As soon as it grows dark the camels, which have roved often at half an hour's distance, are collected. The leaders call to them, and since each one knows his master's poah! poah! they obediently come home. They are arranged in rows within the quadrangle. The smallest boy can control these big, strong, yet harmless and helpless animals. He calls: Krr! krr! and the huge beasts patiently sink to their knees. Then they fold their hind legs, and after a series of strange, undulating movements all are lying in regular rows, moving their long necks in every direction and looking about. I have always noticed the resemblance of a camel's neck with that of an ostrich, and the Turks call these birds deve-kush, the camel-birds. A thin cord is then tied around one bent knee of each camel. If it should rise it would have to stand on three legs, and would be unable to move.

On this evening we were visited by several friendly Arabs, short and thin, but strong and sinewy people. Their complexion was yellowish-brown, their eyes were small and vivacious. An assumed dignity barely disguised their native vivacity, and their guttural speech reminded us very strongly of the Jews. Their dress consisted of a rough cotton shirt, a white woolen cloak and a red and yellow kerchief, half-silk, which each man had fastened about his head with a string, just as you see it on the Egyptian statues.



Hunting-in the Tshull is highly successful. There are countless gazelles, pheasants and partridges hiding in the tall grass. On the third day we were just on the point of following some bustards, which clumsily rise on their wings and after some time descend again to the ground, when a general alarm arose in the caravan. "The Arabs are coming!" was shouted everywhere. A throng had been noticed in the distance approaching very rapidly. The head of our column stopped, but since our whole caravan was stretched out to the length of approximately four miles, there was little hope of protecting it with a guard of some sixty armed men. The horsemen galloped ahead to an artificial mount, where the Arabs were pointed out to me. There were indeed numerous black spots moving rapidly through the plain, but since I had a small telescope with me I could quickly convince my companions that what we saw before us was nothing but a huge herd of wild boars bearing down upon us. Soon the beasts could be recognized with the naked eye.

Tonight the Kjerwan-Bashi told me a characteristic story of an Arab which I had heard before in Orfa.

A Turkish general of cavalry, Dano-Pasha at Mardin, had been negotiating for some time with an Arab tribe concerning the purchase of a full-blooded mare of the Meneghi breed. Finally a price of sixty bags or almost fifteen hundred dollars was agreed upon. At the appointed hour the sheikh of the tribe arrives with his mare in the courtyard of the pasha. The latter is still trying to bargain, when the sheikh proudly replies that he will not take one para less. The Turk sulkily throws him the money saying that thirty thousand piasters are an unheard of price for a horse. The Arab looks at him in silence, and ties the money very complacently in his cloak. Then he descends to the courtyard to take leave of his mare. He mutters some Arabic words in her ear, strokes her eyes and forehead, examines her hoofs, and walks all around her, carefully studying the attentive horse. Suddenly he jumps on her bare back, and, in the same instant, off she shoots like a dart out of the courtyard.

In this country the horses generally stand ready with their palans or felt saddles on, day and night. Every distinguished man has at least one or two horses in his stable ready to be mounted as soon as they have been bridled. The Arabs, however, ride without bridles. The halter serves to check the horse, and a gentle tap with the open hand on the neck makes it go to the right or the left. Not more than a few seconds, therefore, elapsed before the agas of the pasha were mounted and in hot pursuit of the fugitive.

The unshod hoofs of the Arabian mare had never yet trodden cobble stones, and very carefully she picked her way while she hastened down the steep, uneven road leading from the castle. The Turks, on the other hand, galloped over the steep descent with its loose pebbles just as we often gallop up a sandy slope. Thin, circular shoes, forged cold, kept all harm from the feet of their horses, which were accustomed to such trips and made no false steps.

Where the village ends the agas have almost caught up with the sheikh, but now they are in the plain, the Arabian mare is in her element, off she darts, straight ahead, for here there are neither ditches nor fences, neither rivers nor mountains to delay her course. Like a clever jockey who leads a race, the Arab wishes to ride as slowly and not as quickly as possible. Constantly looking back at his pursuers, he keeps out of gunshot. When they approach he pushes on; when they fall behind, he slows the pace of his horse; when they stop, he walks his mare. Thus the chase continues till the fiery orb of the sun verges toward the horizon. Then for the first time the Arab demands of his horse every ounce of her strength. Crouching over her neck he drives his heels into her flanks, and with a loud "Jellah!" is gone. The sod resounds under powerful hoof-beats, and soon only a cloud of dust indicates to his pursuers the course he has taken.

Here where the sun descends to the horizon almost in a vertical line the twilight is exceedingly brief and soon dark night had swallowed up every trace of the fugitive. The Turks, without provision for themselves or water for their horses, realized that they were some twelve or fifteen hours away from home and in an unknown locality. What could they do but return and bring to their irate master the unwelcome news that both the horse and the rider with the money were gone? Not until the third evening did they reach Mardin, half dead of exhaustion and with horses hardly able to put one foot ahead of the other. Their only consolation was that here there was another instance of Arabian perfidy for them to revile. The traitor's horse, to be sure, they were obliged to praise, and they had to confess that such an animal could hardly be paid for too dearly.

Next day, just when the Imam is calling to morning prayer, the pasha hears hoofbeats under his window, and into the courtyard the sheikh is riding entirely unabashed. "Sidi," he calls up, "Sir, do you want your money or my horse?"

Somewhat less quickly than the Arab had ridden we reached on the fifth day the foot of the mountain and near a clear rivulet the large village of Tillaja (Tshilaga), doubtless the ancient Tilsaphata, where the starving army of Jovian on its retreat from Persia to Nisibin found its first provisions. There I learned that on that very morning Mehmet-Pasha had started with an army on an expedition against the Kurds in the north. I at once decided to join him and, leaving the caravan, arrived at his camp that same evening. There I was told that Hafiss-Pasha had sent a guard of fifty horsemen to meet us, whom we had missed, because they had looked for us in the direction of Sindjar.



A BULLFIGHT IN SPAIN

TRANSLATED BY EDMUND VON MACH, PH.D.

[From a letter written by Moltke to his brother Fritz and dated October 28, 1846.]

My most interesting experience was a bullfight. At three in the afternoon my Frenchman and I betook ourselves to the circular arena where twelve thousand people were assembled to watch the Corrida de Toros. There are about twenty stone steps on which the people take their places, just as in the ancient amphitheatres, and on top there are two tiers of boxes, of which the one in the centre is reserved for the queen. The arena proper where the fight is to take place is perfectly empty, and is separated from the spectators by a barrier of beams and planks seven feet in height. A small platform makes it possible for those who fight on foot to vault safely from the arena when they can avoid the bull in no other way.

After some delay the gates opened and the alguazil, some kind of a higher official clad in old-fashioned garb, rode in and announced that the game was about to begin. He was everywhere greeted with hoots, ridicule and disrespectful whistling; I do not know why. But he seemed to know what to expect, for he apparently did not mind his reception in the least. The Romans in the circus made sport of their consuls and emperors, and the Spaniards at a bullfight are permitted an equal latitude of behavior.

Then the chulos entered—on foot, with gay hangings draped over their right arms. They were followed by six picadores on horseback, dressed in leather jerkins and breeches, protected on the right side with bands of iron. They wore Spanish hats and carried each a heavy spear on which there was an iron point only half an inch long. Their saddles were of the high cowboy type, and they sat their horses well. Under the accompaniment of deafening applause the matador (literally, the murderer) took his place at their head. His name was Cuchiera, and he was a famous and celebrated hero of the arena. Thus this phalanx advanced toward the royal box, where Queen Christine, wife of Munoz, Duke of Rianzares, was seated, and dropped to their knees to offer her the royal salute; whereupon twelve thousand people hissed.

At last the chief actor entered, a powerful black bull with sharp horns and fiercely glistening eyes. He had been in a room with holes in the ceiling through which he had been poked with pointed sticks. He was, therefore, tolerably ill-humored before he entered the arena. As soon as the doors of his prison were opened he shot forward to the centre of the field, looked fiercely about him, greatly astonished, pawed the sand with his feet, and then hurled himself upon the nearest picador. This man held his ground, and permitted the maddened bull to rush against his pointed spear. The horse had his right eye bandaged lest he see the bull and bolt. The attack, however, was so fierce, and the rider so firmly seated in his saddle, that both he and his horse were lifted up and thrown over backwards. At the same moment the sharp horns of the bull were fastened in the horse's belly. A stream of blood, thick as your finger, spurted out directly from the horse's heart. The picador was lying under his charger, and was prevented by his costume from freeing himself. His certain end was at hand if the chulos had not come to his assistance with their gay draperies. The bull immediately let go his prey and hurled himself upon the men on foot, or rather upon their gaudy cloaks. He chased one the entire length of the arena and, when his foe had escaped him by jumping the barrier, he made the stout fence tremble under his hammering horns. At the disappearance of his enemy the bull stood stock still, as if dumfounded, until a second picador met his glance. This horseman had the same experience as his predecessor, but before the chulos could bring help the bull buried his horns a second time in the belly of the convulsed horse and carried it high up in the air through half the length of the arena. The third horse was ripped open in a trice. The wretched animal actually caught his feet in his own entrails and dragged them from his body bit by bit. In this condition he was beaten and given the spurs and was forced to await a second attack by the infuriated bull.

