course of half an hour five battalions lost all, the others the
greater part of their officers, especially those of the higher grades.
Thousands of dead and wounded marked the track of the troops, who, in
spite of their losses, pressed forward. The ranks, as fast as they
were thinned, closed up again, and their compact formation was not
broken even under the leadership of young lieutenants and ensigns. As
they got nearer to the enemy the needle-gun did good service. The
French were driven from all their foremost positions, where, for the
most part, they did not await the final struggle. By a quarter-past
six the battalions had advanced to within 600 to 800 paces of
Amanvillers and St.-Privat. The troops, weary from long combat, halted
under the steeper slopes offering some, though small, protection, and
in the trenches just abandoned by the enemy. Only four battalions now
remained in reserve at Ste.-Marie, behind the German line, which now
extended to a length of 4,000 paces. Every charge of the French
cavalry and of Cissy's Division had been persistently repelled with
the aid of twelve batteries of the Guards which had now put in an
appearance; but the German troops, reduced, as they were, by untold
losses, had to face two French Corps for thirty minutes longer before
reinforcements came to their aid.
It was nearly seven o'clock when, to the left of the Guards, two
brigades of the Saxon infantry arrived on the field; the other two
were still assembling in the forest of Auboue; their artillery,
however, had for some time kept up a lively fire on Roncourt.
When Bazaine, at three o'clock, received word that the Germans were
extending the line to enclose his right wing, he ordered Picard's
Division of the Grenadier Guards, posted at Plappeville, to advance to
the scene of action. Though the distance was no more than a mile
through the wooded valley on the right of the highway, his
all-important reinforcement had not yet arrived at seven o'clock, and
Marshal Canrobert, who was hardly able, by the most strenuous efforts,
to check the advance of the Prussians, decided to rally his troops
closer to the fortified town of St.-Privat. The retreat from Roncourt
was to be covered by a small rearguard, as the border of the Bois de
Jaumont was to be held.
Thus it happened that the Saxons found less resistance at Roncourt
than they expected, and entered the town after a short struggle,
together with the companies of the extreme left of the Guards; part of
them had previously been diverted from the road to Roncourt to assist
the Guards, and marched direct on St.-Privat. There terrible havoc was
worked by the twenty-four batteries of the two German Corps. Many
houses were in flames, or falling in ruins under the shower of shell.
But the French were determined to defend this point, where the fate of
the day was to be decided, to the last. The batteries belonging to
their right wing were placed between St.-Privat and the Bois de
Jaumont, that is, on the flank of the advancing Saxons. Others faced
the Prussians from the south, and as the German columns came on side
by side they were received by a shower of bullets from the French
rifles.
[Illustration: THE CAPITULATION OF SEDAN ANTON VON WERNER]
All these obstacles were defied in the onward rush, though again under
heavy losses, some stopping here and there to fire a volley, others
again never firing a shot. By sundown they stood within 300 paces of
St.-Privat. Some detachments of the Xth Corps, who were on the road to
St.-Ail, now joined them, and the final onset was made from every side
at once. The French still defended the burning houses and the church
with great obstinacy, till, finding themselves completely surrounded,
they surrendered at about eight o'clock. More than 2,000 men were
taken prisoners, and the wounded were rescued from the burning houses.
The defeated remnant of the IVth French Corps retired towards the
valley of the Moselle, their retreat being covered by the brigade
occupying the Bois de Jaumont and by the cavalry.
Only at that period did the Grenadier Guards put in an appearance,
drawing up the artillery reserves east of Amanvillers. The German
batteries at once took up the fight, which lasted till late in the
night, and Amanvillers also was left burning.
Here the retirement of the IVth French Corps had already commenced,
screened by repeated severe onslaughts; the right wing of the Guards
and the left of the IXth Corps had a lively hand-to-hand encounter
with the enemy. Still the town remained in the hands of the French for
the night. Their IIId Corps maintained their position at Moscow until
three o'clock, and the IId until five o'clock in the morning, though
engaged in constant frays with the outposts of the Pomeranian
Division, who eventually took possession of the plateaus of Moscow and
Point-du-Jour.
