Volume 53 — THE BRITISH QUARTERLY JANUARY 1871 (continued 6)

Art. IX.—The War of 1870.

It is impossible as yet even to guess the consequences of the memorable war of 1870. It may verify the German exclamation that the hour of the Latin race has come, and that France has ceased to be a great power, or it may lead to the moral resurrection of that essentially noble people, and even to the recovery of its military supremacy. It may develope a French Republic which from its failure to turn the tide of fortune shall be followed by a Jacobin successor, and issue in a despotism of the sword not less fearful than that of Napoleon I. or it may be the forerunner of a better period when France, purified by adversity, shall win the esteem and admiration of Europe, by her constancy in affliction, her lofty patriotism, her renewed energy, her surviving genius. Looking at it, too, from the other side, it may accelerate the unity of Germany, cemented by blood poured out in the field, by a brotherhood in arms, and by common triumphs; or it may tend only to German divisions, and to the collapse of the policy of 1866, by aggrandising Prussia out of all proportions, and making her influence intolerable to the minor States. Who, indeed, shall speculate on the results of this mighty and awful conflict, when, though it seems for the time to be drawing to a close, France refuses to acknowledge defeat, and defies the invader behind the walls of the capital, and when, though apparently struck to the ground, she still raises the flag of resistance, appeals to the memories of 1793, and endeavours to rally for a final effort those national forces which, in her case, have so often proved impossible to subdue? Yet, if we shall not attempt to forecast the remote issues of this tremendous struggle, or to predict what it shall ultimately bring forth, the time has come when we can briefly describe its marvellous events and fortunes, and can truly indicate its immediate lessons of deep significance to these kingdoms. The momentous war of 1870 is not only one of the grandest illustrations of the art which founds and destroys Empires; it not only is an astonishing drama, every scene which the military student should examine carefully and lay to heart; it not only fascinates the ordinary observer by its gigantic action and immense events; it points conclusively to a solemn moral, not to be forgotten by any country which seeks to maintain its position in the world, and cherishes a sense of its independence. It shows how weak, in the hour of trial, may be even a great military power which neglects the real sources of its strength, and relies mainly on its martial traditions, on its past honour, on the memory of a name; it proves fearfully how imperial despotism may rear an edifice of imposing grandeur, which for a generation shall deceive mankind, and yet fall suddenly at the first breath of misfortune; it testifies to the old truth that material prosperity with moral corruption are the fruitful sources of national decline; and it teaches us what we should never forget, how terrible and decisive, in modern warfare, are the results of rapid and great success, and how absolutely necessary it is for England, in the present menacing condition of Europe, to surround herself with an invulnerable shield, to look after her national defences, and to take care that by sea and on land she shall possess the means of repelling aggression.

It would be an unnecessary and unprofitable task to examine at length the causes of the war. Impartial history, we believe, will pronounce that though Napoleon gave the challenge, it had been to some degree provoked by the policy of Bismark, by the attitude recently taken by Prussia, by the series of events which since 1866 have changed the centre of power in Germany. It was impossible but that the Emperor should feel bitterly how he had been outwitted by the unscrupulous statesman who had purchased his complicity in the spoliation of Denmark by promises of annexation on the Rhine, and had afterwards coolly violated his pledges; nor yet that he should not be really alarmed at the immense development of the military power of Prussia during the preceding five years. It would have been disregarding the traditions which, rightly or wrongly, for two centuries have guided the foreign policy of France, to have witnessed the absorption of the German States into one dominant and threatening power, without an effort to break the union; and if an attempt to obtain this, was contrary to modern ideas and aspirations, it was only carrying out what had always been the views of Henry IV. and Richelieu. Besides, ever since the battle of Sadowa, France and Prussia had been watching each other, and tending inevitably to collision; both Powers had been increasing their armaments, and events have proved which was the more ready; and we know from the Imperial correspondence that Napoleon had been repeatedly warned that Prussia was meditating an invasion of France, and would avail herself of the first opportunity. It is not, therefore, too much to say that it was not merely French folly and arrogance which precipitated this tremendous conflict; the conduct of Prussia and her aggressive acts contributed to it in no slight degree; and if France, as it has turned out, was unwise in not accepting accomplished facts, and in chafing at the military strength of her rival, we can perfectly comprehend this sentiment, without charging her, as a nation, with any peculiar turn for aggrandisement, or even any extraordinary ambition. It must be admitted that the Emperor was utterly in the wrong in the pretext on which he declared war, and that his whole policy in this respect showed ignorance of the real state of opinion. After the Hohenzollern candidature of Spain had been withdrawn at the instance of England, it was an act of extreme unwisdom to have proceeded to further demands; and the result was that, to outward seeming, France, at the beginning of hostilities, was alone to blame for the frightful contest, and that Prussia appeared the injured defender of the national independence of Germany. In truth, however, in this as in other matters, Bismark probably outgeneralled Napoleon; he seems to have been eager for war, and to have been too glad to find an opportunity to attack France with the support of public opinion; and now at least when he puts forward claims to wrest from her some of her present provinces, he can scarcely be considered by impartial men as the mere opponent of French aggression.

Hostilities were proclaimed on the 15th of July, after efforts at negotiation on the part of England. There can be little doubt that the war was welcomed by the classes who form public opinion in Germany, quite as much as in France. The passionate and foolish cry, 'to Berlin,' was answered by shouts of defiance, 'to Paris;' and if French chauvins and journalists talked of the annexation of the left bank of the Rhine, and of the breaking up of the German Confederation, claims for 'the lost patrimony of Elsass and Lothringen' were put forward prominently by the press of Germany. In fact, amiable German professors who back the arrogant demands of Bismark, and pleasantly insist on 'the line of the Vosges,' as a necessary bulwark for 'peace-loving Germany,' against the 'intolerable ambition of Frenchmen,' must have a strange notion of the facts of the case; the war fever was at least as strong in the capital of Prussia, as in that of France; and it is about as correct to represent the two nations as differing in this, as it is to repeat the veracious legend—of which of course the League of Pilnitz and the barbarous invasion of 1792 are confirmations that cannot be gainsaid—that France has always been the assailant of her meek and long-suffering Teutonic rival. Within a few days after the declaration of war, the army of the Rhine was set in motion, and the heads of the columns of eight French corps were approaching the verge of the German frontier; the main bodies, however, being still distant. The first corps, under the renowned MacMahon, had advanced from Algeria and the south, and occupied Upper and Lower Alsace, its headquarters being at Strasburg. The second and fifth corps of Frossard and De Failly were sent forward, and at St. Avold and Bitsche held the approaches to the Rhenish Palatinate, from MacMahon's left to near the line of the Saar. To the left of these again, was the fourth corps, marched from the north under L'Admirault, and stationed at and around Thionville; while, in the rear, Bazaine with the third corps, was moving to the great fortress of Metz; the sixth, under the orders of Canrobert, was on its way from Chalons to Lorraine; and far behind, the Imperial Guard—the flower of the French army—was pushing forward from the French capital. In the meantime, the seventh corps of Douay formed the extreme right of the great French line; far to the north it guarded Belfort, the 'gate of France,' between the Vosges and the Jura; and it connected itself with MacMahon's rear-guard along the Rhine and Lower Alsace. The whole French army, in its first line, extended in a huge semicircle from Northern Lorraine to the Southern Vosges; but its second line, massed between Metz and Chalons, was at a considerable distance from the first; and though it was well connected by railways, and placed as it was, it threatened equally the Rhenish provinces and Southern Germany, it was not yet even nearly concentrated.

Such was the disposition of the army of the Rhine about the 21st or 22nd of July. It will be seen at once that it was well adapted for an offensive movement against Germany, if made rapidly and in full force, for Baden and the Palatinate were threatened, and the exact point of attack was concealed. Placed as they were, the forces of France could either pour into the Rhineland, drawing after them their reserves on all sides, or they could cross the Rhine, and, advancing from Strasburg, interpose between Northern and Southern Germany and endeavour to break up their uniting armies. On the other hand, the position of the French was badly chosen as a line of defence; for their foremost corps were widely disseminated, and in case of a sudden attack, were thrown too far beyond their supports; and if they were assailed by a resolute foe, converging against them in full strength, they would be exposed to serious disaster. For these reasons we may certainly infer that the strategic plan of the French Emperor was to march upon the Germans with much rapidity, and whether the recently published pamphlet does or does not disclose his purpose, it is evident that he intended to advance either by the Rhineland on Landau and Mayence, or by Strasburg into the territory of Baden. Besides, he must have known perfectly well that a brilliant initiative was his best chance; for not only was it in accordance with the traditions and genius of the French soldier; not only was it calculated to sow dissensions and alarm among his foes and perhaps prevent them from combining; it was the sole means to give full effect to the one great advantage which France would possess over Prussia at the beginning of a campaign, the imposing strength of a standing army, supposed to be ready at all points and formidable in its numerical proportions, compared with levies, immense indeed when brought together and set in motion, but believed to be inferior in military power, and requiring time to be fully arrayed. It may therefore be said with confidence, that a sudden and vigorous spring on Germany was the real scheme of Napoleon III.; and, notwithstanding all that has occurred, it is impossible to say what the result would have been had this design been carried out boldly, with the promptness and skill of a great commander who would have led his troops to immediate victory. Unhappily, however, for the interests of France, vacillation at the decisive moment took the place of resolution and genius; and her armed arrays, however imposing to outward seeming, were not in a state to undertake great and rapid operations. The Emperor lingered a fortnight at Paris before he went to his headquarters at Metz; even when he had arrived he passed nearly a week, uncertain, it would appear, how to strike; and thus the favourable opportunity was lost which might have changed the whole course of the war. In addition to this, it is now well known that the army was not ready to march; its commissariat was not complete; it was deficient in ammunition and supplies; and its real strength was considerably less than Napoleon III. had been led to expect. Between the irresolution of its chief, and its own ill-prepared condition, it had already forfeited its most hopeful chances before even a blow had been struck.

