We heard at dinner that the King and the Chancellor, accompanied by General Steinmetz, had made a reconnaissance which took them within about three English miles of Metz. The French troops outside the fortress had been driven into the city and forts on the previous day by Steinmetz’s impetuous attack at Courcelles.
In the evening, as we sat on a bench outside the door, the Minister joined us for a moment. He asked me for a cigar, but Councillor Taglioni, the King’s decipherer, was quicker than I, which was a pity, as mine were much better. At tea the Chancellor mentioned in the course of conversation that on two occasions he had been in danger of being shot by a sentry, once at San Sebastian and another time at Schluesselburg. From this we learned that he also understood a little Spanish. Passing from the Schluesselburg story, he came to relate the following anecdote, which, however, I was unable to hear quite clearly, and so cannot vouch whether it occurred to the Minister himself or to some one else. One day the Count was walking in the Summer Garden at St. Petersburg, and met the Emperor, with whom, as a Minister in high favour, his relations were somewhat unreserved. The two, after strolling on together for awhile, saw a sentry posted in the middle of a grass plot. Bismarck took the liberty to ask what he was doing there. The Emperor did not know, and questioned the aide-de-camp, who was also unable to explain. The aide-de-camp was then sent to ask the sentry. His answer was, “It has been ordered,” a reply which was repeated by every one of whom the aide-de-camp inquired. The archives were searched in vain—a sentry had always been posted there. At last an old footman remembered that his father had told him that the Empress Catherine had once seen an early snowdrop on that spot, and had given instructions that it should not be plucked. They could find no better way of preserving it than by placing a sentry to guard it, who was afterwards kept on as a matter of habit. The anti-German feeling in Holland and its causes was then referred to. It was thought to be partly due to the circumstance that Van Zuylen, when he was Dutch Minister at Berlin, had made himself unpleasant, and consequently did not receive as much consideration as he desired, so that he possibly left us in ill-humour.
On the 16th of August, at 9.30 A.M., we started for Pont à Mousson. On the excellent high road to that town we passed through several villages with fine buildings, containing the public offices and schools. The whole way was brightened by detachments of soldiers, horse and foot, and a great variety of vehicles. Here and there we also saw small encampments. A little after 3 o’clock we reached our destination, a town of about eight thousand inhabitants. Passing the market-place, where a regiment of Saxon infantry were bivouacked, some of them lying on the ground on bundles of straw, we turned into the Rue St. Laurent. Here the Chancellor, with three of the Councillors, took up their residence at the corner of Rue Raugraf in a little château overgrown with red creepers. The rest of the party lived a few doors off. I slept with Saint Blanquart in a room which was a veritable museum of natural history and ethnology, being filled with the most varied trophies from all parts of the world.
After a hasty toilette we returned to the office. On our way we observed a number of notices posted on the walls, one announcing our victory of the fourteenth, another respecting the abolition of the conscription, and a third by the Mayor, apparently in connection with some attacks by civilians on our troops, warning the inhabitants to maintain a prudent attitude. There was also an order issued by our people strictly enjoining the population to keep lights in their windows at night, and to leave the doors of houses and shops open, and to deliver up all arms at the Town Hall.
During the greater part of the afternoon we again heard the distant roar of cannon, and ascertained at dinner that there had been renewed fighting near Metz. Some one remarked that perhaps it would not be possible to prevent the French retiring to Verdun. The Minister replied, smiling, “That hardened reprobate Molk (Moltke) says it would be no misfortune, as they would then be delivered all the more surely into our hands”—which must mean that we could surround and annihilate them while they were retreating. Of the other remarks made by the Chancellor on this occasion I may mention his reference to the “small black Saxons, who looked so intelligent” and who pleased him so much on his paying them a visit the day before. These were either the dark green Chasseurs or the 108th Regiment which wore the same coloured uniform. “They seem to be sharp, ready fellows,” he added, “and the fact ought to be mentioned in the newspapers.”
On the following night we were awakened several times by the steady tramp of infantry and the rumbling of heavy wheels as they rolled over the rough pavement. We heard next morning that they were Hessians. The Minister started shortly after 4 A.M., intending to proceed towards Metz, where an important battle was expected either that day or the next. As it appeared probable that I should have little to do I availed myself of the opportunity to take a walk in the environs with Willisch. Going up stream we came upon a pontoon bridge erected by the Saxons, who had collected there a large number of conveyances, amongst others some carts from villages near Dresden. We swam across the clear deep river and back again.
On returning to the bureau in the Rue Raugraf we found that the Chancellor had not yet arrived. We had news, however, of the battle which had been fought the day before to the west of Metz. There were heavy losses on our side, and it was only with great difficulty that Bazaine was prevented from breaking through our lines. It was understood that the village of Mars la Tour was the point at which the conflict had raged most violently. The leaden rain of the chassepots was literally like a hailstorm. One of the cuirassier regiments, we were told, with the exaggeration which is not unusual in such cases, was almost utterly destroyed and the dragoon guards had also suffered severely. Not a single division escaped without heavy losses. To-day, however, we had superior numbers as the French had had yesterday, and if the latter attempted another sortie we might expect to be victorious.
It did not, however, appear certain, and we were accordingly somewhat uneasy. We could not sit still or think steadily, and, as in fever, we were oppressed by the same ideas, which returned again and again. We walked to the market and then to the bridge, where we saw the wounded, who were now gradually coming in, those with light injuries on foot and the others in ambulance cars. On the road towards Metz we met a batch of over 120 prisoners. They were for the most part small, poor-looking specimens; but there were also amongst them some tall, broad-shouldered fellows from the guards, who could be recognised by the white facings of their tunics. Then once more to the market-place and around the garden behind the house, where a dog lies buried under a tombstone with the following touching inscription:—
Girard Aubert épitaphe à sa chienne.
Ici tu gis, ma vieille amie,