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THE CHILDREN'S STORY OF THE WAR
[Illustration]
By Sir Edward Parrott, M.A., LL.D.
THE CHILDREN'S STORY OF THE WAR
Once more we hear the word
That sickened earth of old:--
"No law except the sword
Unsheathed and uncontrolled."
Once more it knits mankind,
Once more the nations go
To meet and break and bind
A crazed and driven foe.
* * * * *
No easy hopes or lies
Shall bring us to our goal,
But iron sacrifice
Of body, will, and soul.
There is but one task for all--
For each one life to give.
Who stands if freedom fall?
Who dies if England live?
Rudyard Kipling.
_(By kind permission.)_
[Illustration: How the Boy Scouts helped.
The war found the Boy Scouts true to their motto, "Be Prepared." In
London alone 25,000 Scouts were organised to help the various
Government departments by acting as messengers. Along the south and east
coasts nearly 3,000 went on duty to guard culverts, telephone and
telegraph lines, railway stations, reservoirs, etc. Numbers of Scouts
also worked as harvesters in the place of men who had joined the Army.
The boys above are "doing their little bit" by carrying soldiers'
baggage to the railway station.]
THE CHILDREN'S STORY OF THE WAR
BY
SIR EDWARD PARROTT, M.A., LL.D.
AUTHOR OF "BRITAIN OVERSEAS," "THE PAGEANT OF ENGLISH LITERATURE," ETC.
From the Beginning of the War to the Landing of the British Army in
France
THOMAS NELSON AND SONS, Ltd.
LONDON, EDINBURGH, PARIS, AND NEW YORK
_THIS STORY OF THE GREAT WAR_
_recounting for Children the Triumphs of_
_British Valour and Endurance by Land and Sea_
_is_
_DEDICATED_
_by special and gracious permission of_
_Her Majesty the QUEEN_
_to_
_H. R. H. PRINCE GEORGE._
CONTENTS.
I. A Bolt from the Blue 1
II. The Seething Whirlpool 16
III. The Beginnings of Prussia 35
IV. The Great War Lord of Europe 49
V. How the Great War Lord Fell 65
VI. The Man of Blood and Iron 74
VII. Clearing the Path 81
VIII. Preparing for War 86
IX. "The Cockpit of Europe" 93
X. A Terrible Struggle 97
XI. France under the Harrow 113
XII. The Boyhood of the Kaiser 121
XIII. Crown Prince and Kaiser 129
XIV. The Dawn of "The Day" 145
XV. Fateful Days 155
XVI. Why Britain went to War 161
XVII. The Submarine that Failed 177
XVIII. Infantry and its Work 186
XIX. Cavalry and Artillery 193
XX. Some Military Terms 209
XXI. The Invasion of Belgium 220
XXII. How Liége won the Legion of Honour 225
XXIII. The Raid into Alsace 241
XXIV. The Germans in Belgium 250
XXV. Deeds of Shame and Horror 257
XXVI. The Rally of the British Empire 273
XXVII. How India answered the Call 289
XXVIII. The German Advance on Brussels 295
XXIX. How the Germans entered Brussels 305
XXX. How the British Army was carried
Overseas 310
[Illustration: THE CHILDREN'S STORY OF THE WAR]
CHAPTER I.
A BOLT FROM THE BLUE.
One Sunday afternoon, in the month of December 1908, the beautiful city
of Messina[1] was all life and light and gaiety. The sky was blue and
cloudless, and out in the Strait the little, crested waves leaped and
sparkled in the sunshine. The squares and gardens were thronged with
townsfolk in holiday attire; laughing groups of young men and maidens
went to and fro or paused to listen to the band; fathers of families
were romping with their children on the grass; mothers were quietly
knitting hard by: all was merry as a marriage bell. Happy, careless ease
reigned everywhere, and when night fell, the big, round moon shone upon
a silent town in which thousands of people were wrapped in peaceful
slumber.
But ere the dawn had begun to brighten the eastern sky an awful doom
fell upon that city. The thunder roared, the lightning flashed, the
earth heaved and cracked, houses and churches and public buildings came
crashing to the ground, fires broke out, and a huge, angry wave from the
sea swept over the land. The morning sun shone upon a terrible scene of
destruction. The fair city was no more; thousands of the happy folks of
yesterday had been hurried into eternity, and those who were spared
found themselves homeless and ruined.
With almost the same startling suddenness the Great War broke upon
Europe. The thunderbolt fell upon us from a sky of blue; the peace of
the world was broken on a smiling day. Five of the Great Powers[2] of
Europe blew their war trumpets, and millions of armed men stood ready to
carry death and destruction into countless homes in many lands. The
Great War had begun.
* * * * *
[Illustration: In the Summer Holidays.
A scene on the Thames at Henley Regatta, held every year in the month of
July.
(_From a photograph by the Sport and General Press Agency._)]
Do you remember the 24th of July 1914? I think you do, for it was just
about the beginning of that time which most boys and girls consider the
very happiest of all the year. Your school had just broken up, the books
were all put away, and you fondly hoped that you would see no more of
them for a month or six weeks. You were all agog for the holidays. Your
mind was full of that jolly seaside place to which you were going
to-morrow or the next day. You were dreaming of boats and bathing, of
games on the sands, of bicycle spins in the country lanes, and picnics
in the woods. And in the midst of all these happy dreams, perhaps you
heard your father say, as he turned his newspaper at breakfast time,--
"_Yesterday Austria sent a very harsh Note[3] to Servia. Looks like more
war in the East._"
I daresay you paid no attention to this remark. To you it meant nothing
at all. You would have been far more interested if your father had told
you how Middlesex was getting on with Kent, and whether Woolley or
Hearne or P. F. Warner had made another century or not. But your
father's remark was really far more important than all the cricket
matches that were ever played, or that ever will be played. It was the
first appearance of the bolt from the blue. Few, even the wisest of us,
realized that it was the beginning of the greatest war that the world
has ever known; a war of such vastness and terror that men would speak
of it as _Armageddon_[4]--that is, a war similar to that which is
described in the Book of Revelation, when "the kings of the earth and of
the whole world gather them to the battle of God Almighty."
[Illustration: War.
(_From the picture by Sir Edwin Landseer, R.A., in the National Gallery
of British Art._)]
As your father's remark was so important, let us try to understand its
meaning. He mentioned two countries, Austria and Servia, and you would
easily guess that there was some quarrel between them. It is not easy to
explain to you exactly what the quarrel was about, and perhaps you will
find the explanation a little dull; but if you are really to understand
how the war arose, you must not mind a little dulness. We shall come to
the exciting events by-and-by.
Look at the map on the next page. It shows you the two countries which
had fallen out--Austria and Servia. You see at a glance that the
Austrian Empire, which consists of Austria and Hungary, is by far the
larger country; in fact, Austria-Hungary is seven times as large as
Servia, and has eleven times as many people. There is no country on
earth which contains so many different races as Austria-Hungary. Within
its bounds we find Germans, Italians, Magyars,[5] Jews, Armenians,[6]
and Gypsies, as well as eight distinct Slav races.
You will come across the word _Slav_ many times in these pages, so I
must explain it to you at once. By the word Slav we mean a member of
that branch of mankind known as the Slavonic race. The Slavs inhabit
most of the east of Europe and a large part of Asia, and they are really
more Asiatic than European. Most of the Russians and the Christian
peoples of the Balkan Peninsula are Slavs, and so, too, are the Poles,
who live partly in Austria, partly in Germany, and partly in Russia. In
Austria, and especially in Hungary, there are many Slav races, but the
ruling peoples in these countries are Germans in Austria and Magyars in
Hungary.
The Servians are Slavs. They are a tall, handsome race, and are very
warlike in character. During the recent war in the Balkans they fought
very bravely and successfully against the Turks. At the end of the war
the Powers of Europe gave them more than 15,000 square miles of fresh
territory. The Servians have always been ambitious, and they wish their
country to become great and powerful.
Now look at your map again, and find the river Save, which joins the
Danube at Belgrade,[7] the capital of Servia. South of the Save you see
a country marked Bosnia,[8] and, still farther south, another country
marked Herzegovina.[9] You are sure to notice that these two countries
stand between Servia and the Adriatic Sea, and that they belong to
Austria. Both Bosnia and Herzegovina are inhabited by Slavs, who hate
being under Austria, and are eager to join their kinsmen the Servians.
You cannot blame them for this, because they naturally would like to
form one kingdom with men of their own race, religion, and modes of
life. Besides, they feel that they have been very badly treated. Let me
explain.
[Illustration: Map of Austro-Hungarian Empire and Servia]
In the year 1877, when Turkey was master of the Balkan Peninsula, Russia
made up her mind to fight the Turks. The Austrians were afraid that the
Russians would beat the Turks, and take from them the city of
Constantinople. The Russians, as you know, have a very poor sea coast.
Away fronting the Arctic Ocean they have a strip of coast, but it is of
very little use to them, as it is frozen up for a large part of the
year. So, too, is their coast on the Baltic Sea. In the south they have
a good deal of coast on the Black Sea; but in order to get from the
Black Sea to the Mediterranean Sea, and so to the oceans of the world,
they have to pass through two narrow straits, known as the Bosporus[10]
and the Dardanelles.[11] The Turks hold these straits, and they can shut
them against ships at any time. So you see that the Russians can only
carry on trade in the south by leave and licence of Turkey. If they
could obtain possession of Constantinople all their difficulties would
vanish. They would be masters of a port which would enable them to
become a great sea power.
[Illustration: Servia is a land of peasant soldiers. Here you see some
of them coming into Belgrade to join the colours.
_Photo, Topical._]
Now, Austria is even worse off than Russia in the matter of sea coast.
She has about a thousand miles of seaboard on the Adriatic Sea, and
there are many excellent harbours and deep and sheltered bays on it;
but, unfortunately, a long range of steep limestone mountains cuts them
off from the interior, and makes communication very difficult. There is
a mountain railway joining the port of Trieste[12] with the interior,
but it is easier to send bulky produce down the Danube to the Black Sea
than across the mountains. Austria has always longed for better access
to the sea, and lately she has coveted the port of Salonica,[13] which
you will find on the Ægean[14] Sea.
[Illustration: This map shows what Servia would become if Bosnia and
Herzegovina were to be united with her.]
When, therefore, Russia was about to fight Turkey, the Austrians feared
that all the Balkans would come under Russian sway, and that their hopes
of gaining power in the peninsula would be vain. So they prepared to
fight Russia, but were bought off. Russia secretly promised Austria that
if she would stand out of the fight she should receive as her reward the
provinces of Bosnia and Herzegovina. Austria stood out, and when the
war was over the Great Powers said that she might rule these two
provinces, though they were not to become her actual property. You can
easily imagine the anger of the people of Bosnia and Herzegovina when
they found themselves handed over to Austria, just as though they were a
flock of sheep to be bought and sold. Ever since 1878 the Austrians have
ruled them; but they have always been discontented, and when, in 1908,
they were told that they now belonged wholly and entirely to Austria,
their anger knew no bounds. During the recent Balkan War they saw the
peasant soldiers of Servia conquering on the battlefield, and they hoped
that when the war was over they might be allowed to join Servia, and
with her form one strong state. Servia would have welcomed them with
open arms, but, as you know, they were doomed to disappointment. Both
Servia and Russia were much annoyed when Austria annexed the two
provinces. The anger of Russia and Servia nearly brought about another
war.
Such was the state of things at the beginning of June in the year 1914.
[Illustration: Franz Josef, Emperor of Austria.
_Photo by C. Pietzner._]
Here is a portrait of the Emperor of Austria and King of Hungary, Franz
Josef. He is an old man, eighty-five years of age--the oldest monarch in
Europe. It is impossible not to be sorry for him; his life has been full
of trouble, and he has had to rule over the most divided kingdom on
earth. There has never been any love lost between Austrians and
Hungarians, and the only bond that unites them is the aged king-emperor.
Probably there never was so unfortunate a royal family as that of which
Franz Josef is the head. His younger brother, Maximilian, after being
invited to become Emperor of Mexico, was shot by the Mexicans in 1867;
his heir, Rudolf, was found dead in a hunting-lodge in 1889; and his
wife, the Empress, was stabbed to death in the streets of Geneva nine
years later. Nor was this the last of his sorrows, as you will presently
hear.
The heir to the Austrian throne in June 1914 was the Archduke Francis
Ferdinand, the aged Emperor's nephew. He was a man of strong will and
great ambition, and he eagerly desired to win power for Austria in the
Balkans, and so secure for his country the port of Salonica. This port
would enable Austria to develop her foreign trade, and become an
important sea power.
Now, before Austria could send her army into the Balkans and carve out a
road to Salonica, she must be sure that the Slavs of Bosnia and
Herzegovina would not rise in rebellion and make her task doubly
difficult. So, on the 23rd of June last, the Archduke Francis Ferdinand
and his wife, the Duchess of Hohenberg, a lady who had Slav blood in her
veins, left the Austrian capital to pay a state visit to Bosnia, for the
purpose of reviewing the troops in that province and trying to secure
the favour of the Bosnian people.
[Illustration: The Archduke Francis Ferdinand, the Archduchess, and
their family.]
If you and I proposed to visit Bosnia, our best route would be to take
ship, say, from Venice, and cross the Adriatic Sea to the beautiful town
of Ragusa,[15] with its castled walls, its dizzy cliffs, its quaint old
buildings, its palaces, churches, and monasteries, all shut in between
the blue sea and the steep gray hills that rise up suddenly in the rear.
At Ragusa we should take the train through the wild, rugged country of
Herzegovina, which has been called the Turkish Switzerland. Our train
would run through rocky defiles, up steep passes, by the side of yawning
chasms, until we reached Mostar,[16] the chief city of the country. The
Austrian part of Mostar, we should find, consists of two white streets,
a modern hotel, a public garden with a bandstand, and barracks for
soldiers. All the rest of it is Turkish. You see the same narrow
streets, the same kind of bazaars, the same mosques, the same solemn,
white-turbaned Turks and veiled women that you see in Constantinople;
but you also see swarthy, stalwart men of Herzegovina and Albania,[17]
every one of them carrying a sharp knife at his girdle and a gun in his
hand.
We now leave Mostar for Sarajevo,[18] the capital of Bosnia, by a
railway which is one of the wonders of the world. "In places whole
cliffs have been blasted away to enable the metals to follow a narrow
pathway with granite walls and a nasty precipice on either side. As the
engine creeps carefully over the slender iron bridges towards the summit
you may look down from your carriage window into a thousand feet of
space, and feel thankful that cog-wheels are beneath you, for otherwise
any hitch with the brakes might cause a frightful accident. At times the
track twists and turns so much that an engine-driver may glance across
a chasm, and without looking back see the rear van winding round a
corner." Such is the railway by which we reach Sarajevo.
Let us suppose that we have arrived in Sarajevo on the morning of
Sunday, June 28th of the year 1914. Upon the craggy heights above the
town we see the citadel and fortifications, and here and there above the
roofs of the houses the minarets and white domes of mosques; but we soon
perceive that we are not in an Eastern but in a modern Western town. The
Austrians have made wide streets, with fine shops, cafés, and
beer-halls; they have erected handsome public buildings, theatres, and
hotels; trams run along the streets, and taxis ply for hire; and on the
outskirts of the town we find a racecourse and golf links. We must give
the Austrians their due. They have done wonders in civilizing the
country and in making it prosperous; but they have not won the hearts of
the people, and that is the all-important business of rulers, after
all.
* * * * *
To-day Sarajevo is in festive array. The yellow Austrian standard, with
its black, double-headed eagle, flies above all the public buildings,
and flutters from the upper windows of the shops along the Franz Josef
Strasse; soldiers are marching through the streets; bugles are blowing,
and bands are playing. On the pavements stand the townsfolk, and you
notice that many of them are sullen and silent. They are waiting for the
coming of their future king, but they show no signs of loyalty. When our
beloved Prince of Wales visits one of our towns, we flock gladly to see
him and greet him with the heartiest of cheers. Suppose, however, he was
a man of another race, and that he was going some day to be our king
against our will; how do you think we should receive him? Very much as
the Bosnians are receiving their future king to-day.
[Illustration: View in the old part of Sarajevo, the capital of Bosnia.]
Now the guns roar out from the citadel to announce the coming of the
Archduke and his wife. The Archduke inspects the troops drawn up at the
station, and then he and his wife enter a motor-car and drive towards
the Town Hall, where the mayor is waiting to receive them. Suddenly, as
they drive along one of the quays, you hear a loud report and see a
cloud of smoke arise. What has happened? A young printer, twenty years
of age, has hurled a bomb at the Archduke. He wards it off with his arm,
but it has wounded an officer in the next car, and has inflicted
injuries on several bystanders. Neither of the royal pair is hurt,
though, as you may well imagine, they are much upset by this attempt on
their lives.
The motor moves on, and arrives at the Town Hall, where the mayor, who
knows nothing of what has happened, comes forward and begins to read an
address of welcome. The Archduke, who is much annoyed at the treatment
which he has received, cuts the mayor short angrily. "What," says he,
"is the good of your speeches? I come to Sarajevo on a visit, and I get
bombs thrown at me. It is outrageous!"
After a short stay at the Town Hall the Archduke and his wife re-enter
their motor to return to the station. They have not gone far before a
High School student hurls another bomb at them. It fails to explode, but
the lad, who is armed with a pistol, fires three shots in quick
succession. The first bullet strikes the Archduke in the throat. His
wife, who loves him tenderly, throws herself in front of him, in order
to shield him from further attack, and the second bullet enters her
body. The third bullet completes the deadly work, and the dying pair are
rapidly conveyed to the palace. The Archduke rouses himself. "Sophie,"
he says to his stricken wife, "live for our children." But she, too, is
mortally wounded, and in a few minutes both are dead.
* * * * *
No possible excuse can be found for this foul deed. It was black
murder--the worst of all possible crimes. The printer and the High
School student were seized, and at first they denied that they knew each
other. Bit by bit, however, it was discovered that not only were they
working together, but that a great plot had been formed to kill the
Archduke that day. Had they failed, there were others in the crowd ready
and willing to take their places.
The date chosen for the Archduke's visit to Sarajevo was most
unfortunate. On that day, in the year 1389, the Serbs[19] of Servia,
which then included Bosnia, suffered the most terrible defeat in all
their history. In the battle which was then fought, treachery was at
work, and the best and bravest of their race perished on the
battlefield. The Serbs have never forgotten the story of how their sires
were slaughtered on the "Field of the Blackbirds." Even now their bards
sing national songs which tell of the glorious deeds of those who fell
at Kossovo,[20] and call upon the Serbs of to-day to spare neither
"land, nor gold, nor son, nor wife, nor limb, nor life" in upholding the
freedom of their race.
* * * * *
Amidst the high Alps a pistol shot may start an avalanche high on the
snowy mountains. Slowly it moves at first; soon it gathers speed, and at
last it comes crashing down with terrible force upon the quiet
homesteads in the valley. So did the pistol-shot of a schoolboy in
far-off Bosnia start an avalanche which has swept down upon Europe,
leaving death and destruction and untold misery in its train.
[Illustration: Austrian soldiers on the bank of the Danube, opposite to
Belgrade.
[_By permission of the Sphere._]
[Footnote 1: _Mes-sē´na_, town of Sicily on the Strait of Messina, which
lies between the island of Sicily and the toe of Italy.]
[Footnote 2: The Great Powers are the leading nations of the world. They
are rich in men and money, and keep up large armies or navies, or both.
Great Britain, the United States of America, Germany, France, Russia,
Austria-Hungary, Italy, and, since 1905, Japan, are the Great Powers.]
[Footnote 3: A letter sent by one government to another, referring to
some matter which is in dispute between them.]
[Footnote 4: _Ar-ma-ged´on._]
[Footnote 5: People of partly Finnish and partly Turkish descent, now
the ruling people in Hungary. There are nearly ten million people
speaking the Magyar language.]