Since the bull each time had received a terrific thrust on his left shoulder from the spear, he finally refused to charge another one of the picadores. Their places, therefore, had to be taken by the banderilleros. These gay-looking people are men on foot with arrows two feet long, each with a hooked point. On the other end these arrows are decorated with little flags, brass foil, tinsel, and even bird cages whence gaily decked birds are permitted to escape. With these arrows the banderilleros walk right up to the bull, and, when he is ready to charge, jump to one side and thrust their weapons deep into his neck, halfway between his ears and his horns. Then the beast grows altogether mad and furious, and often chases a whole band of chulos in wild flight over the barrier, which calls for noisy shouts of ridicule from the crowd. Once the bull straddled the fence, and there have been times when he has succeeded in scaling it. One of the chulos was so bold as to put his gaudy cloak over his shoulders, so that the bull charged straight at him. But as the beast lowered his head and threw himself forward with closed eyes, the man jumped over him and stood by his side.

When finally the rage of the bull is at its height, but his strength is waning, the matador faces him, all alone. At once a hush falls over the spectators, who sit in rapt attention, for the matador's work is by far the most dangerous.

He is a fine-looking man, in shoes and white stockings. His silk coat and breeches are sky blue; his hair is tied in a net, in his left hand he carries a small scarlet cloak, and in his right a diamond-shaped blade of sharp Toledo steel, four feet in length. It is necessary to drive this into the neck of the bull at a very definite point, for if it hits him elsewhere he can shake it off and break it into splinters. In order to hit the right spot the man must let the bull pass him at a distance of only two or at best three inches. Everything is based on the assumption that the bull will attack the red cloth rather than the man, and will continue his course in an absolutely straight line. There are exceptions, and then the matador is lost.

Very deliberately the caballero walked up to his black antagonist and shook his red cloth at him. Twice he let him pass under his arm. At the third attempt he thrust his blade up to the hilt into the neck of the beast. For another minute perhaps the bull rages, then he begins to bleed from his mouth, he totters and then collapses. Immediately a kind of hangman's assistant sneaks up from behind and plunges a dagger into the neck of the bull, who expires on the spot.

At this juncture five mules decorated with ribbons and tinkling bells came trotting into the arena; they were hitched up to the horses and then to the bull, and at a fast clip carried the corpses away. Some sand was then sprinkled on the puddles of blood, and a new bull brought out. In this way eight bulls were driven to death. Twenty horses fell dead, while several more were led away mortally wounded. A single bull killed eight horses. No men were seriously hurt.

The horses, it is true, are of such a quality that, if they are not killed today, they will be taken to the horse-butcher tomorrow. Good horses would not only be too expensive, but they would also refuse to await the attack of the bull without shying or offering resistance, even if their right eyes were bandaged. The more horses the bull has killed and the more dangerous to the men he has become, the louder is the applause. One bull persistently refused to attack the picadores. He ran up and down the arena, trembling with fear, while the crowd shrieked curses and imprecations. At last they yelled: Los perros! (the dogs!) When the dogs arrived in the arena they could hardly be restrained. Madly they rushed upon the bull, who at once gored one of them and tossed him high in the air. The others, however, fastened on him, one of them seizing his tongue so firmly that he was swung high up in the air and down again. You could have torn him to pieces before he would have let go. Finally four dogs had the bull in a position where he could not free himself, and the matador struck him down.

While this butchery was at its height, the young queen with the Infanta entered, accompanied by Don Francesco, her husband, and the Duke of Montpensier. Aumale had arrived earlier. The queen looked very happy and is by no means so ugly as the papers say. She is blonde, rather stout, and not at all plain. The Infanta is small, extremely dark and thin. The queen was greeted by the matador just as her mother had been, but by the spectators with much enthusiasm. When the eighth bull was killed, it began to grow dark, but all the people yelled "un otro toro," and the ninth bull was hunted down almost in darkness—which is very dangerous for the matador.

This, then, is the spectacle which the Spaniards love better than anything else, which is watched by the tenderest of women, and which brought a smile to the face of the Infanta, a recent bride. So far as I am concerned, one bullfight was quite enough for me, and its description, I fancy, will be enough for you.



DESCRIPTION OF MOSCOW[38] (1856)

TRANSLATED BY GRACE BIGELOW

Thursday, August 28th

The City of Moscow takes it for granted that the Emperor has not yet arrived. A few assert that he has been since yesterday at the Castle Petrofskoy, an hour's ride from here, where he is holding court and reviewing a hundred thousand Guards; but that is his incognito; officially, he is not yet here.

The Holy City is preparing for the reception that is to take place tomorrow. They are hammering and pounding in all the streets and on all the squares. Most of the houses here stand alone, in the centre of a garden or court. Large tribunes for spectators have been erected in these spaces. In several of these I counted three thousand numbered seats. Before the houses themselves, moreover, small platforms with chairs have been erected, protected by linen awnings, decorated with tapestries, carpets and flowers. There must be at least several hundred thousand seats, so that there can be no crowd. Only those who cannot pay the few kopecks,[39] the Tschornoi Narod, or "the black brood of the people," will form the movable mass, and the police will have to restrain them.

All palaces and churches have laths nailed on their architectonic lines, upon which the lamps for the festive illuminations are to be fastened. The Giant Ivan, which will speak from the mouths of twenty-five large bells, bears upon its golden dome a crown formed of lamps, surmounted by the great glittering cross, which the French pulled down with immense toil and danger, and which the Russians victoriously reinstated. As an atonement for the offense, they laid one thousand guns of the godless enemy at the feet of Ivan, where Count Morny can see them to this day.

Half of the population of the city are in the streets, looking about, and they are allowed to go everywhere, even in the Kremlin.

Every day six-and eight-horse teams, mostly dark gray and black, which are going to convey the state coaches of the Empress and the Grand-Duchesses, are going to and fro from the Kremlin to Petrofskoy. Strangely enough, the outriders sit on the right front horses. An equerry of the Guards walks by each horse and leads it by the bridle. Yesterday their Excellencies carried a fearfully heavy canopy, supported by thick gold posts, through the salons and over the stairs of the palace. The aides-de-camp walk by the side of it, and balance it by golden cords.

The state coaches, most wonderful products of former centuries, have been drawn out of their semi-obscurity in the Arsenal, where they have rested twenty-eight years. The oldest are entirely without springs, are suspended by leather straps six feet long over a tongue twenty feet long and correspondingly thick, which is so bent that the coach almost reaches the ground. Those of the Empresses are ornamented with diamonds and jewels. It will hardly be possible to use the oldest. There is, further, a kind of house on wheels, made of gold, velvet, and crystal, which Peter the Great received as a present from England, and compared to which a thirty-six pounder is but a child's toy. In short, everything is life and activity here, in expectation of the volleys of cannon which will announce tomorrow from the old gate towers of the Kremlin the solemn entrance of the Czar.

Yesterday the Emperor wished to ride through the camp of the Guards, whom he has not seen since he ascended the throne, because, in consequence of the war, they had been removed to Lithuania and Poland, and are now encamped at an hour's distance on a vast plain. A solemn mass, at which the Empress was also present, preceded this. We drove out in complete gala dress through thick clouds of dust. The Emperor rode with his suite. He looked very well on horseback. At this moment it began to rain, and poured uninterruptedly. Fortunately we found shelter under the open tent in which the altar was, and in which the mass was said, or, rather, sung. All further inspection was countermanded, and we returned home.

In the evening I drove to Petrofskoy. It lies in the midst of a wood, and has a very odd appearance. The castle proper is a three-storied quadrangle with a green cupola. The entrances are supported by the most singular bottle-shaped bulging columns, and the whole is surrounded by a turreted wall, with battlements and loopholes. This red-and white-painted fortress, the light of which radiates from the high windows through the dark forest, recalls a fable of the Arabian Nights. All monasteries and castles here are fortified. They were the only points capable of holding out when the Golden Tribe rushed upon them with twenty or thirty thousand horses, and devastated all that flat country. Long after their yoke was broken, the Khans of Tartary in the Crimea were formidable enemies. The watchmen from the highest battlements of the Kremlin were continually observing the wide expanse toward the south; and when the dust-clouds rose thence, and the great bell (kolokol) of Ivan Welicki rang the alarm, every one fled behind the walls of the Czar's palace or to the monasteries, upon whose walls the infuriated horsemen struck and dashed in vain. The Christianity, science, and culture of the Russian nation sought shelter in the cloisters, and from them started afterward Russia's deliverance from the domination of the Mongolians and Poles.