During these delays of the army of the Rhine Germany had been making astonishing efforts. If Bismark's reports are to be believed, the German nation was not prepared for immediate war on a gigantic scale. But considering that since the battle of Sadowa Prussia had been steadily increasing her armaments, and that it is tolerably clear from her government press that she was eager to measure her strength with France, we shall scarcely credit the Northern Confederation with any want of military readiness; still immense as their exertions were, it is not impossible that the Southern States were taken to some extent by surprise. However this may have been, the summons to arms against the ancient and dreaded foe met with but one answer from the Teutonic race; and whatever may be thought of the policy of its rulers, its patriotism and heroic attitude are entitled to the highest admiration. From the sandy wastes that border the Niemen to the valleys watered by the Moselle, and from the shores of the Northern Sea to the Danube and the Bohemian hills, the martial cry 'to the war' was heard; the integrity of the Fatherland was the one thought of the whole people; and whatever may have been the divisions caused by the events of 1866, and whatever the hopes of dispossessed sovereigns, of blind diplomatists, or of discontented nobles, it was soon evident that Napoleon III. would have to contend against an united Germany. This single circumstance shows how impolitic had been the course of the French Emperor, and how badly he had been advised; and, in fact, unless, as is not improbable, the conduct of Prussia shall tend to disunion, the war will have done more to make Germany a concordant people than any event since 1813. Within a few days the military system of the nation was in full operation; the army was 'mobilized' and increased to its war strength within the local limits assigned to its different divisions, and in an exceedingly short time a gigantic array composed of regular troops in the first line, with reserves of landwehr in the second, was in a state to commence operations under the guidance of leaders of proved ability. Those who witnessed that mighty torrent of war pouring through Germany towards the Rhenish frontier have described its tremendous power and impulse; and none who have observed how it was directed can doubt that it had been long held in hand to commence as well as to repel aggression. Towards the last days of July and the first of August, while the French were still disseminated in Lorraine, three vast German armies had taken possession of the territory of the Rhenish Palatinate, and, already in communication with each other, were being marshalled to pour into France an overwhelming tide of invasion. The first army, numbering about 80,000 men, was under the command of the aged Steinmetz, and was approaching the Saar from Treves, its outposts reaching to near Saar-Louis. The second army, nearly 200,000 strong, had crossed the Rhine at and above Mayence, and, led by King William and Prince Frederick Charles, held the centre of the Rhenish Palatinate, its outposts almost advanced to the Saar, and its rearward divisions stretching far backwards. To the left was the third army, commanded by the Crown Prince of Prussia, about 150,000 strong; it touched the right of the second army, and extended thence to the course of the Rhine, and its vanguard, along the stream of the Lauter, approached the northern frontier of Alsace, the main body being not distant, and concealed behind the adjoining fortresses. From Treves on the west to Landau on the east, and pressing forward to the very edge of France, the huge German masses were already in a state to fall on their enemy with tremendous force.

The manner in which these immense armies were formed, organised, and moved in concert within a short distance of the French frontier, was one of the most notable of strategic exploits. In the space of nineteen or twenty days 430,000 men in the highest state of efficiency for war, with guns, horses, and other material, had been arrayed and prepared for the field, and now stood on the verge of the Rhineland ready to overrun Alsace and Lorraine. We know of no finer military movement, except perhaps the splendid concentration of Napoleon's forces on the Belgian frontier on the 14th of June, 1815; and it attests clearly the calculating forethought and ability of the Prussian Government, the high training and skill of its generals, and the discipline and power of the German troops. The French army, scattered and divided on the semicircle from Thionville to Belfort, and with its first line widely separated from the second, was already in no condition to offer a successful resistance to its mighty foe; it was not only much weaker in strength, being outnumbered fully two to one at the decisive points where it was threatened, it was also so disunited in its parts, that it could hardly collect 60,000 men in any position to withstand an attack. In fact, a glance at the map will show that along the whole line of the Saar and the Lauter it was exposed to be defeated in detail by a force infinitely superior in power; and this peril was aggravated by the circumstance, placed beyond dispute by the clearest evidence, that it believed itself completely secure, and that its leaders were planning a forward movement while their enemy was close at hand to destroy them.

It is now well known that a German advance was not suspected in the French camp even during the first three days of August: the woods along the edge of the frontier were not searched by the French outposts, and the German columns were allowed to collect in force behind this deceptive screen while the Emperor and his Marshals were dreaming of a march without an obstacle into the Rhenish provinces. The consequences of this ruinous neglect and self-deception became soon evident. On the 4th of August the Crown Prince of Prussia detached a part of his vast army to attack the extreme right of the whole French line, this movement being only the first step of a general advance across the French frontier. The Prince, with about 40,000 men, fell upon a single division of about 10,000 which lay encamped near the town of Weissenburg, surprised it, it is said, when at breakfast, and drove it back in a state of confusion. The French, rallying on the Geisberg, made a gallant resistance for a short time; but the hill having been stormed by the enemy, they were ultimately driven in utter rout from beyond Weissenburg on the road to Strasburg. The first success, so important in war, had thus been decisively won; the trophies of the day were 500 prisoners, a gun, and a great deal of material; and the advanced guard of the German army stood in triumph upon the soil of France, the right wing of the French forces having been already threatened and struck, and the secret of their want of preparation having been disclosed to their able antagonists.

The affair at Weissenburg was only the prelude of operations of a more serious kind. The 5th of August was spent by the Crown Prince in bringing the mass of his troops forward, and in arraying them for a formidable attack on the French forces in his immediate front. There can be no doubt that in making these dispositions he exposed his flank to the corps of De Failly, which, stationed at Bitsche, beyond the Vosges, ought to have combined with that of McMahon, and fallen on the right of the Prussian commander, while, as yet, his columns were not closed up, and his whole line was somewhat out of order. This movement, however, was not executed; the want of intelligence and the vacillation which characterised the operations of the French, were again too painfully conspicuous; and though De Failly sent one division through the hill passes to the aid of his colleague, he remained at Bitsche with the bulk of his troops, and left MacMahon completely isolated. Meanwhile that brave, but unfortunate chief, made preparations to resist the attack of the Germans, now evidently impending. It is a misconception to suppose, as some have done, that he advanced recklessly against his foe; what he did was to take and occupy a defensive position on the flank of the Germans, where he could hope to give them battle, under circumstances of the least disadvantage, and De Failly, if he wished, could come to his aid; and we assert, with confidence, that this strategy was the best open to the Duke of Magenta. The marshal by the evening of the 5th had drawn up his forces along the crest of a range which extends from Reichsofen on the left by Woerth to Elsasshausen, and Marbronn on the right, and which, with the stream of the Sauer in front, and with broken ground along the rising slopes, formed a strong position against his enemy. MacMahon's object evidently was to compel the Germans to turn against him, and assail him as they changed their front; he would thus divert them from the road to Strasburg, and engage them as favourably for himself as possible; and at the same time, he as it were summoned the corps of De Failly to join his rear, while he kept open several lines of retreat. These were the arrangements of an able commander; and considering that MacMahon had not more than 50,000 men in his band, his dispositions certainly give proof of the tactical skill for which he is renowned. On the morning of the 6th, the Crown Prince advanced to the attack, with 130,000 men, and not less than 440 guns. As MacMahon had calculated, the change of front, which the Germans were compelled to make, threw their line for some time into confusion; and the French repelled for several hours a somewhat feeble and disunited effort against their left, at and near Reichsofen. Meantime the French centre at Woerth had been engaged; there too, for a considerable time, MacMahon's divisions resisted stoutly, and even for a moment assumed the offensive. But about two o'clock the huge German line had come up on all sides in strength; and the Crown Prince prepared to turn the French wings at both sides, combining with this an attack in front—a movement justified by his superiority in force, but certainly not without hazard. MacMahon, who, at this conjuncture, De Failly not having come up, ought, in our judgment, to have retreated, struck desperately at the German centre at Woerth, thinned by the extension of its flanks; but the French onset was bravely resisted, and indeed it could not have been successful. Ere long the formidable outflanking movement developed itself, and became decisive; and from Reichsofen to beyond Marbronn the dense German columns extended threateningly, and overlapped the whole French position. A sudden panic fell on MacMahon's army; its right and centre gave way; and it was soon a mass of disheartened fugitives, broken on all sides into disunited fragments. Six thousand prisoners and thirty guns were the spoils of the victorious Germans; and for some time the defeated force was annihilated, in a military point of view.