[Footnote 6: Descended from the people who live in the north-east of
Asia Minor.]
[Footnote 7: _Bel-grād´_.]
[Footnote 8: _Bos´nia_.]
[Footnote 9: _Her-tse-go-vē´na_.]
[Footnote 10: Means the Ox Ford.]
[Footnote 11: _Dar-da-nelz´_.]
[Footnote 12: _Tre-es´tā_.]
[Footnote 13: _Sal-on-ē´ka_.]
[Footnote 14: _E-jē´an_.]
[Footnote 15: _Ra-goo´za_.]
[Footnote 16: _Mos´tar_.]
[Footnote 17: _Al-ba'nia_, a country on the coast of the Adriatic Sea to
the south and west of Servia.]
[Footnote 18: _Sa-ra-yā´vo_.]
[Footnote 19: We speak of Servia and Servians, but it is more correct to
say Serbia and Serbs.]
[Footnote 20: _Kos´so-vo_, battlefield to the west of Pristina. (See map
on p. 8.)]
CHAPTER II.
THE SEETHING WHIRLPOOL.
The scene shifts to Vienna,[21] the capital of Austria, the largest city
of Austria-Hungary and the heart and centre of the Austrian Empire. It
is one of the most attractive cities in all Europe, and has long been
renowned as the favoured home of art, music, and gaiety. You will find
the city by the side of the Danube, where the river leaves the Bavarian
highlands and enters the great plain. Most of it is modern, and in the
Ringstrasse you may see some of the finest buildings in the world, such
as the Opera House, which seats 3,000 people; the University, which
contains one of the most famous of medical schools; the Parliament House
of Austria; and the chief law courts of the country.
[Illustration: Vienna, the capital of Austria, heart and centre of the
Austro-Hungarian Empire.]
The city is surrounded by the Danube and its canals, and has several
parks and numerous shady avenues of trees, beneath which the gay
Viennese love to stroll or sit at the tables of outdoor cafés listening
to the bands. You can scarcely walk half a mile in Vienna without
hearing music. The gipsy bands which are often heard in Vienna play
their national airs with a dash and fire that sets even the most
sluggish pulse dancing.
One of the finest of all the public buildings of Vienna is the Imperial
Palace, or Hofburg, which contains a library of a million volumes. The
great chamber in which the books are housed is said to be the most
splendid library hall in the world. Its floor of red and white marble is
adorned with noble statues, and its vaulted dome, which rises 193 feet
above the pavement, is covered with beautiful paintings.
In the palace are preserved the crown, sword, and sceptre of
Charlemagne,[22] the great Emperor of the West, who gave laws to nearly
the whole of civilized Europe, and is renowned in song and story as a
prince of knights, and the champion of the Christian religion. To this
day he lives in the hearts of the German peoples both of Germany and
Austria. They say that he still watches over them, and every autumn
comes riding over the Rhine, across a bridge of gold, to bless their
vineyards and cornfields with increase.
In the heart of the city stands the old cathedral of St. Stephen. For
more than six hundred years this magnificent pile has lifted its towers
to the sky. It has seen the Crusaders halt within its shadow on their
way to free the Holy Land from the infidel, and it has looked down on
great hordes of conquering Turks striving to capture the city. Vienna
was the high-water mark at which the progress of the Turkish flood was
stayed. The Turks beat upon its ramparts in vain; they were flung back
from its walls like ocean waves from the cliffs of a rocky coast. In the
old cathedral you may see a huge bell cast out of cannon captured from
the Turks in the last of their sieges. For centuries Vienna has been the
frontier city between the Eastern and Western peoples of Europe.
* * * * *
On the very day of the murders at Sarajevo the Emperor Franz Josef left
Vienna for his summer holiday at the beautiful watering-place of
Ischl,[23] in Upper Austria. What a difference between the reception of
the old Emperor by the citizens of Vienna and that of his heir by the
citizens of Sarajevo! At the station the mayor and members of the city
council met the aged sovereign and told him how greatly they rejoiced at
his recovery from a recent sickness. The Emperor was deeply touched by
their words of affection and loyalty, and as his train steamed out of
the station loud cheers were raised and the national anthem was sung.
A few hours later the terrible news from Sarajevo was flashed to him
across the telegraph wires. You can imagine the anguish of the poor old
man when he knew that fate had dealt him yet another crushing blow.
When, sixteen years ago, he learned that his Empress had been murdered,
he cried in his grief, "Then I am spared nothing." How true! Fate seemed
again to have replied to his despairing cry, "Nothing." Long ago his
mother said of him, "God has given him the qualities needed to meet all
turns of fate." From every one of his former blows he had rallied, and
prayed the Almighty for power to fulfil what he had been called upon to
perform. Now he was fain to cry, with Elijah, "It is enough; now, O
Lord, take away my life."
I have already told you that the peoples of Austria-Hungary are divided
by wide and deep differences, and that they have little in common, but
that they are all united in their reverence for their aged sovereign.
They regard him with the same sort of affection which the people of this
country used to feel for Queen Victoria. She was more than a queen; she
was the mother of her people, high above all the quarrels of parties and
sects. So it is with Franz Josef, and you can therefore imagine the
bitter anger and the eager desire for revenge which took possession of
the Austrian people when they learnt of the murder of his nephew. They
showed their sympathy with the Emperor very clearly when he returned to
Vienna to take part in the funeral ceremonies, and still more when
thousands of them passed through the Hofburg Chapel, where the Archduke
and his wife lay in state.
Every government in Europe sent messages of deep sympathy with the
Emperor in his hour of sorrow, and that which was tendered by Mr.
Asquith, our Prime Minister, was one of the most sincere of them all.
The children of the Archduke and Archduchess were living in a castle in
Bohemia[24] when the sad news came to them that they were
orphans--bereft of father and mother in one dread day. The German
Emperor and his wife sent the following message to them: "We can
scarcely find words to express to you children how our hearts bleed at
the thought of you and your inexpressible grief. To have spent such
happy hours with you and your parents only a fortnight ago, and now to
think that you are plunged in this immeasurable sorrow! May God stand by
you, and give you strength to bear this blow! The blessing of parents
reaches beyond the grave."
Meanwhile the Austrian people had begun to fasten the blame for the
murders on Servia. While the funeral procession was passing through the
streets, crowds gathered in front of the Servian minister's residence
with shouts of "Hurrah for Austria!" and "Down with Servia!" The sight
of the Servian flag, to which a streamer of crape had been attached,
only made them more angry still; the flag was burnt, and stones were
thrown at the police. The newspapers now began to declare openly that
the plot had been hatched in Servia, and that high officials in the
Servian government had encouraged it. The Council of Ministers met and
inquired into the question, and then came a lull of three weeks.
For a time the Austro-Servian question sank out of sight, and it was
thought that at the worst there would only be another Balkan War. No one
suspected for a moment that the other Powers of Europe would be dragged
into the quarrel, and that the schoolboy's pistol-shot at Sarajevo
would be the signal for Armageddon. Had any one suggested in the early
days of July that in three weeks all the Great Powers would be at war,
he would have been laughed at. But all the while a great whirlpool was
seething, and slowly but surely Russia, Germany, France, and Great
Britain were being drawn into the centre.
* * * * *
Before I tell you the further history of the quarrel between Austria and
Servia, and show you how the chief Powers of Europe became mixed up with
it, let me tell you of a very fortunate event which happened at home. On
Saturday, the 18th of July, our King went down to Portsmouth to visit
his Fleet, which had been assembled at Spithead. Every boy and girl
knows that we live on an island home, and that the sea which surrounds
us has been a great source of blessing to us.
"Thy story, thy glory,
The very fame of thee,
It rose not, it grows not,
It comes not save by sea."
Shakespeare tells us that the encircling sea serves us
"In the office of a wall,
Or as a moat defensive to a house
Against the envy of less happier lands."
[Illustration: King George V. in the uniform of a British admiral.
_Photo, W. and D. Downey._]
This "defensive moat" has always proved a barrier against foreign
attack, but it has not preserved our islands from invasion. Celts,
Romans, English, Danes, and Normans have in turn conquered England; but
never since it became the home of a united nation with a strong Navy has
any foreign invader landed in strength on our shores. For more than
eight hundred years no hostile army has dared to invade us, and our
people have never been forced to lay down their tools and snatch up
their weapons to drive away the invader. No other land in Europe can
make this boast. We owe this long reign of security to our Navy.
Not only has our Navy kept us free from invasion, but by winning for us
the mastery of the sea it has enabled us to build up a great foreign
trade, by which we have grown rich and great, and to found colonies and
hold possessions in every continent on the face of the globe. At the
present time it does even more than this--it secures for us the means
whereby we live and move and have our being. So many of our people are
now engaged in mines and quarries and factories, on railways, and in
offices, that we do not grow enough food for our needs. There is never
enough food in this country to last our people for more than a couple
of months or so. We draw our food supplies from all parts of the world,
and were a foreign foe to destroy our Navy and cut off our food ships,
the great bulk of us would soon perish of starvation. So you see that
"Britannia _must_ rule the waves," if we are to exist at all and remain
the greatest trading and colonial nation of the world, as we are to-day.
Every sensible man understands this, and all agree that our Navy must be
very strong and very efficient. It must be able to command the seas,
for, as Raleigh told us long ago, "Whosoever commands the sea commands
the trade; whosoever commands the trade of the world commands the riches
of the world, and, consequently, the world itself."
[Illustration: H.M.S. Colossus firing a salute.
_Photo, Cribb._]
[Illustration: The sure shield of Britain--a scene at the Naval Review.
_Photo, Cribb._]
Never has the British Navy been so powerful and so well equipped both in
ships and guns and men as at present. The "wooden walls" in which Blake
and Nelson fought have long since disappeared, and our bluejackets now
fight behind bulwarks of steel. Steam has taken the place of sail; the
old muzzle-loading guns have been superseded by huge weapons, the
largest of which can hurl nearly a ton of metal for twelve miles with
deadly aim. Our modern warships are filled with costly machinery quite
unknown and even undreamt of in the days when Britain fought and won the
greatest sea fights of her history. But though the ships have changed
out of knowledge, the officers, bluejackets, and marines who man them
possess all the old fighting spirit and all the courage and daring of
their forefathers.
"Ye mariners of England,
That guard our native seas;
Whose flag has braved, a thousand years,
The battle and the breeze!
Your glorious standard launch again
To match another foe!
And sweep through the deep
While the stormy winds do blow--
While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy winds do blow."
When the King went down to Portsmouth on the 20th of July there
appeared to be no foe to fight; there was no sign of any war in which we
could possibly be engaged, yet in less than a fortnight the Navy had
cleared for action, and our sailors were standing at the guns watching
and waiting for the battleships of Germany to appear.
Gray skies were overhead, and a cold easterly wind was sweeping over the
seas as His Majesty led out to sea the largest and most powerful fleet
ever seen in British waters. When the royal yacht anchored, no less than
twenty-two miles of warships passed in procession before it. First came
four battle-cruisers, headed by the _Lion_, and followed by the _Queen
Mary_, _Princess Royal_, and _New Zealand_. Then in stately order, two
by two, came the latest of our battleships, led by the _Iron Duke_ and
the _King George_. Marines and bands were paraded on the sides of the
ships nearest to the King's yacht, and their scarlet uniforms ran like a
ribbon of bright colour along the edge of the great gray monsters. Just
as each ship reached the stern of the royal yacht, the sailors, with the
smartness of a machine, removed their hats, held them at arm's length,
and waved them to the roar of British huzzas. At the same moment the
bands struck up the National Anthem, and the marines presented arms. The
King and the Prince of Wales stood on the bridge of the royal yacht,
saluting the ships as they passed.
Behind Sir George Callaghan's flagship came the four First Fleet battle
squadrons, including twenty-nine vessels of the vastest power in the
whole world. In the first and second squadrons were eight Dreadnoughts,
in the third squadron eight of the great ships that were built before
the all-big-gun ships became the first line of our Navy, and in the
fourth squadron were three more Dreadnoughts and the _Agamemnon_.[25]
Following these were the smart cruisers of the First Fleet--swift, armed
ships that act as the fighting scouts of the seas. In their wake passed
fifty-six torpedo destroyers, moving in sections of fours. By the time
the last of the First Fleet ships had passed the King's yacht, the
leading vessels were far away on the horizon.
A slight pause, and then the Second and Third Fleets began to appear,
led by the _Lord Nelson_ and the _Prince of Wales_ respectively. When
these ships had saluted their sovereign there still remained the
cruisers attached to these fleets. Never had such an array been seen
before in the history of the world--twenty-two miles of warships in
endless columns, gliding slowly through the water, every one of them a
tower of strength and a mighty engine of destruction. Not only was
every type of warship represented, but the new powers of the air were
visible. Scores of seaplanes and aeroplanes flew over the King's yacht
like huge birds of prey.
Such was Britain's display of naval strength at the moment when the
issue of war or peace was hanging in the balance. It was a sign to the
world that, whatever might befall, Britain was ready, aye ready, to
guard her own with the strong arm of ancient renown:--
"Come the four quarters of the world in arms,
And we shall shock them."
* * * * *
"It's a long, long way to Tipperary," sing our soldiers on the march,
and it's a long, long way from Spithead to the Servian capital,
Belgrade, whither we must now wend our way. On a bright, sunny morning,
when the train has clattered across the iron bridge which spans the
Danube, and the city comes into view, it looks very attractive. Belgrade
in the distance well deserves its title of the "White City." A
poetically minded person has described it as "shining like a pearl
through the silvery mists of sunrise."
[Illustration: Prince Albert, the King's second son, as a midshipman.
This photograph was taken during the King's inspection of the Fleet.
_Photo, Ernest Brooks._]
In the 'seventies Belgrade was a miserable, dirty, and comfortless town;
its main thoroughfare was a sea of mud; its buildings were poor; and it
was no better than a tumble-down Turkish fortress. But since those days
Servia has become an independent kingdom, and she has made Belgrade a
really fine city, with broad, tree-fringed streets, electric trams, and
fine hotels. Only two of the ancient landmarks remain--the cathedral,
and the citadel, over which flies the national flag. Through modern
Belgrade runs a fine street more than a mile long, overtopped about the
middle by the golden domes of the new palace. Here are the principal
hotels, private houses, and shops, the latter of which blaze with
electric light in the evenings. The people of Belgrade sometimes call
their town "Little Paris," and they strive to make it as gay as the
French capital itself.
[Illustration: The city of Belgrade.
_Photo, Exclusive News Agency._]
While the British fleet was unfolding itself before our King, there
was no gaiety amongst the high government officials in Belgrade. They
were getting very anxious. The Council of Ministers in Vienna was
inquiring closely into the part played by them in the Sarajevo murders.
It was rumoured that the Austrians had traced the arms and explosives
with which the murderers were provided to certain Servian officers and
officials of the government who were members of a National Union for
making Slav power supreme in the Balkan Peninsula. It was also said that
these same officers and officials had secretly passed the murderers into
Bosnia, and had helped them in various other ways to do their deadly
work. If Austria could prove all this, she would be able to say that
Servia had been playing the part of a secret enemy, and rightly deserved
punishment of some sort.
[Illustration: The King and Crown Prince of Servia.
_Photo, Topical._]
On the evening of the 23rd of July the Austro-Hungarian ministers in
Belgrade handed the Note to which your father referred when he read his
newspaper at the breakfast table. You know that every European country
sends officials to live in the capitals of other countries, and that
these officials represent the powers by which they are sent. They are
always treated with the greatest possible respect, and their houses are
supposed to be bits of their own land planted down in a foreign country.
Sometimes these representatives are called ambassadors, sometimes simply
ministers. When the government of one country wishes to communicate with
the government of another country, it sends and receives messages
through its ambassadors or ministers.
In Belgrade there was, of course, an Austrian minister, and it was he
who handed the Note to the Servian Prime Minister. This Note was of such
grave importance that I must tell you what was in it. First, it began by
telling Servia that for a long time past she had been stirring up her
people against Austria; that she had allowed men connected with the
government to plot against her; and that she had taken no steps to
punish those who had assisted the murderers at Sarajevo. The Servians
were greatly to blame, and upon them must fall much of the
responsibility for the wicked deeds that had been done in Bosnia.
Then followed a list of ten things which Servia was to do to make up for
the mischief which she was said to have caused. She was to print on the
front page of the government newspaper a statement that she would no
longer permit her people to work against Austria, either by word or
deed; she was to express regret that Servian officers and officials had
spoken or acted in an unfriendly manner against Austria; and she was to
remove from their posts all who had done so. The whole army was to be
told that such conduct would no longer be permitted, and the National
Union was to be broken up. Two officers, mentioned by name, were to be
arrested, and all who had in any way helped the murderers of Sarajevo,
either by giving them arms or helping them to get into Bosnia, were to
be brought to trial. Austrian officials were to take part in the
punishment of the wrongdoers, and in putting an end to the bad feeling
between the two countries.
The Note ended as follows:--
"The Austro-Hungarian Government expects the reply of the Servian
Government at the latest by six o'clock on Saturday evening, the 25th of
July."
[Illustration: The Czar of Russia and President Poincaré.
This photograph was taken on board the Czar's yacht when President
Poincaré visited Russia in the middle of July.
(_Photo, Record._)]
This was very short notice indeed, and it clearly meant that if the
Servian Government did not immediately agree to the Austrian demands war
would be declared. In a few hours the full text of this letter was known
to all the world. Your father read it, and called it "very harsh."
Certainly it was very severe, and the Austrians meant it to be severe.
They knew very well that they were asking for some things which no state
could possibly yield and still call itself independent. For instance, if
the Servians had agreed to remove officers and officials from their
posts at the bidding of Austria, and had allowed Austrians to take part
in the police work of the country, they would be confessing to all the
world that they were no longer masters in their own house, and that they
were nothing more than the tools of Austria. The Servians were prepared
to punish any officers who were proved guilty, and were quite willing to
give way on nearly all the points in the Note, because they wished to
stave off war with their powerful neighbours; but they were not ready to
acknowledge the Austrians as their overlords. Do you blame them? I
don't.
So they handed in their reply to the Austrians, and in it they said that
they would agree to all Austria's demands; but they asked for delay in
order to make new laws by which they could carry out her wishes. They
also asked for an explanation of the way in which Austrian officials
were to take part in their police and law-court work. This ought to have
been enough; but Austria had all along meant war, and she had drawn up
the Note, with the knowledge, and perhaps the help, of the German
Ambassador at Vienna, in such a way that the Servians were bound to
refuse some of its terms. Immediately the reply was handed to the
Austrian minister he rejected it, and asked for a safe conduct back to
his own country. When a minister does this he clearly indicates that his
country means to fight. The same evening the Austrian minister left
Belgrade, and on the 28th Austria declared war. The next day fighting
began, and the Austrians bombarded Belgrade.
Now we are to understand how Russia came into the quarrel. Russia has
always regarded herself as the protector of the Slav races, and
especially of the little Slav races. When, therefore, Russia saw that
Austria was bent on conquering Servia, she began to call her troops
together, and to prepare them for war. When a nation does this she is
said to mobilize her forces. Russia is such a vast country and her
troops are so widely dispersed that she cannot mobilize so quickly. She
only partly mobilized, and by doing so meant to show Austria that she
was not going to allow Servia to be swallowed up, or even to be badly
beaten, especially after Servia had shown such willingness to meet
Austria's demands.
[Illustration: For Fatherland.
This beautiful picture, which hangs in the Luxembourg Palace in Paris,
illustrates the sacrifice which Frenchmen are always ready to make for
their dearly loved native land.]
Now I must break off my story for a few moments to explain to you that
Germany and Austria, as far back as 1879, made a treaty by which they
promised to stand by each other if either of them should go to war.