This success of the 18th of August had only been made possible by the
preceding battles of the 14th and 16th.
The French estimate their losses at 13,000 men. In October, 173,000
were still in Metz, which proves that more than 180,000 French engaged
in the battle of the 18th. The seven German Corps facing them were
exactly 178,818 strong. Thus the French had been driven out of a
position of almost unrivalled natural advantages by a numerically
inferior force. It is self-evident that the loss of the aggressors
must have been much greater than that of the defence; it amounted to
20,584 men, among them 899 officers.
Though the war-establishment provides one officer to every forty men,
in this battle one officer had been killed to every twenty-three; a
splendid testimony to the example set by the officers to their brave
men, but a loss which could not be made good during the course of the
war. During the first fortnight of August, in six battles the Germans
had lost 50,000 men. It was impossible at once to find substitutes,
but new companies were formed of time-expired soldiers.
The first thing to be done that same evening was to move on the
foremost baggage train, and the ambulance corps from the right bank of
the Moselle; ammunition was also served out all round. In Rezonville,
which was crowded with the wounded, a little garret for the King and
quarters for the Staff had with much difficulty been secured. The
officers were engaged throughout the night in studying the
requirements which the new situation created by the victory
peremptorily demanded. All these orders were placed before His Majesty
for approval by the morning of the 19th.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 45: From _The Franco-German War of 1870-71_. Permission
Harper & Brothers, New York and London.]
CONSOLATORY THOUGHTS ON THE EARTHLY LIFE AND A FUTURE EXISTENCE
(1890)[46]
TRANSLATED BY MARY HERMS
PREFACE
The last noteworthy use to which the aged Fieldmarshal put his pen was
to commit to paper certain reflections and chains of reasoning, for
which he drew upon the rich experience of his strenuous and eventful
life, and in which he hoped to find consolation in his last days, and
a vantage ground from which he might cast a glance over the unknown
future and confirm his faith in an everlasting life.
The aim of the Fieldmarshal, in writing these pages, was to attain to
clearness of vision concerning his earthly lot, to bring the forces
which were at work in his soul into harmony with those which govern
the universe, to reconcile faith and knowledge, and to satisfy himself
that life on this earth can only be regarded as a preparation for
eternal life, and must be regulated accordingly. So lofty is this aim
that it alone entitles these confessions to a serious and respectful
consideration. But how much must our admiration and our sense of the
value of this work be increased when we perceive with what earnestness
of effort, and with what depth of feeling, the Fieldmarshal had
revolved these thoughts in his mind till he brought them to maturity.
And more than that. It was his wish to bequeath these consolatory
thoughts to his family, as a sincere confession of his private
convictions. This is the light in which he wished posterity to regard
this manuscript, which he wrote out in the last year of his life, in
wonderfully firm characters, which attest the worth of the matter
contained in it.
He wrote down these thoughts at Creisau, and left the copy on his
desk. Whenever he visited his country-seat he revised and corrected
what he had written. No less than four drafts of the introduction to
this work have been preserved.
The succession of thoughts is the same in all four versions, but on
the one hand renewed and deepened meditations enabled him to express
his ideas with greater force and precision, and on the other sometimes
developed them further, so as to present them more exhaustively and
convincingly.
These pages contain the last efforts of a noble life. In them Moltke
appears as he was when we knew him and took him for our pattern,
reconciled with the anomalies and the contradictions of life, with a
pious grasp of principles which he had thought out for himself, and in
the assurance of which he found peace. We learn here how it was
possible for him to rise superior to the world, and preserve a
contented mind in all the vicissitudes of life.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 46: From _Moltke: His Life and Character_. Permission Harper
& Brothers, New York and London.]
DR. TORCHE-MITTLER.