It cannot be said that the Germans' tactics were remarkable for ability or boldness during the first part of this desperate battle. They attacked weakly, and in divided masses; they gave MacMahon more than one chance; and with their immense superiority of numbers their victory ought to have been more decisive. On the other hand the French Marshal showed talent in his original dispositions; he resisted his enemy during several hours, and at one time placed him in much danger; and had he when he had been assured that De Failly's corps was not coming up, effected a rapid and confident retreat, he would have been entitled to commendation. MacMahon, however, held his ground too long; and when the Crown Prince, who, as soon as he had ascertained the inferiority of the French in strength, displayed consummate energy and skill, had advanced on Reichsofen and Marbronn, it was almost inevitable that the French line should give way and be totally defeated. As regards the conduct of the opposing armies, the Germans, cautious and slow at first, became at last self-reliant and bold; the French fought long with 'consummate bravery,'—we quote the German official report—but they broke up hastily under the stress of disaster—a fault almost a national characteristic. The strategic consequences of the battle were in the highest degree important. The whole right wing of the French army, overpowered by immensely superior forces, was driven in and almost destroyed; it had no chance but to retreat behind the Vosges, too fortunate if it could make its escape; Alsace was thrown open to the enemy, and an avenue into the heart of France laid bare. This result was in some measure due to the criminal negligence of De Failly, who, if he had chosen, might have joined MacMahon, and whose corps might have changed the fate of the day; but it was also caused by the bad arrangement of the whole French line upon the position, which at no point was in sufficient strength to offer a firm and certain resistance. This, indeed, was made evident, at the same time, at another part of the theatre of operations. While the Crown Prince was attacking MacMahon, a German division of the First Army crossed the Saar and advanced to Saarbrück, where a few days before the corps of Frossard had made a demonstration on the frontier, in order, it has been supposed, to gratify the curiosity of the Prince Imperial. The French were completely surprised; but, pressing hastily forward, they advanced to repulse the audacious foe, who with great boldness resisted steadily for some time. Meanwhile another German division had come to the aid of their comrades; and seizing promptly the cover of woods which overlapped the right of the French, they wasted it away with a destructive fire; and further supports having come up, the Germans stormed with heroic valour a line of heights called the Spicheren hills, which formed the front of the French position. The whole French line had begun to give way; and an additional mass of foes appearing on their extreme left, and having outflanked it, they retreated in precipitate haste, leaving a considerable number of guns and prisoners.

The two engagements of the 6th of August, named respectively those of Woerth and Forbach, were fraught with results of great moment. It was not only that the renowned French army which had been supposed to be the first in the world had suffered a double crushing defeat, in one instance of a dishonourable kind; not only that it had lost its prestige and given proof of want of steadiness, of indiscipline, and of disorganization; the invasion of Germany was now impossible; the South had been united to the North by the pledge of common military success; and there was nothing to avert the victorious progress of the German masses on the French frontier. The situation, in fact, had been suddenly changed; and Europe, which up to that moment had been expecting a French advance, was now to witness the calamitous recoil of the Imperial forces at all points, attended with ever increasing disasters. The right wing of the French army, well-nigh cut off and destroyed at Woerth, was driven in rout out of Alsace and compelled to abandon Strasburg to its fate; and it would be too fortunate if it could rally at Châlons, drawing to it the corps of De Failly and Douay. The right centre, broken through at Forbach, was forced backward upon Metz; and the centre and left, involved in its defeat, were obliged to fall back in the same direction. Meanwhile the Germans ably directed, and collected in overwhelming strength, poured into France in the successive waves of an invasion that nothing could resist. The Crown Prince's army, in communication with the Second by a cordon of cavalry sent through the Vosges, detached a part of its force to besiege Strasburg, and with its remaining divisions poured forward through Lower Alsace in pursuit of MacMahon. The Second Army advancing from the Rhineland, swept across the Saar in immense forces, and passed into the north of Lorraine, driving before it the feeble French corps now seeking a refuge under the guns of Metz. Meanwhile, the Third Army made a parallel movement; and, uniting with the right of the Second, marched rapidly in overwhelming front on Metz, already threatening with its right wing to overlap and surround the great fortress. By the 18th August, 300,000 Germans with large reserves in their immediate rear had made good their way into France, and from Strasburg to Thionville and thence into the heart of Lorraine, were taking military possession of the country and menacing with ruin the enemy in their path.

During this mighty advance of the Germans, the strategic operations of the French, in part owing to the bad disposition of their forces for combined movements, and in part to the weakness of their commanders, had been characterised by much indecision. MacMahon, indeed, had effected his retreat from the field of Woerth with the wreck of his troops, and escaped safely through the Vosges passes; and though his corps was almost ruined, he had shown some ability in getting away, for he ought to have been destroyed by the Germans. In fact, the pursuit of the Crown Prince had not been marked by energy or speed, whatever indiscriminate flatterers may urge; his own reports more than once refer to the comparative slackness of his cavalry or at least to their extreme caution. De Failly, too, though the disaster at Woerth must be laid to a great extent to his charge, had been prompt in breaking up from Bitsche, and he had succeeded in approaching MacMahon without being caught by the enemy; his escape, however, being in a great measure due to the resistance made by the fortress of Bitsche, which retarded the march of one of the Crown Prince's columns. The broken right of the French army, though its losses had been terrible, and its morale was destroyed, was, in a word, making good its way to Châlons; and, as the corps of Douay was moving towards it, and as the whole mass was about to concentrate, we cannot find fault with these arrangements. But in the remaining part of the theatre of war the French dispositions revealed nothing but feebleness, vacillation, and want of forethought. The instant Woerth and Forbach were fought, and the right and right centre of the French were forced back on either side of the Vosges, it cannot be doubted that the whole French army ought to have retreated in a parallel line; and it ought certainly to have retired on Châlons, having thrown a strong garrison into Metz, for it was at Châlons only that it could hope to reunite, and when there it would be in a position to save Paris and defend the interior on the well-known lines of the Marne and Seine. To effect this would not have been easy, for the disseminated state of the corps on the frontier from Thionville to Forbach and thence backward to Metz exposed them whatever moves they attempted; but this was what ought to have been done, and the attempt would have probably succeeded. Instead of this the unfortunate emperor drew in his left and centre on the Nied—and when he had collected these behind the river, he halted five or six days at Metz, uncertain evidently what to do next, and hesitating, while there was time to fall back on Châlons. The reason of this strange and fatal fault, through which the main body of the French army was exposed to be cut off and destroyed, remains as yet to be explained; it was probably owing to vacillation and to the dread of terrifying Paris by the news of a general retrograde movement. While the bulk of the Army of the Rhine was being detained in camp around Metz, completely separated from its supports in Champagne, the German armies advanced to the Moselle; and while a part of the First and Second Armies were massed close to the great fortress a considerable detachment was thrown forward, to menace and fall on the French line of retreat should an attempt be made to retire on Châlons.