Italy joined Germany and Austria three years later, but on the
understanding that she would fight only if one or other of the three
partners should be attacked. This agreement is called the _Triple
Alliance_.
Ever since 1870, when the Germans invaded France, and in less than five
months utterly overcame her, tore from her two provinces, and fined her
two hundred million pounds, there has been ill-feeling between France
and Germany. Frenchmen have longed for the day on which they might win
back the lost provinces and pay off old scores. Germany is too rich and
powerful and has too big an army for France to be able to meet her on
equal terms, so she has formed an alliance with Russia. This is known as
the _Dual Alliance_. France and Russia have agreed to help each other if
either of them should be attacked.
During the lifetime of our late King Edward VII., who was very fond of
France, we were brought nearer and nearer to our friends across the
Channel. For centuries they have been our foes; we have fought them off
and on since the days of William the Conqueror. Our great admiral, Lord
Nelson, used to say to his midshipmen, "Your duty is to fear God, honour
the King, and hate the Frenchman." King Edward was a man who loved
peace, and he did much to bring the French and the British people
together, and make it easier for our statesmen to come to an
understanding with French statesmen. This understanding was that if the
coasts of France should be attacked by the fleet of an enemy, our Navy
would help the French Navy. Now, when we came to an understanding with
France we also came to an understanding with the ally of France--that
is, with Russia. For a long time we had only an understanding with these
countries, but not long ago we turned this understanding into an
alliance. So you see that in July last there were two triple alliances
in Europe--Germany, Austria, and Italy on the one side, and Great
Britain, France, and Russia on the other. Later on, when I tell you
something about Germany, you will understand why this new triple
alliance was formed.
[Footnote 21: _Ve-en´na_, called by the Austrians and Germans _Wien_.]
[Footnote 22: _Shar-le-mān´_ (Charles the Great), became king of the
Franks in 768, and reigned for forty-six years.]
[Footnote 23: _Ish´l_.]
[Footnote 24: _Bo-he´mi-a_, a kingdom in the north-west of the Austrian
Empire fenced in by lofty mountains.]
[Footnote 25: _Ag-a-mem´non_.]
CHAPTER III.
THE BEGINNINGS OF PRUSSIA.
About forty years ago a German boy, accompanied by his tutor and other
attendants, was spending a holiday at a seaside resort in the south of
England. One morning this boy went down to the beach and amused himself
by throwing stones at the bathing machines. The son of the owner of the
machines, a boy of about his own age, saw him so engaged, and, going up
to him, told him to stop throwing. Now the German boy had been brought
up to believe that he could do as he pleased, without anyone daring to
take him to task. So he drew himself up proudly, and said, "Do you know
who I am?" "No," replied the English boy, "and I don't care either. I
only know that I'm not going to let you damage our machines."
Thereupon the German boy hit out and knocked the speaker down. In a
moment the English boy was on his feet again. He pulled off his coat,
put up his fists, and a fight began. Just when the German boy was
getting the worst of it his tutor arrived, separated the fighters, and
put an end to the combat.
That German boy is now the Kaiser[26] Wilhelm, the man who has plunged
Europe into this terrible war. From the story which you have just read
you may learn something of his character when he was a boy. Later on I
shall tell you what sort of a man he became; but first you must learn
something of the history of the land over which he rules.
* * * * *
[Illustration: The Kaiser Wilhelm and the Emperor Franz Josef.
_Photo, Topical Press._]
On a lofty, lonely crag, amidst the wilds of Swabia,[27] stands the
picturesque castle of Hohenzollern, the cradle of the family from which
the rulers of Prussia are descended. On this high rock the eagles
formerly made their home, hence the crest of the Prussian royal family
is the eagle--the boldest and fiercest of all the birds. About the
middle of the twelfth century the lord of this castle, a man named
Conrad, took service with the great Emperor of what was called the Holy
Roman Empire--that is, with the overlord of nearly all Western Europe.
Conrad served the Emperor so faithfully that as his reward he was made
governor of the city of Nuremberg[28] in Bavaria. If you were to visit
Nuremberg you would be charmed with the castle, now a royal palace, the
ancient walls and towers, the grand old buildings, including churches
which are full of priceless pictures and carvings, and the art
galleries, which contain some of the best paintings of the great
masters. The chief trade of Nuremberg to-day is the manufacture of toys,
scientific instruments, motor cars, cycles, and beer.
About the beginning of the fifteenth century the Hohenzollern who was
governor of Nuremberg was a man named Frederick. He had been very loyal
to the Emperor, who rewarded him by making him ruler of the Mark of
Brandenburg. The greatest day in the history of the Hohenzollerns was
April 17, 1417, the day on which Frederick received from the hands of
the Emperor the flag of Brandenburg, and swore to be faithful to him.
If you look at a map of Germany you will see in the middle of the North
German plain the city of Berlin, the capital of the German Empire. Round
about Berlin, in the valleys of the Middle Oder, and its tributary the
Warthe, and in the valley of the Elbe, extends the province of Prussia,
known as the Mark of Brandenburg. It was one of the first districts of
Germany to be peopled by men of German race when they came advancing
from the east in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, but it was by no
means a land flowing with milk and honey. Parts of the country were
marshy or heavily wooded, and in many places the land was so thickly
covered with sand that it was known as the "sandbox of the Holy Roman
Empire." Thin crops of rye and oats alone could be raised on this
thankless soil; nevertheless the colony prospered greatly under
Frederick and his successors.
[Illustration: Map of Modern Germany.]
The Hohenzollern prince who really founded the greatness of his house
was Frederick William, who began to reign in the year 1640. He is known
as the "Great Elector."[29] If I were to show you a coloured map of
Germany as it was when this prince began to reign, you would say that it
looked like a patchwork quilt of many colours. From the Baltic Sea to
the Alps there were no fewer than three hundred states of all sorts and
sizes, the smallest of them consisting only of a single town or village.
Frederick William was a very able man, and so well did he fight, and so
skilfully did he plot and plan during what is known as the Thirty Years'
War, that he added several of these small states to his own, and thus
became master of the largest state in all Germany. Brandenburg under
his rule spread out a little to the west, but a great deal to the
north-east, and included a stretch of coast-line on the Baltic Sea. The
present Kaiser has always revered the memory of the Great Elector. He
once said: "Of all my predecessors, he is the one for whom I feel the
greatest enthusiasm, and who from of old has stood before me as the
example of my youth."
When the Great Elector died he was succeeded by his son Frederick, who
was very eager to be called king. He attained this great object of his
life in the year 1700; but, because he was a spendthrift and a lover of
empty display, he did nothing to advance the interests of his country.
After him reigned another Frederick William, who had some talents and
did the business of his state very well, but was a thoroughly wicked
fellow, and was, indeed, next door to a madman. Nevertheless he was the
first Prussian king to set himself the task of making his kingdom strong
enough to take its place among the European Powers. Carlyle calls him
the "drill-sergeant of the Prussian nation."
[Illustration: Statue of the Great Elector in Berlin.
The present Kaiser is devoted to the memory of his ancestors, and does
everything in his power to make the Prussians believe that they owe
everything to the Hohenzollern sovereigns. Berlin is full of statues to
these princes. In one of the avenues of the chief park there is a row of
statues to all the rulers of Prussia. Of the Great Elector, who was the
real founder of Prussia, and whose statue is shown above, the Kaiser has
said, "He has stood before me as the example of my youth." He is also a
great admirer of Frederick the Great, and has imitated some of the worst
features of that monarch.
_Photo, Exclusive News Agency._]
This Frederick William stinted himself and his family of food and
clothing, in order to keep up an army of 60,000 men, and he drilled them
so well that they were the best troops of the time. The great desire of
his heart was to possess a brigade of giants, and his agents scoured all
the countries of Europe to find big men. He would pay almost anything
for men over six feet, and it is said that he gave £1,200 for an
Irishman who was more than seven feet high. These Potsdam[30] Guards
were his passion; he hoarded his money like a miser on most things, but
he spent it lavishly on buying tall men for his army.
Some day he hoped to send these huge fellows into the field, and see
them drive the whipper-snappers of other nations before them. But he was
so proud of his giants that he hated the thought of risking their lives
in battle, and while he lived they never saw any harder service than
sham fights in the fields round Berlin.
When King Frederick was gathered to his fathers, his son, one of the
most remarkable men who ever lived, came to the throne. When you are
grown up you will, if you are wise, read his life as Thomas Carlyle[31]
wrote it. Here I can only touch very lightly on his character and the
work which he did for his country. He is known to history as Frederick
the Great.
[Illustration: One of the Potsdam Guards.]
Probably no boy had ever so hard an upbringing as Prince Frederick.
Macaulay tells us that "Oliver Twist in the parish workhouse and Smike
at Dotheboys Hall were petted children when compared with this wretched
heir-apparent of a crown." This is, perhaps, an over-statement; but
there is no doubt that the boy spent a very hard and loveless boyhood.
His father was a rough, bluff man, who thought that the whole business
of life was to drill and to be drilled. He loved to drink beer, smoke
strong tobacco, play cards, hunt wild hogs, and shoot partridges by the
thousand, and he despised all the arts and graces which make life sweet
and beautiful. Carlyle tells us that the young prince was nourished on
beer soup, and that every hour of his life he was taught to be thrifty,
active, and exact in everything that he did. His very sleep was stingily
meted out to him. "Too much sleep stupefies a fellow," his gruff old
father used to say. So little sleep was the boy allowed to have that the
doctors had to interfere for the sake of his health. He had no money of
his own until he was seventeen, and then he was provided with
eighteenpence a month, and made to keep an exact account of all that he
spent.
His father was determined to make the boy a soldier from his youth up.
He thought of nothing else but soldiering; to him it was the only work
fit for a man. A hundred and ten lads about the age of the young prince,
and all sons of noble families, were formed into a tiny regiment for
little Fritz, and when he had learnt his drill he took command of them.
"Which he did duly, in a year or two; a little soldier thenceforth;
properly strict, though of small dimensions; in tight blue bit of coat
and cocked hat; miniature image of Papa (it is fondly hoped and
expected), resembling him as a sixpence does a half-crown." Later on a
little arsenal was set up for him, and in it he learnt to mount
batteries and fire small brass guns.
His governess was a very clever woman, and she had taught him to read
and enjoy French, and had given him some instruction in music. In the
brief intervals which he could snatch from his soldiering he loved to
read French books and to play on the flute; but when his father
discovered how he spent his leisure there were terrible scenes. The
flute was broken, the French books were sent out of the palace, and the
Prince was kicked and cudgelled and pulled by the hair. At dinner the
plates were hurled at his head, and sometimes his only fare was bread
and water. Once his father knocked him down, and would have strangled
him if the Queen had not interfered. At last the unhappy boy was driven
to despair, and he tried to run away to the court of his uncle, George
II. of England. At this the old tyrant his father was roused to madness.
The poor boy was an officer, and he had committed the basest crime that
the King could imagine--he had deserted. A young lieutenant who was
trying to help him to get out of the clutches of his father was seized,
and the King forced his son to look on while this friend was hanged.
The boy himself would have been shot, had not the kings of Sweden and
Poland and the Emperor of Germany pleaded for his life. As it was, he
was sent to prison; but he found his cell happier than his home. His
gaolers were kind to him; he had wholesome food and plenty of it; he
could read his French books without being kicked, and play his flute
without having it broken over his head. Nevertheless, in less than a
fortnight after the death of his friend he was ready to promise the King
that he would not misbehave in the future. He was released from prison,
but for some time was not restored to his old position in the army.
At length he became a man, and was allowed to set up a home of his own.
He married a wife, and amused himself in his country retreat by laying
out gardens and growing rare fruits and flowers. The friends whom he
gathered around him were all French, and amongst them he set up a
brotherhood called the Order of Bayard, after the name of the great
French knight who was "without fear and without reproach"--the noblest
hero of the Middle Ages.
Early in the year 1740 "Old Fritz" lay on his death-bed, and was able to
say, as he put his arms round the Prince's neck, that he was content to
die, knowing that he was leaving behind him so worthy a son and
successor. Thus Frederick became King of Prussia in his twenty-eighth
year. His subjects thought that he would prove a gentle and easy-going
king; but imagine their surprise when they found that, like Prince Hal,
he bade farewell to his companions and completely turned over a new
leaf. "No more of these fooleries," he said, and at once flung himself
into the work of making his army as strong and efficient as possible.
The men were drilled without mercy, and the officers frequently beat
them with canes; but in spite of this treatment they were full of
spirit, and in after years showed great valour on the battlefield.
Frederick was soon looking about for an opportunity of testing them in
war.
A few months after he came to the throne, Charles VI., the Holy Roman
Emperor, died, and there was no son to succeed him. He left his great
dominions--Austria, Hungary, Bohemia, parts of the Netherlands, and
parts of North Italy--to his daughter, Maria Theresa,[32] and before his
death he had persuaded the sovereigns of Europe to support her as
Empress. Amongst those who faithfully promised to do so was Frederick;
but I am sorry to say that, very shortly after Maria Theresa ascended
her throne, he suddenly assembled his army and marched at its head into
her country. He broke his plighted word; he fell upon a state which he
thought was unable to defend itself; and he plunged Europe into a long
and terrible war, simply because he was eager to increase his power and
make people talk about him. You cannot think of a baser crime than
this. Frederick used to say: "He is a fool, and that nation is a fool,
which, having the power to strike his enemy unawares, does not strike
and strike his deadliest."
It was the depth of winter when Frederick set his armies in motion. Poor
Maria Theresa was taken unawares; town after town yielded, until, before
the end of January 1741, Frederick was master of Silesia,[33] and was
able to return to Berlin, where he was received with joy by his
subjects. Then some of the other greedy sovereigns followed Frederick's
bad example, and soon all Europe was in arms.
[Illustration: Maria Theresa and the Hungarian Nobles.
When Frederick the Great was about to invade Silesia, Maria Theresa,
holding her young son in her arms, begged the Hungarian nobles to fight
for her. With one accord they drew their swords and cried, "Let us die
for our _king_, Maria Theresa!"]
Frederick had been brought up as a soldier, but up to this time he had
seen nothing of actual war, and had never commanded great bodies of men
in the field. In his first battle his cavalry was put to flight, and he
spurred his English grey out of the battle, and ran away! He took refuge
in a mill, and late at night the news was brought to him that, thanks to
an old field-marshal, his army had won a great victory. When he realized
that he had been running away while his men had been winning a battle
for him, he was filled with shame. This was the turning-point in his
career. In the next battle he showed great courage, and so diligently
did he study the art of war, that he soon became renowned as one of the
greatest generals who ever lived.
[Illustration: Frederick the Great visiting his People.
(_From the picture by von Menzel._)]
I cannot tell you here of all the long and cruel warfare which Frederick
the Great waged. He gained many victories, chiefly by making cat-like
leaps before his enemy expected an attack; but he had many defeats too,
for several nations joined together to fight him. He would have been
hopelessly beaten but for the British king, George II., who was also
Elector of Hanover,[34] one of the German states. George II. sent him
men and money, and enabled him to meet his foes on the battlefield. For
seven years Frederick held his ground against the three great
military Powers of the time--France, Austria, and Russia. In the year
1761 the British refused to help him any further, and it seemed as if he
must be forced to give up the struggle for want of means to carry it on.
But fortune favoured him; the new Emperor of Russia wished to make
peace, and thus Frederick was freed from one of his powerful enemies.
One by one his other foes dropped off, and in 1763 peace was made.
In some of his battles so many of his men were killed, and so terrible
was the condition of his country, that more than once he thought of
committing suicide as the only escape from the evils which he had
brought upon his kingdom. But when peace came Prussia was a great Power,
respected for her military strength by the whole of Europe. Thereafter,
Frederick devoted himself to building up his country anew. Before his
death he had increased his territories to an area of 75,000 square
miles, and his people numbered 5,500,000. He had made Prussia great, but
he had done it by craft and cunning and violence, and at the cost of
untold misery and suffering.
Before I conclude the story of Frederick the Great I must tell you of
another piece of wickedness which he did in the latter years of his
life. I have already mentioned the Poles as a Slav race, and have told
you that they now live partly in Austria, partly in Germany, and partly
in Russia. There is no country of Poland now, but there may be one again
when this war is over. In the reign of the English king, Edward III.,
Poland was an important and flourishing kingdom. Its capital was the old
city of Cracow,[35] now in the Austrian province of Galicia.[36] If you
were to visit its cathedral church, which stands high on a rocky hill to
the south-west of the town, you would see the tombs of many of the
Polish kings, patriots, and poets who have made Poland so famous amongst
the nations. Amongst them you would see the last resting-place of John
Sobieski,[37] who was the noblest warrior of them all. He it was who
drove back the Turks from the walls of Vienna and saved Europe from the
infidel.
In the year 1772 Poland was too weak to defend herself. Her nobles
quarrelled fiercely amongst themselves, and the land was torn with
disunion and strife. Then the cruel, crafty King of Prussia made an
agreement with Russia and Austria, whereby they were to seize part of
Poland. This was done, and the three sovereigns, like robbers in a cave,
divided the spoils between them. Frederick took a big slice, and so did
Russia, while Austria was given Galicia. This was the first mouthful.
Twenty-one years later the same three Powers gobbled up poor Poland
completely; and now, like the Jews, the Poles have no land which they
can call their own. But they still love Poland, and yearn for the day
when it will be a kingdom once more. When the present great war broke
out, the Czar of Russia sent a message to the Poles saying that if they
would help him to win he would set up the old kingdom of Poland again,
and let it have a king of its own, under his protection. This was great,
glad news to the Poles, and they eagerly agreed to help him.
[Footnote 26: _Kī´ser_, a German form of Cæsar, the name given to the
Roman emperors.]
[Footnote 27: Former duchy of Germany, consisting of what is now
Würtemberg Baden, and South-west Bavaria.]
[Footnote 28: City of Bavaria, 90 miles north by west of Mūn´ich, the
capital.]
[Footnote 29: Title given to certain princes of Germany because they had
the right to _elect_ the Emperor.]
[Footnote 30: Chief town of the province of Brandenburg, 16 miles west
of Berlin. It contains a royal palace, and is practically the German
Windsor.]
[Footnote 31: Born 1795, died 1881. A great writer of history and
philosophy. His _History of Frederick the Great_ was begun in 1852, and
occupied him for thirteen years, during which he paid two visits to
Germany.]
[Footnote 32: _Mä-rī´a Ter-e´sa_, Queen of Hungary and German Empress;
reigned from 1741 to 1780. She was the mother of Marie Antoinette
(_ong-twa-net_), wife of Louis XVI. of France.]
[Footnote 33: _Sīl-ēs´i-a_, since 1742 a province of Prussia in the
extreme south-east, between Poland and Bohemia. Most of it is in the
basin of the Oder. It is very rich in iron, coal, and metals, and is an
important manufacturing region.]
[Footnote 34: Now a province of Prussia, stretching from the Netherlands
east to the Elbe, and from the North Sea south to Westphalia and Hesse
Nassau. It contains the following German ports--Emden, Harburg,
Papenburg, and Wilhelmshaven. The town of Hanover, which still contains
the favourite residence of George I. and George II., is 112 miles by
rail south of Hamburg.]
[Footnote 35: _Krā´kō_, the old capital of Poland; stands on the left
bank of the Vistula, in the Austrian crown land of Galicia.]
[Footnote 36: _Ga-lish´i-a_, crown land of Austria, on the north side of
the Carpathians. Its north-west frontier is formed by the Vistula, and
the eastern parts are drained by the Dniester, Pruth, and Sereth. The
country is rich in petroleum, from which the spirit is made by which
motors are propelled. As motors are now so largely used in war, the
possession of Galicia is a great advantage to Austria and Germany.]
[Footnote 37: _Sō´bē-es´kē_, John III. of Poland; reigned from 1674 to
1696.]
CHAPTER IV.
THE GREAT WAR LORD OF EUROPE.
