Jitschen, not Gitschin, 2d July, 1866.
We have just arrived from Sichrow; the battle-field here was still full of corpses, horses, and arms. Our victories are much greater than we thought; it seems we have already more than fifteen thousand prisoners, and with dead and wounded the Austrian loss is stated at a higher figure—about twenty thousand men. Two of their corps are completely dispersed, some regiments destroyed to the last man. Till now I have seen more Austrian prisoners than Prussian soldiers. Send me cigars by the courier every time—a thousand at a time, if they can be had, price twenty dollars, for the hospitals. All the wounded beg them of me. Then by clubs, or our own resources, subscribe for some dozens of Kreuzzeitungs for the hospitals—for instance, the one at Reichenberg; the other places can be learnt at the Ministry of War. What is Clermont-Tonnere about? is he not coming? I have no news by the post. Send me a revolver of wide calibre, a saddle-pistol. Charles, the coachman, is better; he will not suffer permanently, but for some time will not be fit for service. Charles B. is much to be praised; he is the active principle of our travelling household. I greet you heartily. Send me a French novel to read, but only one at a time. God keep you.
Your letter with the Homburg inclosure has just arrived; a thousand thanks. I can understand how you feel the quiet of our departure. In our hurry here one feels nothing of the position—perhaps a little in bed at night.
On the road to Jitschen, on the battle-field, Prince Frederick Charles came to meet his royal uncle. What a meeting! The Prince drove into Jitschen with the King about 2 P.M., where the King alighted at the Golden Lion. The guard of honor here consisted of Pomeranian Grenadiers of the regiment of the late King.
We are not here writing a history of the famous campaign; we will only observe that on the 2d July no battle was expected at the royal head-quarters for the next day; the King visited the wounded, and Bismarck accompanied him.
About 11 o’clock P.M. the chief of the staff of Prince Frederick Charles, General von Voigts-Rheetz, arrived in Jitschen from Kamenitz, the head-quarters of the Prince, bringing with him the plans and positions of battle, settled by the Prince in consequence of the daring reconnoissance of an officer on his staff, Major von Unger, which plans were submitted to the King. Immediately upon the arrival of General von Voigts-Rheetz the Council of War was summoned to the King, the battle dispositions of the Prince were entirely accepted, all arrangements made, and Count Finck von Finckenstein rode off on his historical ride to the army of the Crown Prince, to summon it up. The plan was exceedingly simple. Prince Frederick Charles was to throw himself on the front of the enemy, seize it, and if possible overcome it, until the Crown Prince arrived with the second army, to give the coup de grace.
Very simple—alas! how much looks simple upon paper!
On the 3d July, amidst fog and rain, Prince Frederick Charles set out to battle against the overwhelming force of the enemy: in the first dawn of the day his troops were in their assigned position. At eight the Prince began the battle. “Too early!” critical voices have said; but military authorities have said, “at the right moment!” for any longer delay would have allowed General Benedek to take up a much stronger position. The Prince bravely took the enormous responsibility on himself, and commenced the battle. At nine a ringing shout of joy announced the arrival of the King on the battle-field, and with him came Count Bismarck, the great Major of Landwehr.
Certainly it created a fine impression, to see the faithful First Councillor on the mare Veranda—since that time known as “Sadowa”—on the field of honor, “where the bullet whistles, and the lance is couched, and death is rushing round in every shape”—behind the venerable King. Whoever had seen Bismarck only under the cross-fire of the disdainful speech of a political opposition in the debates of the Chamber, firm, half-contemptuous, and mighty, had never seen him as a whole; he was seen to best advantage amidst the bullets of Sadowa. There he sat, his high form upright in the saddle, upon a very tall roan, with a plain paletot over his uniform, while his piercing eyes scanned each movement from beneath his helmet. And thus he sat and rode for hours, for momentous hours, behind his royal master, in thunder and in smoke. Behind him again the musical and gallant Legations Rath von Keudell, also an officer in the Landwehr cavalry. Noon arrived, but no decisive news from the Crown Prince. The battle went burning on, and many a brave heart feared at that time for beloved Prussia. Dark were the looks in the neighborhood of the King; old Roon, and Moltke of the bright face, sat there like two statues of bronze. It was whispered that the Prince would have to loose his Brandenburgers—his own beloved third corps, whom he had till now held in reserve; his stormers of Düppel—against the foe, which meant that he would have to set his last hazard on the die to gain the victory. Suddenly Bismarck lowered the glass through which he had been observing the country in the direction from which the Crown Prince was approaching, and drew the attention of his neighbors to certain lines in the far distance. All telescopes were pointed thitherward, but the lines were pronounced to be ploughed fields. There was a deep silence, and then the Minister-President lowered his glass again and said, decidedly, “Those are not plough furrows; the spaces are not equal; they are marching lines!” Bismarck had been the first to discover the advance of the second army. In a little while the adjutants and intelligence flew about in every direction—the Crown Prince and victory were at hand!