The results of these strategic arrangements, so different in ability and forethought, were developed ere long with great distinctness. On the 14th of August one detachment of the French army with the Emperor at its head, left Metz and crossed to the left bank of the Moselle; and this ultimately reached Châlons, where it effected its junction with MacMahon. The remaining corps endeavoured to begin their retrograde movement the same day, but being on the eastern side of the fortress, and their great numbers impeding their march, they were attacked by two corps of the Germans, whose vigorous onset held them in check. The combat lasted the whole day; and each side claimed to have won the victory; but the real issue was in favour of the Germans, who detained their antagonists round Metz, while their own troops were being pushed forward to occupy the French line of retreat. Next day, the 15th, the whole French army began to defile to the left bank of the Moselle; but it marched only ten or twelve miles on the two roads to Verdun and Etain, the avenues by which it would reach Châlons; and it bivouacked at Mars La Tour and Doncourt, still, as it proved, not far from its enemy. The causes of this disastrous delay, fraught with consequences of a ruinous kind, remain yet to be explained; much was doubtless due to the extreme difficulty of moving columns of great length and size, encumbered with baggage and other impediments; and it is not improbable that a desire to avoid the appearance of a hasty retreat may have had influence on the French commanders. It is certain, however, that a greater distance should have been accomplished by the retiring force; it was of vital importance to get clear at once of the foes gathering on the flank and rear; and Marshal Bazaine, who by this time certainly had been invested with the supreme command, unquestionably committed a grave error in not having pressed forward the movement. The next day it was too late; and the Germans found themselves in a position to achieve success, which it is quite clear from their own despatches, they never expected. On the morning of the 16th, the retreating French were attacked on the Verdun road by the cavalry and infantry of a German corps, which continued for some hours to hold them in check; and aid having come to the assailants, a sanguinary battle raged at Mars La Tour, one side endeavouring to cut its way through, the other struggling to bar the passage. Throughout the day fresh supports thrown forward judiciously on the flanks of the French, gave terrible effect to the German attacks; and their enemy, bound to a single road, and in their extended columns fatally exposed, was compelled to fight at a great disadvantage. The French, however, fought desperately, aware of the importance of the issue; and it is possible that they would have resisted successfully, had it not been for a brilliant charge of a large mass of cavalry towards the evening, which forced them back a considerable distance. Meanwhile, a simultaneous attack had been made on the Etain road, and though the French struggled with great courage, this too ultimately proved successful. The whole French army about nightfall withdrew sullenly towards Metz, having failed to make its retreat good, and the Germans, closing on its communications, already stood on its way to Châlons.

Driven thus to bay under the guns of Metz, Bazaine resolved to concentrate his forces in order to fight a decisive battle. He had probably 130,000 men in hand, with from 400 to 500 guns, the flower and strength of the French army; and his plan was to choose a defensive position where he could resist the onslaught of the Germans, and, having repulsed it, could break through their lines, and get off with the mass of his troops. With this object he drew up his men along the summit of a range of uplands, extending from Gravelotte before Metz, to beyond the hamlet of Privat La Montagne, and which, broken by streams and difficult ground, and with woods, villages, and thickets in front, offered a strong barrier to an attacking enemy. The French left rested on Gravelotte, the centre on Vionville and Amanvilliers, and the right stretched away to Doncourt and Jaumont, the whole line thus holding the roads which debouche to Verdun, Etain, and Sedan, protected by natural and artificial obstacles. This was a position of the strongest kind, considered as a scheme of defence, for it exposed the assailants at most points, and especially at that of Gravelotte, to a terrible fire at great disadvantage; but, as the result showed, it was deficient in this, that it gave no opportunity for a counter attack, and it enabled the Germans to draw round from all sides on the enemy before them. The 17th was spent by each army in preparing for a decisive engagement. The German commanders by this time had 240,000 men, with from 700 to 800 guns, and they resolved to attack according to a plan, which, if perilous in some degree, was justified by their superior numbers, and promised great and remarkable success. While the right of the Germans was to restrain the French left, their centre and left were to march across the whole front of Bazaine's position, and having overwhelmed his right wing, the weakest point in his defensive lines, they were to converge inwards upon the French and force them back in retreat on Metz. On the morning of the 18th, three German corps began to engage the French at Gravelotte, while at the same time, five and a half corps moved towards Vionville and Privat La Montagne, in order to execute the great turning movement which was to lead to the expected victory. The French, immoveable in their positions, were compelled to await the circling attack which threatened to stifle and hem them in; unlike Napoleon I. at Austerlitz, Bazaine had not secured the means of striking his enemy as he swept round on him. Towards the afternoon, the Prussian guards had outflanked the right of the Marshal; soon afterwards, his centre was fiercely assailed, and by degrees the great German line advanced snakelike to encompass its foe. It was now time for the German right to strike fiercely at Gravelotte; and here a battle of the most desperate kind raged until nightfall for several hours, the French certainly having the advantage, and destroying the Germans with frightful carnage. But gradually the German plan was worked out; the German masses converging on all sides forced the French backward from point to point; and at last the whole line of defence gave way, and retreating, slowly fell back on Metz, having lost the real object of the battle.

It is not improbable that, in this conflict, the losses of the Germans exceeded those of the French. At Gravelotte the corps commanded by Steinmetz was repeatedly driven back with terrific slaughter, and at other points the ranks of the assailants were cruelly thinned by a destructive fire. But if in a tactical point of view the battle was hardly a German victory, and if the resistance of Bazaine with an inferior force was honourable to him, the strategic results were great and decisive. The Germans had now obtained possession of the entire line of the Marshal's retreat; they barred the way to Châlons completely, and he had been forced back with his army on Metz, where, his communications with France being cut off, he would be ultimately compelled to surrender. Unless he could again begin the contest and pierce through the encircling foes, no prospect awaited him but to resist until famine dashed the sword from his grasp, and made the army of the Rhine captive—so ruinous had been the disastrous generalship which had detained it in isolation at Metz, and had allowed its enemies to gather round it instead of effecting a speedy retreat!

Leaving Bazaine in this perilous strait, we must now turn to another part of the theatre, where folly, rashness, and above all the exigencies of the political situation, were to complete the work of irresolute weakness in contributing to the ruin of France. About the 16th or 17th of August MacMahon had made good his way to Châlons with the wreck of his corps defeated at Woerth, and he was rejoined in a day or two by De Failly, who had contrived to elude the pursuing Germans—a retreat which proves that the Crown Prince had moved slowly and with much caution, and had not made the most of his brilliant victory. About the 19th of August the corps of Douay, marched back from Belfort, arrived at Châlons; this body, at the news of the battle of Woerth, having properly retired to the great strategic point which nature and history have alike marked out as the position where the defence of France should be undertaken in front of Paris. Next day, the 20th, about 70,000 men, with more than 100 guns, came up hastily from the French capital, the Government under Count Palikao having certainly made energetic efforts to reorganize and recruit the army; and thus MacMahon, by the 21st, had probably about 150,000 men, with from 400 to 500 guns, under his orders at the great camp at Châlons. When we recollect what Napoleon I. accomplished on this very ground—the memorable lines of the Marne and Seine—with a force greatly inferior in numbers, against more than 300,000 Germans, it cannot be doubted that a great commander would have made such an use of this army that he would long have kept the invaders back, and possibly changed the whole situation. But ability and caution were especially requisite, for the troops now under MacMahon's orders were in fact raw or demoralized soldiers; and plain common sense ought to have suggested that they were not fit for operations that demanded speed, or that could bring them in contact with a superior enemy.

At this critical moment a plan was formed, the responsibility for which is unknown, but which led to the greatest of military disasters. Considering the state of MacMahon's forces, there can be no doubt that his proper course was to delay his enemies as they advanced on Châlons, to endeavour to defend the Marne and the Seine, and, retreating slowly, to fall back until he had reached a position at which he would be in the flank of the Germans as they approached Paris. A great general, operating in this way, would have retarded the foe for weeks, would certainly have inflicted much injury on him, and while he inured his own troops to war, would assuredly have kept his army intact in order to make a stand for the capital, the fortifications of which, with a force before them, would perhaps have changed the issue of the campaign. It is true that the strategy would have been an apparent abandonment of Bazaine; but this really was inevitable. Bazaine, as the event proved, was not in need of immediate relief; shut up, as he was, inactive at Metz, he still detained an immense mass of Germans around the great fortress; and in any case, as affairs now stood, the first consideration ought to have been the security of the last army of France, and a settled purpose to defend the capital. Had Wellington been in MacMahon's place, we are convinced that these would have been his tactics; and we feel certain that he would have succeeded, if not in defeating the Germans in the field, at least in greatly reducing their strength, in preserving Paris from real danger, and in saving his forces for an effort to be undertaken when his raw troops were rendered more equal to their antagonists. Instead of a rational operation like this, a resolve was made at the French head-quarters which can only be described as insanely rash. It was determined to relieve Bazaine with MacMahon's weak and undisciplined army; and the manner in which this was to be done was marked by thoughtless and strange presumption. The French troops were to leave Châlons, and moving northwards to Rheims and Rethel, were to strike from that place across the Argonnes, to pass the Meuse and attain Montmédy, and descending thence upon Thionville, were to fall on the rear of the Germans at Metz, to extricate Bazaine, and in conjunction with him, to annihilate the astounded enemy by an attack worthy of the first Napoleon. By this operation MacMahon's army was to slip round the flank of the Crown Prince, known to be advancing from Nancy on Châlons; it would probably attain the northern frontier before its destination could be ascertained; and if it ever reached the neighbourhood of Metz and came into communication with Bazaine, what would be the fate of the insolent invaders, and what the triumphant issue of a campaign begun under ill-omened auspices?

