It was time to return to the carriage, and besides I had seen quite enough of the battle-field. I took another way back, but I was again obliged to pass further masses of the dead, this time all French. Near some of the bodies lay packets of letters that had been carried in their knapsacks. I brought some of these with me as a memento, amongst them being two letters in German from one Anastasia Stampf, of Scherrweiler, near Schlettstadt. These I found lying by a French soldier who had been stationed at Caen shortly before the outbreak of the war. One of them, in indifferent spelling, was dated “The 25th of the Hay Month, 1870,” and concluded with the words, “We constantly commend thee to the protection of the Blessed Virgin!”
It was 4 o’clock when I got back, and as the Minister had not arrived, we returned to Gorze. Here we met Keudell, who, with Abeken and Count Hatzfeldt had called upon the Chief at Rezonville. During the battle of the 18th instant, which was decided at Gravelotte, the Minister had, together with the King, ventured a considerable distance towards the front, so that for a time both of them were in some danger. Bismarck had afterwards with his own hands taken water to the wounded. At 9 P.M. I saw him again safe and sound at Pont à Mousson, where we all took supper with him. Naturally, the conversation turned for the most part on the last two battles and the resulting gains and losses. The French had fallen in huge masses. The Minister had seen our artillery mow down whole lines of their guards near Gravelotte. We had also suffered severely. Only the losses of the 16th of August were known up to the present. “A great many noble Prussian families will go into mourning,” the Chief said. “Wesdehlen and Reuss lie in their graves, Wedell and Finkenstein are dead, Rahden (Lucca’s husband) is shot through both cheeks, and a crowd of officers commanding regiments or battalions have either fallen or are severely wounded. The whole field near Mars la Tour was yesterday still white and blue with the bodies of cuirassiers and dragoons.” In explanation of this statement, we were informed that near the village referred to there had been a great cavalry charge upon the French, who were pressing forward in the direction of Verdun. This charge was repelled by the enemy’s infantry in Balaclava fashion, but had so far served its purpose that the French were kept in check until reinforcements arrived. The Chancellor’s two sons had also gallantly ridden into that leaden hailstorm, the elder receiving no less than three bullets, one passing through the breast of his tunic, another hitting his watch, and the third lodging in his thigh. The younger appears to have escaped unhurt. The Chief related, evidently with some pride, how Count Bill rescued two comrades who had lost their horses, dragging them out of the mêlée in his powerful grasp and riding off with them. Still more German blood was shed on the 18th, but we secured the victory, and obtained the object of our sacrifices. That evening Bazaine’s army had finally retired to Metz, and even French officers whom we had captured admitted that they now believed their cause was lost. The Saxons, who had made long marches on the two previous days, were able to take an important part in the battle near the village of Saint Privat. They now occupied the road to Thionville, so that Metz was entirely surrounded by our troops.
It appeared that the Chancellor did not quite approve of the course taken by the military authorities in both battles. Among other things he said that Steinmetz had abused the really astounding gallantry of our men—“he was a spendthrift of blood.” The Minister spoke with violent indignation of the barbarous manner in which the French conducted the war; they were said to have fired upon the Geneva cross and even upon a flag of truce.
Sheridan seemed to have speedily got on a friendly footing with the Minister, as I was instructed to invite him and his two companions to dinner on the following evening.
At 11 o’clock on the 20th of August the Chancellor received a visit from the Crown Prince, who was stationed with his troops about twenty-five English miles from Pont à Mousson on the road from Nancy to Châlons. In the afternoon some twelve hundred prisoners, including two carts conveying officers, passed through the Rue Notre Dame in charge of a detachment of Prussian cuirassiers. Sheridan, Forsythe and MacLean dined that evening with the Minister, who kept up a lively conversation in good English with the American general. The Chief and his American guests had champagne and porter. The latter was drunk out of pewter mugs, one of which the Minister filled for me. I mention this because no one else at table had porter, and the gift was particularly welcome, as since we left Saarbrücken we had had no beer. Sheridan, who was known as a successful soldier on the Federal side in the last year of the American Civil War, spoke a good deal. He told us of the hardships he and his companions had undergone during the ride from the Rocky Mountains to Chicago, of the fearful swarms of mosquitoes, of a great heap of bones in California or thereabouts in which fossils were found, and of buffalo and bear hunting, &c. The Chancellor also told some hunting stories. One day in Finland he found himself in dangerous proximity to a big bear. It was white with snow, and he had barely been able to see it. “At last I fired, however, and the bear fell some six paces from me. But it was not killed, and might get up again. I knew what I had to expect, and so without stirring I quietly reloaded, and as soon as it stirred I shot it dead.”
We were very busy on the forenoon of the 21st of August, preparing reports and leading articles to be forwarded to Germany. We heard that the bearer of a flag of truce who was fired upon by the French was Captain or Major Verdy, of Moltke’s general staff, and that the trumpeter who accompanied him was wounded. Trustworthy information was received from Florence to the effect that Victor Emmanuel and his Ministers had, in consequence of our victories, decided to observe neutrality, which up to that time was anything but certain. Now it was at last possible to estimate, at least approximately, the losses of the French at Courcelles, Mars la Tour, and Gravelotte. The Minister put them at about 50,000 men during the three days, of whom about 12,000 were killed. He added: “The ambition and mutual jealousy of some of our generals was to blame for the severity of our losses. That the guards charged too soon was entirely due to their jealousy of the Saxons who were coming up behind them.”
That afternoon I had some talk with one of the dragoon guards who had been in the charge on the French battery on the 16th. He maintained that besides Finkenstein and Reuss, the two Treskows were also dead and buried; and that after the battle one squadron had been formed out of the three squadrons of his regiment that had been in action, and one regiment out of the two dragoon regiments that had been engaged. He spoke very modestly about that gallant deed. “We had to charge,” he said, “in order to prevent our artillery being taken by the enemy.” While I was talking to him some Saxon infantry passed by with a batch of about 150 prisoners. I ascertained from the escort that after their long march the Saxons had fought in the battle near Roncourt and Saint Privat. Once they had charged with the bayonet and the butt ends of their rifles. They had lost a good many officers, including General Krausshaar.
As I entered the room that evening at tea time the Chief said: “How are you, doctor?”
“I thank your Excellency, quite well.”
“Have you seen something of what has been going on?”