Today there was again mass in the open air, and five battalions received new flags, which in addition were blessed by the priests; then the Metropolitan Archbishop walked the length of the front and sprinkled the troops thoroughly with holy water; some of the men were practically soaked to the skin. The Emperor and both Empresses not only kissed the cross, but the archbishop's hand. Then the Emperor passed the front of every battalion, and, with a true military attitude, spoke a few words to the men, which were received with endless applause. He was an excellent rider, and rode a well-trained horse. Then he inspected the front of the whole camp—one and a half German miles. There were seventy-four battalions, with eight hundred men apiece—about sixty thousand men in all. They stood unarmed and in caps, all of them old, bearded, and dark-faced.

I care nothing for the deafening hurrahs that lasted two hours; but these old, mustached men show how glad they are to see their Czar.

The Emperor spoke to some of them. They answered their Batuschka (little father) without embarrassment. In Russia the family is the microcosm of the State. All power rests with the father. All theories of representative government in Russia are pure nonsense. "How can human statutes circumscribe the divine right of a father?" asks the Russian. So that the unlimited power in the hands of the Emperor is necessary and beneficial in a land where nothing is done that is not ordered from above.

Whoever should gaze, as I have done, on a warm, sunny day, upon the city of Moscow for the first time from the height of the Kremlin would certainly not think that he was in the same latitude in which the reindeer graze in Siberia, and the dogs drag the sleighs over the ice in Kamtchatka. Moscow reminds one of the South, but of something strange never seen before. One seems to be transported to Ispahan, Bagdad, or some other place—to the scene of the story of the Sultaness Scheherezade.

Although Moscow does not count more than three hundred thousand inhabitants, it covers two square miles with its houses, gardens, churches, and monasteries. In this flat region one can hardly see beyond the extreme suburbs, and houses and trees extend to the horizon.

No city in the world, with the exception of Rome, has so many churches as the holy Stolitza of Russia. It is affirmed that Moscow boasts of forty times forty churches. Each one has at least five, and several even sixteen, cupolas that are brilliantly painted, and covered with colored glazed bricks, or richly silvered and gilded, glittering in the blue atmosphere like the sun when it is half above the horizon. Even the graceful towers, rising sometimes to considerable heights from the immense mass of houses and gardens, are similarly ornamented, and neither do the larger ones among the palaces lack the addition of a cupola.

The dwelling houses are almost always in gardens, and are distinctly outlined against the dark background of trees by their white walls and flat iron roofs painted light green or red. The oldest part alone, close to the Kremlin—the Kitai-Gorod, or the Chinese quarter—forms a city according to our notions, where the houses touch each other, and are carefully enclosed by a beautiful turreted wall, here, of course, painted white. All the rest seems to be a large collection of country houses, between which the Moskwa winds its way.

The Kremlin contains (besides the palaces of the Czars and the Patriarchs) the Arsenal and the treasures of the church. Here are concentrated the highest civil and religious powers. The cloisters, mostly at the extremities of the city, are fortresses in themselves.

It was in the Kitai-Gorod that the commercial guild established itself, needing for its wares, imported from China, Bucharia, Byzantium, and Novgorod, the protection of walls. The rest, and by far the larger part of Moscow, was built by the nobility for themselves; and long after the first Emperor had raised a new capital upon the enemy's ground it was looked upon with contempt by the grandees of the Empire, still faithfully clinging to the customs of their fathers.

The venerable city of Moscow, with its ancient, sacred relics and historical reminiscences, still remains an object of veneration and love to every Russian; and, often coming from a distance of hundreds of miles, when getting a glimpse of the golden cross on the Church of Ivan Welicki, he falls on his knees in reverence and patriotic fervor. St. Petersburg is his pride, but Moscow is nearer to his heart. And, in truth, Moscow has no resemblance to St. Petersburg. There is no Neva here, no sea, no steamers; nowhere a straight street, a large square, or a wooded island. But Moscow has as little resemblance to any other city. The cupolas, the flat roofs and the trees remind one of the East; but there the cupolas are more curved, covered with gray lead, and surmounted by delicate minarets; the houses show no windows toward the street; and the gardens are enclosed by high, dead, monotonous walls. Moscow has a character of its own; and if one wishes to compare it with anything, it must be called Byzantine-Moresque. Russia received her Christianity and first civilization from Byzantium. Until of late years she remained completely shut off from the East, and what culture she once adopted became rapidly nationalized. The heavy scourge of the Mongolian and Tartar domination, which burdened this country for nearly three centuries, prevented for a long time any further progress. All culture was confined to the monasteries, and to these they afterward owed their deliverance. The Khans of Tartary never required their submission to Islam; they satisfied themselves with the tribute. In order to raise this, they had recourse to native authority. They supported the power of the Grand Dukes and of the priesthood; and the despotism of the Golden Tribe, much as it circumscribed further improvement, strengthened the oppressed in their faith in their religion, fidelity to their rulers, and love to their mutual fatherland.

These are still the characteristics of the people; and when one reflects that the embryo of this nation, the Great Russians—thirty-six million people of one root, one faith, and one language—forms the greatest homogeneous mass of people in the world, no one will doubt that Russia has a great future before her.

It has been said that with an increase of population this boundless empire must fall to pieces. But no part of it can exist without the other—the woody North without the fertile South, the industrial centre without both, the interior without the coast, nor without the common joint stream, navigable for four hundred miles—the Volga. But, more than all this, the national spirit unites the most distant portions.

Moscow is now the national centre not only of the European Empire, but of the ancient and holy kingdom of the Czars, from which the historical reminiscences of the people spring, which, perhaps, is big with the destinies of the future empire in spite of a deviation of two centuries.

The foreign civilization which was forced upon them has never penetrated the mass of the people. The national peculiarity has remained complete in language, manners, and customs, in a highly remarkable municipal constitution, the freest and most independent existing anywhere; and, finally, in their architecture. The last can, of course, only be applied to the churches. In Russia nearly everything is new. What is older than a hundred years is looked upon as an antiquity. The Russian dwelling-house is of wood, and therefore never reaches that age, unless, like the one of Peter the Great, it be encased by a stone one. Even the palaces of the Emperor are new, and only here in Moscow can be found a ruin of the old Dworez of the Czars. There are churches in existence of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries (a great age for Russia), and the strictly conservative spirit of the priesthood has been instrumental in retaining the same style of architecture in the later buildings.

The St. Sophia, in Constantinople, is the model upon which all Russian churches are built. It was imitated everywhere, but never equalled, not even by St. Mark's in Venice. There was lack both of material and skill to build an arch with a span of one hundred and twenty-six feet. What could not be accomplished in width was attempted in height. The domes became narrow and tall, like towers. The rough stone, handled without art, rendered clumsy pillars and thick walls necessary, in which the windows, like embrasures, are cut narrow and deep. The brightest light falls through the windows in the thinner wall which supports the cupolas. Nearly all churches are higher than they are long and wide. The clumsy tetragonal pillars contract the already narrow space. One has nowhere a free view, and a mystic twilight reigns everywhere. The most famous Russian churches can only accommodate as many hundreds as a Gothic cathedral can thousands. It is true most of them were built by Italian masters; but the latter were obliged to conform to the rules and forms already in use.

Since the architectonic conditions were unfavorable to the creation of a magnificent whole, an attempt was made to ornament the individual parts with brilliancy and magnificence. Not contented to gild the churches inside and out, the floors were paved with half-precious stones, and the pictures (of no artistic value) were covered with jewels, diamonds, and pearls. Only the faces and hands are painted; the garments, crown, and all else are plated with silver, gold, and jewels.

Sculpture is entirely prohibited, as far as representing the human form is concerned; but they do not hesitate to represent God himself on canvas. The gilt background is of itself disadvantageous for the carnation of the pictures, and added to this are the long-drawn outlines of the Byzantine and old German schools, without the genuine feeling of the latter. Gigantic scarecrows gaze down from the cupolas, meant to represent the Virgin Mary, Christ, St. John, or God the Father. A Russian buys no holy picture that is not quite black or faded out. A lovely Madonna of Raphael, or a fine Sebastian of Correggio, does not seem to him expressive. His creed needs the obscurity of his church—the clouds of incense which at every mass veil the mysterious movements of the priests.

The Byzantine element in the Russian architecture is then historically easy to explain. The Moresque originated with the necessity of decorating the individual parts, and relates only to these.

The railings of the Ikonostase are interlaced with vines, garlands, and animal forms. The flat walls, principally where they are not gilt, are decorated with leafwork, rosettes, and twining vines. Where this could not be cut in stone it was painted, and the deficiency in drawing was supplied by a variety of the most glaring colors. Of course, they remained far behind the tasteful, artistic arabesques of the Alhambra and the Alcazar.