The noblest street in all Berlin is called the Unter den Linden, which
simply means "under the lime trees." In this fine, tree-shaded avenue
stands a splendid monument to Frederick the Great, the man who laid the
foundations of Prussia by means of force and fraud. His successor,
Frederick William II., was a weak man, who squandered the public money
on favourites. Under his rule Prussia grew poorer every day; instead of
being the best governed state in Europe, it rapidly became one of the
worst, and a clever Frenchman at his court declared that no country was
nearer to ruin. The army, however, was still kept up in the old way,
though it had lost much of its fiery spirit. Frederick William was just
as eager for war as Frederick the Great; but he was no general, and when
he did fight, was badly beaten. Then, as you will soon hear, he made
peace with his victorious foe, and had to give up a part of his country.
It was in his time, however, that further slices were taken from Poland
and added to Prussia.
[Illustration: The Kaiser and his Troops in the Unter den Linden.
_Photo, Exclusive News Agency._]
Three years after Frederick William II. came to the throne, one of the
greatest events in all history took place. For hundreds of years the
kings and nobles of France had ground down the people in all sorts of
harsh and cruel ways. At length the people rose in wrath and began to
upturn the government and try to set up a new state of things. In July
1789 a Paris mob stormed the state prison and set free the prisoners;
whereupon the peasants all over the country rose in rebellion, murdered
the nobles, and burned their castles. The king dared not interfere; all
power was taken from him, and a sort of Parliament began to pass laws
sweeping away all the old abuses. The Revolution, or great upturning of
the government, had begun.
[Illustration: The Attack on the Bastille.
_From a contemporary print._]
The leaders of the people grew more and more violent, and thousands of
nobles and gentry fled the country. The king and his family tried to
escape, but were caught and brought back as prisoners. Those who had
managed to get out of France went to the courts of the various kings,
and begged them to declare war against the country which was so cruelly
treating them and their king. At length the kings of the other European
countries began to perceive that their own thrones were in danger, and
that they must unite to protect themselves. Leopold II., Emperor of
Austria, and Frederick William of Prussia prepared to fight. At the head
of 50,000 of his own men and 30,000 Austrians, Frederick William crossed
the eastern frontier of France. At this the Paris mob was filled with
fury. They burst open the prisons in which their nobles and gentry were
confined, and killed many of them. The same dreadful scenes took place
in several other towns of France.
[Illustration: French nobles and gentry waiting the call to execution.]
The French got together an army which was little better than a rabble,
but was full of fiery zeal. It entered Belgium, and called on the people
to rise against their government and set up a republic. Another French
army advanced to the Rhine to meet Frederick. The anger of the French
was now so great that they resolved to hurl at the kings of Europe the
head of a king. On January 21, 1793, they cut off the head of their
king, and a few months later that of the queen. A thrill of horror ran
through the courts of Europe, and Great Britain, Holland, Spain,
Austria, and Prussia united to make war on France. In the summer of
1793, during the six weeks of what was called the Reign of Terror, the
French put to death more than 1,400 of their nobles and gentry, and
some of the most bloodthirsty scenes in all history took place.
During this terrible time the French raised army after army, though they
had scarcely the means of feeding and clothing and arming their men.
These armies fought with wonderful spirit, and they attacked all the
nations opposed to them. On the other hand, the Allies were jealous of
each other, and were slow to mass their armies. The Prussians, with whom
we are specially concerned, were beaten, and so were the Austrians. Then
Frederick William II. deserted his fellow kings, and made peace with the
French Republic,[38] giving up to it the whole of the left bank of the
Rhine. He died two years later, and was succeeded by Frederick William
III. At the end of the year 1795 France held the upper hand in Europe.
* * * * *
Every boy and every girl who reads these pages must have heard the
_Marseillaise_,[39] the great French war song. Here are the words of it,
and on the next page you will find the music:--
"Ye sons of France, awake to glory!
Hark, hark! what myriads round you rise!
Your children, wives, and grandsires hoary--
Behold their tears and hear their cries!
Shall hateful tyrants, mischief breeding,
With hireling hosts, a ruffian band,
Affright and desolate the land,
While peace and liberty lie bleeding?
To arms! To arms! ye brave.
The avenging sword unsheathe.
March on! March on!
All hearts resolved on victory or death!
"Now, now the dang'rous storm is rolling,
Which treach'rous kings confed'rate raise;
The dogs of war let loose are howling,
And lo! our fields and cities blaze.
And shall we basely view the ruin,
While lawless Force, with guilty stride,
Spreads desolation far and wide,
With crime and blood his hands embruing?
To arms! To arms! ye brave, etc.
"With luxury and pride surrounded,
The vile insatiate despots dare,
Their thirst for pow'r and gold unbounded
To mete and vend the light and air.
Like beasts of burden would they load us,
Like gods would bid their slaves adore;
But man is man, and who is more?
Then shall they longer lash and goad us?
To arms! To arms! ye brave, etc.
"O Liberty, can man resign thee,
Once having felt thy gen'rous flame?
Can dungeons, bolts, and bars confine thee,
Or whips thy noble spirit tame?
Too long the world has wept, bewailing
That Falsehood's dagger tyrants wield;
But Freedom is our sword and shield,
And all their arts are unavailing.
To arms! To arms! ye brave, etc."
[Illustration: THE MARSEILLAISE HYMN.
Ye Sons of France awake to glory! Hark, hark! what myriads round
you rise! Your children, wives, and grandsires hoary; Behold their
tears, and hear their cries! Behold their tears and hear their cries!
Shall hateful Tyrants, mischief breeding, With hireling hosts, a ruffian
band. Affright and desolate the land, While peace and liberty lie
bleeding? To arms! to arms! ye brave! Th'avenging sword unsheath,
March on! March on!
all hearts resolv'd On victory or death! March on! March
on! all hearts resolv'd On victory or death!]
It will interest you to learn that this splendid marching song, which is
the French national anthem, was composed during the years when France
was fighting with almost all the other nations of Europe. In April 1792,
when war was declared on Austria, a young captain of Engineers named
Rouget de Lisle[40] was in Strassburg[41] with his company, waiting the
order to advance. He was fond of writing verse and composing music, but
up to this time he had written and composed nothing worthy of special
mention. His heart and mind were fired with the thought of giving
freedom to all the world; to him it seemed that the armies of France
were engaged in a holy crusade.
Food was scarce in Strassburg at this time, and many of the officers and
soldiers would have gone hungry but for the mayor, who did everything he
possibly could to supply them with food. Every evening he asked a number
of the officers to sup with him, and one evening Rouget de Lisle was
invited. During the meal the mayor said that he wished some one would
compose a new war song which would stir up the young soldiers about to
march on Austria. A major who was one of the company turned to Rouget
and said, "You are a poet and a musician; can't you compose something
that will do?"
Rouget was a very modest young fellow, and at once he said that a war
song was quite beyond his powers. Some of the other men seated at the
table joined in the request, and Rouget at last began to think that he
would try. He retired to his chamber, and as he thought of his beloved
France and of the great battles which she had to fight, he became
greatly excited. Then the words flowed from his pen, and as he wrote
them a tune sprang into his mind which seemed to suit the words exactly.
By seven o'clock in the morning he had composed both words and music. At
once he hastened to his friend the major, and said, "Listen to this, and
tell me what you think of it." The major listened and was delighted, and
some hours later carried him off to the mayor's house. Here Rouget sang
his song, while one of the mayor's nieces accompanied him on the piano.
Every one who heard it was thrilled. It seemed to call forth all the
fighting spirit in them.
[Illustration: Rouget de Lisle singing "The Marseillaise."
(_From the painting by Pils, in the Louvre Gallery. Photo by Mansell._)]
The same day the song was published, and next day one of the military
bands played it. Immediately it became all the rage. Through Alsace to
the south of France it spread like wildfire; but the people of Paris
knew nothing of the song until they heard the volunteers from
Marseilles[42] chanting it as they marched through the streets. They had
sung it in every town and village through which they had passed, and
everywhere it had been greeted with loud cries of delight. Because it
was first sung in Paris by the men of Marseilles, it was called the
_Marseillaise_.
Such is the story of the great French war song which all Europe learned
to know and fear in what is known as the War of the Revolution. It
worked like a charm: men marched and fought and suffered and died to its
strains. At the present time French soldiers are singing it as they
swing along the roads to engage the enemy, and you and I sing it in this
country because the French are our friends and allies, and their cause
is ours.
* * * * *
[Illustration: Napoleon at School.
When Napoleon was a boy at a French military school he was jeered at by
his fellows, who called him a surly Corsican.]
Out of the bloodshed and terror of this time arose the figure of
Napoleon, the greatest war lord that the world has ever known. He was a
Corsican,[43] who first proved his ability by forcing the British to
give up Toulon.[44] Thereafter he rose rapidly in the service of the
Republic, and in 1796 was placed in command of the army of Italy. In two
campaigns he completely overthrew the Austrians, and was hailed by his
countrymen as the greatest general of the age. As he rose in power and
fame he began to dream of making himself the master of France, and then
of all Europe. Before long Great Britain alone stood against him. On sea
the British were then, as now, supreme, and our great Admiral Nelson,
and others worthy to be mentioned with him, defeated his fleets again
and again. Nevertheless he won so many great victories on land that in
the year 1801 the continental nations were obliged to make peace with
him. You already know that Prussia had done so six years before, and had
been forced to give up the whole of the left bank of the Rhine. Next
year Britain made peace with him too.
[Illustration: Napoleon at Austerlitz.]
On May 18, 1804, Napoleon put an end to the French Republic, and made
himself Emperor of the French. He now planned a great scheme for turning
all Europe into one vast empire, with kings and princes over the various
nations, but himself as the head of all. He sent an army into Hanover,
and overran it; but Prussia did not interfere, because she hoped that
Napoleon would hand over that state to her if she remained quiet. Great
Britain now persuaded Austria, Russia, and Sweden to join together
against France, but Frederick William III. would not unite with them. He
allowed Napoleon to do as he pleased in Germany, because he thought that
Austria would be beaten, and that the conqueror would reward him with
some of the spoils. The Emperors of Austria and Russia begged him to
desert Napoleon and join them, but he would not listen to them. When
Napoleon won the famous battle of Austerlitz, at which the three great
emperors of Christendom were present, Frederick William received his
reward--Hanover was handed over to him.
Napoleon was now master of all Europe except Great Britain. In the next
year sixteen of the German princes separated themselves from the German
Empire and joined him, and he turned many of the provinces which he had
won into kingdoms, and placed his relatives and his generals on their
thrones. As for Prussia, Napoleon had no respect for her, and very soon
showed that he was going to seize her too. Louisa, the beautiful Queen
of Prussia, had alone seen what the end of her country would be, and had
begged the king to draw the sword against the conqueror. When Napoleon
took one of the Prussian fortresses she again besought her husband to
fight. The Emperor of Russia visited him, and joined his entreaties to
hers, and at last, in 1806, he took the field against the great war
lord.
[Illustration: Napoleon with King Frederick William III. and Queen
Louisa at Tilsit.
_From the picture by von Gros._]
Napoleon struck swiftly. At Jena[45] he held the Prussians in check till
his cavalry came up, and when they dashed down on the foe all was over.
The Prussian horse and foot fled in panic; 20,000 Prussians were killed
or taken, as well as 300 guns and 60 standards. After the victory
Napoleon treated the Prussians very harshly. He said many bitter things
about the old Duke of Brunswick, who had fought so bravely against him,
and he overran his states. He insulted the queen, and he told the nobles
that he would make them so poor that they would be obliged to beg their
bread. He quickly subdued the whole country, and made Prussia pay him
some millions of money. Then the conquered states were divided into four
parts, over which he set commanders.
Leaving 60,000 French to hold beaten Prussia, he now turned on Russia,
and in February 1807 marched 100,000 men into Poland, where he met the
Russian army and the remnants of the Prussian army. On a field covered
with snow a battle was fought during the short hours of a winter day.
The slaughter was horrible, and the battle was drawn. In the following
May the armies met again, and this time Napoleon was victorious. A week
later he and the Czar met on a raft moored on the river Niemen,[46]
and made plans for the greatest scheme of robbery ever known to history:
they agreed to divide Europe between them.
Great Britain still struggled against Napoleon, and her fleet was the
only force which prevented him from becoming the unchecked master of the
whole world. Napoleon now tried to bring Great Britain to her knees.
Some years before he had gathered fleets of flat-bottomed boats at
Boulogne,[47] and had prepared a huge army for the invasion of Britain,
but could not obtain that twelve hours' mastery of the Channel which
would enable him to cross the "silver streak." Now he tried another
plan. He ordered the harbours of the Continent to be closed against the
British, so that they could not carry on trade or sell their
manufactures. In this way he hoped to make Great Britain so poor that
she would be unable to hold out against him.
By this time the Czar was tired of being Napoleon's underling, and he
now said that he would not close his ports against the British. Napoleon
was furiously angry, and marched a great army towards the Russian
frontier, which was crossed on June 23, 1812. The Russians did not
attempt to fight; they fell back, and lured him on, meanwhile wasting
the country over which he had to pass. Soon the French found themselves
short of food, and thousands died of hunger. Napoleon's line of march
was marked by the dead bodies of thousands of men and horses.
At last the Russians stood firm, and a great battle was fought some
seventy miles from Moscow. One hundred thousand men lay dead or wounded
on the field, but Napoleon was not checked. A week later his troops
entered Moscow[48] with shouts of delight. To their dismay they found it
as silent as a city of the dead. All the people had left it, but before
doing so had set fire to the place. Soon after the French marched in,
flames began to shoot up from a thousand different points. The fire
burned for five days, and the city lay in ruins. Then want of food and
shelter compelled Napoleon to retreat. When he left Moscow his army had
dwindled to about 100,000 men. The Cossacks[49] hung upon their flanks
and rear, and cut off all stragglers. Soon the snow began to fall, and
the cruel Russian winter set in. Thousands perished daily of cold and
hunger.
Napoleon's starving and frost-bitten army soon became a rabble. As he
approached the river Beresina[50] he learned that the Russians were
waiting to oppose the passage. A battery of guns commanded the bridge,
and as the French tried to cross thousands of them were mowed down, and
heaps of dead and wounded blocked the way. A miserable, crushed remnant
of 20,000 men was all that struggled back to Germany. The downfall of
Napoleon had begun.
[Footnote 38: A form of government in which the head of the state is not
a king, but a citizen elected by the people for a number of years.]
[Footnote 39: _Mar-sā-yāz´_.]
[Footnote 40: _Roo-zhā´ d´lēl´_ (1760-1836).]
[Footnote 41: Capital of Alsace-Lorraine, on a small tributary of the
Rhine. It became German in 1871.]
[Footnote 42: _Mar-selz´_, chief city of South France, on the Gulf of
Lions, one of the two great ports (the other is Genoa) on the
Mediterranean Sea.]
[Footnote 43: Native of Corsica (_Kōr´si-ka_), large French island, 110
miles south of the coast of France. The chief town is Ajaccio, in which
Napoleon's birthplace is still shown.]
[Footnote 44: _Too-lon´_. French naval port, 42 miles east of
Marseilles.]
[Footnote 45: German town on the left bank of the Saale, 14 miles E.S.E.
of Weimar.]
[Footnote 46: _Nē'men_, river rising in the Russian government of Minsk,
and flowing to the Baltic Sea in East Prussia.]
[Footnote 47: _Boo-lō'ny_, town on the English Channel, connected with
Folkestone by a daily cross-Channel service.]
[Footnote 48: Old capital of Russia, on the Moskva, a tributary of the
Oka, 390 miles south-east of Petrograd. Its huge citadel is called the
Kremlin.]
[Footnote 49: People living in the south and east of Russia who give
military service to the Czar in return for the lands on which they live.
They are very fierce and warlike, and are the best light cavalry in the
Russian army.]
[Footnote 50: _Byer-ye-zē´na_, tributary of the Dnieper, in the Minsk
government of Russia.]
[Illustration: The Retreat of Napoleon from Moscow.
(_After the picture by Meissonier._)]
CHAPTER V.
HOW THE GREAT WAR LORD FELL.
This unexpected blow seemed to the enslaved peoples of Europe a sign
that their hour of deliverance had struck. Everywhere they began to take
fresh courage, and ere long there was a general rising of the nations
against Napoleon. Berlin was still in the hands of the French; but when
the King of Prussia called upon his people to rise against the common
enemy, every able-bodied man was ready to throw off the hated yoke. The
news reached Napoleon's ears; but he only exclaimed, "Pah! Germans can't
fight like Spaniards." However, he got together another French army, and
many of the German princes were so terrified that they let their troops
join him. Prussia stood almost alone.
Her people, however, were filled with new hope and energy. The whole
country became an armed camp. Youths scarcely more than boys, old men
with gray hair, fathers of families, doctors, lawyers, tradesmen, even
women in men's clothing, snatched up guns and grasped swords. Never was
a nation more united. A large army sprang into being, the Tsar sent
help, and Napoleon was defied. But once more the great war lord
conquered, and in two fierce battles Prussia was beaten to the ground.
The Emperor of Austria now tried to act as a peace-maker, and sent
Metternich,[51] his chief minister, to talk the matter over with
Napoleon. As soon as he arrived, the French emperor said, "Well, Count
Metternich, how much money have you been bribed with by England to take
this part?" So saying, he threw his hat down on the floor to see if
Count Metternich would stoop to pick it up. The minister looked at the
hat and then at Napoleon, but did not stoop. Seeing this, Napoleon
turned his back on him, and Metternich knew that war would be declared
on his country.
Napoleon had now to fight Prussia, Russia, Austria, and Sweden. It may
perhaps surprise you to find Sweden amongst Napoleon's foes, especially
when you learn that the Prince of Sweden had been a French general, and
had fought for Napoleon. But he, too, was tired of Napoleon's yoke, and
was ready to help in throwing it off. Three armies were gathered
together--a northern army, a second in Bohemia, and a third in Silesia,
the last being under the command of Marshal Blücher,[52] of whom we
shall hear again.
On August 23, 1813, a battle took place between the French and the
northern army at a place called Gross-Beeren.[53] The Swedish king was
supposed to be in command of this army, but he and his Swedes looked on
without fighting. It was a battle of untrained men against a trained
army. The Prussian peasants rushed on the foe, beat down whole
battalions of them with the butt-ends of their muskets, and captured
2,400 prisoners. Three days later Marshal Blücher also won a success in
Silesia. Having lured the French across the river Neisse, he drove them
back into the stream, which was then swollen by heavy rains. The muskets
of his men were wetted, and so were of no use for firing; but Blücher
drew his sabre and dashed forward, shouting, "Forward!" The Prussians
clubbed their muskets and beat thousands of the French to death. Many
others were drowned or bayoneted, and the victory was complete. The
French general escaped almost alone, and galloped to Dresden,[54] where
Napoleon then was. "Sire," he said, "your army no longer exists."
Marshal Blücher was made a prince, and thenceforward was known as
"Marshal Forward."
While his generals were thus suffering defeat, Napoleon himself gained a
victory near Dresden. But when his army learned that elsewhere his
forces had been beaten, the Germans under his command began to waver,
and the outlook was black indeed. Napoleon knew that his end was drawing
near, and for several days he could not make up his mind whether to
fight or to return to France. At last he determined to fight, and then
took place what is known as the "battle of the nations," because
soldiers of so many different nations were engaged in it. This battle
was one of the longest and fiercest that had ever been fought up to that
time. It lasted four days, and at the end of it Napoleon was defeated.
He lost no less than 78,000 men; but the Allies, though victorious, lost
very heavily too.
Napoleon was beaten at last, and Germany was full of rejoicing. The yoke
of French bondage was broken, and many nations were free once more.
[Illustration: The Prussians fighting their way through the village of
Planchenoit to reach the field of Waterloo.