Whether the pamphlet recently published at Brussels be the work of Napoleon III. or not, it is now clear that Marshal MacMahon was not the real author of this strategy. A glance at the map will clearly show that it exposed the French army to ruinous disaster, and it has been proved that it was inspired by the Government of the Regency at Paris, ill-informed as to the real situation, and fearful lest a retrograde movement should cause the sudden fall of the Empire. And what was the projected operation, which it was assumed was proposed by an eminent French Marshal, who, we may suppose, knew the art of war, and certainly had very great experience? It was simply to make an immense flank march with a weak and thoroughly untrained army, within full reach of an enemy twice as strong, who would be able to arrest the movement, and to fall on his adversary in overwhelming force; and it was to do this along a line on which a defeat would probably entail destruction, or a surrender upon the Belgian frontier. Let it be granted that MacMahon might expect to cross the Meuse before he would be intercepted, still it was all but certain that the German armies, which assuredly would turn northward at once, would come up with him between the Meuse and Thionville; and if he were caught, what chance had he of contending against the enormous forces which, in that event, would be directed against him? A crushing defeat was to be expected, and if he were defeated would not his army, hemmed in along the narrow belt of land extending from the northern Argmues to Lorraine, be either utterly broken to fragments or forced helplessly to lay down its arms? And it was for a reckless scheme such as this—one in which success was hardly conceivable, and of which ruin would be the natural result—that the rational and legitimate course of retreating leisurely and defending Paris from point to point, was to be abandoned! The correspondence recently published shows that this plan did not originate with MacMahon; and that it was adopted must be ascribed to the necessity felt at the Tuileries of avoiding a retrograde movement in the interest of the tottering Empire. MacMahon, however, did consent to it; and for this he must be held responsible. Beyond all doubt he ought to have rejected a project fraught with calamity to his country, at the risk even of resigning his command; had he done so, the position of France might have been different from what it is now, and his own reputation would not have suffered from the consequences of a dire catastrophe. Making every allowance for his difficult situation, we cannot acquit him of want of resolution, though sheer ignorance and incapacity did not lead him to make the greatest of blunders ever made perhaps by a commander-in-chief.

Our space precludes us from describing at length the series of great events that ensued. On the 22nd of August MacMahon's army, already giving melancholy proofs of weakness, indiscipline, and insubordination, had reached Rheims from the camp of Châlons; and on the 23rd it was on its way to Rethel. The march of the columns was extremely sluggish, in consequence of the bad organisation of the troops, and eye-witnesses have recorded that the unfortunate marshal was even now evidently dispirited and anxious. Rethel was not passed until the 25th; and as the movement to the Meuse and the Argmues was to be accomplished as soon as possible, MacMahon divided his army into three parts; one to go northward, by railway to Mézières, and the other two to advance easterly by Vouziers and Nouart, and Le Chène and Stonne. The Emperor and his ill-fated child attended mournfully the doomed army, but if we are to credit newspaper reports, Napoleon III. still felt confident that he was marching to assured victory. Though the dispositions of the French marshal were evidently made with a view to speed, the movement of his columns was exceedingly slow, no doubt owing to their inefficient state, and also probably to commissariat defects; and even by the morning of the 29th they had only attained Nouart and Stonne, that is, they were still a day's march from the Meuse, which they ought to have found on the 28th. These delays aggravating the inherent perils of a strategic plan essentially vicious, were sure to lead to disastrous consequences; and while MacMahon had been going northwards the German commanders had been preparing the means of utterly overwhelming him. On the 19th and 20th of August, after Bazaine had been shut up in Metz, a fourth German army had been despatched, under the command of the Crown Prince of Saxony, to co-operate with that of the Crown Prince of Prussia, and it had been moved by Verdun, on St. Menehould, to be in readiness for any event. Meanwhile the third German army, after passing Nancy, had advanced on the great road to Paris to Ligny and Bar le Duc, its light cavalry, the well-known Uhlans, having scoured the whole country to beyond Châlons. By the 24th the Crown Prince of Prussia, who had been rejoined by the king from Metz, had his head-quarters at Bar le Duc, and when there the news arrived that MacMahon had broken up from the camp, and was aiming northward toward Mézières and Rethel. The plan of the French was immediately perceived by the eminent strategist who in this campaign had been the genius of the German armies, and he proceeded to defeat it, and ensure victory. Orders were at once issued to the Crown Prince of Saxony to move northerly towards the Meuse, and intercept the heads of MacMahon's columns; while the third German army, under the Prussian Prince, was to advance rapidly in the same direction, and fall on the French flank and rear. By the 25th the huge German array, numbering nearly 250,000 men, with from 700 to 800 guns, was marching forward in dense masses to overwhelm the much weaker force that incautiously presented its flanks to it, and that soon would be within its formidable reach.

By the 28th and 29th of August the game began to be gradually developed. The vanguard of the Tenth German Army, having passed Verdun and reached the Meuse, appears to have crossed the river at Stenay, and it struck one of MacMahon's columns about Buzancy and again at Nouart. Meanwhile the army of the Crown Prince of Prussia advancing by Clermont, Grand Pré, and Suippes, had closed on the flank and rear of the Marshal and had made it certain that he would be overtaken. Headed thus, as they approached the Meuse, and threatened with a destructive attack, which, if successful, would prove ruinous, the French were compelled to diverge northwards, and MacMahon endeavoured to make his escape though his case was already well-nigh desperate. Drawing one of his columns towards the other, and leaving a strong rear-guard at Beaumont, with orders to make a determined resistance, he sought to concentrate his remaining forces, and having passed the Meuse between Sedan and Mouzon, to move rapidly on Carignan, and thence to march direct on Montmédy, thus eluding the tightening grasp of the Prussians. In these operations we see the windings of a general who feels that a disaster is at hand; but, situated as MacMahon was, they were the best that could have been made. By the morning of the 30th the whole French army, except the corps at Beaumont, was collected from Lethêne to near Stenay; and it has been said that the unhappy Emperor was still confident as to the issue. His powerful antagonists were not likely to allow their prey to slip out of their clutches. The German columns on the 29th had closed more firmly on their retiring enemy; and while a portion of the Fourth Army had taken possession of both banks of the Meuse, the Third was in readiness to attack Beaumont, and to press MacMahon as he crossed the river. These dispositions assured success which could hardly fail to be ultimately decisive. As the French army approached the Meuse, the Crown Prince of Prussia made an attack on the detachment which had been left at Beaumont; and these corps, commanded by the incapable De Failly, were overwhelmed after a feeble resistance. Meanwhile MacMahon had contrived to get two of his corps across the river, which had marched towards Carignan; but as the remaining ones were passing they were caught and routed by the Crown Prince of Prussia with a great loss of guns and men at Mouzon. At the same time the Fourth German Army advancing from the right bank of the Meuse, had driven the French from the road to Carignan; and thus the whole French army baffled and defeated was forced in confusion still further northward. By the evening of the 30th its routed divisions had been re-formed in front of Sedan behind the defensive line of the Chiers, the huge German forces gathering all round and hemming in their intended victim.

We can only devote a few sentences to describe the decisive battle that ensued. The 31st of August was spent by MacMahon in drawing up his army in a line of defence extending from Givonne on the Belgian frontier, across ranges of eminences in front of Sedan, and thence backward to the rear of the town, as far as the plateaux of La Garenne and Floiny. The left of the Marshal rested on Giomne, his centre protected by the Chiers and by the villages of Bazeilles and Balan, spread before Sedan in strong positions, and his right and right centre stretched beyond Sedan, holding the Meuse nearly to Floiny northwards. The Fourth German army in the meantime had been marched on the opposite bank of the Chiers, while that of the Crown Prince had come up to the Meuse in full force; and the German commanders now pursued the plan of hemming in MacMahon completely, and having forced him upon Sedan, of destroying him by their overwhelming strength. With this object the French left was to be turned and passed by, the centre was to be fiercely assailed, the right was to be surprised and struck, and the whole German armies, having united in a perfect circle around Sedan, were to accomplish the ruin of their entrapped enemy. Considering the extraordinary disproportion between the hosts about to join in battle—230,000 men at least with from 600 to 700 guns against 110,000 of inferior quality with one-third less pieces—this ambitious and astonishing design may be justified in a military point of view; but, notwithstanding all that has been said, it is by no means to be admired in its conception; and a great commander, who in such a position, should break out from the centre with resolute troops, might cause an attack of this kind to end in a terrible defeat. On the morning of the 1st, the Fourth German Army, in consequence of the neglect of the French outposts, effected the passage of the Chiers without loss; and its right soon turned the French left at Givonne, the defenders of that important point having offered only the feeblest resistance. At the same time a considerable part of the forces of the Crown Prince having crossed the Meuse during the previous night, attacked Bazeilles and Balan in great strength; but here the French showed a bold front, and the battle hung in suspense for hours. Meanwhile, however, the remaining corps of the Third German Army had faced the Meuse at a point much lower down the river, and falling on the extreme right of the French at or near a hill that commands Floiny, had driven it in after a brave defence, and placed themselves in communication with the victorious troops of the German army which had approached them from Givonne. The inner circle was now completed; the French centre still fighting obstinately was obliged to evacuate Bazeilles and Balan; and the whole French army was compelled to recoil inwards upon Sedan, where it was crushed by a death-dealing artillery. No alternative but a surrender remained; the German tactics had completely succeeded; and on the 2nd of September, the last army of France in the field had passed under the yoke, and was a mass of prisoners of war. The Emperor was one of the trophies of the conqueror; MacMahon, more fortunate, had been severely wounded and did not witness the capitulation; but upwards of 90,000 men and from 400 to 500 guns in the hands of the triumphant Germans attested the magnitude of the catastrophe.

