ground, he rode in advance, and was hit in the head by a bullet which traversed his face. Mortally wounded, he gave the command to De Galliffet, and rode off, supported by two men, and grasping the saddle with both hands, “the star of his arm,” as Colonel Bonie poetically calls him. Then De Galliffet performed his task, and rode straight into the intrusive enemy. For half an hour, on the hill sides south of Floing, and even the lowlands bordering the Meuse, the dashing French horsemen dauntlessly struck at their foes. The German infantry scattered in lines of skirmishers, were just attaining the crest of the eminence, when the cavalry dashed upon them. They broke through the skirmishers, [p 314] but fell in heaps under the fire of the compact bodies of supports. Failing to crush a front, they essayed the flanks and even the rear, and nothing dismayed, sought again and again to ride over the stubborn adversary, who, relying on his rifle, would not budge. The more distant infantry and the guns, when occasion served, smote these devoted cavaliers. Sometimes the Germans met them in line, at others they formed groups, or squares as the French call them, and occasionally they fought back to back. One body of horse rode into a battery, and was only repelled by the fire of a company of infantry. Another dashed through a village on the banks of the river, and although they were harried by infantry, and turned aside and followed by some Prussian hussars, several rode far down the river, and created some disorder in the German trains. There were many charges, all driven home as far at least as the infantry fire would permit, more than one carrying the furious riders up to the outskirts of Floing. But, in the end, the unequal contests everywhere had the same result—bloody defeat for the horseman, who matched himself, his lance or sword and steed against the breech-loader held by steady hands in front of keen eyes. Yet it is not surprising that these daring charges excited the ungrudging admiration and deep sympathy of friend and foe. They did not arrest the march of the German infantry, or turn the tide of battle, or even infuse new courage into the French soldiers, who were exposed to trials which few, if any, troops could bear. But they showed, plainly enough, that the “furia francese” survived in the cavalry of France, and that, if the mounted men refused or disdained to perform more useful work by scouting afar and covering the front of armies, they could still charge with unabated heroism on the field of battle. They were dispersed, and they left behind heaps of dead and dying—one-half their [p 315] strength resting on the scene of their daring. Three Generals, Margueritte, Girard and Tilliard, were killed, and Salignac-Fenelon was wounded. The Germans say that their own losses were small, but that among the J?gers a comparatively large number of men were wounded by the sword. These notable exploits were done about two o’clock or a little later; and, with slight exceptions, they mark the end of desperately offensive resistance on the part of the French.

During the next hour the Germans pressed their adversaries close up to Sedan. “When the cavalry had been driven back in disorder,” says Ducrot in his sweeping style, “the last bodies of infantry which had stood firm broke and fled. Then on the right and left, with loud hurrahs, which mingled with the roar of cannon and musketry, the Prussian lines advanced.” The statement is too superlative. The cavalry in squads, wandered, no doubt, from ravine to ravine, seeking an asylum, or tried to enter the fortress. The remains of several brigades were piled up in the wood of Garenne, and exposed to an incessant shell fire. But Liébert’s division stoutly defended Cazal, and gave back, foot by foot, until they also were under the ramparts. Towards four o’clock the converging German columns, despite frantic onsets from bands of French infantry, especially on the Givonne front, had thrust these over the deep hollow way, and the victors were only halted when they came within range of the garrison guns.
General de Wimpffen’s Counterstroke.