The craziest thing in the way of architecture is the Church of Ivan Blajennoj, on the Red Square before the Kremlin. It cannot be described. This building stands on uneven ground, although the fine level Place is before it. It crouches on the edge of the hill, and leaves one leg hanging down. There is no trace of any symmetry. It has no central point, and no one part is like another. One cupola looks like an onion, another like a pineapple, an artichoke, a melon, or a Turkish turban. It contains nine different churches, each having its own altar, Ikonostase, and sanctuary. You enter several of these on the ground floor. To reach others, you ascend a few steps. Between these is a labyrinth of passages so narrow that two people can with difficulty pass each other. Of course, all these churches are very narrow. The one in the main tower can scarcely contain more than twenty or thirty persons, and yet its vaulted roof reaches into the tower at a height of over a hundred feet. This church is painted with all the colors of the rainbow, inside and out, and plated with silver and gold. The cupolas shine with red, green, and blue glazed bricks, and even the masonry has been colored by the artist.

This monstrosity emanated from the brain of Ivan Hrosnoj, "the Terrible John." When he saw the architect's work complete he was delighted, loaded him with praise, embraced him, and then ordered his eyes to be put out, that no such second masterpiece should be attributed to him.

But, with all its singularity, this church does not produce a disagreeable impression. It cannot be denied that it is at least original.

Everything, on the contrary, left from the old Dworez (palace) is really beautiful. There is a strange four-story building narrowing toward the top. There is a balcony formed by each receding story, from which there is a fine view. The second story contains, besides the rich but small chapel, a banquet-hall, like the Kanter's,[40] in Marienburg, only that there the entire vaulted roof is borne by a slender column, and here by a thick pillar. The entrance is in one corner; the throne stands diagonally opposite in the other. At present, the walls are covered with splendid tapestries, and the great throne draped with drap d'or, lined with real ermine. This drapery cost forty thousand rubles. The small but exquisite rooms in the third story are charming. The fourth story is only one large room. It was the Terima, or dwelling of the women—the room in which Peter I. grew up.

At the parole delivery all the regiments were represented, the cavalry mounted. It was beautiful to see specimens of all these dazzling uniforms: the Cuirassiers, with the Byzantine double eagle upon their helmets, something like our Garde du Corps, but with lances; the Uhlans, almost exactly like ours; the Hussars, in white dolmans with golden cords; the line Cossacks, with fur caps and red caftans; the Tschernamorskish Cossacks, in dark blue coats with red jackets over them; and the Ural ones with light blue—all with lances, on little horses and high saddles. The Tartars are nearly all heathen or Moslem. The Circassians appeared in scaly coats of mail and helmets. They showed off their equestrian accomplishments, fired from the horse with their long guns, shielded themselves from their pursuers by their kantschu,[41] concealed themselves by throwing their bodies on one side so that they touched the ground with their hands; others stood upright in the saddle—all done at full gallop and amidst fearful noise.

A regiment of Drushins,[42] an Imperial militia levied on the Imperial apanage estates, pleased me well. They wore a cap with the cross of St. Andrew, bare neck; the native caftan, only shorter and without a button; very wide trousers, the shirt over them (as with all common Russians), and the end of their trousers tucked into their high boots. Such is the uniformed Mujik (peasant). This dress is national, becoming and useful. The men can wear their furs (which are here indispensable) underneath; and I will venture to say that the entire Russian infantry will adopt a similar costume. "Les proverbes sont l'esprit des peuples," and the national dress is the result of the experience of centuries in regard to what is becoming and appropriate.

The Austrian uniform is white in Moravia and brown in the Banat, because the sheep there are of that color. The Spaniard wears the tabarra, as he receives the material from the goat. The Arabian is white from head to foot, because the heat of his climate requires it; and the Mujik does not wear his caftan from caprice, but because it suits him best.

The Emperor's cortege is truly imposing—about five hundred horses.

If I only had a better memory for persons and names! I have made the acquaintance of a number of interesting men; that is, I have been presented to them: Prince Gortschakoff, Lueders, Berg, and Osten-Sacken, who commanded in the last war; Orloff, Mentschikoff, Alderberg, Liewen, the Governor of Siberia, and the commandant of the Caucasus; then a lot of aides-de-camp, the foreign princes, and their suites.

One can be truly thankful if one rides a strange horse without causing or experiencing some disaster. A bad rider comes up from behind; a horse sets himself in your way; here a mare kicks up behind; there a stallion kicks up in front. It is but a small affair to ride alone, but in the confusion of such a train, in a short trot on a lively beast, one must keep one's eyes open. Suddenly the Emperor stops, and there is a general halt; or he turns to one side, and then there is great confusion; he gallops forward, and all plunge after him, while the head of the column has again taken a short movement. With all this the flags are flying, the trumpets are blowing, the drums are beating, and there are endless hurrahs. But one must also see something. I rode a little black horse that I would like to possess; he goes like an East Prussian, but is very spirited, and I constantly found myself in the front among the grand dukes. But I shall get on well with him when we know each other better. He needs a quiet rider with a firm seat, and a light hand on the reins.

This evening at sunset, I again ascended the Kremlin. "Diem perdidi" I should say of the day of my sojourn there in which I did not visit this wonderful structure.

I descended to the Moskwa, and, from under the fine quay, examined the massive white walls, the towers and the gate forts which surround the Czar's palace, and a whole town of churches of the strangest structure. Tonight the city gives a grand entertainment, from which I shall absent myself to write. One receives so many impressions that it is impossible to digest them all and collect one's thoughts.

I am trying to understand this architecture. In Culm, in West Prussia, I saw last year in the marketplace such a curious City Hall that I could not reconcile it in my mind; now I understand that it is Moscovite architecture. The Knights of the Sword of Liefland were in intimate connection with the German Knights in Prussia, and one of their architects may have repeated on the Vistula what he had seen on the Moskwa.

The fountains here remind one of the East; little, round covered houses on the principal squares, which are constantly surrounded by men and beasts supplying themselves with water. At first they seem rude and awkward when compared with the fine style, the rich sculpture, the golden railings, and the perforated marble walls of the Tschesmas of Constantinople. There are here, as in the mosques, swarms of doves that are so bold that they scarcely leave room for carriages and foot-passengers. They are often chased out of the shops like a brood of chickens, and they go everywhere for food. No one does them any harm, and the Russians think it a sin to eat them. The Gostinoy Dwor (the merchants' court) is especially a repetition of the Oriental Tschurchi. One booth is next to the other, and the narrow passages that separate them are covered; therefore the same dim light and the same smell of leather and spices exist as at the Missir, or Egyptian market, in Constantinople. The wares here, however, are mostly European, and cheaper at home, so that we are not much tempted to buy.

If I had my choice, I would rather live in Moscow than in St. Petersburg.

Peter the Great found an island without any seacoast. He could look upon the Black Sea or the Baltic as a communication with the civilized world; but one or the other must first be conquered. The hot-headed King of Sweden pressed him to a Northern war, and, besides, the Southern Sea was inhabited by barbarians. His original intention, it is said, was to build his new capital on the Pontus, and that he even had selected the spot. The one coast, indeed, is not much farther from the centre of the empire than the other.

How would it have been had he built his St. Petersburg on the beautiful harbor of Sebastopol, close to the paradisiac heights of the Tschadyr Dagh, where the grape grows wild and everything flourishes in the open air that is forced through a greenhouse on the Neva; where no floods threaten destruction; where the navy is not frozen fast during seven months of the year; and where steam power makes an easier communication with the most beautiful countries of Europe than the Gulf of Finland does?

What a city would St. Petersburg have been, did her wide streets extend to Balaklava and did the Winter Palace face the deep blue mirror of the Black Sea; if the Isaac Church stood at the height of Malakoff; if Aluschta and Orianda were the Peterhof and Gatschina[43] of the Imperial family!



THE PEACE MOVEMENT

TRANSLATED BY EDMUND VON MACH, PH.D.

[Professor Bluntschli had sent the manual of the Institute of International Law to Count Moltke, and expressed the hope, in a letter dated November 19, 1880, that it would meet with his approval. Count Moltke replied as follows:]

My dear Professor:

You have been good enough to send me the manual published by the Institute of International Law, and you ask for my approval. In the first place, I fully recognize your humane endeavors to lessen the sufferings which war brings in its train.

Eternal peace, however, is a dream, and not even a beautiful dream, for war is part of God's scheme of the world. In war the noblest virtues of man develop courage and renunciation, the sense of duty and abnegation, and all at the risk of his life. Without war the world would be swallowed up in the morass of materialism.

With the principle stated in the preface, that the gradual advance of civilization should be reflected in the conduct of war, I fully agree; but I go further, and believe that civilization alone, and no codified laws of warfare, can have the desired result.

