The King of Prussia had taken up his head-quarters in the old castle belonging to the Princes of Dietrichstein at Nickolsburg. A brilliant and changing picture was displayed in this little town, which from its quiet seclusion seemed scarcely destined to become the centre of events so important in the history of the world.
The king's guard kept watch before the castle, the troops quartered in the little town moved about the streets in changing groups, marching columns pushed in between, artillery rattled over the rough pavement, the varied sounds of the bivouac echoed from without; and all around there was life and movement.
The inhabitants stood shyly before the doors, and at the windows which they had opened again. The fear of the enemy oppressed them, but it began to be mingled with confidence; these troops belonging to the foe were not so fearful as they had imagined. Here and there a Prussian soldier was seen in his weather-stained uniform, with his great wild beard, talking to a group of peasants who had been driven into the town for shelter from the burned and wasted villages; he was giving the shy and frightened children bread or other food, or goodnaturedly offering to some weak old man, some sick or weary woman, an invigorating sip from his flask.
War was here displayed in all its brilliance, in all its dazzling grandeur; the remembrance of long days and quiet years of peace filling in the background of the picture. War was here in all its horror, destroying in one frightful moment the happiness of years, and amidst the clash of national rights and interests, unchaining the savage instincts of human nature; but here too bloomed the noblest and purest flowers of heroism and self-sacrifice.
If the good-natured cordiality of the enemy's soldiers had done much to restore the confidence of the inhabitants, it was still more confirmed by a rumour passing from mouth to mouth, that negotiations for peace had commenced. Amongst the generals and staff officers who hurried in and out of the castle, diplomatists were seen in civilian dress; it was known that the French ambassador had arrived, and that after a short reception he had travelled on to Vienna. An armistice of five days had been concluded, and peace hovered in the air, longed for by none more ardently and sincerely than by the unhappy inhabitants of the countries where the bloody drama of war was being enacted.
In the midst of all this noise, of these echoing voices, of all these signals from drums and trumpets, sat the Prussian minister-president, Count Bismarck, in the spacious room in which he was quartered.
In the middle of the room stood a table covered with a dark green cloth, and piled with heaps of letters and papers. On the floor lay opened and torn envelopes in wild confusion. A large map of the country lay spread out upon the table, and before it sat the minister-president on a plain rush-bottomed chair; on a small table beside him stood a bottle of bright golden Bohemian beer and a large glass. The window was open and let in the fresh morning air.
Count Bismarck wore the uniform of a major of his cuirassier regiment comfortably unbuttoned, long riding boots, and his sword at his side.
Baron von Keudell sat opposite to him in the uniform of the Landwehr cavalry; he was occupied in looking through some letters.
"Benedetti is long in coming," said the minister, looking up from the map, in the contemplation of which he had been engrossed for some time; "they must still be very hopeful in Vienna, or perhaps they wish to play a double game! Well! they shall not keep us halted here much longer!" he cried vehemently, filling his glass and emptying it at a single draught, "standing still here can only injure our position. Though slow, like everything else in Austria, the army of the south is advancing nearer and nearer, the cholera too begins to be troublesome. I regret," he said, after a short silence, "that the king with his usual moderation gave up the entry into Vienna; there was nothing to stop us, and Austrian arrogance might have been humbled in the capital itself. Well! if they do not soon conclude peace, I hope the patience of our most gracious sovereign will be exhausted!"