Throughout the battle General de Wimpffen cherished the idea that it would be feasible to crush “the Bavarians” and retreat on Carignan. At one o’clock he sent [p 316] a despatch to General Douay, telling the General to cover his retreat in that direction. Douay received it an hour afterwards, and he then replied that “with only three brigades, without artillery, and almost without munitions,” the utmost he could do would be to retreat in order from the field. That was near the moment when Liébert began to fall back, fighting stiffly, from Cazal. At a quarter past one De Wimpffen wrote a letter to the Emperor saying that “rather than be made prisoner in Sedan,” he would force the line in his front. “Let your Majesty,” he said, “place himself in the midst of his troops; they will hold themselves bound in honour to fray out a passage.” His Majesty took no notice of this appeal, and De Wimpffen waited in vain for a reply; but he spent the time in an endeavour to dash in the barrier in his front, direct an attack on the Givonne, which failed; and to organize an onset on Balan, which partly succeeded. He went into Sedan and brought out troops, and gathered up all he could from the errant fragments of a broken Army. With these he fell fiercely and unexpectedly upon the Bavarians in Balan; refused to suspend the fight when ordered by the Emperor to open negotiations with the enemy; and by degrees became master of all the village except one house. But he could not emerge and continue his onslaught, for the hostile artillery began to play on the village; reinforcements were brought up, arrangements were made to frustrate the ulterior aim of the French and recover the lost ground. Against a resolute advance the infantry led by De Wimpffen could not stand, and possession of the village was regained just as the white flag went up over the nearest gate of Sedan. Suddenly the firing ceased on both sides. Although respectfully described by the Germans, General de Wimpffen’s last charge is scoffed at by Ducrot and Lebrun, whom he had enraged by declaring both guilty of disobedience. Lebrun, who was an [p 317] eye-witness as well as a gallant actor in the forlorn hope, says that they had not gone a quarter of a mile before the column broke and took refuge in the nearest houses. Looking back, De Wimpffen is reported by his comrade to have said, “I see we are not followed and that there is nothing more to do. Order the troops to retreat on Sedan.” The battle had, at length, come to an end. The German infantry, both near Cazal and Balan were within a short distance of the fortifications; in the centre they stood south of the Warren Wood; to the eastward long lines of guns crowned the heights on both banks of the Givonne; on the south, the gate of Torcy was beset, and behind all the foremost lines were ample reserves, horse as well as foot, which had never fired a shot. The number of batteries had increased during the afternoon, for the Würtemberg artillery was called over the Meuse and set in array at the bend of the river above Donchery. Even the high-tempered, if imperious, De Wimpffen was obliged to admit that through this dread circle, neither for him nor any other, was there an outlet. The agony had been prolonged, but enough had been done to satisfy the “honour” of the most obstinate and punctilious of generals. The wearied, wasted, famished, and unnerved French troops were thankful for the impressive stillness and unwonted rest which came abruptly with the declining sun, even though it set the seal on a horrible disaster.
The Emperor and his Generals.

Had Napoleon III. retained that Imperial authority which he had been supposed to possess, the slaughter might have been stayed some hours before. For early in the afternoon he became convinced that the Army could not be extricated, and that the time had come when it [p 318] would be well to treat. His experiences, as a superfluous attendant on the battle-field, were dolorous. The first object which met his gaze was the wounded Marshal. The depressing incident may have called up visions of Italian triumphs; and, reflecting on the painful contrast, he may have remembered what he said after returning from the sanguinary victory of Solferino—that no more would he willingly lead great Armies to war; for the sight of its horrors had touched the chord of sympathy with human suffering which had always readily vibrated in his heart. During several hours he watched the tempest lower and break in fury; he saw and felt its effects, for two officers were shot at his side; wherever he looked the clouds of encircling battle smoke rose in the clear sunshine; and when he rode back into Sedan the terrible shells were bursting in the ditches, and even on the bridge which he traversed to gain his quarters. As the day wore on his gloomy meditations took a more definite shape; he wished to stop the conflict, and he seems to have thought first that an armistice might be obtained, and then that the King of Prussia, if personally besought, would grant the Army easy terms; for the idea of a capitulation had grown up and hardened in his mind.

At his instigation, no officer has come forward to claim the honour, some one hoisted a white flag. As soon as he heard of it, General Faure, Marshal MacMahon’s Chief of the Staff, ascended the citadel and cut down a signal so irritating to his feelings; but no one told the Emperor that his solitary, independent, and Imperial action, since he joined the Army of Chalons as a fugitive, had been thus irreverently contemned. “Why does this useless struggle still go on?” he said to General Lebrun, who entered his presence some time before three o’clock. “Too much blood has been shed. An hour ago I directed the white flag to [p 319] be hoisted in order to demand an armistice.” The General politely explained that other forms were necessary—the Commander-in-Chief must sign a letter and send a proper officer, a trumpeter, and a man bearing a white flag, to the chief of the enemy. Lebrun drew out such a form, and started forth. Faure, who had just pulled down the white flag, would not look at it; De Wimpffen, seeing Lebrun ride up followed by a horseman who carried a rag on a pole, shouted out, “I will not have a capitulation; drop that flag; I shall go on fighting;” and then ensued their adventures about Balan, which have been described. When Lebrun had gone, Ducrot, and subsequently Douay, visited the Emperor. Ducrot found the interior of the fortress in a state which he qualifies as “indescribable.” “The streets, the squares, the gates were choked up with carts, carriages, guns, the impedimenta and debris of a routed Army. Bands of soldiers, without arms or knapsacks, streamed in every moment, and hurried into the houses and churches. At the gates many were trodden to death.” Those who preserved some remains of vigour exhaled their wrath in curses, and shouted “We have been betrayed, sold by traitors and cowards.” The Emperor still wondered why the action went on, and rejected Ducrot’s suggestion of a sortie at night as futile. He wished to stop the slaughter; but he could not prevail on Ducrot to sign any letter. Douay at first appeared disposed to accept the burden, but De Failly or Lebrun induced him to revoke his consent by remarking that it entailed the duty of fixing his name to a capitulation. General de Wimpffen sent in his resignation, which, as the Emperor could not induce one of the other generals to take his place, was absolutely refused. The shells were bursting in the garden of the Sub-Prefecture, in the hospitals, the streets, and among the houses, some of which were set on fire. In these dire straits the [p 320] Emperor at length resolved that the white flag should be again unfurled, and should, this time, remain aloft in the sunshine. Meantime, as evident signs indicating a desire to negotiate had appeared at various points, and as the white flag surmounted the citadel, the King directed Colonel Bronsart von Schellendorf and Captain von Winterfeld to summon the place to capitulate. When Bronsart intimated to the Commandant of Torcy that he bore a summons to the Commander-in-Chief, he was conducted to the Sub-Prefecture, “where,” says the official narrative, “he found himself face to face with the Emperor Napoleon, whose presence in Sedan until that moment had been unknown at the German head-quarters.” The arrival of the Prussian officer seems to have occurred just as the Emperor finished writing a letter to the King destined to become famous. But he answered Bronsart’s request that an officer fully empowered to treat should be sent to the German head-quarters, by remarking that General de Wimpffen commanded the Army. Thereupon, Colonel Bronsart departed, bearing a weighty piece of intelligence indeed, but no effective reply; and soon afterwards General Reille, intrusted with the Imperial letter, rode out of the gate of Torcy and ascended the hill whence the King had witnessed the battle.
King William and his Warriors.