Man feels that he is a complete being, different from other creatures,
and outwardly distinguished from them by his body, which here on earth
is the habitation of the soul.
Yet in this complete whole I believe I can distinguish different
functions, which, though closely connected with the soul, and ruled by
it, have an independent existence.
In the mysterious beginnings of life physical development takes the
first place. Nature is busily at work in the child's body as it grows,
and is already preparing it to be the dwelling-place of higher
functions. The body reaches the acme of its perfection before its
career is half over, and out of the surplus of its energy calls new
life into being. Thenceforward its lot is decay and painful struggling
to preserve its own existence.
During something like a third of our existence, that is, while we are
asleep, the body receives no commands from its ruler, and yet the
heart beats without interruption, the tissues are wasted and repaired,
and the process of respiration is continued, all independently of our
will.
The servant may even rebel against the master, as when our muscles are
painfully contracted by cramp. But pain is the summons for help which
is sent by the living organism when it has lost control over the dead
matter, which loss we feel as the illness of our vassal.
On the whole we must regard our body as a real part of our being,
which is still, in a sense, external to our inmost selves.
Is, then, the soul at least the true ego, a single and indivisible
whole?
The intellect advances, by slow development, to greater and greater
perfection till old age is reached, if the body does not leave it in
the lurch. The critical faculty grows as experience accumulates, but
memory, reason's handmaid, disappears at an earlier stage, or at least
loses the power of receiving new impressions. Wonderful enough is this
faculty which enables us to store up all the valuable lessons and
experiences of earliest youth in a thousand drawers, which open in a
moment in answer to the requirements of the mind.
It is not to be disputed that the old often appear dull-witted, but I
cannot believe in a real darkening of the reason, which is a bright
spark of the Divine, and even in madness the negation of reason is
only external and apparent. A deaf man playing on an instrument out of
tune may strike the right notes, and be inwardly persuaded that his
execution is faultless, while all around him hear nothing but the
wildest discords.
The sovereignty of reason is absolute; she recognizes no superior
authority. No power, not even that of our own wills, can compel her to
regard as false what she has already recognized as true.
_E pur si muove_!
Thought ranges through the infinite realms of starry space, and
fathoms the inscrutable depths of the minutest life, finding nowhere
any _limit_, but everywhere _law_, which is the immediate expression
of the divine thought.
The stone falls on Sirius by the same law of gravitation as on the
earth; the distances of the planets, the combinations of chemical
elements are based on arithmetical ratios, and everywhere the same
causes produce the same effects. Nowhere in nature is there anything
arbitrary, but everywhere law. True, reason cannot comprehend the
origin of things, but neither is she anywhere in conflict with the
laws that govern all things. Reason and the universe are in harmony;
they must therefore have the same origin.
Even when, through the imperfection of all created things, reason
enters on paths which lead to error, truth is still the one object of
her search.
Reason may thus be brought into conflict with many an honored
tradition. She rejects miracle, "faith's dearest child," and refuses
to admit that Omnipotence can ever find it necessary for the
attainment of its purposes to suspend, in isolated cases, the
operation of those laws by which the universe is eternally governed.
But these doubts are not directed against religion, but against the
form in which religion is presented to us.
Christianity has raised the world from barbarism to civilization. Its
influence has, in the course of centuries, abolished slavery, ennobled
work, emancipated women, and revealed eternity. But was it dogma that
brought these blessings? It is possible to avoid misunderstandings
with regard to all subjects except those which transcend human
conception, and these are the very subjects over which men have fought
and desolated the world for the last eighteen hundred years, from the
extermination of the Arians, on through the Thirty Years' War, to the
scaffold of the Inquisition, and what is the result of all this
fighting? The same differences of opinion as ever.
We may accept the doctrines of religion, as we accept the assurance of
a trusty friend, without examination, but the kernel of all religions
is the morality they teach, of which the Christian is the purest and
most far-reaching.