Every law necessitates an authority to watch over it and to direct its execution, but there is no power which can enforce obedience to international agreements. Which third state will take up arms because one—or both—of two powers at war with each other have broken the loi de la guerre? The human judge is lacking. In these matters we can hope for success only from the religious and moral education of the individuals, and the honor and sense of right of the leaders, who make their own laws and act according to them, at least to the extent to which the abnormal conditions of war permit it.

Nobody, I think, can deny that the general softening of men's manners has been followed by a more humane way of waging war.

Compare, if you will, the coarseness of the Thirty Years' War with the battles of recent dates.

The introduction in our generation of universal service in the army has marked a long step in the direction of the desired aim, for it has brought also the educated classes into the army. Some rough and violent elements have survived, it is true, but the army no longer consists of them exclusively.

The governments, moreover, have two means at hand to prevent the worst excesses. A strong discipline, practiced and perfected in times of peace, and a commissariat equipped to provide for the troops in the field.

Without careful provision, discipline itself can be only moderately well enforced. The soldier who suffers pain and hunger, fatigue and danger, cannot take merely en proportion avec les ressources du pays, but he must take whatever he needs. You must not ask of him superhuman things.

The greatest blessing in war is its speedy termination, and to this end all means must be permitted which are not downright criminal. I cannot at all give my approval to the Declaration de St. Petersbourg, that "the weakening of the hostile army" is the only justifiable procedure in war. On the contrary, all resources of the hostile government must be attacked—its finances, railways, provisions, and even its prestige.

The last war against France was waged in this way, and yet with greater moderation than any earlier war. The campaign was decided after two months; and fierceness became characteristic of the fighting only when a revolutionary government continued the war through four more months, to the detriment of the country.

I am glad to acknowledge that your manual, with its clear and short sentences, does greater justice than former attempts to what is needed in war. But even the acceptance of your regulations by the governments would not ensure their observance. It has long been a universally accepted rule of warfare that no messenger of peace should be shot at. But in the last campaign we frequently saw this done.

No paragraph learned by heart will convince the soldier that the unorganized natives who spontanement (that is, of their own free will) take up arms and threaten his life every moment of the day and night should be recognized as lawful opponents.

Certain requests of the manual, I fear, cannot be put in force. The identification, for instance, of the dead after a big battle. Others are subject to doubt, unless you insert "lorsque les circonstances le permettent, s'il se peut, si possible, s'il-y-a necessite," or the like. This will give them that elasticity without which the bitter severity of actual warfare will break through all restrictions.

In war, where everything must be treated individually, only those regulations will work well which are primarily addressed to the leaders. This includes everything that your manual has to say concerning the wounded and the sick, the physicians and their medicines. The general recognition of these principles, and also of those which have to do with the prisoners of war, would mark a notable step in advance and bring us nearer the end which the Institute of International Law is pursuing with such admirable perseverance.

Very respectfully,

COUNT MOLTKE.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 38: From Count Moltke's Letters from Russia, permission Harper & Brothers, New York.]

[Footnote 39: Kopecks are equal to about one cent each.]

[Footnote 40: A part of the castle in Marienburg, Prussia, containing the hall where the knights of the German order, "Deutsche Ritter," held their conclaves; also the hall itself, one of the showplaces of Eastern Prussia.—TRANSLATOR.]

[Footnote 41: A whip with short handle and long thong.—TRANSLATOR.]

[Footnote 42: Militia of the Emperor, but differently constituted from the American militia or Prussian Landwehr.—TRANSLATOR.]

[Footnote 43: One of the summer palaces of the Emperor.]



FIGHTING ON THE FRONTIER[44]

TRANSLATED BY CLARA BELL AND HENRY W. FISCHER

PREPARATIONS FOR WAR

The days are gone by when, for dynastical ends, small armies of professional soldiers went to war to conquer a city, or a province, and then sought winter quarters or made peace. The wars of the present day call whole nations to arms, there is scarcely a family that does not suffer by them. The entire financial resources of the State are appropriated to the purpose, and the different seasons of the year have no bearing on the unceasing progress of hostilities. As long as nations continue independent of each other there will be disagreements that can only be settled by force of arms; but, in the interest of humanity, it is to be hoped that wars will become less frequent, as they have become more terrible.

Generally speaking, it is no longer the ambition of monarchs which endangers peace; the passions of the people, its dissatisfaction with interior conditions and affairs, the strife of parties, and the intrigues of their leaders are the causes. A declaration of war, so serious in its consequences, is more easily carried by a large assembly, of which none of the members bears the sole responsibility, than by a single man, however high his position; and a peace-loving sovereign is less rare than a parliament composed of wise men. The great wars of the present day have been declared against the wish and will of the reigning powers. Now-a-days the Bourse has assumed such influence that it has the power to call armies into the field merely to protect its interests. Mexico and Egypt have been swamped with European armies simply to satisfy the demands of the haute finance. Today the question, "Is a nation strong enough to make war?" is of less importance than that, "Is its Government powerful enough to prevent war?" Thus, united Germany has, up to now, used her strength only to maintain European peace; a weak Government at the head of our neighboring State must, on the other hand, be regarded in the light of a standing menace to peace.

The war of 1870-71 arose from just such relations. A Napoleon on the throne of France was bound to establish his rights by political and military success. Only for a time did the victories won by French arms in distant countries give general satisfaction; the triumphs of the Prussian armies excited jealousy, they were regarded as arrogant, as a challenge; and the French demanded revenge for Sadowa. The liberal spirit of the epoch was opposed to the autocratic Government of the Emperor; he was forced to make concessions, his civil authority was weakened, and one fine day the nation was informed by its representatives that it desired war with Germany.

PREPARATIONS FOR THE WAR

The wars carried on by France on the other side of the ocean, simply for financial ends, had consumed immense sums and had undermined the discipline of the army. The French were by no means archiprets for a great war, but the Spanish succession to the throne, nevertheless, had to serve as a pretext to declare it. The French Reserves were called to arms July 15th, and only four days later the French declaration of war was handed in at Berlin, as though this were an opportunity not to be lost.



One Division was ordered to the Spanish frontier as a corps of observation; only such troops as were absolutely necessary were left in Algiers and in Civita Vecchia; Paris and Lyons were sufficiently garrisoned. The entire remainder of the army: 332 battalions, 220 squadrons, 924 cannon, in all about 300,000 men, formed the army of the Rhine. This was divided into eight Corps, which, at any rate in the first instance, were to be directed by one central head, without any kind of intervention. The Imperator himself was the only person to assume this difficult task; Marshal Bazaine was to command the army as it assembled, until the Emperor's arrival.

It is very probable that the French were counting on the old dissensions of the German races. True, they dared not look upon the South Germans as allies, but they hoped to reduce them to inactivity by an early victory, or even to win them over to their side. Prussia was a powerful antagonist even when isolated, and her army more numerous than that of the French, but this advantage might be counterbalanced by rapidity of action.

The French plan of campaign was indeed based on the delivery of unforeseen attacks. The strong fleets of war and transport ships were to be utilized to land a considerable force in Northern Prussia, and there engage a part of the Prussian troops, while the main body of the army, it was supposed, would await the French attack behind the fortresses on the Rhine. The French intended to cross the Rhine at once, at and below Strassburg, thus avoiding the great fortresses; and also, at the start, preventing the South-German army, which was destined to defend the Black Forest, from uniting with the North-Germans. To execute this plan it would have been imperative to assemble the main forces of the French army in Alsace. Railway accommodation, however, was so inadequate that in the first instance it was only possible to carry 100,000 men to Strassburg; 150,000 had to leave the railways near Metz, and remain there till they could be moved up. Fifty thousand men were encamped at Chalons as reserves, 115 battalions were ready to march as soon as the National Guard had taken their places in the interior. The various corps were distributed as follows:

Imperial Guard, General Bourbaki—Nancy.

Ist Corps, Marshal MacMahon—Strassburg.

IId Corps, General Frossard—St. Avold.

IIId Corps, Marshal Bazaine—Metz.

IVth Corps, General Ladmirault—Diedenhofen.

Vth Corps, General Failly—Bitsch.

VIth Corps, Marshal Canrobert—Chalons.

VIIth Corps, General Felix Douay—Belfort.

Thus there were only two Corps in Alsace, and five on the Moselle; and, on the day of the declaration of war, one of these, the IId Corps, was pushed forward close to the German frontier, near St. Avold and Forbach. This IId Corps, however, received instructions not to engage in any serious conflict.

The regiments had marched out of quarters incomplete as to numbers, and insufficiently equipped. Meanwhile the reserves called out to fill their place had choked the railway traffic; they crowded the depots, and filled the railway stations.