An eminence, selected by the Staff because it commanded an extensive view, rises a little south of Frenois—the site has been marked on the map with a small pyramid—and upon this, about seven o’clock, just as the fog was lifting, King William took his stand. When the mists vanished, the sun poured his dazzling splendour over the landscape, and the air was so lucid that everything could be seen [p 321] distinctly through a powerful field-glass. “The sun shone out in full power,” says Prince Bibesco. “The sun was exceedingly powerful,” writes Dr. Russell. “The day had become so clear”—he is writing of the same period as the Prince—“that through a good glass the movements of individual men were plainly discernible.” And, a little earlier, he says, “on the hills, through wood and garden,” he was looking towards the Givonne, “and in the valleys, bayonets glistened, and arms twinkled and flashed like a streamlet in moonlight.” And so it continued to the end. “The hills of the battlefield,” writes Dr. Moritz Busch, “the gorge in its midst, the villages, the houses and the towers of the fortress, the suburb of Torcy, the ruined [railway] bridge to the left in the distance, shone bright in the evening glow, and their details became clearer every minute, as if one were looking through stronger and stronger spectacles.” Through such a rich and transparent atmosphere the King gazed from his height upon the city wherein Turenne was born, in September, 1611, and on the battle which has made the little town on the Meuse, which Vauban fortified, still more memorable. A glimpse of the group on the hill is fortunately afforded by Dr. Russell, whose keen eyes on a battlefield seem to overlook nothing. “Of the King, who was dressed in his ordinary uniform, tightly buttoned and strapped,” it is noted that he “spoke but little, pulled his moustache frequently, and addressed a word to Von Moltke, Roon, or Podbielski,” who looked frequently through a large telescope mounted on a tripod. “Moltke,” he goes on, and the touch is characteristic, “when not looking through the glass or at the map, stood in a curious musing attitude, with his right hand to the side of his face, the elbow resting on the left hand crossed towards his hip.” A picture of Von Moltke, which, taken with what another observer calls his “refined and wrinkled [p 322] face,” deserves to live in the memory. Count Bismarck, we are told, “in his white cuirassier flat cap with the yellow band and uniform, stood rather apart, smoking a good deal, and chatting occasionally with a short, thick-set, soldierly-looking man in the undress uniform of a United States’ Lieutenant-General.” It was Sheridan. And near these were many less famous personages, but representative of “all Germany,” as one writer puts it. On another hill a little further west, whither Dr. Russell transferred himself, was a second and notable group, which he sketches. “The Crown Prince with his arms folded, and his flat cap, uniform frock, and jack boots; Blumenthal so spruce and trim; half-a-dozen princes and many aides-de-camp” were all sharply and well-defined on the sky-line. Thus these two groups, “from morn to dewy eve,” looked down, on, and into a scene which nature and man had combined to make at once beautiful and sublime.

It was towards the King’s hill that General Reille turned when he rode out of the Torcy gate. Walking his horse up the steep, he dismounted, and taking off his cap, presented a letter to his Majesty. King William, breaking the Imperial seal, read these phrases, which, if somewhat dramatic, are striking in their brevity:—[1]

Monsieur mon Frère,

N’ayant pu mourir au milieu de mes troupes, il ne me reste qu’ à remettre mon epée entre les mains de Votre Majesté.

Je suis de Votre Majesté,

le bon Frère,

NAPOLéON.

Sédan, le 1er Septembre, 1870.