And yet men speak slightingly of a barren morality, and place the form
in which religion is presented before everything else. I fear it is
the pulpit zealot, who tries to persuade where he cannot convince,
that empties the church with his sermons.
After all, why should not every pious prayer, whether addressed to
Buddha, to Allah, or to Jehovah, be heard by the same God, beside whom
there is none other? Does not the mother hear her child's petition in
whatever language it lisps her name?
Reason is nowhere in conflict with morality, for the good is always
finally identical with the rational; but whether our actions shall or
shall not correspond with the good, reason cannot decide. Here the
ruling part of the soul is supreme, the soul which feels, acts, and
wills. To her alone, not to her two vassals, has God entrusted the
two-edged sword of freewill, that gift which, as Scripture tells us,
may be our salvation or our perdition.
But, more than this, a trusty councillor has been assigned us, who is
independent of our wills, and bears credentials from God Himself.
Conscience is an incorruptible and infallible judge, whom, if we will,
we may hear pronounce sentence every moment, and whose voice at last
reaches even those who most obstinately refuse to listen.
The laws which human society has imposed upon itself can take account
of actions only in their tribunals, and not of thoughts and feelings.
Even the various religions make different demands among the different
peoples. Here they require the Sunday to be kept holy, here the
Saturday or Friday. One allows pleasures which another forbids. Even
apart from these differences there is always a wide neutral ground
between what is allowed and what is forbidden; and it is here that
conscience, with her subtler discrimination, raises her voice. She
tells us that _every_ day should be kept sacred to the Lord, that even
permitted interest becomes unjust when exacted from the needy; in a
word, she preaches morality in the bosom of Christian and Jew, of
heathen and savage. For even among uncivilized races which have not
the light of Christianity there is an agreement as to the fundamental
conceptions of good and evil. They, too, recognize the breaking of
promises, lying, treachery, and ingratitude as evil; they, too, hold
as sacred the bond between parents, children, and kinsmen. It is
hard to believe in the universal corruption of mankind, for, however
obscured by savagery and superstition, there lies dormant in every
human breast that feeling for the noble and the beautiful which is the
seed of virtue, and a conscience which points out the right path. Can
there be a more convincing proof of God's existence than this
universal sense of right and wrong, this unanimous recognition of one
law, alike in the physical and in the moral world, except that nature
obeys this law with a full and absolute obedience, while man, who is
free, has the power of violating it?
The body and the reason serve the ruling part of the soul, but they
put forward claims of their own, they have their own share of power,
and thus man's life is a perpetual conflict with self. If in this
conflict the soul, hard-pressed from within and without, does not
always end by obeying the voice of conscience, let us hope that He who
created us imperfect will not require perfection from us.
For consider to what violent storms man is exposed in the voyage of
life, what variety there is in his natural endowments, what
incongruity between education and position in life. It is easy for the
favorite of fortune to keep in the right path; temptation, at any rate
to crime, hardly reaches him; how hard, on the other hand, is it for
the hungry, the uneducated, the passionate man to refrain from evil.
To all this due weight will be given in the last judgment, when guilt
and innocence are put in the balance, and thus mercy will become
justice, two conceptions which generally exclude one another.
It is harder to think of nothing than of something; when the something
is once given, harder to imagine cessation than continuance. This
earthly life cannot possibly be an end in itself. We did not ask for
it; it was given to us, imposed upon us. We must be destined to
something higher than a perpetual repetition of the sad experiences of
this life. Shall those enigmas which surround us on all sides, and for
a solution of which the best of mankind have sought their whole life
long, never be made plain? What purpose is served by the thousand ties
of love and friendship which bind past and present together, if there
is no future, if death ends all?
But what can we take with us into the future?
The functions of our earthly garment, the body, have ceased; the
matter composing it, which even during life was ever being changed,
has entered into new chemical combinations, and the earth enters into
possession of all that is her due. Not an atom is lost. Scripture
promises us the resurrection of a glorified body, and indeed a
separate existence without limitation in space is unthinkable; yet it
may be that this promise implies nothing more than the continued
existence of the individual, as opposed to pantheism.