(_From the picture by Von Udolf Northen._)]
I can tell you the rest of Napoleon's story in a very few words. He
struggled hard with the remnants of his army, but in vain, and on March
31, 1814, the Allies entered Paris, where the French people received
them with shouts of joy. They had been devoted to Napoleon while he was
victorious; now that he was defeated, they remembered all the sorrow and
suffering that he had caused them, and cried, "Down with the tyrant!"
The Allies forced Napoleon to give up his throne, and sent him to reign
over the little island of Elba.[55] For eight or nine months he lived on
this island, and Europe thought that the last had been seen of him. But
he was biding his time, watching and waiting for the chance to become
Emperor of France once more. The king to whom his throne had been given
was a selfish, stupid man, and he soon disgusted the army and the
people. At the moment when they were ready to rise, Napoleon suddenly
appeared on the south coast of France, and as he travelled north to
Paris his old soldiers flocked to him. The troops sent against him
deserted and went over to his side. When he entered Paris, on the 20th
of March, the king had fled.
The Allies now bound themselves to put more than a million men into the
field against him, and never to rest until they had subdued him for
ever. Napoleon, however, gathered an army, and marched into Belgium,
where the Duke of Wellington had a mixed force of British and Belgians,
and Prince Blücher an army of Prussians. I cannot now tell you fully the
story of the great fight which followed. Napoleon's general, Ney,
attacked the British at Quatre Bras,[56] but was beaten. On the same
day, at Ligny,[57] Napoleon met Blücher, and defeated him, but not so
badly that he was unable to fight again. The Prussians were obliged to
retreat, and Wellington was forced to fall back to the field of
Waterloo,[58] at which place Blücher promised to meet him next day.
On the 18th of June the great battle took place. All day the British
held their ground, though they were fiercely assailed again and again.
At eight o'clock in the evening, just when the last desperate charge had
been driven back, Blücher and his Prussians appeared. Then the French
army turned and fled. Napoleon put spurs to his horse and rode through
the summer night to the coast, where he tried to escape to America.
Failing to do this, he gave himself up to the captain of a British
man-of-war. "Last scene of all to end this strange eventful history,"
Napoleon was banished to the lonely Atlantic island of St. Helena,[59]
where he was kept prisoner like a caged tiger for nearly six years. He
died on May 5, 1821. So much had he passed out of history that a great
Frenchman said his death was not an event, only a piece of news.
Why did we fight so hard and so long against Napoleon? First, because he
was a tyrant, bent on making himself master of Europe and ruling it as
he pleased; secondly, because he wiped out or trod underfoot many of the
smaller nations; and thirdly, because we were determined not to allow
him to gain possession of the Netherlands. Look at a map of Europe, and
you will see that the Netherlands, which now consist of Holland and
Belgium, are opposite to our east and south-east coasts. These two
countries are small, but they are very fertile, because they are mainly
formed of the rich soil brought down by the Rhine, the Meuse, and the
Scheldt.
[Illustration: Map of Northern Europe.
The thick lines show the chief trade routes.]
Thanks to the rivers, the Netherlands have some of the best ports in
the world, and through them passes much of the sea-borne trade of
Northern Europe. Antwerp, on the Scheldt, is opposite to the mouth of
the Thames, and is one of the great ports of the world. Rotterdam, at
the mouth of the Rhine, and Amsterdam, near the Zuider Zee,[60] are also
very important seaports. If an enemy held these ports, and was able to
drive our navy from the North Sea, he might invade us very easily.
Napoleon used to say that Antwerp was a pistol held at the heart of
England. We should have been very blind and very foolish if we had
allowed him to be master of the Netherlands, and permitted him to point
the pistol at our heart. As master of the Netherlands he would not only
have gained greatly in strength, but he would have been better able to
carry out an invasion of our shores than he had ever been before. When
we pressed him very hard to give up the Netherlands, he refused, and
said that he would rather surrender the French colonies than Antwerp.
His overthrow removed a great danger from our very doors.
[Illustration: The last days of the man who tried to make himself Master
of the World.
This picture, which is by the famous French artist Paul Delaroche, shows
Napoleon at St. Helena.]
Before we part from Napoleon I want you to learn a lesson from his fate.
He was one of the greatest soldiers who ever lived, and a man of
wonderful powers of mind. His ambition was boundless, and he tried to
make himself master of Europe, and therefore of the world. For many
years he succeeded, but from the first his doom was sealed. The nations
of Europe will never permit one man, however great, to be their master.
While many of the nations of the Continent were forced to yield to him,
we British never did. We fought him by sea and by land, and we were
always ready to send men and money to those nations who stood up against
him. The contest was very long; but the British people never wavered.
They held on with the courage of a British bulldog, and in the end, by
destroying his fleets at Trafalgar[61] and defeating his army at
Waterloo, they brought the tyrant low.
[Illustration: Preparing the famous signal at Trafalgar.
Just before the battle began, Nelson ordered the famous signal to be
made: "England expects every man to do his duty."
_From the picture by Thomas Davidson._]
* * * * *
The story of how Britain saved Europe from the tyranny of Napoleon
should steel our hearts and animate our minds at this time, when we are
trying to lay a would-be tyrant low. The British people by their courage
and doggedness overthrew the most powerful man and the most powerful
nation in the world, and what they did then they can do now. Our
forefathers struggled with wonderful patience and courage for long,
weary years, but in the end they were victorious. We shall be victorious
too if we are but worthy of our sires.
[Footnote 51: _Met´ter-nich_, chief minister of Austria from 1809 to
1848.]
[Footnote 52: _Blūch´er_, field-marshal of Prussia; a very warlike,
upright, and loyal man, but no great general. He hated Napoleon.]
[Footnote 53: Village, Prussia, 12 miles south of Berlin.]
[Footnote 54: Capital of the kingdom of Saxony, on the Elbe; a great
centre of art and learning. It has given its name to a kind of
porcelain.]
[Footnote 55: Small island (area 86 square miles) off west coast of
Italy.]
[Footnote 56: _Kā-tr'brā'_, village, 19 miles south-east of Brussels. It
stands at cross-roads, whence its name (four arms).]
[Footnote 57: _Lē'ny_, village, 25 miles south-east of Brussels.]
[Footnote 58: Village in Belgium, 11 miles south of Brussels.]
[Footnote 59: Island of the South Atlantic Ocean; area, 47 square miles.
Napoleon was kept prisoner at Longwood.]
[Footnote 60: _Zoi´der_, means south.]
[Footnote 61: Cape of south-west Spain, at the entrance of the Strait of
Gibraltar, memorable for Nelson's victory over the combined fleets of
France and Spain (Oct. 21, 1805).]
CHAPTER VI.
THE MAN OF BLOOD AND IRON.
When Napoleon was safely imprisoned on St. Helena the Powers met to make
peace, and to rearrange the map of Europe. A large part of the left bank
of the Rhine which Napoleon had reft from Prussia was given back to her.
An arrangement was made that thirty-nine states of Germany should join
together into a _Bund_,[62] or bond, and that each state should be
represented in its ruling body. Saxony,[63] Wurtemberg,[64] and
Bavaria,[65] which had been turned into kingdoms by Napoleon, were
allowed to keep their kings, but the brothers and field-marshals whom he
had placed on other thrones were dismissed. The only one of his
marshals who retained his throne was the King of Sweden.
When peace reigned once more, a German prince said, "I have slept seven
years; now we will forget the bad dream." But the "bad dream" was a good
dream for the peoples of Europe. Though they had suffered so terribly in
the wars, the French Revolution had made men very disinclined to allow
kings to rule them as they pleased, and had encouraged them everywhere
to ask for more freedom to govern themselves. In Germany the people had
only two duties--to pay and to obey. Now they asked for many rights
which they had never possessed before, and in some of the states they
obtained them; but the King of Prussia held out to the last, and only
gave his people a Parliament when he could resist the demand no longer.
During this time, when the people were crying out for more freedom, one
very good arrangement was made. Germany, as you know, consisted of a
large number of states, some small and some large, but all of them with
their own rulers, and armies, and customs officials. It was possible to
pass through several of these states in the course of a day's ride. All
of them took toll of goods passing through them, and all of them had to
have guards at their frontiers, to see that the goods did not pass
through without paying toll.
You will get some idea of what this meant if you suppose the English
counties to be separate states, and that a wagon-load of goods is being
sent, say, from Birmingham to Carlisle. Suppose the wagon to reach the
border of Staffordshire: it would be stopped there by customs officers,
who would estimate the value of the goods in it, and make the owner pay
a certain sum before he was allowed to proceed. When the wagon came to
the Cheshire border, there would be another search and another payment;
and the same business would be repeated on the borders of Lancashire,
Westmorland, and Cumberland. I am sure you will say in a moment that
this was not only a great nuisance, but it must have interfered with
trade a great deal, and made goods very expensive to the purchaser. This
is exactly what happened in Germany. Of course, men tried to get out of
paying toll whenever they could, and smuggling goods from one state to
another became a regular business.
If I were to ask you to suggest a way out of the difficulty, you would
say: "Let all the states join together into a group, and take toll once
and for all when the goods enter the group. The money so received can be
divided up amongst the states afterwards." This is just what was done. A
Customs Union, or Zollverein, was formed by Prussia and several of the
neighbouring states, and each state sent a member to represent it in a
sort of Parliament known as the Bund Diet.[66]
When the German people began to see the advantages of joining together
in this way so as to make trade easier, they would soon come to perceive
that a union for other purposes would be good too. In the year 1848, six
hundred representatives from the German states met at Frankfort,[67] and
did away with the old Bund. They said that they wished all the German
states to be united into one empire, with one Parliament and one set of
laws. They asked the King of Prussia, Frederick William IV.,[68] to be
emperor; but he refused, because he was not going to be dictated to by
the people. "They forget," he said, "that there are princes still in
Germany, and that I am one of them." Then there were many risings,
especially in the south of Germany; but they were all put down, and the
kings and princes seemed to have gained the upper hand. As a matter of
fact, the people had gained much; they had aimed at unity, and though
many years were to pass before they obtained their desire, unity was
bound to come. In May 1851 the old Bund was restored, and once more held
its meetings at Frankfort.
Now let me introduce to you the man who brought about the union of the
German states into an empire. His name was Otto von Bismarck, and he
was born in the year of Waterloo. The title _von_ shows you that he was
of what is called gentle birth. His father was a Brandenburg squire, and
young Bismarck spent his childhood on the flat stretches of his father's
estates. As a boy he had a great reverence for kings, and thought that
those who rose against them were wicked men. For example, he believed
that William Tell,[69] whose story you are sure to remember, was a rebel
and a murderer.
[Illustration: Otto von Bismarck.
(_From the picture by Franz von Lenbach._)
This portrait shows Bismarck at a time when he was practically ruler of
Prussia.]
In 1832 he was sent to a university, where he was more renowned outside
the classroom than in it. He was a big, burly man, of great strength,
with a large, firm chin, and a look of confidence and self-control. It
is the custom for German students to fight duels as a pastime. When they
do so they protect their bodies and heads and eyes, and leave only the
face exposed. The foolish young fellows slash at each other's faces, and
are very proud of the scars which remain when their wounds have healed.
Bismarck was a great duellist; he fought and won while he was in the
university no fewer than twenty-seven duels.
He was the son of a soldier, and was very proud of the fact that his
ancestors had fought in all the great Prussian wars. Rough and bluff in
his manner, and homely in his speech, he greatly admired strong men who
could force others to do their bidding. For people who were turned from
their purpose by feelings of pity or kindness he had nothing but
contempt. He had few friends outside his own family, but he was very
fond of his dogs. Above all things he was a Prussian, and he was ready
to do anything and everything to make Prussia not only the greatest
state of Germany, but the leader of all the German states as well. By
nature he was honest and straightforward; but he did not stick at deceit
if he thought that thereby the interests of his country might be
advanced.
In the year 1847 we find him attending the Bund Diet as the member for
Prussia. He soon showed that he was a king's man, and that he had no
belief in the rule of the people. Prussia, he knew, had been created by
the power of the sword, under the sway of kings who did pretty much as
they pleased, and allowed the people to have no part or lot in the
government. No doubt his father had often told him of the black day when
Napoleon beat the Prussians at Jena, and of the sad years when his
beloved land was beneath the Corsican's yoke. It was in those days that
the great Baron Stein[70] did his great work. At the peace of Tilsit
Napoleon said that Prussia might have a standing army of 42,000 men.
Stein set his wits to work to use this army as a means of training all
the men of the nation. When 42,000 men were drilled they were dismissed,
another 42,000 were called up, and so on. In three years Prussia had
180,000 well-drilled men and 120,000 reserves. With these troops Prussia
played a large part in overthrowing Napoleon. Remembering all this,
Bismarck felt that parliaments had done nothing; strong men and a strong
army had done everything, and it was by similar means that Prussia might
be made the great overlord of Germany. Such was Bismarck's fixed belief.
Though he had made no mark at college, he possessed the biggest brain of
his time, and he now began to set it to work. Soon he was a marked man,
and the king made him ambassador, first at St. Petersburg and then at
Paris. In 1862 he was recalled to be the first minister of King William
I., brother of Frederick William IV., who had died insane. From that day
down to the year 1890 he was the foremost man, first of Prussia, then of
Germany, and finally of Europe.
At that time Prussia's great rival for chief power amongst the German
states was Austria. It was Austria who had forced the Prussian king to
set up the old Bund again, because in it she had the chief power. When
Bismarck went to the Bund in 1862, he plainly told Austria that Germany
could never be united until she ceased to interfere with German affairs,
and that she had plenty of work to do in looking after her own business.
He also told the Bund that the unity of Germany could never be brought
about by parliaments, but only by "blood and iron." By this he meant a
European war. He firmly believed that the German states could only be
welded together when their soldiers fought and died side by side on the
battlefield.
But first of all he had to build up an army so strong that it could
strike respect or fear into all the German peoples, and make them regard
Prussia as their leader and chief. You already know that when the
Prussians beat Napoleon in 1813, all the men of military age in the
country had been passed through the army. Bismarck determined that the
new army should be formed in the same way. Most of the people objected,
but Bismarck still persisted, and his old college friend von Roon[71]
began to plan an army on these lines. The Prussian Parliament would not
agree to the new army law, and at last the king said he would resign his
throne. Bismarck, however, would not give way, and one day, after he had
made a bold speech in Parliament, the king said, "Over there, in front
of the Opera House, under my windows, they will cut off your head, and
mine a little while afterwards." Bismarck, however, was not frightened.
He succeeded in getting the king to take no notice of Parliament, and
the army was created.
[Illustration: The Coronation of William I. of Prussia in the Cathedral
of Königsberg on October 18, 1861.
(_From the picture by Adolf von Menzel._)]
[Footnote 62: German word meaning alliance or league.]
[Footnote 63: _Sax´ony_, kingdom of South Germany, north of Bohemia. It
is divided into two halves by the river Elbe.]
[Footnote 64: _Vür´tem-berg_, kingdom of the German Empire, to the west
of Bavaria. It is drained for the most part by the river Neckar
(tributary of the Rhine) and its tributaries.]
[Footnote 65: _Ba-vā´ria_, kingdom of the German Empire, to the west and
south-west of Bohemia. It still has its own king, and is the most
independent part of the German Empire.]
[Footnote 66: An assembly for making laws.]
[Footnote 67: _Frank´fort_, a city of Prussia, in the province of
Hesse-Nassau, on the river Main, 22 miles above its junction with the
Rhine. The German Diet met here from 1816 to 1866.]
[Footnote 68: Succeeded to the throne on the death of his father in
1840. He was born in 1795, and died in 1861.]
[Footnote 69: The famous hero in Swiss legend who refused to reverence
the ducal hat of Austria, set up in 1307 at Altorf, and shot the apple
off his son's head. He afterwards led the successful revolt against
Austria.]
[Footnote 70: Prussian statesman, born at Nassau in 1757; died in 1831.]
[Footnote 71: Born 1803, died 1879. In 1859 he was appointed Prussian
Minister of War.]
CHAPTER VII.
CLEARING THE PATH.
The new Prussian army was trained by a great soldier named von
Moltke,[72] whose nephew was chief of the German staff[73] when the war
in which we are now engaged broke out. When this new army was strong
enough, Bismarck meant to go to war with Austria; but until that time
arrived he intended to keep the peace with her. In the year 1863 the
King of Denmark died, and when the new king came to the throne a dispute
arose about the two duchies of Schleswig and Holstein,[74] which you
will see on the map to the south of Denmark. I cannot explain here to
you all the rights and wrongs of this dispute. An English statesman of
the time said that only two men understood it--one was dead, and the
other was in a lunatic asylum. Both these duchies were subject to
Denmark; but the people of Holstein were Germans, while those of
Schleswig were Danes. There were constant quarrels between the Danes and
the Germans in these duchies, and Bismarck thought that the time had
come for Prussia to seize them. So, like the far-sighted man that he
was, he made preparations, and took care that none of the other nations
would interfere. He made a treaty with Russia on the eastern border, and
asked Austria to join him in fighting the Danes. The idea of joining
these duchies to Germany was very popular in all the German states, and
Austria felt bound to take part in their conquest. If she had not done
so, Prussia would have stood forward as the leader of Germany, and this
was the very thing that Austria was determined to prevent. You now begin
to perceive what a wily man Bismarck was.
To make a long story short, the two giants, Prussia and Austria,
attacked the little kingdom of Denmark; and, though the Danes fought
like heroes, they were crushed, and the two duchies were seized. But
what was to become of them?--that was the question. Prussia soon showed
that she meant to have them both. To this Austria would not agree, and
thus the robbers fell out over the division of their booty. Before they
came to blows, King William made Bismarck a count, and thus addressed
him: "In the four years which have elapsed since I summoned you to the
head of the State Government, Prussia has gained a position which is
worthy of her history, and which promises a fortunate and glorious
future."
During the spring of 1866 von Moltke was rapidly preparing his army, and
studying his plan of campaign. He had a surprise in store, not only for
Austria, but for all the world. What that surprise was you shall now
learn.
[Illustration: Chief of the Staff General von Moltke (nephew of the
great General who trained the Prussian Army for the wars against
Denmark, Austria, and France).
He is here seen with the Kaiser Wilhelm watching the manoeuvres of
German troops.
(_Photo, Oscar Tellgmann._)]
In the year 1806 a Prussian boy, named John Nicholas Dreyse, finished
his apprenticeship as a locksmith. The battle of Jena[75] had just been
fought, and Dreyse wandered on to the battlefield, where the Prussians
lay thick on the ground, with their muskets beside them. He picked up
one of these guns and examined it carefully. He was a clever and
inventive lad, and he soon saw that the musket was a poor weapon, and
that his countrymen had been beaten because Napoleon's army had a much
better gun. Thereupon he began to dream of inventing a gun for his
country that should be the best in the world. He found his way to Paris,
and obtained employment in the workshop of a Swiss gunmaker who was
trusted by the Emperor Napoleon.
The clever, hard-working Prussian boy soon gained the confidence of his
master, who one day told him that he was going to make for the Emperor a
gun that would be loaded at the breech. Dreyse had never thought of this
before. All the guns that he had ever seen were muzzle-loaders--that is,
they were loaded by pouring powder into the barrel and ramming home a
bullet. The new idea filled his mind, and night and day he thought of
ways in which such a quick-loading gun might be made. When Napoleon
heard how he was occupied, he encouraged him to further effort by
promising him a gift of money and the Cross of the Legion of Honour.[76]
Before, however, the gun was made, Napoleon was sleeping his last sleep
under the willow-tree on the island of St. Helena.
[Illustration: Cross of the Legion of Honour.]
At length, in 1835, after thirty years of thought and trial and
disappointment, Dreyse made a breech-loading gun which was fired by the
prick of a needle. At once he offered his gun to the Government of his
own country. It was tried against the Danes, and proved so successful
that the Prussian Government set up a large factory in which to
manufacture it.