[p 323]

Only one half hour earlier had Colonel Bronsart brought the startling information that the Emperor was in Sedan! The King conferred with his son, who had been hastily summoned, and with others of his trusty servants, all deeply moved by complex emotions at the grandeur of their victory. What should be done? The Emperor spoke for himself only, and his surrender would not settle the great issue. It was necessary to obtain something definite, and the result of a short conference was that Count Hatzfeldt, instructed by the Chancellor, retired to draft a reply. “After some minutes he brought it,” writes Dr. Busch, “and the King wrote it out, sitting on one chair, while the seat of a second was held up by Major von Alten, who knelt on one knee and supported the chair on the other.” The King’s letter, brief and business-like, began and ended with the customary royal forms, and ran as follows:

“Regretting the circumstances in which we meet, I accept your Majesty’s sword, and beg that you will be good enough to name an officer furnished with full powers to treat for the capitulation of the Army which has fought so bravely under your orders. On my side I have designated General von Moltke for that purpose.”

General Reille returned to his master, and as he rode down the hill the astounding purport of his visit flew from lip to lip through the exulting Army which now hoped that, after this colossal success, the days of ceaseless marching and fighting would soon end. As a contrast to this natural outburst of joy and hope we may note the provident Moltke, who was always resolved to “mak siker.” His general order, issued at once, suspending hostilities during the night, declared that they would begin again in the morning should the negotiations produce no result. In that case, he said, the signal for battle would be the reopening of fire by the batteries on the heights east of [p 324] Frénois. The return of peace, so fervently desired by the Army, was still far off in the distance when the tired victors bivouacked in quiet, and dreamed of home through the short summer night.

[1] “Not having been able to die in the midst of my troops, nothing remains for me but to place my sword in the hands of your Majesty.”
How the Generals Rated each other.

While General Reille, who performed his part with so much modesty and dignity, rode back over the Meuse, the Emperor still awaited, in the Sub-Prefecture, the advent of General de Wimpffen, who was fretting and fuming at the Golden Cross within the walls. According to his own confession he had become convinced that the refusal of his sovereign to head a sally from Balan had delivered over the Army to the mercy of the Germans, and violent despair had taken possession of his soul. For had not the Comte de Palikao sent him to overbear Napoleon III. and the set who surrounded him, and had he not failed to bend the monarch to his will? Twice, he repeats, with pride, “I obstinately refused to obey” the Emperor’s invitation to treat with the enemy; and because Napoleon III. had authoritatively interfered with his command he sent in that letter of resignation which the Emperor refused to accept. At first he seemed inclined to resist as well as resent the conduct of his master, who had presumed to consult others and, by hoisting the white flag, to take, as the General haughtily says, “a decision contrary to my will.” Let the Emperor sign the capitulation. Such were the first thoughts of a man whose temper was imperious, but whose better nature was not insensible to reason. He quelled his wrath and threw off his despair, moved, as he says, by the feeling that in defending the interests of the Army he would be rendering a last service to his brave companions in arms, and to his country. So he went from [p 325] the Golden Cross to the Sub-Prefecture. Still angry, he loudly asserted as soon as he entered the room that he had been vanquished in battle because, addressing the Emperor, “your Generals refused to obey me.” Thereupon Ducrot started up, exclaiming, “Do you mean me? Your orders were only too well obeyed, and your mad presumption has brought on this frightful disaster.” “If I am incapable,” retorted De Wimpffen, “all the more reason why I should not retain the command.” “You took it this morning,” shouted Ducrot, also a violent man, “when you thought it would bring honour and profit. You cannot lay it down now. You alone must bear (endosser) the shame of the capitulation.” “Le General Ducrot était très exalté,” he says in his narrative, and he calls on his brother officers who were present to testify that he used these brave words, which, in substance, appear in De Wimpffen’s account; but the latter adds that he threw back the accusation, saying, “I took the command to evade a defeat which your movement would have precipitated;” and that he requested General Ducrot to leave the room, as he had not come to confer with him! What the quiet and well-mannered Emperor thought of his two fiery and blustering Generals is nowhere stated. The calm language in the pamphlet attributed to Napoleon III., which shows, nevertheless, how deeply he was vexed by De Wimpffen’s selfish wish to shirk his responsibilities at such a moment, takes no note of the quarrel, and simply tells us how “the General understood that, having commanded during the battle, his duty obliged him not to desert his post in circumstances so critical.” Thus, when General Reille returned with King William’s letter, he found De Wimpffen in a reasonable frame of mind and ready to perform, with courage and address, the hard task of obtaining the best terms he could for the French Army from the placidly stern Von Moltke, [p 326] in whose heart there were no soft places when business had to be done.
The Generals Meet at Donchery.