We may be allowed to hope that our reason, and with it all the
knowledge that we have painfully acquired, will pass with us into
eternity; perhaps, too, the remembrance of our earthly life. Whether
that is really to be wished is another question. How if our whole life
all our thoughts and actions should some day be spread out before us
and we became our own judges, incorruptible and pitiless?
But, above all, the emotions must be retained by the soul, if it is to
be immortal. Friendship does indeed rest on reciprocity, and is partly
an affair of the reason; but love can exist though unreturned. Love is
the purest, the most divine spark of our being.
Scripture bids us before all things love God, an invisible,
incomprehensible Being, who sends us joy and happiness, but also
privation and pain. How else can we love Him than by obeying His
commandments, and loving our fellow-men, whom we see and understand?
When, as the Apostle Paul writes, faith is lost in knowledge, and hope
in sight, and only love remains, then we hope, not without reason, to
be assured of the love of our merciful Judge. COUNT MOLTKE.
Creisau, October, 1890.
* * * * *
THE LIFE AND WORK OF FERDINAND LASSALLE
By ARTHUR N. HOLCOMBE, Ph.D.
Assistant Professor of Government, Harvard University
Ferdinand Lassalle was born on April 11, 1825, at Breslau, of Jewish
parents. The father, Hyman Lassal, was a prosperous business man,
ambitious for his son, able to give him the best education the times
afforded, and willing to let him choose his own career. The life of
the Lassal family seems to have been like that of any well-to-do
Jewish family in the kingdom of Prussia during the early nineteenth
century. Of a quiet and peaceable behavior, they were devoted mainly
to money-making and their domestic affairs.
The young Lassalle gave early indications of his unusual character.
While still a boy in the local grammar school, his proud and
independent disposition won him the displeasure of his teachers.
Especially the oppression of his own race filled his soul with wrath.
"O could I only give myself up to my boyish day-dreams," he wrote in
his note-book at this time, "how I would put myself at the head of the
Jews, weapons in hand, and make them independent!" Eventually he
abandoned in disgust the attempt to gain a classical education in the
schools of his native city and entered the commercial high school in
Leipzig. Here again his fiery temperament could not brook the
restraints imposed upon him and he presently returned to his father's
house.
The problem of a career was not easy to solve. The father's success
enabled the son to choose his course in life without regard to
financial considerations. Business and mere money-making were in fact
distasteful to him.
[Illustration: FERDINAND LASSALLE]
The learned professions were more to his liking. The father
recommended medicine or the law, but the son aspired to some less
hackneyed career. Jews were not then admitted to the service of the
state in Prussia and the absence of popular institutions of government
rendered an independent political career for the time being out of the
question. The son chose, therefore, to make his mark as a man of
learning. He would be a great philosopher or scientist. Doubtless he
kept in mind the possibility of engaging in journalism, should the
times change, and becoming a tribune of the people. Such bold ideas
are the birthright of all boys of spirit.
Ferdinand Lassale finished his education with his destiny consciously
before him. He studied philology and philosophy at the universities of
Breslau and Berlin and in the winter of 1845-46 made his first visit
to Paris as a traveling scholar. Here he first adorned his family name
with the final _le_, and here, also, he met the chief of the heroes of
his youth, Heinrich Heine. Heine has given us a vivid pen-picture of
Lassalle, as he saw him in those student days. "My friend, Mr.
Lassalle ... is a most highly gifted young man, uniting the widest
knowledge with the greatest astuteness. I have been astounded at his
energy of will, vigor of intellect, and promptness of action....
Lassalle is a true child of modern times, wishing to know nothing of
the humility and renunciation which have characterized our own lives.
This new race means to enjoy, to assert itself.... We were, however,
perhaps happier in our idealism than these stern gladiators who go
forth so proudly to mortal combats."