By the month of June 1866, many of the Prussian soldiers were armed with
this needle-gun, and had learned how to use it. Then when all was ready
war began.
On the 23rd of June three Prussian armies entered Bohemia[77] by
different routes, with orders to drive back the Austrians and gather in
force near Sadowa.[78] These armies had to advance through the passes in
the wall of mountains which forms the natural rampart of Bohemia. What
the Austrians should have done was to fling themselves against the
Prussians as they issued from the passes; but, as of old, the Austrian
generals were slow to move, and before they did anything the Prussians
were all in Bohemia. At Sadowa, or Königgrätz,[79] as the Germans call
it, a terrible battle took place. The Austrians were posted in a strong
position, and they had good artillery, with which they caused many
losses in the Prussian ranks. After three or four hours' fighting, it
seemed as if the Austrians had driven off their foes. Suddenly, however,
the second army, under the Crown Prince,[80] arrived on the field of
battle. Regiment after regiment of Prussians in their dark-blue uniforms
advanced, all armed with the needle-gun. Then a rapid and deadly fire
burst upon the Austrian army. Nothing so terrible had been known before.
The Austrians held their ground for an hour, suffering fearful losses;
but they were obliged to give way at last, and the battle was won.
Thirty-two thousand Austrians were killed, wounded, or missing; the
Prussians had lost only nine thousand men.
The defeat was so crushing that Austria could no longer resist. The
Prussians marched on Vienna, and peace was made. Austria had to pay the
Prussians a great deal of money; she had to give up her claim to the
duchies, and agree to let the German states form a union, from which she
was excluded. The whole campaign had only lasted seven weeks. At the end
of it Prussia stood without a rival in Germany. She was now a large,
compact state of nearly thirty millions of people, stretching over the
whole of North Germany from Frankfort in the south to Kiel[81] in the
north. Not only had Prussia become the greatest state of Germany, but
she had cleared away the great obstacle that stood in the path of a
united German Empire of which she was to be the head.
[Footnote 72: _Molt´ka_, born 1800, died 1891.]
[Footnote 73: In Continental countries the "great general staff"
consists of a body of officers, who form the thinking and directing head
of the army.]
[Footnote 74: These duchies now form one Prussian province between the
North Sea and the Baltic Sea. Through the province runs the Kaiser
Wilhelm or Kiel Canal, which enables ships to pass from the North Sea to
the Baltic Sea without rounding Denmark.]
[Footnote 75: The great battle which marked the downfall of Prussia (see
page 61).]
[Footnote 76: French order of merit founded by Napoleon in 1802. The
emblem of the order is a five-rayed star of white enamel edged with
gold, bearing on one side the image of the republic, with the
inscription, _République Française_, and on the other side two flags,
with the motto, _Honneur et Patrie_. It is crowned by a wreath of oak
and laurel, and is hung from a red ribbon.]
[Footnote 77: _Bo-hē´mi-a_, a kingdom in the north-west of the Austrian
Empire. It is almost square in shape, and is shut in by lofty mountains.
It is mainly drained by the Moldau, a tributary of the Elbe.]
[Footnote 78: _Sā´do-wa_, village in Bohemia, 8 miles north-west of
Königgrätz (on the Elbe).]
[Footnote 79: _Ker´nig-grāts_, town of Bohemia, on the Elbe, 65 miles
east of Prague, the capital.]
[Footnote 80: Son of the Emperor William I., born at Potsdam in 1831,
and on the death of his father in 1888 became the Emperor Frederick
III.]
[Footnote 81: _Kēl_, seaport of Prussia, on a bay in the Baltic, near
the Baltic end of the great Kaiser Wilhelm Canal, and 70 miles by rail
north of Hamburg. It is the chief naval station of the German Empire.]
[Illustration: Place de la Concorde.]
CHAPTER VIII.
PREPARING FOR WAR.
The finest of all the squares of Paris is the Place de la Concorde.[82]
Let us stand in the middle of this square and look around. To the west
we see a long avenue of chestnut trees, the Champs Elysées;[83] to the
north we catch a glimpse of the Madeleine,[84] one of the most famous of
all the Parisian churches; to the south, across the river, is the noble
building in which the French Members of Parliament (Deputies) meet; and
to the east we see the terraces and trees of the Garden of the
Tuileries,[85] leading by the pond on which children sail their toy
yachts to the Louvre Museum. If we stroll in the park of the Champs
Elysées, we shall be sure to see roundabouts and swings, and hear the
squeak of our old friend Punch, whom the French children call
Guignol.[86]
The Place de la Concorde is very bright and gay now, and does not in the
least suggest sad scenes to your mind. But it was here in January 1793
that the guillotine[87] was set up, and hundreds of the nobility and
gentry of France were executed. Louis XVI. and his queen, Marie
Antoinette, here saw the light of the sun for the last time before the
cruel axe descended, and all was over. The square was then known as the
Place de la Révolution.
As you glance round the square you will see a number of statues. Each of
the following towns has its own statue--Marseilles, Lyons,[88]
Lille,[89] Rouen,[90] Brest, Nantes, Bordeaux,[91] and Strassburg. You
can look these places out for yourselves on a map of France. It is the
statue of Strassburg to which I wish to direct your special attention.
Up to the end of July in the year 1914, it was draped in black, and
mourning wreaths were placed on it. As soon as the war broke out, the
students of Paris tore away the black drapery, and replaced it with the
French flag. They also removed the mourning wreaths, and put bright,
fresh flowers in their place.
Perhaps you wonder why the statue of Strassburg remained in mourning
from the year 1871 to the end of July in the year 1914. By the time you
have read the next two chapters you will understand.
* * * * *
Now we must return to the story of Germany. In the former chapter I told
you how Austria was overthrown, and how Prussia became the leading power
amongst the German peoples. Thus, by means of "blood and iron," the
first step towards German unity was taken. After the Austrian War the
German states north of the Main[92] were united into a Nord-Bund, with
Prussia at their head. The states south of the Main remained outside the
combination, and had still to be brought into it. Bismarck knew that
this could only be done by means of war. I will now tell you how this
war came about.
[Illustration: The Battle of Magenta (June 4, 1859).
This picture represents the second attack by the French soldiers known
as Zouaves on the town of Magenta, 15 miles west of Milan, in that part
of N. Italy known as Lombardy. A French officer carrying the flag of his
regiment is seen leading his men on to victory.
(_From the picture by Yvon. In the Versailles Gallery._)]
In the year 1852 France had once more an emperor, who was a nephew of
the great Napoleon,[93] but was by no means a man of the same military
genius. His throne was not secure, and he believed that he could make it
so by restoring the old martial glory of his country. His troops fought
along with us in the Crimea[94] against the Russians, and in 1859 he
sent them to the help of the Italians, who were then throwing off the
yoke of Austria. In the course of a few weeks he took a leading part in
winning three victories, and returned to Paris in triumph, where he was
hailed as the saviour of Italy.
For centuries the French had kept a jealous eye on Germany, and had done
everything they could to keep it from becoming a rival. Louis XIV. had
taken away from Germany the two provinces of Alsace and Lorraine, which
you will see on the map between the Moselle and the Rhine. Napoleon I.,
as you know, stole a good deal of Germany, and gave it away to his
marshals and to the members of his own family. After his fall, the
Germans began to grow in power by good government and by peaceful
industry, and France regarded this growth with a very unfriendly eye.
When Prussia beat Austria and made herself head of the North German
Bund, the French began to think that the time had come for clipping
Prussia's wings.
Soon a quarrel arose, as quarrels always do if you seek for them. The
King of Spain died, and Bismarck put forward a German prince as a
candidate for the vacant throne. The French people were much alarmed at
the prospect of a German king ruling Spain, and there was great
excitement in all parts of France. The German prince was withdrawn; but
this did not satisfy the French people, who were eager for war.
At this time King William of Prussia was at Ems,[95] enjoying a holiday,
and his chief ministers were away on holiday too. The French ambassador
went to Ems and demanded that the Prussian king should apologize, and
give a promise never to put forward a German candidate for the Spanish
throne again. King William refused to do this, and sent a telegram to
Bismarck, giving him an account of the interview. Bismarck, you will
remember, wanted war in order to unite North and South Germany into an
empire. He saw his chance, and cut out part of the telegram so as to
make it read in a way that angered both the French and the Germans. Then
he published it, and almost at once the French declared war.
On July 16, 1870, the North Bund met, and agreed to fight. Three days
later, to the great surprise of Napoleon, the South German states held a
meeting, and declared that they would join with the North states in
making war against France, under the leadership of the King of Prussia.
This was a great triumph for Bismarck, who now saw clearly that if the
united German armies could beat France, their comradeship in arms and
their common joy in victory would make a German Empire very probable.
The united armies of North and South Germany were far greater than those
of France, and the Germans were also far stronger than the French in
another important way. For years past they had prepared for war. All
their plans had been made. They had all the stores, and guns, and
ammunition, and railway trains they needed, and the whole system was
arranged like clockwork. On the other hand, the French were very badly
prepared. The Minister of War said he could place 400,000 men on the
frontier. He also said that everything was in order; that there were
huge stores of clothing, and that not even a "gaiter-button" was
missing. There were enough cartridges to kill all the Germans twice
over, and the army had a new machine gun[96] that would prove more
deadly than the needle-gun which the Prussians had used against the
Austrians. But all this was mere boasting. The French people had been
living in a fool's paradise. They were as ill-prepared for war as they
possibly could be.
When the Emperor joined the army at Metz,[97] prepared to lead his eager
troops across the Rhine to Berlin, he found to his dismay that he had
but 220,000 men in place of the 400,000 promised. The men of the
reserve[98] joined the colours very slowly, and when they appeared it
was discovered that they had not been drilled in the use of the
breech-loading rifle, and that they would not be ready to take the field
for weeks. It was discovered, too, that the officers who had learned how
to handle the machine guns had been drafted off to other duties, and
that those who were in charge of these terrible new weapons knew nothing
about them. There were huge stores of food in two or three depots, but
there were no means of bringing it rapidly to the army. The transport
wagons were stored in one place, while their wheels lay elsewhere at a
distance, and wheels and wagons could not be brought together for weeks.
The artillery[99] were without horses, and the guns could not be moved
until horses were borrowed from the cavalry.[100] The only maps which
were provided were those of Germany.
While everything was at sixes and sevens on the French side, the
Germans were massing their armies in a perfectly wonderful way. The
boast of the French minister was true as regards them: the Germans were
prepared to the last gaiter-button. Every detail had been thought out;
every difficulty had been foreseen and provided for. By night and day
railway trains followed each other to the frontier, laden with soldiers,
horses, and guns. In fourteen days 450,000 Germans, well trained, well
armed, and well fed, were ready to give battle to the ill-prepared
armies of France.
[Illustration: Belgian Soldiers of to-day.
Notice the dogs drawing the machine guns.
_Photo, Sport and General._]
[Footnote 82: _Con´cord_, peace and goodwill.]
[Footnote 83: _Shans-e-lees-ay_, the Elysian fields; amongst the Greeks
the abode of the blessed after death.]
[Footnote 84: _Mad´lenn_, in honour of Mary Magdalene.]
[Footnote 85: _Tweel´ree._]
[Footnote 86: _Ghee-nyol._]
[Footnote 87: _Gil´o-tēn_, the beheading instrument, so called from its
inventor, Joseph Ignace _Guillotin_ (1738-1814).]
[Footnote 88: _Lē´ong_, city of France, at the confluence of the Saône
and the Rhone; the great centre of French silk manufacture.]
[Footnote 89: Fortified town of France, near the Belgian frontier, 66
miles south-east of Calais. It is noted for the manufacture of linen,
cotton, velvet, and woollen goods.]
[Footnote 90: _Roo-ong´_, chief cotton port of France, on the Seine, 87
miles by rail north-west of Paris.]
[Footnote 91: _Bor-do´_, port of France, on the Gironde, 60 miles from
the sea; the great wine-exporting port.]
[Footnote 92: River of Germany, tributary of the Rhine, which it enters
at Mainz.]
[Footnote 93: (1808-73). Son of Louis Napoleon, brother of Napoleon I.
He was elected President of the French Republic in 1848, and on December
2, 1852, after he had overthrown the Government by armed force, was
proclaimed emperor as Napoleon III.]
[Footnote 94: _Krī´me-a_, peninsula of Southern Russia, in which the
British, French, and Turks fought the Russians (1854-6).]
[Footnote 95: Watering-place of Hesse-Nassau, Prussia, 11 miles by rail
east of Coblenz (at the confluence of the Rhine and its tributary the
Moselle).]
[Footnote 96: Called the mitrailleuse (_me-trah-yuse_).]
[Footnote 97: Fortified town of Lorraine, on the Moselle.]
[Footnote 98: Body of troops kept in hand to be called up when needed.]
[Footnote 99: That branch of the army which handles the big guns.]
[Footnote 100: Horse soldiers armed with sabres, carbines, and sometimes
lances.]
CHAPTER IX.
"THE COCKPIT OF EUROPE."
Before I tell you the story of the great struggle between France and
Germany in 1870-71, I must ask you to look for a little time at Belgium.
You know that it lies between Holland and France, and is one of the
smallest countries in the world. The five northern counties of England
cover a greater area than the whole of Belgium.
The coast is low and sandy, and is fringed with dunes. There are only
two important harbours on the coast--Nieuport, which is the same word as
our English "Newport," and Ostend, which simply means "East-end." The
eastern part of the country contains a few low ranges of forest-clad
hills, but elsewhere the surface resembles that of Holland.
Let us climb to the top of the belfry which happily still remains in the
fine old town of Bruges.[101] Looking westwards, we see the North Sea;
southwards and eastwards and northwards the country is as flat as the
sea, and only just above its level. As you glance across the plain your
eye lights upon other towers similar to that upon which you are
standing. About twenty-five miles to the south-east you make out the
belfry of Ghent,[102] and you might see, if the weather is clear, the
ruins of Ypres,[103] an old cloth-working town, far to the south.
Bruges, Ghent, Ypres, and the other towns which you see, were rich and
flourishing for centuries, and they prove very clearly that the Belgian
plain has long been famous for manufactures and trade.
We now proceed to Ghent, and climb its belfry, which is higher than St.
Paul's Cathedral. Looking around, we notice that the towns within view
are even more numerous than those which we saw from the belfry at
Bruges. Below us are two large rivers, the Scheldt[104] and the
Lys,[105] which unite and wander away eastwards in a broad, full stream.
If we look at the map, we see many other broad and deep rivers, all
tributaries or sub-tributaries of the Scheldt.
As we travel eastwards to Brussels, the capital, the flat land begins to
get tumbled and uneven. There are no real hills yet, but you feel that
you are rising to higher land.
As we proceed eastwards from Brussels we shall ascend higher and higher,
until we reach a point from which we can look down a deep valley,
through which flows a broad, clear river. This is the Meuse,[106] and
you notice at once that it is quite unlike the rivers of the east of
Belgium. The Meuse runs everywhere between steep hills, and where it
enters Belgium from France it flows through a narrow gorge. From this
gorge we can row for a long day down the river between the deep, silent
forests covering the hills, which rise hundreds of feet on both sides of
us. As we proceed, the hills sink in height, the stream becomes broader,
and the towns upon its banks become larger and more frequent. We pass
the beautiful town of Dinant,[107] and later on the larger fortified
town of Namur,[108] where the river is joined by the Sambre.[109] Still
further down the river, near the German frontier, is the great
industrial town of Liége,[110] the "Belgian Birmingham."
Beyond the Meuse we find the third and final division of Belgium. It is
quite unlike the rest of the country. The hills are lofty and are
covered with woods, which on the south are known as the Forest of the
Ardennes.[111] Where there are no forests, this part of the country
consists of heaths and moors.
If you look at an ordinary map of Belgium you will see a number of
crossed swords showing you the position of battlefields. So many battles
have been fought in Belgium that it has been called the "Cockpit of
Europe." Now why has Belgium been the scene of so many battles? You see
that the country stands between England and France and Germany, and I
must tell you that before Napoleon I. conquered Holland and Belgium they
belonged to Austria. If Germany should go to war with France, and Great
Britain should join in, their armies naturally meet in Belgium. An army
from North Germany and an army marching north from France would come
into contact somewhere on the rolling land between Brussels and the
Meuse, where you see so many crossed swords. The French would find a
shorter way into Germany, and the Germans into France, across the
Ardennes and the high land, but an army with its food and baggage trains
always avoids hill country if it can. The reason why the British have
fought battles in this district is also clear. They had to meet their
allies as rapidly as possible after crossing the sea, and the most
convenient meeting-place was the rolling country between Brussels and
the Meuse.
You can easily understand that when these armies entered Belgium to
fight their battles, the Belgians were sure to suffer. Their fair fields
would be trodden down, their industries would cease, food supplies would
be seized, houses and public buildings would be destroyed, and many
innocent townsfolk and peasants who had no part or lot in the war would
be killed by stray shots, or put to death because they gave information
to the enemy. The plight of Belgium, when her big neighbours quarrelled
and fought out their quarrels on her soil, was always terrible, so in
the year 1839 the five great European Powers--Great Britain, France,
Russia, Austria-Hungary, and _Prussia_--made a solemn treaty, by which
they promised faithfully that they would never again trespass on Belgian
soil in time of war. This is what we mean when we talk about the
neutrality[112] of Belgium.
* * * * *
Now what has all this to do with the war between France and Germany in
1870? We shall soon see. When there was no doubt that Germany and France
were going to fight, the British Government sent a message to each of
them, saying that it would declare war against that Power which broke
its plighted word with regard to Belgium. Bismarck replied by telegraph
that she had no intention of invading Belgium, and France gave her
answer in the same strain. Thus Belgium was spared untold suffering. A
new treaty was made renewing the old one, and this treaty up to the
beginning of the present war was Belgium's charter of freedom from
foreign invasion.
The Belgian people were very much relieved when they knew that they were
to be left alone during the war, and the town council of Brussels sent a
beautiful letter of thanks to Queen Victoria. It ran as follows:--
"The great and noble people over whose destinies you preside have just
given another proof of its benevolent sentiments towards this country.
The voice of the English nation has been heard above the din of arms. It
has asserted the principles of justice and right. Next to the
unalterable attachment of the Belgian people to their independence, the
strongest sentiment which fills their hearts is that of an imperishable
gratitude to the people of Great Britain."
[Footnote 101: _Brūzh_, 63 miles north-west of Brussels, 8 miles inland
from the North Sea, with which it is connected by two canals. From the
12th to the 16th century Bruges was the largest business city of
Northern Europe. It is now a quiet, quaint old city, with many ancient
and interesting buildings.]
[Footnote 102: Sound the _g_ hard; 32 miles north-west of Brussels, on
the rivers Scheldt and Lys (_leese_). It is divided by canals into some
forty islands, and has over two hundred bridges. Though it is now a
manufacturing place, it preserves its ancient appearance, and is a most
interesting city.]
[Footnote 103: _Ep´r´_, 32 miles by rail south-south-west of Bruges. Its
Cloth Hall and St. Martin's Church date from the thirteenth century.]
[Footnote 104: _Skelt_, rises in department Aisne, France, and enters
the North Sea by two main channels formed by islands, the outermost of
which is Walcheren. Length, 250 miles, 210 of which are navigable.]
[Footnote 105: Rises in the French department of Pas de Calais, and
flows north-east through Belgium, to join the Scheldt at Ghent.]
[Footnote 106: Rises in French department of Haute Marne, flows mainly
north-east, north, north-west, and west for 500 miles. In Holland it
joins the left arm of the Rhine. The river is navigable from the sea to
Verdun, some 135 miles from its source.]
[Footnote 107: Town on right bank of the Meuse, 17 miles by rail south
by east of Namur. In the fifteenth century it was a busy manufacturing
town, but prior to the war was a quiet tourist resort. The citadel
stands on a cliff 300 feet above the river.]