Late on the evening of September 1st a momentous session was held in Donchery, the little town which commands a bridge over the Meuse below Sedan. On one side of a square table covered with red baize sat General von Moltke, having on his right hand the Quartermaster-General von Podbielski, according to one account, and Von Blumenthal according to another, and behind them several officers, while Count von Nostitz stood near the hearth to take notes. Opposite to Von Moltke sat De Wimpffen alone; while in rear, “almost in the shade,” were General Faure, Count Castelnau, and other Frenchmen, among whom was a Cuirassier Captain d’Orcet, who had observant eyes and a retentive memory. Then there ensued a brief silence, for Von Moltke looked straight before him and said nothing, while De Wimpffen, oppressed by the number present, hesitated to engage in a debate “with the two men admitted to be the most capable of our age, each in his kind.” But he soon plucked up courage, and frankly accepted the conditions of the combat. What terms, he asked, would the King of Prussia grant to a valiant Army which, could he have had his will, would have continued to fight? “They are very simple,” answered Von Moltke. “The entire Army, with arms and baggage, must surrender as prisoners of war.” “Very hard,” replied the Frenchman. “We merit better treatment. Could you not be satisfied with the fortress and the artillery, and allow the Army to retire with arms, flags and baggage, on condition of serving no more against Germany during the war?” No. “Moltke,” said Bismarck recounting the interview, [p 327] “coldly persisted in his demand,” or as the attentive D’Orcet puts it, “Von Moltke was pitiless.” Then De Wimpffen tried to soften his grim adversary by painting his own position. He had just come from the depths of the African desert; he had an irreproachable military reputation; he had taken command in the midst of a battle, and found himself obliged to set his name to a disastrous capitulation. “Can you not,” he said, “sympathize with an officer in such a plight, and soften, for me, the bitterness of my situation by granting more honourable conditions?” He painted in moving terms his own sad case, and described what he might have done; but seeing that his personal pleadings were unheeded, he took a tone of defiance, less likely to prevail. “If you will not give better terms,” he went on, “I shall appeal to the honour of the Army, and break out, or, at least, defend Sedan.” Then the German General struck in with emphasis, “I regret that I cannot do what you ask,” he said; “but as to making a sortie, that is just as impossible as the defence of Sedan. You have some excellent troops, but the greater part of your infantry is demoralized. To-day, during the battle, we captured more than twenty thousand unwounded prisoners. You have only eighty thousand men left. My troops and guns around the town would smash yours before they could make a movement; and as to defending Sedan, you have not provisions for eight-and-forty hours, nor ammunition which would suffice for that period.” Then, says De Wimpffen, he entered into details respecting our situation, which, “unfortunately, were too true,” and he offered to permit an officer to verify his statements, an offer which the Frenchman did not then accept.

Beaten off the military ground, De Wimpffen sought refuge in politics. “It is your interest, from a political standpoint, to grant us honourable conditions,” he said. “France [p 328] is generous and chivalric, responsive to generosity, and grateful for consideration. A peace, based on conditions which would flatter the amour-propre of the Army, and diminish the bitterness of defeat, would be durable; whereas rigorous measures would awaken bad passions, and, perhaps, bring on an endless war between France and Prussia.” The new ground broken called up Bismarck, “because the matter seemed to belong to my province,” he observed when telling the story; and he was very outspoken as usual. “I said to him that we might build on the gratitude of a prince, but certainly not on the gratitude of a people—least of all on the gratitude of the French. That in France neither institutions nor circumstances were enduring; that governments and dynasties were constantly changing, and the one need not carry out what the other had bound itself to do. That if the Emperor had been firm on his throne, his gratitude for our granting good conditions might have been counted upon; but that as things stood it would be folly if we did not make full use of our success. That the French were a nation full of envy and jealousy, that they had been much mortified by our success at K?niggratz, and could not forgive it, though it in nowise damaged them. How, then, should any magnanimity on our side move them not to bear us a grudge for Sedan.” This Wimpffen would not admit. “France,” he said, “had much changed latterly; it had learned under the Empire to think more of the interests of peace than of the glory of war. France was ready to proclaim the fraternity of nations; and more of the same kind.” Captain d’Orcet reports that, in addition, Bismarck denied that France had changed, and that to curb her mania for glory, to punish her pride, her aggressive and ambitious character, it was imperative that there should be a glacis between France and Germany. “We must have territory, fortresses and frontiers which [p 329] will shelter us for ever from an attack on her part.” Further remonstrances from De Wimpffen only drew down fresh showers of rough speech very trying to bear, and when Bismarck said “We cannot change our conditions,” De Wimpffen exclaimed, “Very well; it is equally impossible for me to sign such a capitulation, and we shall renew the battle.”