The results of the terrible battle of Sedan—a catastrophe unparalleled in the annals of war—were the destruction of the only French army that remained to the nation in the field, the complete isolation of Bazaine at Metz with a certainty of his ultimate surrender, the exposure of Paris to an immediate siege, and the prospect of the subjection of France to the will of an implacable conqueror. At no conjuncture in military history has a strategic error of the gravest kind been fraught with such calamitous effects; and the march to Sedan will long be noted as one of those frightful mistakes of generalship which have deeply influenced the fate of kingdoms. A day or two after this dire event a revolution broke out in Paris; the empire collapsed with the captive Emperor; the Empress Regent was compelled to fly; and, although a Government of National Defence was formed, composed of men of very great eminence, who—after fruitless attempts to negotiate—bravely resolved to carry on the struggle, sooner than consent to the dismemberment of France, hardly anyone believed that the defeated nation would be able to offer serious resistance. The situation of France, indeed, appeared desperate even to her well-wishers—even to those who resented the dictum of the cynical scorner of popular rights, that whether their inhabitants liked it or not, Alsace and Lorraine 'would belong to Prussia'—and for several weeks her exulting enemies remained absolute masters of the situation, and trampled down the defenceless country. The German armies which had fought at Sedan marched without a moment's delay to Paris, arrived before the forts on the 18th September, and, having routed a few raw troops, who endeavoured to harass them at Versailles, invested the capital on all sides, and inclosed it in impenetrable lines. The surging waves of the tremendous invasion meanwhile flowed furiously over the northern provinces, carrying with them devastation and ruin. Strasburg, after a siege which clearly indicated the temper of the people of Alsace, and their assumed sympathy with their 'German liberators,' fell on the 29th September; most of the fortresses of the Vosges, with the exception of Bitsche and Phalsburg, submitted; Toul, which had gallantly resisted for weeks a whole army, met the same fate, and by the close of October the German hosts had cleared their communications with Paris, were masters of the whole region between the Seine and the Rhenish Provinces, and had laid hold of Picardy and the valley of the Loire, which locust-like they devoured by requisitions. The consummation seemed at hand, when after making many attempts to break the iron ring of his foes, Bazaine on the 27th of October surrendered the fortress he had so long held; and the whole remains of the army of the Rhine, the garrison, and a mass of auxiliary troops, became prisoners of war as they defiled from Metz. France seemed under the Caudine forks; the iron had entered into her soul; and even the most far-sighted observers believed that the end of the war was close at hand.

For two whole months after the battle of Sedan, France thus appeared altogether ruined, trampled under the hoof of a ruthless invader. Her capital was invested; her provinces were overrun; fortress after fortress became an easy prey; the grasp of the Prussian upon the country seemed day after day to become stronger, and few signs of resistance appeared except a desultory partisan warfare. Some military critics at Versailles exclaimed that the 'hour of the Latin race had come;' the King of Prussia piously resigned his spirit to the triumph that seemed close at hand; Bismark with grim humour declared that Paris was 'frying in its own fat;' writers disposed complacently of Lorraine and Alsace, and congratulated France that her fate was no worse, and only a small minority of Englishmen entertained a hope for the fallen nation. Yet during all that terrible time vitality was returning to the stricken frame, and France was preparing for mighty efforts which, whether they prove successful or not, have been some of the noblest in history, and are entitled to the highest admiration. The first symptom of reviving animation was seen in the attitude of Paris, which, under the control of General Trochu, a commander who has already won a high place in the annals of fame, put off her Sybarite pride and luxury, and from behind her ramparts prepared herself for a defence which must be pronounced astonishing. Day after day the immense capital which the Germans declared would consume itself by internal revolution and anarchy, and which was not expected to hold out a fortnight, encompassed itself with fresh defensive lines, drilled its raw levies within its walls, and arrayed itself in such a panoply of war that before long it had become evident that its speedy reduction was impossible. The bombardment which it was predicted would soon 'bring these fools to their senses,' was postponed for the simple reason, that it had not the faintest chance of success; and as amazed Europe beheld the works of Paris growing in formidable power, and actually threatening the investing circle, it learned to set a proper value on the profession that 'there was no intention to destroy by fire a noncombatant population,' as if starvation was a more humane process. Meanwhile silently, and hardly observed by the correspondents of the English Press, enormous preparations for the renewal of the contest were made in every part of the country. Arms were produced in prodigious quantities, old soldiers were recalled to their colours, recruits were summoned in hundreds of thousands, the nuclei of several armies were formed, and the splendid memories of 1793-4 were invoked by the representatives of the people, and created wide-spread martial enthusiasm. While Bismark jeered at the 'gentlemen of the pavement,' and cynically redoubled his confident insults, while telegram after telegram announced that town after town was capitulating, France was becoming a vast camp, and sternly, proudly, and in a very different spirit from that in which it began the war, the nation girded up its loins for the strife. M. Gambetta, whose journey from Paris in a balloon excited considerable ridicule at Versailles—for a while—was the mainspring of this remarkable movement, of which, if we cannot predict the success, the patriotism and force cannot be disputed.

The first symptom in the turn of the tide which made itself distinctly perceived, was an engagement which took place on the 9th of November. A mass of raw levies and depôt battalions, to which had been given the name of the Army of the Loire, had been driven out of Orleans in October; and it was generally supposed that it had been all but destroyed. But a general had been placed at its head who had given it consistency and strength; it had been furnished with good artillery, and on the ninth of November it recrossed the Loire and defeated the Bavarian force in its front, which it succeeded in almost surrounding. After this the nuclei of armies, in the west, the north, and the south-east of France, have made their appearance, and are growing formidable; and the military strength of what had been deemed the effete and worn-out nation, has shown itself to be great and threatening. The attitude of the armies of the Loire and of the West has compelled the Germans to draw in almost their whole available forces to cover the immense circle of their lines around Paris; and though as yet they have suffered no reverse, and have even gained some important successes, their enemies still confront them in the field with rapidly improving power and discipline, and so long as they hold their present positions, they are exposed to considerable danger. In fact the German armies round Paris would be placed in imminent peril, if the covering armies on the circumference outside, were to meet anything like a defeat; and as the French levies are day after day acquiring an increase of numbers and force, this is by no means an impossible contingency. Meanwhile the beleaguered capital of France has offered to the besiegers a resistance which has astonished and confounded the world, and its illustrious governor, General Trochu, has literally created out of the young and demoralised troops within its walls, armies of unquestionable valour and worth. These armies commenced offensive operations on the 29th and 30th November, by making immense sorties from the capital; and though they have not succeeded in breaking through the net which hems them in, it is not impossible that they may yet do so. The situation, in fact, has so completely changed since the beginning of the month of November, that all competent persons now think that if Paris can hold out five or six weeks more, the result may be fatal to the Germans. It is almost useless to speculate on events which may be solved before these lines shall be printed, but we venture to hazard a glance into the future. It appears to us that in all probability Paris will ultimately succumb to famine, that it will not be relieved from without, and that General Trochu and his brave troops will have to yield to adverse fortune. This blow, if it happens, will be terrible, but if France continues to evince the resolution and energy of the last two months, its military consequences need not be decisive. In that event the defence of France will have to be undertaken on the Loire; and if her young armies are carefully husbanded; if her generals and statesmen admit the truth that the siege of Paris has gained time for developing her restored vigour; and if no fatal mistakes are made, we believe that she yet may repel the invader. What is most to be feared is, that if Paris falls, a collapse of authority may ensue, that Red Republicanism may lift its head, and that the men who have done such eminent service, may be overthrown by popular fear and terror. But if France is true to herself, if she goes on as she has done lately, and if her forces are rationally handled, she may possibly succeed in shaking off her assailants, and avoid the dismemberment with which she is threatened. Let the nation comprehend that if Paris falls, it will have done wonders in gaining time, and in allowing the spirit of France to revive, and then let it go on with the contest, obedient as a man to the existing Government, and looking steadily to the one great object, deliverance from impending subjugation.