The progress to their destination was delayed, for it was often unknown at the railway stations where the regiments to which the reserves were to be sent were at the time encamped. When they at last joined they were without the most necessary articles of equipment. The Corps and Divisions had no artillery or baggage, no ambulances, and only a very insufficient number of officers. No magazines had been established beforehand, and the troops were to depend on the fortresses. These were but ill-supplied, for in the assured expectation that the armies would be almost immediately sent on into the enemy's country they had been neglected.

In the same way the Staff-officers had been provided with maps of Germany, but not of their own provinces. The Ministry of War in Paris was inundated with claims, protestations, and expostulations, and finally it was left to the troops to help themselves as best they could. On se debrouillera was the hope of the authorities.

When the Emperor arrived at Metz, a week after the declaration of war, the regiments were not yet complete, and it was not even exactly known where whole Divisions were at that time encamped. The Emperor ordered the troops to advance, but his Marshals declared that the condition of the troops made this impossible for the time being.

It was gradually dawning upon them that, instead of attacking the enemy in his country, they would have to defend their own. Rumor had it, that a strong army of the enemy had assembled between Mayence and Coblentz; instead of sending reinforcements from Metz to Strassburg, they were ordered to proceed from the Rhine to the Saar. The determination to invade South Germany was already abandoned; the fleet had sailed round, but without any troops to land.

Germany had been surprised by the declaration of war, but she was not unprepared. The possibility of such an event had been foreseen.

When Austria had separated her interests from those of the other German states, Prussia undertook the sole leadership, and paved the way to more intimate relations with the South-German states. The idea of national unification had been revived, and found an echo in the patriotic sentiments of the entire people.

The means of mobilizing the North-German army had been reviewed year by year, in view of any changes in the military or political situation, by the Staff, in conjunction with the Ministry of War. Every branch of the administration throughout the country had been kept informed of all it ought to know of these matters. The Berlin authorities had likewise come to a confidential understanding with the army chiefs of the South-German states on all important points. It had been conceded that Prussia was not to be reckoned on for the defence of any particular point, as the Black Forest, for instance; and it was decided that the best way of protecting South Germany would be by an incursion into Alsace across the central part of the Rhine; which could be backed up by the main force assembled at that point.

The fact that the Governments of Bavaria, Wuertemberg, Baden, and Hesse, denuding their own countries as it were, were ready to place their contingents under the command of King William proves their entire confidence in the Prussian generals.

As soon as this understanding was arrived at the other preparations could be made. The orders for marching, and traveling by rail or boat, were worked out for each division of the army, together with the most minute directions as to their different starting points, the day and hour of departure, the duration of the journey, the refreshment stations, and place of destination. At the meeting-point cantonments were assigned to each Corps and Division, stores and magazines were established; and thus, when war was declared, it needed only the Royal signature to set the entire apparatus in motion with undisturbed precision. There was nothing to be changed in the directions originally given; it sufficed to carry out the plans prearranged and prepared.

The mobilized forces were divided into three independent armies on a basis worked out by the general of the Prussian staff.

The First Army, under the command of General von Steinmetz, consisted of the VIIth and VIIIth Corps, and one division of cavalry; 60,000 men all told. It was ordered to encamp at Wittlich and form the right wing.

The Second Army, under the command of Prince Frederick Charles, was 131,000 strong, and constituted the central army. It consisted of the IIId, IVth, and Xth Corps of Guards, and two divisions of cavalry. Its meeting-point was in the vicinity of Homburg and Neunkirchen. The Third Army, under the command of the Crown Prince of Prussia, was to form the left wing, near Landau and Rastat, a strength of about 130,000 men. It consisted of the Vth and XIth Prussian, and the Ist and IId Bavarian Corps, the Wuertemberg and the Baden Field Divisions, and one division of cavalry.

The IXth Corps, consisting of the 18th and the Hesse divisions, was united with the XIIth Royal Saxon Corps to form a reserve of 60,000 men, and was encamped before Mayence, to reinforce the Second Army, which was thus brought up to the strength of 194,000 men.

The three armies combined numbered 384,000 men.

There were still the Ist, IId, and IVth Corps, 100,000 men; but they were not at first included, as the means of railway transport were engaged for twenty-one days.

The 17th Division and the Landwehr troops were told off to defend the coast. During the night of July 16th the Royal order for the mobilization of the army was issued, and when His Majesty arrived in Mayence, a fortnight later, he found 300,000 men assembled on and in front of the Rhine.

In his plan of war, submitted by the Chief of the General Staff, and accepted by the King, that officer had his eye fixed, from the first, upon the capture of the enemy's capital, the possession of which is of more importance in France than in other countries. On the way thither the hostile forces were to be driven as persistently as possible back from the fertile southern states into the narrower tract on the north.

But above all the plan of war was based on the resolve to attack the enemy at once, wherever found, and keep the German forces so compact that a superior force could always be brought into the field. By whatever special means these plans were to be accomplished was left to the decision of the hour; the advance to the frontiers alone was preordained in every detail.

It is a delusion to believe that a plan of war may be laid for a prolonged period and carried out in every point. The first collision with the enemy changes the situation entirely, according to the result. Some things decided upon will be impracticable; others, which originally seemed impossible, become feasible. All that the leader of an army can do is to get a clear view of the circumstances, to decide for the best for an unknown period, and carry out his purpose unflinchingly.

The departure of the French troops to the frontier, before they were thoroughly prepared for service in the field, which is a very serious step to take, was evidently ordered for the purpose of surprising the German army, with the forces immediately at command, and thus interfering with the formation of their advance. But, in spite of this, the German commanders did not deviate from their purpose of massing their armies on the Rhine and crossing that river. The railway transport of the troops of the IId and IIId Corps, however, was to end at the Rhine; thence they were to march on foot into the cantonments prepared on the left bank of the river. They moved in echelon, advancing only so many at a time as would make room for the Division behind them, as far as the line marked by the towns of Bingen, Duerkheim, and Landau.

The final advance towards the frontier was not to be undertaken until the Divisions and Corps were all collected, and provided with the all-necessary baggage train; and then proceed in a state of readiness to confront the enemy at any moment.

The assembling of the First Army appeared to be less threatened, as its route lay through neutral territory, and was protected by the garrisons of Treves, Saarlouis, and Saarbruecken, the German outposts on the Saar.

The First Army, 50,000 strong, was concentrated at Wadern, in the first days of August. The Second Army, which meanwhile had been increased to a strength of 194,000 men, had pushed forward its cantonments to Alsenz-Guennstadt, at the termination of the Haardt Mountains, a position which had been thoroughly reconnoitered by an officer of the Staff, and where the troops might boldly await an attack.

The 5th and 6th Cavalry Divisions were reconnoitering the country in front. The regiments and squadrons of the Third Army were still gathering on both banks of the Rhine.

The French so far had made no serious attempt at Saarbruecken; Lieutenant-Colonel Pestel was able to successfully withstand their petty attacks with one battalion and three squadrons of cavalry.

It had meanwhile been observed that the French were moving further to the right, toward Forbach and Bitsch, which seemed to indicate that the two French Corps, known to be drawn up at Belfort and Strassburg, might purpose crossing the Rhine and marching on the Black Forest. It was therefore of very great importance to set the Third Army moving at the earliest opportunity, first to protect the right bank of the Upper Rhine by an advance on the left; secondly to cover the progress of the Second Army towards that point.

A telegraphic order to that effect was dispatched on the evening of July 30th, but the General in command of the Third Army Corps desired to wait for the arrival of the Fourth and its baggage train. In spite of this hesitancy the Second Army was ordered to proceed towards the Saar, where the French were showing much uneasiness.

The time had gone by when they might have taken advantage of their over-hasty mobilization; the condition of the men had prohibited any action. France was waiting for news of a victory; something had to be done to appease public impatience, so, in order to do something, the enemy resolved (as is usual under such circumstances) on a hostile reconnoissance, and, it may be added, with the usual result.

On August 2d three entire Divisions were sent forward against three battalions, four squadrons, and one battery in Saarbruecken. The Emperor himself and the Prince Imperial watched the operations. The IIId Corps advanced on Voelklingen, the Vth on Saargemuend, the IId on Saarbruecken.

The Germans evacuated Saarbruecken after a gallant defence and repeated sorties, but the French did not cross the Saar. They may have convinced themselves that they had wasted their strength by hitting in the air, and had gained no information as to the resources and position of the enemy.

After this the French generals hesitated for a long while between contrary resolutions. Orders were given and recalled on the strength of mere rumors. The left wing was reinforced on account of a current story that 40,000 Prussians had marched through Treves, the Guards received contradictory orders, and, when a small German force showed itself at Loerrach in the Black Forest, it was at once decreed that the VIIth Corps must remain in Alsace. Thus the French forces were spread over the wide area between the Nied and the Upper Rhine, while the Germans were advancing in compact masses on the Saar.