Here Count Castelnau interposed meekly to say, on behalf of the Emperor, that he had surrendered, personally, in the hope that his self-sacrifice would induce the King to grant the Army honourable terms. “Is that all?” Bismarck inquired. “Yes,” said the Frenchman. “But what is the sword surrendered,” asked the Chancellor; “is it his own sword, or the sword of France?” “It is only the sword of the Emperor,” was Castelnau’s reply. “Well, there is no use talking about other conditions,” said Von Moltke, sharply, while a look of contentment and gratification passed over his face, according to Bismarck; one “almost joyful,” writes the keen Captain d’Orcet. “After the last words of Von Moltke,” he continues, “De Wimpffen exclaimed, ‘We shall renew the battle.’ ‘The truce,’ retorted the German General, ‘expires to-morrow morning at four o’clock. At four, precisely, I shall open fire.’ We were all standing. After Von Moltke’s words no one spoke a syllable. The silence was icy.” But then Bismarck intervened to sooth excited feelings, and called on his soldier comrade to show, once more, how impossible resistance had become. The group sat down again at the red baize-covered table, and Von Moltke began his demonstration afresh. “Ah,” said De Wimpffen, “your positions are not so strong as you would have us believe them to be.” “You do not know the topography of the country about Sedan,” was Von Moltke’s true and crushing answer. “Here is a bizarre detail which illustrates the presumptuous and [p 330] inconsequent character of your people,” he went on, now thoroughly aroused. “When the war began you supplied your officers with maps of Germany at a time when they could not study the geography of their own country for want of French maps. I tell you that our positions are not only very strong, they are inexpugnable.” It was then that De Wimpffen, unable to reply, wished to accept the offer made, but not accepted at an earlier period, and to send an officer to verify these assertions. “You will send nobody,” exclaimed the iron General. “It is useless, and you can believe my word. Besides, you have not long to reflect. It is now midnight; the truce ends at four o’clock, and I will grant no delay.” Driven to his last ditch, De Wimpffen pleaded that he must consult his fellow-Generals, and he could not obtain their opinions by four o’clock. Once more the diplomatic peacemaker intervened, and Von Moltke agreed to fix the final limit at nine. “He gave way at last,” says Bismarck, “when I showed him that it could do no harm.” The conference so dramatic broke up, and each one went his way; but, says the German official narrative, “as it was not doubtful that the hostile Army, completely beaten and nearly surrounded, would be obliged to submit to the clauses already indicated, the Great Head-quarter Staff was occupied, that very night, in drawing up the text of the capitulation” a significant and practical comment, showing what stuff there was behind the severe language which, at the midnight meeting, fell from the Chief of that able and sleepless body of chosen men.
Napoleon III. Surrenders.

General de Wimpffen went straight from the military conference to the wearied Emperor who had gone to bed. But he received his visitor, who told him that the proposed [p 331] conditions were hard, and that the sole chance of mitigation lay in the efforts of His Majesty. “General,” said the Emperor, “I shall start at five o’clock for the German head-quarters, and I shall see whether the King will be more favourable;” for he seems to have become possessed of an idea that King William would personally treat with him. The Emperor kept his word. Believing that he would be permitted to return to Sedan, he drove forth without bidding farewell to any of his troops; but, as the drawbridge of Torcy was lowered and he passed over, the Zouaves on duty shouted “Vive l’Empereur!” This cry was “the last adieu which fell on his ears” as we read in the narrative given to the world on his behalf. He drove in a droshki towards Donchery, preceded by General Reille who, before six o’clock, awoke Count Bismarck from his slumbers, and warned him that the Emperor desired to speak with him. “I went with him directly,” said Bismarck, in a conversation reported by Busch; “and got on my horse, all dusty and dirty as I was, in an old cap and my great waterproof boots, to ride to Sedan where I supposed him to be.” But he met him on the high road near Frénois, “sitting in a two-horse carriage.” Beside him was the Prince de la Moskowa, and on horseback Castlenau and Reille. “I gave the military salute,” says Bismarck. “He took his cap off and the officers did the same; whereupon I took off mine, although it was contrary to rule. He said, ‘Couvrez-vous, donc.’ I behaved to him just as if in St. Cloud, and asked his commands.” Naturally, he wanted to see the King, but that could not be allowed. Then Bismarck placed his quarters in Donchery at the Emperor’s disposal, but he, thinking, as we know, that he would return to the Sub-Prefecture, declined the courtesy, and preferred to rest in a house by the wayside. The cottage of a Belgian weaver unexpectedly became famous; [p 332] a one-storied house, painted yellow, with white shutters and venetian blinds. He and the Chancellor entered the house, and went up to the first floor where there was “a little room with one window. It was the best in the house, but had only one deal table and two rush-bottomed chairs,” In that lowly abode they talked together of many things for three-quarters of an hour, among others about the origin of the war which, it seems, neither desired, the Emperor asserting, Bismarck reports that “he had been driven into it by the pressure of public opinion,” a very inadequate representation of the curious incidents which preceded the fatal decision. But when the Emperor began to ask for more favourable terms, he was told that, on a military question, Von Moltke alone could speak. On the other hand Bismarck’s request to know who now had authority to make peace was met by a reference to “the Government in Paris;” so that no progress was made. Then “we must stand to our demands with regard to the Army of Sedan,” said Bismarck. General von Moltke was summoned, and “Napoleon III. demanded that nothing should be decided before he had seen the King, for he hoped to obtained from His Majesty some favourable concessions for the Army.” The German official narrative of the war states that the Emperor expressed a wish that the Army might be permitted to enter Belgium, but that, of course, the Chief of the Staff could not accept the proposal. General von Moltke forthwith set out for Vendresse where the King was, to report progress. He met His Majesty on the road, and there “the King fully approved the proposed conditions of capitulation, and declared that he would not see the Emperor until the terms prescribed had been accepted;” a decision which gratified the Chancellor as well as the Chief of the Staff. “I did not wish them to come together,” observed the Count, “until we had settled the [p 333] matter of the capitulation;” sparing the feelings of both and leaving the business to the hard military men.