Such has been, up to the middle of December, the memorable war of 1870. We have well-nigh exhausted our space, and can only make a few brief reflections. History has yet to describe the real causes of this terrible and devouring conflict, and the persons really responsible for it; but, allowing that Napoleon was in the wrong for throwing down the gauntlet to Prussia, what is now to be thought of the Power which is carrying on an internecine contest after she has received offers of ample compensation, and is endeavouring to dismember France, and to annex two of her most loyal provinces for the sole purpose, we fear, of making her former rival her vassal? Ever since the interview with Bismark at Ferrières, when, after Sedan, M. Jules Favre proposed to give Prussia more than satisfaction for all losses incurred by her, the war has been one of simple conquest on the part of King William and his minister. France, who at the outset of the conflict may have been, at least through her ruler, in the wrong, is now fighting against an invader for her national existence and her place in history; and beaten down as she is, it is not impossible that she may yet succeed; certainly she is rapidly winning the sympathy which was at first denied her. It is creditable to the mind of England, which was at first almost unanimously on the side of Germany, believing that it was unjustly attacked, that the majority of our countrymen are beginning to see through the ambition of Prussia, to distrust the cynical fraud of Bismark, and to wish well to the nation which is now really fighting for all that makes life dear. But it may be said, 'France has been beaten; the victor offers her peace on the terms of the cession of Alsace and Lorraine, which after all were at one time German; why does she not admit her overthrow, and thus restore quiet to awed Europe?' But to such suggestions, France, we believe, will not listen. We do not see how, until her resources are destroyed, she can consent to abandon Alsace and Lorraine, because these provinces are absolutely necessary to her safety as an important Power, as any military student must know; nor ought she, as a leader of civilization, to give up populations devoted to her to invaders whom they detest. As for the ethnological argument derived from the German origin of their territories, France may fairly adduce their present attitude as evidence of the real sentiments of the inhabitants.

We cannot dwell at the present moment on the lessons to be deduced from this war. Those who think that it conclusively proves the superiority of the German over the French soldier, will do well to read a little history and to study the battles of Jena and Austerlitz. No doubt on several occasions the French have fought badly under the moral depression of repeated and overwhelming defeats; but nothing has yet been seen in this campaign compared to the demoralization of Prussia in 1806. Nor may we assume that the French military character has deteriorated, though a corrupt layer of Imperialism has injured the upper ranks of society; the nation which after crushing reverses can still show such an indomitable front, will be yet found by its foes to be terrible. What the campaign proves is the immense superiority of German generalship over its antagonists, a superiority which, seconded by irresistible force, and by great advantages in artillery, has produced results of an astonishing kind, yet not more marvellous than those witnessed sixty years ago on the other side when Napoleon commanded the Grand Army. As to the military operations of the French commanders, they have been throughout as bad as possible. From the outset of the campaign to the first battles we see nothing but reckless rashness; we then behold vacillation and weakness followed by the astonishing blunders of Sedan; and the news which has just arrived of the defeats of the Army of the Loire at Orleans, prove, we fear, that another series of mistakes in the plainest strategy have been committed. These have been the causes of the disasters of France of which an able adversary has reaped the advantage; and to these we should add the enervating results of Imperialism on the upper classes, corruption and peculation in the higher ranks of the army, the false confidence engendered by martial traditions, and not least, the numerical inferiority of the French forces to those of the Germans. Yet we do not doubt that if France continues her present resolute attitude, if common sense prevails in her councils, if she remains united and patriotic, she may yet pluck safety out of her dangers; and in a long and internecine struggle the Power which has the command of the sea, superior wealth, and more compact unity, may in our judgment ultimately triumph. For ourselves this cruel and fearful war ought to teach us to look after our national defences, to array ourselves in complete panopoly, to take good assurance that this England of ours, the home of freedom and good government, shall at least be secure in the shock of arms now crashing over a large part of the Continent. It cannot be questioned that the sudden rise of Bismarkian Prussia is a threat and a peril to the world; the demands of Gortschakoff and the letters of Bernstorff already prove that it bodes no good to England; and we shall do better to look after our fleets, and to put our military organization in order, than to believe the idyls of sentimental professors who assure us that the plunderer of Silesia, the divider of Poland, and the despoiler of Denmark, is 'wise, pious, moral, and unambitious.' If it is not our duty to interfere actively in the interest of the balance of Europe, we, at least, in the conflict now rending France ought to read a warning address to ourselves; and while the boundaries of nations are being shifted, while justice and right are in danger of being trampled under foot, that brute force may work its will, we ought to take good heed that this our England shall retain her high position in the world, shall be able when necessary to lift her hand in the cause of civilization and human progress, shall never 'lie' at the proud foot of a conqueror, shall be as powerful as she is great and glorious.

Contemporary Literature.

HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, AND TRAVELS.

History of England, from the Earliest to the Present Time. In Five Volumes. By Sir Edward S. Creasy, M.A., Emeritus Professor of History in University College, London; late Fellow of King's College, Cambridge. Vol. II. Completing the History during the Early and Middle Ages. Walton. 1870.

Sir Edward Creasy's second volume embraces nine reigns, from Edward II. to Richard III., both inclusive. We consider the strong point of it, and that which has had most of the writer's heart, to be the constitutional and social history. The narrative of public and military transactions has not the same merit; and especially that towards the latter end, including the Wars of the Roses, which is too compressed—we had almost said too perfunctory—to be even interesting. In the earlier portions, where the author takes all the room that he wants, he lets us see that he does not lack the power of placing the events of war in an instructive light. Coming to Edward III.'s reign, he corrects the impression that is probably entertained by many, that the great contest with France arose from a wanton and ambitious claim upon the crown of that kingdom; and shows, by a very careful statement of facts and dates, that it was Philip of Valois' war, not Edward's.

Few of our historians have attempted thoroughly to penetrate Edward's plan in that famous expedition of 1346-7, in which he traversed the North of France, landing at La Hogue, and embarking at Calais, just as though it had been a piratical expedition needing no further explanation. Sir Edward makes a good suggestion as to the commencement and early stage of the invasion; namely, that one great object of it was to deliver a blow at the nourishing woollen manufactures of Normandy, and thereby relieve English trading towns from their powerful competitors in that quarter. But we think he fails to account satisfactorily for Edward's movements after the taking of Caen, when he assigns it as a sufficient reason for his advance on Paris (after being obliged to turn away from Rouen, be it remembered), that he wished to divert French troops from the South of France, where a small English army was being hard pressed. But could not the king of England have effected such a purpose by establishing himself in Normandy, where he rested on his fleet? To dismiss his ships, as he did at Caen, and to take a moderate force of some 40,000 men into the interior without a base of operations, in the hope of relieving a distant province, would not have been worthy of the genius of Edward III. We have little doubt that after achieving his success as far as Caen, if not before, Calais itself (not Paris, nor yet Guienne) was in his eye. In fact, the speech of Sir Geoffrey Harcourt to Edward, at Caen, reported by Froissart, distinctly recognises Calais as the ultimate goal of the expedition. His having found the North of France so defenceless (to say nothing of his having taken prisoner at Caen the Count of Guisnes, on the border of whose territory Calais lay), probably suggested the feasibility of capturing Calais on the land side. Hence the immediate attempt to cross the Seine at Rouen; and hence, when this failed, the march up the Seine—not to relieve Guienne, but to effect a passage of the river. The famous fortress fell to Edward as the result of a bold calculation, not as a piece of good luck after a desperate escapade. To judge how tempting it must have seemed to him, even so far off as Caen, we have only to reflect on the immediate use he made of it as soon as it was his own; to say nothing of his resolution in maintaining a longer winter siege. He immediately converted what had before been a piratical stronghold against him into an English colony; besides which he made it the Continental staple for the English wool trade, by which means he delivered himself from certain Flemish towns, which hitherto had converted his necessities into their own gains. Those who understand something of English State finance in this reign, and the peculiar importance of the woollen trade to Edward as a financier, will be able to comprehend his views when he resolved on obtaining hold of this important position upon the Straits of Dover.

In a fresh history of Edward III.'s reign, various episodes, of minor importance, indeed, but ineradicable from the English mind, will always be turned to, to see how far the new lights will permit the old favourites of the popular imagination to stand their ground. Let us turn, then, to the Ostrich Feathers. Mr. Longman, in his recent 'Life of Edward III.,' simply remarks that the current story is a very doubtful one; while Sir Edward Creasy's remark is, that there is no reason at all to doubt it. But passing observations like these, on the one side or on the other, entirely fail to do justice to a very interesting series of papers (not referred to by either of these authors), that may and ought to be read in the 'Archæologia,' mentioning the curious discovery of a contemporary statement of the popular story (Camden having been hitherto the earliest authority for it), which, nevertheless, cannot overcome the strong evidence marshalled by the learned antiquaries, that the feathers really came from Hainault, and through Queen Philippa, not from Bohemia at all, or its gallant old king. The story of the six haltered citizens of Calais Sir Edward accepts likewise, and finds himself able to support it by fresh evidence. In fact, there was never any sufficient reason to doubt it, and our historic scepticism is apt sometimes to be over-scrupulous. For the anecdote, singular as it is, is by no means unique: the incident mentioned in 1 Kings, xx. 31, if not strictly parallel, was quite sufficient to have originated the custom in the picturesque days of the Middle Ages, with the genius of which, too, it entirely harmonises. Monstrelet records a similar instance in the campaigns of the Duke of Bedford, in the following century; and another in Papal history, belonging to 1540, may be read in Ranke.