[Footnote 108: _Na-mur´_, strongly fortified town, at the confluence of
the Sambre and Meuse. The citadel stands on a height in the angle
between the rivers, and the place was, before the war, encircled by nine
forts on high ground, from 3 to 5 miles apart.]
[Footnote 109: _Sān'br´_, tributary of the Meuse. It rises in French
department of Aisne, and becomes navigable 19 miles from its source.]
[Footnote 110: _Le-āzh´_, 50 miles east by south of Brussels.]
[Footnote 111: _Ar-den´_, wooded hill region between the Meuse and the
Moselle; general elevation, 1,800 feet.]
[Footnote 112: State of taking no part on either of two sides. Belgium,
by treaty, must never take sides in any war that is waged, and the Great
Powers guarantee that she shall not be conquered. She can, of course,
resist an invader.]
CHAPTER X.
A TERRIBLE STRUGGLE.
Now we must hark back and pick up the threads of the story which we
dropped at the end of Chapter IX. Look at the map of the French frontier
which you will find on the next page. If you trace the present boundary
line between France and Germany, you will see it running south from the
little state of Luxemburg,[113] in front of Metz, then turning
south-east, and proceeding to the Vosges[114] Mountains, along the ridge
of which it continues to the border of Switzerland. In July 1870 the
French frontier ran eastwards from Luxemburg to the right bank of the
Rhine, and continued south along that river to Basel.[115] France, you
will observe, then possessed the two frontier provinces of Lorraine and
Alsace.[116] The most important town in these provinces is Strassburg,
on the left bank of the Rhine.
[Illustration]
Now look closely at the province of Lorraine, and find Metz. You see
that it is marked with a star, which indicates that it is a fortress. It
stands on a fertile peninsula, formed by the confluence of the
Seille[117] and the Moselle, and is surrounded by low-lying meadows,
which are now rich market gardens. There is hill country to the west and
hill country to the east and south, so that it is naturally a strong
place and capable of resisting attacks. At the time of which we are
speaking it was the strongest fortress of France.
Let us suppose that we have the invisible cloak of the fairies, and are
thus enabled to enter unseen the long dining-room of the Hôtel de
l'Europe in Metz during the closing days of July 1870. The first figure
to catch our eye is that of the Emperor Napoleon III. We observe that he
is a grave, dreamy man, with nothing of the first Napoleon's power and
determination. We guess that he is seriously ill, and our guess is true;
for he is suffering from an incurable complaint, which will soon render
him incapable of directing the affairs of the army and the country. Ever
since he was a child the great Napoleon has been his ideal, and he has
long dreamed of founding an empire just as great as his uncle's, but far
more lasting. By his side you see a boy of fourteen, the Prince
Imperial,[118] his only son. Before another month is over this boy
will receive his baptism of fire, and will bear himself on the
battlefield with a coolness far beyond his years. He will, however,
never wear the crown of France, and nine years later will receive his
death-wound while fighting for Britain in South Africa.
At a glance you perceive that Napoleon and the staff officers about him
are full of anxiety; and well they may be, for not half the expected
number of soldiers have mobilized, and the reserves are coming in by
driblets. Telegrams arrive every few moments from the generals,
beseeching the Emperor to send them transport, horses, and camp
equipment. The army is utterly incapable of advancing, and it is very
clear that the great dash across the Rhine must be put off. Meanwhile
the German armies are moving like a well-oiled machine. Three great
masses of men are assembling on the Rhine, ready to invade France. Their
plan of campaign has been thought out long ago; it is now being followed
to the letter. On the other hand, Napoleon and his generals are
powerless to move, and are chopping and changing their plans every day.
The Parisians are beginning to growl: "We ought to be across the Rhine
by now. Why does the Emperor wait? On to Berlin! to Berlin!"
On the 2nd of August something had to be done to allay the impatience of
the French people, and Napoleon ordered an advance on Saarbrücken,[119]
where a Prussian detachment of 1,300 lay. After a fight of three hours
the Prussians were driven back; but they retired in good order, and were
not pursued, neither was Saarbrücken occupied. Shortly afterwards the
tide of German invasion began to roll across the frontier. It consisted
of three armies, and comprised 447,000 men. Behind these armies was a
first reserve of 188,000 men, ready to be sent forward later; and behind
them, again, a second reserve of 160,000 men. In addition, there were
226,000 men to fill up the gaps caused by the killed and wounded. Von
Moltke's plan was that the three armies should march into France
separately, and then unite to give battle.
At Weissenburg,[120] which you will see on your map almost directly east
of Metz, the 3rd German army came in contact with the French.
MacMahon,[121] the French general, had no idea of how the German armies
were disposed, and he had sent but a single division to Weissenburg.
This division had to meet a whole German army, and though it struggled
gallantly for five hours, it was crushed by overwhelming odds. The
Emperor and his staff now lost their heads completely; all was confusion
and dismay.
The victorious Germans marched southwards towards Wörth,[122] where
Marshal MacMahon was striving to draw his scattered forces together. A
careless watch was kept, and early in the morning the marshal was
painfully surprised to find himself attacked by a force which greatly
outnumbered his own. He was well and strongly posted, and had with him a
number of fine Algerian troops;[123] but the enemy attacked with such
fierceness that, in spite of the desperate bravery of his men, they
could not hold their ground. Under cover of darkness the remnants of the
French army escaped.
The same day another calamity befell the French. The 1st and 2nd German
Armies had by this time crossed the Rhine, and were marching on
Saarbrucken. When the advanced guard reached that place, about nine on
the morning of the 6th of August, it discovered that the French, under
General Frossard,[124] were strongly entrenched on a plateau with steep
wooded sides. Almost immediately the French guns opened fire, and the
German troops at a distance from the battlefield marched "to the sound
of the guns." As each regiment arrived it was hurried into action, and
one of the fiercest and most deadly battles of the war began. The French
ought to have won. There were enough of their troops in the
neighbourhood to beat back the Germans, but the commanders had not been
trained to act together, and the consequence was that several divisions
of the army never came into the fight at all.
When darkness began to fall, Frossard fell back, and the Germans had won
a victory of which they were hardly aware. The poor, distracted Emperor
sent a telegram to Paris announcing this double defeat, and doubtfully
declaring, "All may yet be regained."
All the three German armies were now on French soil. The 3rd Army, which
formed the German left, was commanded by the Crown Prince, afterwards
the Emperor Frederick; the 1st Army, on the right, was under old General
Steinmetz;[125] and the 2nd Army, forming the centre, was under King
William's nephew, Prince Frederick Charles of Hohenzollern, called by
the soldiers the "Red Prince," because of his fondness for wearing the
red jacket of the famous Death's Head Hussars. The aged King William
held supreme command of these armies, and with him as chief of the staff
was von Moltke.
So great was the anger of the Parisians at the French defeats that the
Emperor hurried to the capital, leaving Marshal Bazaine[126] to command
the "Army of the Rhine." From Paris he ordered Bazaine to retreat on
Châlons,[127] the French Aldershot, and there join the remnant of
MacMahon's army and a reserve army which was being formed.
At once Bazaine began blundering. While the Germans were sending out
their cavalry to scout in all directions and to pick up information as
to the movements of the French, Bazaine made no such use of his mounted
men, and was quite ignorant of the doings of the Germans. He ought to
have retired on Metz with all speed, but he wasted much time. Only part
of his army was across the Moselle when the Germans attacked his
rearguard at a place called Colombey.[128] After a fight of seven hours,
darkness ended the battle, and the French claimed a victory. Both sides
had lost heavily, and Bazaine was wounded for the sixth time in his long
career, during which he had fought his way up from private to
field-marshal.
[Illustration: Napoleon III.
(_From the painting by J. H. Flandrin at Versailles._)]
The Emperor now joined his victorious army, and Bazaine continued his
retreat, which was to be by way of Verdun[129] to Châlons. There were
four roads by which Bazaine might have marched through the chalk downs
to Verdun, but he had ordered his whole army, 150,000 strong, to march
by a single road until they reached the village of Gravelotte,[130]
which stands seven miles west of Metz. I think you can form a good idea
of what this meant. The road was hopelessly cumbered with guns and
wagons, mounted men and foot soldiers, and this caused great confusion
and delay. So long was the column that it took two days and nights to
pass a given point. While it was slowly plodding up the sloping road to
Gravelotte, the Emperor lay in a little inn near the village, and
Bazaine went to see him. The old marshal was doubtful whether, after
having been wounded, he was fit to command the army. "It is nothing,"
said Napoleon. "You have won a victory. You have broken the spell. Bring
the army to Châlons, and all will yet be well."
[Illustration: The Germans at Gravelotte.
_From the picture by E. J. Hünten._]
That was the difficulty--to bring the army to Châlons. I am sure you do
not suppose that the Germans were idle while the French were slowly
moving along the crowded road to Gravelotte. As soon as King William
heard of the fight at Colombey he ordered his 2nd army to cross the
Moselle at a point nine or ten miles south of Metz, from which the Roman
road runs by way of Verdun to Châlons. When the army reached the river
it discovered that the bridges had not been destroyed, and was therefore
able to cross unmolested and hasten forward to cut off the French
retreat. Not a moment was wasted. On the morning of Tuesday, August
16th, the French army left Gravelotte, and found before it two roads,
both running across the downs to Châlons, the one a few miles to the
north of the other. One column travelled by the northern road, the other
by the southern road.
Napoleon and the Prince Imperial sped along the more northern road in
their carriage, and soon after bidding them farewell Bazaine learnt that
great masses of Prussian troops were rapidly advancing northwards to
cut him off. He halted some of his troops, and rode on towards the first
village on the road--Rezonville.[131] At that time the leading cavalry
of the French were at the village of Mars-la-Tour, some miles farther
along the same road. One German corps struck at the left of the French
line, while another tried to turn its flank at Mars-la-Tour. The battle
was long and fierce, and both sides claimed the victory. Bazaine
telegraphed to the Emperor: "The enemy left us masters of the
battlefield;" while Moltke sent the following message to King William:
"Our troops, worn out by a twelve hours' struggle, encamped on the
victorious field, opposite the French lines."
The fight was largely between cavalry, and there were several
magnificent charges. Two German cavalry regiments made a charge that day
which is remembered in the Fatherland as we in Great Britain remember
the charge of the "Six Hundred" at Balaclava. They dashed down on the
French guns, and sabred or rode down all the gunners save one. Then they
charged through a line of infantry, and turned to return. Out of 600 men
who rode in that "death-ride," only 194 ever came back.
[Illustration: Metz as it was in 1870.
_From the picture by Meyret._]
Next day the French retired to a line of hills lying north of the road
from Gravelotte to Metz. Here they dug trenches and threw up
embankments, and thus fortified themselves in a strong position. The
Germans attacked this position, but again the battle was indecisive. The
hardest fighting was near the village of St. Privat,[132] on the French
right wing, where the line was fiercely bombarded for several hours.
Attack after attack was made at this point, but none was successful
until the French defenders ran short of cartridges. Even then they
fought most stubbornly with the bayonet in and around the village, but
were overcome at last, and the left wing was turned. This meant that the
whole French army had to retire for protection to the forts of Metz.
* * * * *
Visitors to this battlefield need no guide to show them the line of
heights which the Germans stormed so desperately and the French held so
stubbornly on that day. All along the ridge are monuments and mounds
marking the graves of the dead. Beneath some of the mounds hundreds of
bodies lie buried. "They rise like green islands out of the growing corn
or the ridges of the cultivated ground." A gigantic bronze statue of St.
Michael,[133] leaning on a long sword, has been erected on the summit
within a few hundred yards of the present frontier between France and
Germany. This statue was unveiled by Kaiser William II., who said that
he wished it to be a memorial not only to those who fought and died for
the German Fatherland but to those equally brave men who gave their
lives for France. In this terrible fight the loss of the French was
7,850 killed and wounded; that of the Germans, 19,640.
* * * * *
[Illustration: Advance of the German Grenadiers at Nuits.
(_From the picture by G. Emelé._)
[This battle took place near Dijon, in December 1870.]]
When Bazaine reached Metz with his army he discovered that the railway
running north had been cut, and that he was surrounded. Two German
armies, numbering 160,000 men, were left to hem him in and wait until
starvation drove him to surrender. Two other armies were sent to meet
MacMahon, who was supposed to be at Châlons. The cavalry, however, soon
discovered that Châlons was deserted; MacMahon had marched north, with
what purpose could only be guessed. The cavalry hunted the country for
him, and at last found him trying to reach Metz so as to relieve
Bazaine. Had he pushed on with all speed he might have relieved Metz,
and, with the troops in that city, have formed a strong army which could
have faced the German legions once more. But he had wasted ten precious
days on the road, and this gave the Germans time to catch him up. They
came upon him unawares, for his watch had been carelessly kept, and his
men were cooking their dinners as the advance guards of the enemy burst
upon them. MacMahon found to his dismay that the Germans were between
him and Metz and that he was obliged to retreat. They drove him
northwards to the town of Sedan,[134] which you will find on the Meuse,
in a corner of the country from which there was no escape unless he
crossed the Belgian border. He might have done this and avoided the
onslaught of the Germans; but, as you know, the French had promised that
they would not trespass on Belgian soil, and they kept their word,
though it cost them dear.
Through the dark night, amidst a heavy downpour of rain, the men toiled
along the heavy roads in great confusion, and reached Sedan at nine next
morning. The Emperor, who was following MacMahon's army, arrived late at
night, without baggage or escort, and walked almost alone from the
railway station to the little town. Next day MacMahon tried to restore
some sort of order in his ranks and prepare his forces to meet the
enemy; but by nightfall the two German armies had so completely hemmed
them in that he could neither hope to break through nor escape if
defeated. His army was massed under the walls of Sedan in a valley known
as the Sink of Givonne,[135] in a sort of horse-shoe line, concave to
the enemy.
At five the next morning, on all the hills around, appeared the dark
masses of the German troops. Two hundred and fifty thousand men were in
a circle on the heights round the Sink of Givonne. They had come as
stealthily as serpents. They were there when the sun rose, and when the
French saw them they knew that all was over. The German guns commanded
every part of the crowded valley, and when they opened fire the result
was a massacre. One of the first to fall was MacMahon, who was struck
down by a bursting shell, and was carried from the field. Another
commander took his place, but no general, however great, could save the
French army, which was now a helpless, beaten mob.
That night the miserable Emperor, worn out by fatigue and suffering,
sent an aide-de-camp to the King of Prussia with a note containing this
message: "Not having been able to die in the midst of my troops, it only
remains for me to place my sword in the hands of your Majesty.--I am,
your Majesty's good brother, Napoleon."
Next day the fallen Emperor and Bismarck met in a weaver's house upon
the banks of the Meuse. Chairs were brought out, and they talked in the
open air. It was a glorious autumn morning. The Emperor looked careworn,
as well he might. He wished to speak with the King of Prussia before the
terms of surrender were drawn up, but William refused to see him. When,
however, terms had been arranged, the king visited the Emperor, who had
taken refuge in a country house, and showed him much kindness. The next
day the royal prisoner was sent to a palace in Germany, where he
remained until the end of the war.
Thus, on September 2, 1870, 80,000 French soldiers yielded, and were
marched as prisoners into Germany.
But what of Bazaine, who was shut up in Metz with 170,000 men? Several
times he tried to break through the ring of steel surrounding him, but
in vain. Famine and fever struck down his soldiers every day, and after
ten weeks he too was obliged to yield. On the 27th of October he handed
over the fortress, 170,000 prisoners, including three marshals of
France, and more than 1,500 guns. From this second great blow France
could not recover.
As soon as MacMahon's army had yielded at Sedan, the Germans without
loss of time began their march on Paris. When the news of the disaster
arrived, the Parisians deposed the Emperor and set up a republic. The
new government at once determined to defend Paris to the last.
Meanwhile, the Germans had entirely surrounded the city, and had begun
to starve it into submission. They did not fire on the city. There was
no need to do that, for hunger and disease were far more deadly weapons.
During four months the Parisians held out. When all the meat in the city
was consumed, they slaughtered the animals in the Zoological Gardens,
and at length were so short of food that a sewer rat was a delicacy.
From time to time balloons were sent up, and men and letters thus found
their way to the outer world. Carrier pigeons were also used to carry
messages, which were tucked into quills and concealed beneath their
wings. The new French Government, which had its headquarters at Tours,
called out every able-bodied man in the country, and strove with all its
might to relieve Paris. But the new soldiers, though full of heroism,
could not stand against the well-drilled and well-tried armies of
Germany. One by one the new French armies were defeated, and all hope of
relieving the capital vanished. At length Paris could hold out no
longer. On January 30, 1871, she yielded, and the hosts of Germany
marched through the streets in triumph and took possession of the city.
The ruin of France was complete.
* * * * *
At this point let us pause a moment to notice with what great rapidity
the French were overcome. On the 4th of August the Germans crossed the
frontier; by the 22nd of the same month Bazaine was shut up in Metz; and
on the 2nd of September Napoleon and 80,000 men surrendered at Sedan.
Thirteen days later the siege of Paris began. Bazaine surrendered at
Metz on the 27th of October, and when Paris fell on the 30th of January
all was over. The whole campaign, from the moment the first gun was
fired to the day Paris fell, lasted only six months. As we shall see
later, the Germans believed that what they did in 1870-71 they could do
again in 1914.
[Illustration: The Defence of Paris.
[This picture does not represent an actual scene, but is intended to
illustrate the heroism of the defenders who freely gave their lives for
their city and country. France is shown in the centre of the picture as
a female figure. The angel of destruction, attended by a carrion crow is
seen on the upper corner on the left.]
_From the picture by J. L. Meissonier._]
[Footnote 113: Independent Grand Duchy (area 997 sq. m.) between France,
Belgium, and Germany. It forms a low plateau, and is drained by the
Moselle and its tributary the Sauer. Mining and iron smelting are the
chief occupations of the people.]
[Footnote 114: _Vōzh._ You will see their position on the map. The
highest point (4,680 ft.) is at the south end. The western slopes of the
mountains are thickly wooded, and the valleys give pasturage to many
cattle.]
[Footnote 115: _Bāl_, largest and richest town of Switzerland, on the
north bank of the Rhine, where it sweeps eastward.]
[Footnote 116: _Lor-rān´, āl-säs´._]
[Footnote 117: _Say._]
[Footnote 118: Born 1856; died 1879. After 1870 he lived with his mother
at Chislehurst in Kent, and entered the Royal Military Academy at
Woolwich.]
[Footnote 119: _Zar´brūk-en_, on left bank of Saar, 38 miles east of
Metz, in a coal-mining district.]
[Footnote 120: _Vīs´en-boorg_, 33 miles north-east of Strassburg.]
[Footnote 121: Born 1808; died 1893. He was made duke and field-marshal
after saving the day at Magenta (see p. 88).]
[Footnote 122: _Vaert_, village, 12 miles south of Weissenburg.]
[Footnote 123: From Algeria (_Al-jē´ri-a_), African colony of France
fronting the Mediterranean Sea, inhabited chiefly by Moors.]
[Footnote 124: _Fross-ar_, born 1807; died 1875. He had been a colonel
in the Crimean War.]
[Footnote 125: _Stīn´mets_, born 1796; died 1877. Was in command of the
Prussian army which gained victories over the Austrians in 1866.]
[Footnote 126: _Baz-ane´_, born 1811; died 1888. Marshal of France;
previously saw service in Algeria, Spain, Italy, Morocco, the Crimea and
Mexico. In 1873 he was denounced as a traitor and sentenced to death,
but let off with twenty years' imprisonment. In August 1874 he escaped
to Madrid, where he died.]
[Footnote 127: _Sha-lon_, on the Marne, 92 miles east of Paris. The camp
(45 sq. m.) is 12 miles north of the town.]
