The King left Berlin July 31 to take command of the united forces. At half-past five in the afternoon the iron gates of the side entrance to the palace were flung open and the King and Queen drove out in an open carriage drawn by two horses. A roar of welcome greeted the vigorous old hero, who in military cloak and cap sat bowing acknowledgment to the rousing cheers of his enthusiastic subjects, while the Queen at his side seemed deeply affected. The royal carriage could scarcely make its way through the weeping and rejoicing throngs that swarmed about it all the way to the railway station, eager to bid farewell to their beloved sovereign and wish him a happy return. Banners floated from the roofs of houses and handkerchiefs fluttered from open windows,—a scene which was only typical of the feeling that pervaded the whole land. At the station the King’s companions were already awaiting him, his brother Prince Charles, General of Ordnance, and that great trio who had so ably assisted him in the previous war, Bismarck, von Moltke, and Minister of War van Roon, surrounded by a group of other generals. After the Queen had departed, King William entered the waiting train and moved off westward toward the seat of war, followed by the unanimous shout “With God!”
And truly God was “with King and Fatherland,” for in seemingly endless succession the telegraph brought news to the astonished people of one great victory after another. The French were wildly enthusiastic when with two entire army corps they finally forced a single Prussian battalion of infantry and three squadrons of uhlans to retreat after the latter had held out for fourteen days, and then with more than twenty guns bombarded the unprotected town of Saarbrücken; but it was to be their only occasion for rejoicing.
On the fourth of August Queen Augusta received the following message:
“A splendid but bloody victory won by Fritz at the storming of Weissenberg. God be praised for this first glorious achievement.”
The news quickly spread throughout the country, bringing joy and renewed confidence to all hearts. Two days later word came of a second victory for the Crown Prince. He had completely defeated the great Marshal MacMahon at Wörth, August 6, and King William in his despatch to his wife might with just pride send word to Berlin that “it should be in love with Victoria!”
A series of engagements followed, in the neighborhood of Metz, on the fourteenth, sixteenth, and eighteenth of August, which changed the general plans of the German army. The French Marshal Bazaine had attempted to invade the enemy’s territory from that place, but without success, while MacMahon, who had advanced from Châlons to the borders of the Palatinate and Baden, had suffered such losses at Weissenberg and Wörth that he was forced to fall back to his former position. It was therefore decided that the two French armies should unite in the neighborhood of Châlons and, thus strengthened, offer battle to the enemy. To prevent this, the Germans at once attacked Bazaine, cutting off his retreat to Châlons and occupying him until the arrival of some of their delayed corps. The manœuvre was successful, and after two days of hard fighting at Courcelles on the fourteenth, and Mars la Tour on the sixteenth, the struggle culminated two days later in the great battle of Gravelotte. It was for life or death; the desperate struggle of a brave army—the best, perhaps, that France ever sent into the field. But all in vain. Closer and closer about them drew the iron ring. German courage and tenacity permitted no escape.
At nine o’clock that evening King William sent his wife this despatch from the camp at Rezonville:
“The French army attacked to-day in strong position west of Metz. Completely defeated in nine hours’ battle, cut off from communication with Paris, and driven back towards Metz.
“William.”
In the letter that followed he says:
“It was half-past eight in the evening before the firing ceased.... Our troops accomplished wonders of bravery against an equally gallant enemy who disputed every step. I have not dared to ask what our losses are. I would have camped here, but after several hours found a room where I could rest. We brought no baggage from Pont-à-Mousson, so I have not had my clothes off for thirty hours. Thank God for our victory!”