The Emperor lingered about in the garden of the weaver’s cottage; he seems to have desired fresh air after his unpleasant talk with the Chancellor. Dr. Moritz Busch, who had hurried to the spot, has left a characteristic description of the Emperor. He saw there “a little thick-set man,” wearing jauntily a red cap with a gold border, a black palet?t lined with red, red trousers, and white kid gloves, “The look in his light grey eyes was somewhat soft and dreamy, like that of people who have lived hard. His whole appearance,” says the irreverent Busch, “was a little unsoldierlike. The man looked too soft, I might say too shabby, for the uniform he wore,” phrases which suggest a lack of sympathy with adversity, and severe physical as well as mental suffering. But imagination can realize a picture of the fallen potentate, whose dynasty, crashing down, drew so much with it, as he was seen by the cynical German, talking to his officers, or to the burly Chancellor, or walking alone up and down a potato field in flower, with his white-gloved hands behind his back, smoking a cigarette; “betrayed by fortune” or fate, as he believed, but pursued, as others might say, by the natural consequences of his marvellous adventures, and of a strange neglect of the one source of strength on which he relied, the Army. He had failed in the business upon the conduct of which he prided himself; he was a bankrupt Emperor.
The French Generals Submit.

While one scene in the stupendous drama was performed at the weaver’s cottage, another was acted or endured in Sedan, where De Wimpffen had summoned the generals to consider the dreadful terms of capitulation. He has given [p 334] his own account of the incident; but the fullest report is supplied by Lebrun. There were present at this council of war more than thirty generals. With tearful eyes and a voice broken by sobs, the unhappy and most ill-starred De Wimpffen described his interview and conflict with Von Moltke and Bismarck, and its dire result—the Army to surrender as prisoners of war, the officers alone to retain their arms, and by way of mitigating the rigour of these conditions, full permission to return home would be given to any officer, provided he would engage in writing and on honour not to serve again during the war. The generals, save one or two, and these finally acquiesced, felt that the conditions could not be refused; but they were indignant at the clause suggesting that the officers might escape the captivity which would befall their soldiers, provided they would engage to become mere spectators of the invasion of their country. In the midst of these mournful deliberations Captain von Zingler, a messenger from Von Moltke, entered, and the scene became still more exciting. “I am instructed,” he said, “to remind you how urgent it is that you should come to a decision. At ten o’clock, precisely, if you have not come to a resolution, the German batteries will fire on Sedan. It is now nine, and I shall have barely time to carry your answer to head-quarters.” To this sharp summons De Wimpffen answered that he could not decide until he knew the result of the interview between the Emperor and the King. “That interview,” said the stern Captain, “will not in any way affect the military operations, which can only be determined by the generals who have full power to resume or stop the strife.” It was, indeed, as Lebrun remarked, useless to argue with a Captain, charged to state a fact; and at the General’s suggestion De Wimpffen agreed to accompany Captain von Zingler to the German head-quarters.

[p 335]

These were, for the occasion, the Chateau de Bellevue, where the Emperor himself had been induced to take up his abode, and about eleven o’clock, in a room under the Imperial chamber, De Wimpffen put his name at the foot of the document drawn up, during the night, by the German Staff. Then he sought out the Emperor, and, greatly moved, told him that “all was finished.” His Majesty, he writes, “with tears in his eyes, approached me, pressed my hand, and embraced me;” and “my sad and painful duty having been accomplished, I remounted my horse and rode back to Sedan, ‘la mort dans l’ame.’”