This scattered state of the army finally induced the French leaders to divide their forces into two distinct armies. Marshal MacMahon took provisional command of the Ist, VIIth, and Vth Corps, the latter being withdrawn from Bitsch. The other Divisions were placed under Marshal Bazaine, with the exception of the Guards, the command of which the Emperor reserved to himself.

It had now become a pressing necessity to protect the left wing of the advancing Second German Army against the French forces in Alsace; the Third Army was therefore ordered to cross the frontier on August 4th, without waiting any longer for the batteries to come up. The First Army, forming the right wing, was already encamped near Wadern and Losheim, three or four days' march nearer to the Saar than the Second Army in the centre. They were ordered to concentrate in the neighborhood of Tholey and there await further orders. In the first place this, the weakest of the two Divisions, was not to be exposed single-handed to an attack of the enemy's main force; and, secondly, it was to be used for a flank-movement in case the Second Army should meet the enemy on emerging from the forests of the Palatinate.

To execute this order, the First Army had to extend its cantonments in a southerly direction as far as the line of march of the Second Army, and evacuate its quarters near Ottweiler. This was a difficult matter to accomplish, as all the towns and villages to the north were billeted, and quarters had also to be found for the Ist Corps, now advancing by the Birkenfeld route. General von Steinmetz therefore decided to march his entire forces in the direction of Saarlouis and Saarbruecken. The Second Army had assembled, and was ready for action on August 4th, and received orders to take the field on the farther side of the wooded zone of Kaiserslautern.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 44: From The Franco-German War of 1870-71. Permission Harper & Brothers, New York and London.]



BATTLE OF GRAVELOTTE—ST. PRIVAT[45]

August 18th

TRANSLATED BY CLARA BELL AND HENRY W. FISCHER

Marshal Bazaine had not thought it advisable to proceed to Verdun now that the Germans were so close on the flank of such a movement. He preferred to assemble his forces at Metz, in a position which he rightly supposed to be almost impregnable.

Such a position was afforded by the range of hills, bordering on the west of the valley of Chatel. That side facing the enemy sloped away like a glacis, while the short and steep decline behind offered protection for the reserves. The IId, IIId, IVth and VIth Corps were placed on the ridge of the hills between Roncourt and Rozereuilles, a distance of one mile and a half (German); thus there were eight or ten men to every yard of ground.

A brigade of the Vth Corps stood at Ste.-Ruffine in the valley of the Moselle, the cavalry in the rear of the two wings.

The positions of the IId and IIId Corps were hastily entrenched, batteries and covered ways were established, and the farmhouses in front prepared for defense. To approach this left wing from the west it was necessary to cross the deep valley of the Mance. The VIth Corps on the other hand had no engineering tools; and it is indicative of the general ill-equipment of the French that, merely to convey the wounded to the rear, in spite of the enormous baggage-train, provision wagons had to be unloaded and their contents burnt. This Corps was therefore unable to construct such defenses on the side overlooking the forest of Jaumont as were necessary to strengthen the right wing. This would undoubtedly have been the place for the Guards, but in his fear of an attack from the south, Marshal Bazaine kept them in reserve at Plappeville.

The King again arrived at Flavigny at six o'clock on the morning of the 18th. All officers in command were ordered to report directly to headquarters, and Staff-officers of Army Headquarters were despatched in all directions to watch the progress of the engagement.

The VIIth army Corps, forming the pivot upon which the intended wheel to the right was to be effected, occupied the Bois de Vaux and Bois des Ognons; the 8th, under the personal command of the King, halted at Rezonville, ready to proceed to the north or east, as might be required. The IXth Corps, on its left, advanced toward the Marcel, while the IIId and Xth formed the second line. The Guards and XIIth Corps moved in a northerly direction.

A serious delay occurred when the XIIth Corps of the Second Army, which was stationed on the right, was commanded to form the left wing, by the crossing of the two on the march. The Saxon troops did not get through Mars-la-Tour until nine o'clock, and till then the Guards could not follow.

The advanced guard of the XIIth Corps had meanwhile reached Jarny, and proceeded as far as Briey without encountering the enemy.

Before this could be known, the authorities at headquarters had been convinced that at least the main forces of the enemy were still at Metz; misapprehension, however, prevailed as to the extension of their lines, and it was thought the French front did not reach beyond Montigny. The general in command of the Second Army was therefore instructed not to proceed further northward, but to join the IXth Corps in attacking the enemy's right wing, and move in the direction of Batilly with the Guards and the XIIth Corps. The First Army was not to attack in the front until the Second was ready to strike.

In obedience to this, Prince Frederick Charles ordered the IXth Corps to march on to Verneville, and, in case the French right wing should be found there, to open battle by bringing a large force of artillery into action. The Guards were to continue their advance via Doncourt to reinforce the IXth as soon as possible. The XIIth was to remain at Jarny for the present.

A little later fresh reports came in which indicated that the IXth Corps, if proceeding in the manner ordered, would come upon the French centre, instead of their right wing. The Prince therefore determined that the Corps should postpone the attack till the Guards had done so at Amanvillers. At the same time the XIIth Corps was pushed on to Ste.-Marie-aux-Chenes.

But, while these orders were being given, the first heavy firing was heard at Verneville. This was at twelve o 'clock.

The two Corps on the left had, of their own accord, taken an easterly direction without waiting for orders, and the IId Corps moved up behind the IXth at the farm of Caulre.

General von Manstein, in command of the IXth, had observed from near Verneville a French encampment at Amanvillers, apparently in a state of quietude. From that point of view the great masses of troops on their immediate left at St.-Privat were not visible. Mistaking this camp for the right wing, he determined to act on his first orders and take the foe by surprise. Eight of his batteries at once opened fire.

But it did not take the French troops long to move into the position assigned to them. The independent action of a single Corps naturally exposed it not only to the fire of the troops opposite, but to an attack in flank.

To obtain some shelter on the field, the Prussian batteries had taken up a position on the shoulder of the hill below Amanvillers facing the southeast, where they were exposed from the north, on the flank, and even in the rear to the fire of French artillery, as well as to the concentrated fire of their infantry.

To meet this, the battalions nearest at hand were ordered forward. They took possession of the eastern point of the Bois de la Cusse on the left, and on the right seized the farmhouses of L'Envie and Chantrenne, forcing their way into the Bois des Genivaux. Thus the line of battle of the 18th Division gained a front of 4,000 paces.

Its losses were very great, for the French with their long-range Chassepot rifles could afford to keep out of range of the needle-gun; the artillery especially suffered severely. One of the batteries had already lost forty-five gunners when it was attacked by French sharpshooters. There was no infantry at hand to retaliate, and two guns were lost. By two o'clock all the batteries were almost hors-de-combat, and no relief arrived till the Hessian Division reached Habonville, and brought up five batteries on either side of the railway, thus diverting on themselves the concentrated fire of the enemy. The batteries of the 18th Division, which had suffered most, could now be withdrawn in succession, but even in their retreat they had to defend themselves against their pursuers by grapeshot.

The artillery of the IIId Corps and the Guards were likewise sent to the assistance of the IXth, and those of the damaged guns which were still fit for service were at once brought into line. Thus a front of 130 guns was drawn up before Verneville as far as St.-Ail, and its fire soon told upon the enemy. Now, when the IIId Corps was approaching Verneville and the 3d Brigade of Guards had reached Habonville, there was no fear that the French would break through the line.

The main force of the Guards had arrived at St.-Ail as early as two o'clock. General von Pape at once saw that by wheeling to the east he would not encounter the right wing of the French, which was to be out-flanked, but would expose his own left wing to the forces occupying Ste.-Marie-aux-Chenes. The first thing to be done was to gain possession of this village—almost a town. It was strongly occupied and well flanked by the main position of the French army; but, in obedience to superior orders, he must await the arrival of a cooeperative Saxon contingent.

The advance guard of this Corps had already reached the vicinity of Batilly, but was yet half a mile distant from Ste.-Marie, so its batteries could not be placed in position west of the town until three o'clock. But, as the Guards had sent most of their own artillery to the support of the IXth Corps, this was substantial aid.

Ten batteries now opened fire upon Ste.-Marie, and by the time it was beginning to tell the 47th Brigade of the XIIth Corps came up. At half-past three the Prussian and Saxon battalions stormed the town from the south and west and north, amid vociferous cheers, and without further returning the fire of the enemy. The French were driven from the place, and a few hundred were taken prisoners.

The Saxons tried to follow them up, and a lively infantry engagement ensued, north of Ste.-Marie, which masked the artillery. As soon as the brigade had been ordered to retire, the batteries reopened fire, and the repeated efforts of the French to regain the lost position were frustrated.

Soon afterwards the IXth Corps succeeded in taking and holding the farm of Champenois, but all further attempts, by isolated battalions or companies, to force their way on against the broad and compact centre of the French were, on the face of it, futile. Thus, by about five o'clock, the infantry ceased fire, and the artillery only fired an occasional shot. Fatigue on both sides caused an almost total suspension of hostilities in this part of the field.