[Footnote 128: Called by the French the battle of Borny; village 2½
miles from Metz.]
[Footnote 129: _Vār-dun´_, town and fortress of France on right bank of
the Meuse; 35 miles by rail west of Metz.]
[Footnote 130: _Grav´lot_.]
[Footnote 131: _Reh-zon-veel´_.]
[Footnote 132: Nine miles north-west of Metz.]
[Footnote 133: One of the seven archangels, considered to be the
guardian of Israel.]
[Footnote 134: _Seh-don´_.]
[Footnote 135: _Gee-von´_.]
CHAPTER XI.
FRANCE UNDER THE HARROW.
Before Paris fell, Bismarck's hour of triumph had arrived. The
headquarters of the German armies around Paris was at Versailles,[136]
where King William held his court in the palace of the French emperors.
Early in December King Ludwig of Bavaria proposed that a German empire
should be established, and that the King of Prussia should be its first
emperor. All the leading states gladly agreed, and on January 18, 1871,
an imposing ceremony took place in the great gallery of the palace at
Versailles. Every regiment around Paris sent its colours in charge of
an officer and two non-commissioned officers, and all the chiefs of the
army were present. A chaplain read a special service, and then the king,
ascending a dais, announced himself German Emperor, and called upon
Bismarck to read a proclamation addressed to the whole German nation.
[Illustration: Proclaiming the German Emperor at Versailles, January 18,
1871.
_From the picture by Anton von Werner._
1. Duke Ernest of Saxe-Coburg-Gortha. 2. Crown Prince, afterwards
Frederick II. 3. William I. 4. Grand Duke of Boden. 5. Bismark. 6.
Molke.]
The Crown Prince, as the first subject of the empire, came forward and
kneeled before his father in homage. The Emperor raised him, and clasped
in his arms the son who had toiled and fought and borne so great a share
in bringing about that unity which the German peoples had so long
desired.
* * * * *
On the 24th of February terms of peace were arranged, and on the 15th of
March peace was signed. Before I tell you how France was punished by her
conqueror, I wish to introduce to you two men who fought in this
war--the one a Frenchman, the other an Englishman. If you were to see
the Frenchman to-day you would find him a sturdy, thick-set man, with a
heavy white moustache, huge eyebrows, and teeth that flash when he
speaks. His head is massive, his neck is short and thick, and he gives
you the idea of a trustworthy watch-dog. He is General Joffre,[137]
Commander-in-Chief of the French army.
[Illustration: General Joffre, Commander-in-Chief of the French Armies.]
He was a lad of eighteen, a cadet at a military school, when the
Franco-German War broke out. At once he was promoted second lieutenant
and attached to a regiment of artillery. During the siege of Paris he
fought his gun bravely against the Germans. Since that time he has seen
much fighting, and his countrymen know him to be strong and silent--"a
great soldier and a great man." He now commands the armies of France
against the foe with whom he fought as a boy of eighteen. France and her
soldiers have laid to heart the lessons of those terrible days, and the
present war sees them no less brave, but far better prepared to meet
their old enemy.
When the war began, an English boy of twenty, a cadet of the Royal
Military Academy at Woolwich, was staying with his father in Brittany.
Without waiting to consult his father or his masters at Woolwich, he
enlisted in the French army as a private, and joined the 2nd Army of the
Loire. An attack of pneumonia put an end to his services, but not before
he had realized the terrible peril which a nation runs when unprepared
for war. One of his experiences with the French army was a perilous
ascent in a war balloon; forty-three years later he made his first
aeroplane flight.
That boy is now Field-Marshal Earl Kitchener,[138] the British Secretary
of State for War, the man whom we all regard as our organizer of
victory. Since the days when he fought against the Germans in France he
has seen warfare in many lands, especially in Africa. In 1898 he
overcame the Mahdi[139] in the Sudan, and it was largely due to him that
the Boers were forced to make peace after the long war of 1899-1902. A
German general who was with him in the Sudan said: "Lord Kitchener was
cool and perfectly calm; he gave his orders without in the least raising
his voice; he always made the right arrangements at the right moment. He
seemed to be absolutely indifferent to personal danger, and never did
anything out of bravado. Acting is out of the question with him; he is
always perfectly natural." Such is the man who is the Secretary for War
at this time of national stress and anxiety. The Germans were his first
foes. Let us hope that they will be his last.
* * * * *
France paid dearly for her defeat. Germany demanded £200,000,000, and
ordained that a German army should remain on French soil until this huge
sum was paid. It seemed at first sight quite impossible for France to
find the money; but so rich is her soil, and so thrifty are her
peasants, that the whole of it was paid by the end of the year 1874. To
most Frenchmen this was by no means the heaviest blow which France
suffered. When Germany took back Eastern Lorraine and Alsace, which, you
will remember, had once been her own, there was the deepest shame and
sorrow throughout the land, and thousands of Frenchmen swore they would
never rest until these provinces had been recovered. Though forty-three
years have come and gone since that black day, Frenchmen have never
forgotten the shame which they then endured. They have mourned without
ceasing for Alsace and Lorraine, and that is why the statue of
Strassburg in the Place de la Concorde has been draped in black for so
many years. Every patriotic Frenchman believes that, when the present
war is over, the tricolour will once more wave from the towers of Alsace
and Lorraine.
* * * * *
[Illustration: Field-Marshal Lord Kitchener, British Secretary for War.]
Most of the people in Alsace were French by descent and by sympathy, and
they were greatly distressed when they found that they must become
subjects of Germany. When the Germans tried to force the German language
on them, they were reduced to despair. I think the best way to explain
to you their feelings is to ask you to read the following pathetic
little story, which was written by a great French novelist, named
Alphonse Daudet.[140] It is entitled--
"The Last French Lesson."
"This morning I was late in going to school, and I was very much afraid
of a reprimand, as Mr. Hamel had said he would question me on the
participles, and I had not prepared a single word. For a moment I
thought of playing truant; the day was warm and bright, the blackbirds
were whistling, and the Prussian soldiers were at drill in the park. I
managed to resist all these attractions, however, and hurried on to
school.
"In passing the mayor's house, I saw that a new notice was posted up on
the board, which every one stopped to read. Many a sad notice had been
posted up there during the last two years--news of battles lost, and
orders for men and money for the war. As I passed on, the blacksmith,
who was standing there, called to me, 'Don't hurry, my boy; you will be
at your school soon enough to-day.' I thought he was making fun of me,
and ran on.
"When I reached the playground, I did not hear that buzz of noise which
I had counted on to enable me to get to my place unnoticed. Everything
was quiet. You may imagine how frightened I was at having to open the
door and enter in the midst of this silence. But Mr. Hamel only looked
at me, and said in a kindly voice, 'Hurry to your place, my little
Franz; we were about to commence without you.'
"When I was seated at my own desk, I had time to notice that the master
had on his handsome green coat, his finely-embroidered shirt-front, and
his black silk skull-cap, all of which he wore in school only on
examination days and at the distribution of prizes. But what surprised
me most was to see the benches at the end of the room, which were
usually unoccupied, filled by the old people of the town, all sitting
silent like ourselves.
"Mr. Hamel took his seat, and in a grave, sweet voice he said, 'My
children, this is the last time I shall teach you. The order has come
from Berlin that nothing but German is to be taught in the schools of
Alsace. The new master will come to-morrow. To-day is your last lesson
in French. Be very attentive, I pray you.'
"Now I understood why he had put on his fine Sunday clothes, and why the
old men were seated at the end of the room. My last French lesson! Why,
I could hardly write. How I regretted the time I had wasted in
bird-nesting and in sliding on the Saar! My books, that I had found so
wearisome, now seemed old friends that were about to leave me.
[Illustration: Alsace.
(_From the picture by Henriette Browne._)]
"I heard my name called. What would I not have given to be able to
recite all those rules of the participles without a blunder! But I could
only stand silent, with a swelling heart, not daring to look up.
"'I will not scold you, my little Franz,' said Mr. Hamel, in a sad tone;
'you are punished enough. Every day you have said, 'I have time
enough--I will learn to-morrow;' and now what has happened? This putting
off instruction till to-morrow has been the fault of us all in Alsace.
Now the invaders say to us, 'How can you pretend to be French, when you
cannot read and write your own language?'
"Mr. Hamel went on to speak of the French language, saying that it was
the most beautiful, the most polished, and the richest language in the
world, and that we must now watch over each other and see that we never
forgot it; for even when a people become slaves, while they keep their
own language it is as if they held the key to their prison.
"Then he took up a grammar, and went over our lesson with us. I was
astonished to find that I could understand it quite easily. I had never
listened so eagerly, and the master had never explained so patiently. It
seemed as if he wished to make all his knowledge enter our heads at
once.
"Next we passed to writing. He had prepared an entirely new exercise for
us, to be written in round hand: 'France, Alsace; France, Alsace.' How
eagerly each one applied himself! Nothing could be heard but the
scratching of the pens upon the paper. A butterfly entered, but no one
stopped to watch it.
"Mr. Hamel sat silent in the chair he had occupied for forty years.
To-morrow he would leave the country for ever; even now we could hear
his sister in the room above packing the trunks. Yet he had the courage
to go through the school work to the end.
"Suddenly the clock struck noon. At the same time the bugles of the
Prussian soldiers sounded under our windows, where they had come to
drill.
"Mr. Hamel rose, pale, but full of dignity.
"'My friends,' he said in a low voice--'my friends, I--' But he was not
able to finish the sentence.
"He turned to the blackboard, and with a piece of chalk wrote, in
letters that covered the whole board, '_Vive la France!_'
"Then he stopped, leaned against the wall, and without saying a word, he
waved his hand as if to say, 'The end has come; go!'"
[Footnote 136: _Vār-sa´y´_, French town, 11 miles south-west of Paris,
containing a famous palace of Louis XIV., said to have cost
£40,000,000.]
[Footnote 137: _Jofr_, born 1852.]
[Footnote 138: Born 1850.]
[Footnote 139: _Mah´di_, false prophet of the Mohammedans, who preached
a holy war in the Sudan, that part of Africa south of Egypt and the
Sahara. He was conquered by a British and Egyptian force at Omdurman in
1885.]
[Footnote 140: _Dō-dā´_, born 1840, died 1897, one of the greatest
French novelists of the later nineteenth century. He has been compared,
not unjustly, with Dickens.]
CHAPTER XII.
THE BOYHOOD OF THE KAISER.
I must now redeem the promise which I made to you at the beginning of
Chapter III., and tell you the story of the present Kaiser. His father
was that young prince whom we saw clasped in his father's arms at the
great moment when the German Empire was proclaimed at Versailles. His
mother was Princess Victoria, the eldest child of our own Queen Victoria
and the Prince Consort. So you see that the Kaiser and King George are
first cousins.
Princess Victoria was a clever, sprightly girl when the Crown Prince
came to woo her at Balmoral, and Queen Victoria in her _Journal_ gives
the following charming account of how the two young people plighted
their troth:--
"_September 29, 1855._
"Our dear Victoria was this day engaged to Prince Frederick
William of Prussia, who had been on a visit to us since the
14th. He had already spoken to us on the 20th of his wishes; but
we were uncertain, on account of her extreme youth, whether he
should speak to her himself, or wait till he came back again.
However, we felt it better he should do so, and during our ride
up Craig-na-Ban this afternoon he picked a piece of white
heather (the emblem of 'good luck'), which he gave to her; and
this enabled him to make an allusion to his hopes and wishes as
they rode down Glen Girnock, which led to this happy
conclusion."
The Princess was a little more than seventeen years of age when she thus
became engaged, and her lover was twenty-four. At this time his uncle,
Frederick William IV., was King of Prussia, and his father, afterwards
the first German Emperor, was Crown Prince. The happy pair were married
at Windsor with great pomp and circumstance on January 25, 1858. Three
years later the bridegroom's uncle died, his father was crowned King of
Prussia, and he became Crown Prince.
[Illustration: Prince William (afterwards Emperor William I.) with his
wife and family at the Castle of Babelsberg.
[The little boy with the sword afterwards became the Crown Prince and
the father of the present Kaiser.]]
When the young bride arrived in Berlin her youth and happy disposition
won her many friends; but Bismarck was not among them. He did not like
her--first, because she was British, and secondly, because she was
clever, and had a great influence over her husband. He thought with the
present Kaiser that women should give all their attention to _Kinder_,
_Küche_, _Kirche_,[141] and not meddle in matters of State. The Princess
had come from a land where her mother reigned as queen, and she
naturally expected to be something more than the mere mistress of a
household. Bismarck did his best to keep her in the background, and no
love was lost between them. As time went by, the Princess was much
misunderstood.
Her first child--the present Kaiser--was born on January 27, 1859. When
Queen Victoria heard the news, she telegraphed, "Is it a _fine_ boy?" It
was a fine boy, for an old field-marshal who saw him when he was but a
few hours old declared that he was as strapping a recruit as one could
ever wish for. There is a story told that when the little prince, still
in long clothes, was shown by his proud father to a group of princes and
generals and statesmen, one of them took out his watch to amuse the
baby. Instantly the little fellow grabbed the prize, and would not let
it go. "You see, gentlemen," said the father, "that when a Hohenzollern
once gets hold of a thing he does not easily let it go."
Though the child was a fine boy, he had one defect--his left arm was
shorter and weaker than his right, and even to this day he cannot raise
it to his shoulder, though he can use it in driving or playing the
piano. This withered arm has always been a great source of bitterness to
him.
As a baby he had an English nurse, and his mother devoted herself to
him. His early upbringing was far too English to suit many of the
Germans, and all sorts of stories were told about the harshness of the
Princess to her children. There was not a word of truth in them. The
Princess loved her children greatly, and spared no pains to bring them
up in the best possible way.
The boy was reared amidst wars and the rumours of wars. He was only a
few months old when King William and Bismarck were struggling with the
Parliament over the army law, which you read about on page 79. He was
only five years old when the war broke out with Denmark, and seven years
old when the Austrian War began. In his tenth year, according to the
custom of his House, he was made second lieutenant of the 1st Foot
Guards. A little more than a year later his regiment marched away to the
war in France, and the little lieutenant was eager to accompany them.
When his father told him that he was too young, he burst into tears.
Many years later he said that he well remembered the day on which war
was declared.
[Illustration: Views in Potsdam.
1. Palace of Sans-Souci. 2. Castle of Babelsberg. 3. Brandenburg Gate.
4. The Orangery. 5. The New Palace.]
"It was at Potsdam. We were about to take our places at table for
dinner, when my father, pale and much overcome, came suddenly into the
room. 'It is all over,' he said, in a broken voice, as he embraced us.
'France wishes for war. Ah, my children, what a frightful misfortune!'"
I do not think that the children would be able to understand what their
father meant when he spoke of the frightful misfortune of war. At
Potsdam, the beautiful country place near Berlin where they lived, they
saw only the bright and dashing side of war. Little William loved to
strut with drawn sword by the side of his regiment, and try to keep pace
with the long-legged guardsmen as they performed the high and prancing
step in which the German army indulges. Especially did he love to be
with his regiment when the king came to review the troops. His
grandfather would pass in front of his soldiers and say, "Good morning,
Uhlans, or Cuirassiers," as the case might be, and then would come a
noise like thunder, as every man in the regiment shouted at the top of
his voice, "Good morning, your Majesty!" How the boy's eyes flashed, and
how his heart leaped within him at all this martial parade! One day,
perhaps, he would command the German army, and then--.
Cannot you imagine how the boy swelled with pride as the story of
victory after victory came to his ears? When they told him that his
grandfather was now German Emperor, he could not fail to remember that
some day he would be German Emperor too.
His grandfather had added great glory to the House of Hohenzollern. When
his turn came to sit on the throne, he would give it even greater glory.
On his twelfth birthday he received as a present a wonderful panorama of
the Franco-German War. He delighted in this toy, and no doubt it made
him long more than ever to be a leader of armies and a victor in battle.
By this time it was clear to his parents and tutors that he was a very
clever boy. He was exceedingly quick, and he took the greatest possible
interest in his sports and studies. He desired to shine in them all. His
mother determined that he should be brought up as an English boy, and
that he should live an outdoor life, and learn to play outdoor games. A
number of other boys were chosen as his playmates, and he and his
brothers spent many merry hours in the park at Sans-Souci. He became a
good fencer, a good shot, a good rider, a good swimmer, and a good
oarsman. On horseback he accustomed himself to hold the reins with his
weak left arm, so that he might have his sword-arm free.
His younger brother Henry was to become a sailor, so masts and rigging
were set up in the park, and many a mimic battle was fought round this
ship on dry land. Better still, on the lake there was a complete frigate
mounted with guns, which the boys loved to fire. A little steam tender
was provided to tow the frigate home in case the wind should fail, and a
party of bluejackets was always on duty to look after the vessels.
This is what his English tutor wrote about him at this time:--
"After an experience of teaching many hundreds of English boys
of the same age, I do not hesitate to say that Prince William
could read English as well, and knew as much of English history
and English literature, as boys of fifteen at an ordinary
English public school. Since then I have given hundreds of
lessons to many hundreds of boys, but a more promising pupil
than Prince William, or more gentlemanly, frank, and natural
boys than both Prince William and his younger brother I can
honestly say it has never been my lot to meet."
When the Prince was fifteen he was sent to a German public school, where
he was made to study very hard. This was the kind of day which he spent.
He rose before six in the morning, and prepared his lessons until it was
time to go to school. At twelve he returned home for lunch, and then
went back to school until five. Bedtime was at nine. The rest of his
time was taken up with lessons in French, English, music, shooting, and
in riding or taking walks. Sometimes he and his brother were allowed to
play with their schoolfellows, and this was a great treat to them. On
their birthdays, and on the birthdays of their near relations, they were
usually taken to a theatre. By way of pocket-money, Prince William
received five shillings a week and Prince Henry two shillings and
sixpence.
Though William was a clever and diligent lad, he was not a brilliant
pupil. When the time came for him to leave school for the university he
had to pass an examination; he was tenth out of seventeen candidates,
and his certificate was marked "satisfactory." Shortly afterwards he was
sent to a university.
[Illustration: The Prussian Guard, the flower of the German army, and
the pride of the Kaiser.
_Photo, Record Press._]
At the University of Bonn he was accompanied by an aide-de-camp, who
did everything in his power to foster the young man's already keen
interest in soldiering. At this time he also received instruction from
the three men who, more than any others, had made German history--the
Emperor William, Bismarck, and Moltke. The Emperor taught him to
reverence the name and fame of the Hohenzollerns; to believe himself
chosen specially by God for his high office; to do his duty without fear
or favour, and not to be turned from his path by the wishes of his
people if he thought them wrong. Bismarck deeply impressed upon him the
policy of "blood and iron;" taught him how to manage Parliament and the
people; and how to deal with foreign countries, so that the name and
fame of the Fatherland might grow in greatness. Moltke instructed him in
the art of war.
The Crown Prince himself had none of the high and mighty notions of
Bismarck. He had no desire to prevent the people from obtaining freedom
to rule themselves, and many Germans believed that his wife had taught
him that the British way of governing was the wisest and best. The upper
classes in Germany, and especially the great land-owning nobles, hated
these ideas of liberty for the people. They believed that the whole duty
of the middle and working classes was to pay and obey, and they grew
more and more angry with the Princess, who was supposed to be leading
the Crown Prince astray. Meanwhile Bismarck was doing his best to teach
Prince William that he must be a man of blood and iron. How well the
young man learnt the lesson we now know--only too well.
While he was at Bonn he joined the "crack" fencing club, and proudly
wore its colours and its white cap. He attended its beer-drinking bouts
and "sing-songs," and watched his companions fighting duels. Though he
did not fight himself, he greatly admired seeing others do so; and in
later years, when he was old enough to know better, he hoped that the
students would always take delight in handling the duelling blade,
because it made them strong and courageous.
[Footnote 141: Children, Cooking, Church.]