So soon as the convention was signed, the King arrived, accompanied by the Crown Prince. Three years before, as the Emperor reminds us in the writing attributed to him, the King had been his guest in Paris, where all the sovereigns of Europe had come to behold the marvels of the famous Exhibition. “Now,” so runs the lamentation, “betrayed by fortune, Napoleon III. had lost all, and had placed in the hands of his conqueror the sole thing left him—his liberty.” And he goes on to say, in general terms, that the King deeply sympathized with his misfortunes, but nevertheless could not grant better conditions to the Army. “He told the Emperor that the castle of Wilhelmsh?he had been selected as his residence; the Crown Prince then entered and cordially shook hands with Napoleon; and at the end of a quarter of an hour the King withdrew. The Emperor was permitted to send a telegram in cipher to the Empress, to tell her what had happened, and urge her to negotiate a peace.” Such is the bald record of this impressive event. The telegram, which reached the Empress at four o’clock on the afternoon of the 3rd, was in these words: “The Army is defeated and captive; I myself am a prisoner.”

For one day more the fallen sovereign rested at Bellevue [p 336] to meditate on the caprices of fortune or the decrees of fate. But that day, at the head of a splendid company of princes and generals, King William, crossing the bridge of Donchery, rode throughout the whole vast extent of the German lines, to greet his hardy warriors and be greeted by them on the very scene of their victories. And well they deserved regal gratitude, for together with their comrades who surrounded Metz, by dint of long swift marches and steadfast valour, they had overcome two great Armies in thirty days.

During the battle of Sedan, the Germans lost in killed and wounded 8,924 officers and men. On the other hand, the French lost 3,000 killed, 14,000 wounded, and 21,000 captured in the battle. The number of prisoners by capitulation was 83,000, while 3,000 were disarmed in Belgium, and a few hundreds, more or less, made their way by devious routes near and over the frontier, to Mézières, Rocroi, and other places in France. In addition, were taken one eagle and two flags, 419 field guns and mitrailleuses, 139 garrison guns, many wagons, muskets, and horses. On the day after the surrender, the French soldiers, having stacked their arms in Sedan, marched into the peninsula formed by the deep loop of the Meuse—“le Camp de Misère” as they called it—and were sent thence in successive batches, numbered by thousands, to Germany. Such was the astonishing end of the Army of Chalons, which had been impelled to its woful doom by the Comte de Palikao and the Paris politicians. Directed by General Vinoy, who was an able soldier, the troops brought to Mézières, escaped by rapid and clever marches from the German cavalry and the 6th Corps, and formed the nucleus of the improvised Army which afterwards defended the capital.

[p 337]
The End.

On the 3rd of September the Emperor Napoleon III. departed from Bellevue on his journey to the Castle of Wilhelmsh?he, near Cassel. The morning was wet and gloomy, and a thunderstorm was gathering among the hills of the Ardennes. The Imperial baggage-train had been permitted to leave Sedan, and was drawn up on the road ready to start. Columns of prisoners also were moving out of the fortress and marching towards the peninsula formed by the Meuse. It was a lugubrious scene, and the superstitious might remark that as the sun shone resplendently on the German victory, so his light was obscured when the captive Emperor drove through the muddy streets of Donchery and thence to the northward, wrapped in the sombre mist and thickly falling rain. And as he journeyed, disconsolately, in the forenoon, upon the road to Bouillon, orders went forth from the German head-quarters, where time was never lost, directing the conquering generals to leave the 11th and one Bavarian Corps on guard over Sedan and the thousands of unhappy prisoners, and resume, with all the rest, that march on the capital of France which had been so abruptly interrupted only eight days before. So the victors and the vanquished went their different ways.

The Emperor travelled without haste, and on the evening of the 4th he slept at Verviers. The next morning he learned, in common with all Europe, indeed all the civilized world, that the fires which seethe under the bright surface of society in Paris had once more burst through the thin crust of use and wont, and that the dynasty of the Bonapartes had been utterly overthrown at a blow to make way for the Republic. Like intelligence reached the King of Prussia, also, at his head-quarters, which, on the 5th, [p 338] were already in Reims. The contrast is painful. The King saw his hopes of an early peace destroyed; but his was a solidly planted throne and he was the leader of irresistible armies. The Emperor knew that his fond dream of founding an Imperial House had been dispelled in an hour by a blast of national wrath; and, being a kindly man, his agony was the keener because, as he pathetically says, “he was separated from his son, and knew not what fate had befallen the Empress.” Racked by such sad reflections, at the very time when his wife was escaping to England, Louis Napoleon Bonaparte went, by railway, from Verviers to Wilhelmsh?he. There, during a luxurious captivity of six months, he had ample leisure to meditate on the causes which led to the catastrophe of Sedan and the surrender of Metz; and to ascertain, if he could, why, after a second trial, ending in the third entry of hostile troops into Paris, the French nation had lost its belief in the saving qualities of a family bearing a name which, if associated with undying “glory,” has also become indissolubly linked with bitter memories of lost provinces and gigantic military disasters.

The End