The Commander-in-Chief decided that the First Army should not engage in serious assault until the Second stood close to the enemy; but when the day was half-spent and brisk firing was heard about noon from Vionville, it was to be supposed that the time for action had arrived; still, for the present permission was only given to send forward the artillery in preparation for the fight. Sixteen batteries of the VIIth and VIIIth Corps accordingly drew up to right and left of the highway running through Gravelotte. Their fire was ineffective, as they were too far from the enemy; besides they were suffering from the fire of the French tirailleurs, who had established themselves in the opposite woods. It became necessary to drive them out, so here again there was a sharp skirmish. The French had to abandon the eastern portion of the Mance valley, and the artillery, now increased to twenty batteries, was able to advance to the western ridge and direct its fire against the main position of the enemy.

The battalions of the 29th Brigade followed up this advantage. They pressed forward into the southern part of the Bois des Genivaux on the left, but were unable to effect a connection with the IXth Corps, occupying the north of the forest, as the French could not be driven from the intervening ground. On the right, various detachments took possession of the quarries and gravel-pits near St.-Hubert.

The artillery meanwhile had got the better of the French guns; several of their batteries were silenced, others prevented from getting into position. The French fire was in part directed on the farm of St.-Hubert, on which the 30th Brigade were gradually encroaching. This well-defended structure was stormed at three o'clock, close under the face of the enemy's main position, and in spite of a tremendous fire. The 31st Brigade had also got across the valley, but an attempt to reach the farms of Moscow and Leipzig, over the open plain enclosed by the enemy on three sides, proved a failure and resulted in great loss. The 26th Brigade had taken possession of Jussy, on the extreme right, thus maintaining the connection with Metz, but found it impossible to cross the deep valley of Rozerieulles.

The advanced detachments of the French had been repulsed on all sides, the farms in their front were burning, their artillery appeared to be silenced, and, viewing the situation from Gravelotte, there remained nothing but pursuit. General von Steinmetz, therefore, at four o'clock, ordered fresh forces to the front for a renewed attack.

While the VIIth Corps occupied the border of the wood, four batteries, backed by the 1st Cavalry Division, made their way through the narrow ravine extending for about 1,500 paces east of Gravelotte. But as soon as the advanced guard of the long column came in sight, the French redoubled their rifle and artillery fire, which had till now been kept under. One battery had soon lost the men serving four of its guns, and was hardly able to return into the wood; a second never even got into position. The batteries under Hesse and Gnuegge, on the other hand, held their own at St.-Hubert in spite of the loss of seventy-five horses and of the firing from the quarries in their rear.

The foremost regiment of cavalry wheeled to the right after leaving the hollow way, and galloped toward Point-du-Jour, but the enemy, being completely under cover, offered no opportunity for an attack. Evidently this was no field for utilizing the cavalry, so the regiments retired through the Mance valley under a heavy fire from all sides.

This ill-success of the Germans encouraged the French to advance from Point-du-Jour with swarms of tirailleurs, who succeeded in driving the Prussians back from the open ground as far as the skirts of the wood. The bullets of the Chassepots even reached the hill where the Commander-in-Chief was watching the battle, and Prince Adalbert's horse was shot under him.

Fresh forces were now at hand and drove the enemy back to his main position. St.-Hubert had remained in the hands of the Germans; and though the survivors there were only sufficient to serve one gun, still every attempt to cross the exposed plateau proved a failure. Thus hostilities ceased at this point also, at about five o'clock in the afternoon, allowing the weary troops on both sides to take breath and reorganize.

King William and his staff rode over to the hill on the south of Malmaison at about the same hour, but could see nothing of the situation of the left wing, which was more than a mile away. The French artillery had ceased firing along the centre, from La Folie to Point-du-Jour; but to the northward the thunder of artillery was louder than ever. It was six o'clock, the day was nearly at an end, and decided action must at once be taken. The King therefore ordered the First Army to advance once more, and for that purpose placed the IId Corps, just arrived after a long march, under the command of General von Steinmetz.

Those battalions of VII Corps which could still do good service, except five, which were kept in reserve, were again sent up the Mance valley, and the battalions from the Bois de Vaux came to their support toward Point-du-Jour and the quarries. The IId Corps of the French Army thus attacked was now reinforced by Guard Voltigeur Division. All the reserves were brought to the front. The artillery was more rapidly served, and a destructive musketry fire was directed on the advancing enemy. Then the French on their side made an attack. A strong body of riflemen dispersed the smaller parties which were lying in the open, destitute of commanders, and drove them back to the wood. There, however, their advance was checked, and there was still another Army Corps ready for action.

The IId Corps, the last to come up by rail to the seat of war, had up to this time followed in the wake of the army by forced marches, but had not yet fought in any engagement. It had started from Point-a-Mousson at 2 p.m. and, taking the road by Buxieres and Rezonville, arrived south of Gravelotte in the evening. The Pomeranians were eager to get at the enemy without delay.

It would have been better if the Chief of the Staff, who was personally on the field at the time, had not allowed this movement at so late an hour. A body of troops, still completely intact, might have been of great value the next day; it was not likely this evening to affect the issue.

Rushing out of Gravelotte, the foremost battalions of the IId Corps pushed forward to the quarries, and up to within a few hundred paces of Point-du-Jour; but those following were soon entangled in the turmoil of the troops under fire south of St.-Hubert, and any further advance toward Moscow was arrested. Darkness was falling, and friend became indistinguishable from foe. So the firing was stopped; but not until ten o'clock did it entirely cease.

The advance of the IId Corps resulted in some good, however, for these fresh troops could occupy the fighting-line for the night, while the mixed companies of the VIIth and VIIIth Corps were enabled to re-form in their rear.

The whole course of the engagement had conclusively proved that the position of the French left wing, made almost impregnable by nature and art, could not be shaken even by the most devoted bravery and the greatest sacrifices. Both parties were now facing each other in threatening proximity, and both fully able to reopen battle next morning. The success of the day must depend on events at the other end of the French line.

The Prince of Wurtemburg, standing at Ail, believed that the hour had come for an attack on the French right at about a quarter-past five; but that wing extended much further north than the line of his Guards, further, indeed, than the French Commander-in-Chief himself was aware of. Though the Saxons had participated in the capture of Ste.-Marie-aux-Chenes, the Crown Prince deemed it necessary to assemble his Corps at the Bois d'Auboue, to attack the enemy in flank. One of the brigades had to come from Jarny, and one from Ste.-Marie; so, as the Corps was late in getting away from Mars-la-Tour, it was not expected to be on the field for some hours yet.

The 4th Brigade of Foot Guards, in obedience to orders, proceeded in the direction of Jerusalem, immediately south of St.-Privat. As soon as General von Manstein, in command of the IXth Corps, observed this, he ordered the 3d Brigade of Guards, which had been placed at his orders, to advance from Habonville toward Amanvillers.

Between these two brigades marched the Hessians, but it was not till half an hour later that the First Division of Guards joined from Ste.-Marie, marching on St.-Privat, on the left of the Second. This attack was directed against the broad front of the French IVth and VIth Corps. Their fortified positions at St.-Privat and Amanvillers had as yet hardly felt the fire of the German batteries, which had found sufficient employment in replying to the enemy's artillery outside the villages.

Several ranks of riflemen, one above the other, were placed in front of the French main position, on the hedges and fences in a slope up the ridge. At their back towered St.-Privat, castle-like, with its massive buildings, which were crowded by soldiers to the very roof. The open plain in front was thus exposed to an overwhelming shower of projectiles.

The losses of the attacking Guards were, in fact, enormous. In the course of half an hour five battalions lost all, the others the greater part of their officers, especially those of the higher grades. Thousands of dead and wounded marked the track of the troops, who, in spite of their losses, pressed forward. The ranks, as fast as they were thinned, closed up again, and their compact formation was not broken even under the leadership of young lieutenants and ensigns. As they got nearer to the enemy the needle-gun did good service. The French were driven from all their foremost positions, where, for the most part, they did not await the final struggle. By a quarter-past six the battalions had advanced to within 600 to 800 paces of Amanvillers and St.-Privat. The troops, weary from long combat, halted under the steeper slopes offering some, though small, protection, and in the trenches just abandoned by the enemy. Only four battalions now remained in reserve at Ste.-Marie, behind the German line, which now extended to a length of 4,000 paces. Every charge of the French cavalry and of Cissy's Division had been persistently repelled with the aid of twelve batteries of the Guards which had now put in an appearance; but the German troops, reduced, as they were, by untold losses, had to face two French Corps for thirty minutes longer before reinforcements came to their aid.

It was nearly seven o'clock when, to the left of the Guards, two brigades of the Saxon infantry arrived on the field; the other two were still assembling in the forest of Auboue; their artillery, however, had for some time kept up a lively fire on Roncourt.