"This time the brave grenadiers have saved us," said Roon. It was true; but for the army which he and the King had made, all the genius of Moltke and Bismarck would have been unavailing.

"Our men deserve to be kissed," wrote Bismarck to his wife. "Every man is brave to the death, quiet, obedient; with empty stomachs, wet clothes, little sleep, the soles of their boots falling off, they are friendly towards everyone; there is no plundering and burning; they pay what they are able, though they have mouldy bread to eat. There must exist a depth of piety in our common soldier or all this could not be."

Bismarck might well be proud of this practical illustration which was given of that which he so often in older days maintained. This was a true comment on the pictures of the loyalty of the Prussian people and the simple faith of the German peasants, which from his place in Parliament he had opposed to the new sceptical teaching of the Liberals. As soon as he was able he went about among the wounded; as he once said, the King of Prussia was accustomed to look into the eyes of wounded men on the field of battle and therefore would never venture on an unjust or unnecessary war, and in this Bismarck felt as the King. He writes home for cigars for distributing among the wounded. Personally he endured something of the hardships of campaigning, for in the miserable Bohemian villages there was little food and shelter to be had. He composed himself to sleep, as best he could, on a dung-heap by the roadside, until he was roused by the Prince of Mecklenburg, who had found more acceptable quarters.

It was not for long that this life, which was to him almost a welcome reminiscence of his sporting days, could continue. Diplomatic cares soon fell upon him.

Not two days had passed since the great battle, when a telegram from Napoleon was placed in the King's hands informing him that Austria had requested France's mediation, that Venetia had been surrendered to France, and inviting the King to conclude an armistice. Immediately afterwards came the news that the surrender of Venetia to France had been published in the Moniteur.

If this meant anything, it meant that Napoleon intended to stop the further progress of the Prussian army, to rescue Austria, and to dictate the terms of peace; it could not be doubted that he would be prepared to support his mediation by arms, and in a few days they might expect to hear that the French corps were being stationed on the frontier. What was to be done? Bismarck neither doubted nor hesitated; it was impossible to refuse French mediation. West Germany was almost undefended, the whole of the southern States were still unconquered; however imperfect the French military preparations might be, it was impossible to run such a risk. At his advice the King at once sent a courteous answer accepting the French proposal. He was more disposed to this because in doing so he really bound himself to nothing. He accepted the principle of French mediation; but he was still free to discuss and refuse the special terms which might be offered. He said that he was willing to accept an armistice, but it was only on condition that the preliminaries of peace were settled before hostilities ceased, and to them the King could not agree except after consultation with the King of Italy. It was a friendly answer, which cost nothing, and meanwhile the army continued to advance. An Austrian request for an armistice was refused; Vienna was now the goal; Napoleon, if he wished to stop them, must take the next move, must explain the terms of peace he wished to secure, and shew by what measures he was prepared to enforce them.

By his prompt action, Bismarck, who knew Napoleon well, hoped to escape the threatened danger. We shall see with what address he used the situation, so that the vacillation of France became to him more useful than even her faithful friendship would have been, for now he felt himself free from all ties of gratitude. Whatever services France might do to Prussia she could henceforth look to him for no voluntary recompense. Napoleon had deceived him; he would henceforward have no scruples in deceiving Napoleon. He had entered on the war relying on the friendship and neutrality of France; at the first crisis this had failed him; he never forgot and he never forgave; years later, when the news of Napoleon's death was brought to him, this was the first incident in their long connection which came into his mind.

Intercourse with Paris was slow and uncertain; the telegraph wires were often cut by the Bohemian peasants; some time must elapse before an answer came. In the meanwhile, as the army steadily advanced towards the Austrian capital, Bismarck had to consider the terms of peace he would be willing to accept. He had to think not only of what he would wish, but of what it was possible to acquire. He wrote to his wife at this time:

"We are getting on well. If we are not extreme in our claims and do not imagine that we have conquered the world, we shall obtain a peace that is worth having. But we are as easily intoxicated as we are discouraged, and I have the thankless task of pouring water into the foaming wine and of pointing out that we are not alone in Europe, but have three neighbours."

Of the three neighbours there was little to fear from England. With the death of Lord Palmerston, English policy had entered on a new phase; the traditions of Pitt and Canning were forgotten; England no longer aimed at being the arbitress of Europe; the leaders of both parties agreed that unless her own interests were immediately affected, England would not interfere in Continental matters. The internal organisation of Germany did not appear to concern her; she was the first to recognise the new principle that the relations of the German States to one another were to be settled by the Germans themselves, and to extend to Germany that doctrine of non-intervention which she had applied to Spain and Italy.