A narrative work ought not to be dismissed without an examination of its dates. And here we are obliged to admit that our narrator has not shown sufficient vigilance. The death of Roger Mortimer, Queen Isabella's favourite, is undated, although we are carefully told that Edward III.'s real reign only began from that event. One-half of the narrative of his overthrow is on a page headed 1328, and the other half under 1330. The death of the Black Prince is described and its importance to public affairs is acknowledged, but it is undated. The page on which it is narrated is headed 1376; but the next page, dealing with the events of the moment, is dated 1377. The battle of Cressy is dated August 25th, a day too soon. Henry V.'s setting sail for the Agincourt campaign is twice on one page dated Sunday, August 12th, instead of Sunday, August 11th. The Duke of Bedford engages the enemy at the mouth of the Seine on August 18th (it should be 13th), returning home August 16th. The famous coronation of Charles VII. at Rheims, when the Maid of Orleans assisted, is dated July 18th, instead of Sunday, July 17th. Lord Talbot fell in the battle of Castillon, and this is dated July 23rd, a date of that hero's death quite new to us, although we have seen four others recorded. But we do not at all feel confident that our author gives this figure as the result of any special inquiry. We are sure that our writers will never be induced to guard wakefully against the crime of circulating false dates until their eyes are thoroughly open to the dreadful state in which our popular chronology stands, making it unsafe for us to adopt any figures whatever without every means of verification in our power.

We have expressed ourselves freely as to where this volume might, in our opinion, have been stronger. We therefore gladly invite attention to what we have felt Sir Edward Creasy's chief success to be, and to what we consider our chief gains in possessing this record of his studies.

The constitutional and social history of the period comprised in this volume will soon attract the reader's warm interest; for he will perceive that it is not merely inserted for the sake of filling up a department, but written con amore, and out of full stores of knowledge. The author has made diligent and zealous use of the numerous and valuable works published under the Master of the Rolls, and has not lost sight of the researches of our local antiquarian societies, and other good authorities. Matters which in most current histories are simply referred to as known, and which therefore remain long unknown, such as obsolete mediæval taxes, the nature of impeachment, the council, and the like, are here carefully explained, which makes the history popular in the best sense, as well as a thorough student's book. What he calls the Thirty Years' War between capital and labour, from the Black Death to Wat Tyler, is a most lucid and interesting piece of social history, fully worked out, and by no means useless in view of present-day questions. As the result, Tyler's insurrection, as well as Cade's, will wear a new complexion, we suspect, in the minds of many general readers.

One feature of Sir Edward's pages will certainly gratify not a few; we mean the conspicuous absence of partisanship and all unfairness of statement. While forming his judgments on the past, he succeeds in throwing himself into the times he is describing, and consequently preserves a calm and reasonable tone, without being querulous and hasty. A striking instance of this judicial temper occurs in his account of persecuting Arundel and the frightful statute De heretico Comburendo, the tenor of his observations on which we hope no one will be so uncandid as to misunderstand or misrepresent. The danger of such a habit of mind is, of course, a liability to that amiable weakness which wants to whitewash everybody and palliate everything; but this danger we think Sir Edward succeeds in avoiding. He has a moral firmness of his own, and an independence of mind which would not permit him to be simply an allowance-maker. If we wanted a proof that he has his strong partialities, unfalteringly expressed in the right direction, we should point to his chapter on Wycliffe, which also is the weightier, from its being, as usual, discriminating. Here, facing the great religious movement of the Reformation, our historian expresses himself as a Christian believer, and one who venerates the Holy Bible, and as though he considered himself writing for those who ought to be both.

Lectures and Essays. By Professor Seeley. Macmillan & Co.

To those who are acquainted with 'Ecce Homo,' we need not say that this is an interesting volume. There is something so fresh and bold, so frank and vigorous in all that Professor Seeley writes, that we must enjoy reading him, whether we agree with him or not, and whatsoever topic he discusses.

He writes on the 'Revolution at Rome,' and on the 'Decline and Fall of the Empire,' with a masterly grasp on an obscure and complex subject. We entirely agree with him in his estimate of Julius Cæsar's motives and character; and while we acquit Brutus himself of any mean and sordid impulse, we cannot think that he served Rome or humanity in the 'taking off' of the Dictator. If we can trust Sallust at all, the nobles for whom Pompey fought were quite unfit to govern Rome. Our author's explanation of the final fall of the Empire has more than probability. The facts justify it to a large extent. Wherever population is at a standstill, we may be sure 'there is something rotten in the State,' and may confidently anticipate its dissolution. Is not the prostrate condition of France at the time we write another illustration of the truth? Have not similar causes there produced like effects?

Our author's analysis of Milton's opinions and his critique on Milton's poetry, deserve perusal. He appreciates the solitary grandeur of the gentle and cultivated Puritan,—Titanic, yet not coarse. It is not easy to reconcile the utter disappointment, the deep heart-sorrow, of Milton's old age with his uniform hopefulness. All the more honour to him! There is nothing more paralyzing than despair. We doubt whether it should ever find utterance in a Christian's writing. We at once recognise the parallelism of Carlyle's position with Milton's in some aspects of it. We were taken aback to hear of Ruskin in a similar aspect, but our author makes out a good case for him too.

Nothing can be juster in our view than the 'Essay on Art.' These 'elementary principles' must be recognised, one is apt to say, by all thoughtful men, and we are greatly indebted to the Professor for setting them forth so clearly. We cannot too soon adopt the principle that 'art is not always independent, but in some cases parasitic; and accordingly, in judging particular performances, in architecture and oratory, it is necessary to apply two standards in succession—the practical and the artistic ... the decisive test of merit "here" being art in subordination.'

Surely no one has more right than he to speak with authority on 'University Education.' And his strictures upon the course at Cambridge, and the effects of it upon both teachers and taught, are well worthy of attention. Somehow or other it is true that life-long study is not secured by present methods, and it is a topic deserving of careful discussion. 'Why is it so, and how can it be mended?' With a great deal advanced in this searching essay we heartily agree, and we are glad to see that some suggestions in it are already being acted upon. Many more we hope and expect will become the usage of the future. We were pleased, not surprised, to find him frankly acknowledging, that in one important particular the method at Oxford is to be preferred to that at Cambridge. It is not a little humbling to us as a nation to have him say parenthetically (not as 'thesis' to be maintained—observe—but as an axiom—an unquestioned truth) that 'most good books are in German.'

Again, in regard to the study of 'English in Schools.' Who so competent as he to speak? With all that he says about the duty of teaching more fully in our schools, both the language and literature of our country, we heartily agree, though we are not prepared to go with him quite so far as to say, 'No Latin at all till a boy is fourteen.' The 'accidence' of any language are more easily learnt by young minds—it is a mere effort of memory, and strengthens it—while in later life such matters cannot be learnt as accurately, in our conviction. We hold with him, however, respecting the English, and are inclined therefore, in this matter, to the rule, 'Then ought ye to do, and not to leave the other undone.'

The strictures on preaching, again, are excellent. How well it will be if all our young preachers ponder them well! The world needs, and more than that, it likes practical preaching, if it be intelligent, sympathetic, and sincere. Every word he says about 'political preaching' we would gladly endorse. Surely it is as much within a Christian teacher's sphere as the domestic relations, and we believe that greater fidelity in the pulpit on the subject of political morality, will be followed by a great advance at the poll. Men are willing to be told where they are wrong and ought to amend, if only it be a true man who tells them so. Wherever one who is 'bone of their bone' speaks 'to them on vital topics, men will come and hear. They will not then leave the Church to the women and the children.'

With the inaugural address at Cambridge the volume closes. His subject, 'History, a Teacher of Politics,' promises much, and we are inclined to envy those who are in the way of hearing the discourses to which this one is preamble and preface. May they profit by them as much as we think we should, and our children reap the fruits in the wiser legislation of the coming generation of statesmen! Somewhere lately, we have seen the doctrine put forth, with marvellous confidence, that 'the history of the past cannot give wisdom for the future, inasmuch as Society is ever progressing, and no past state therefore can ever be exactly reproduced.' It would be as sensible to say that a legal education is of no good, because laws are ever being altered (ought we to say mended?); or a medical training, because no two human constitutions are exactly alike. 'Men are of like passions' with their forefathers, and masses of men are moved by impulses similar to those which stirred the men of old. So we believe in 'History as the Teacher of Politics,' and are glad indeed that our young politicians at Cambridge have so learned, and faithful, and courageous a guide. May they have the graces to profit by their privileges, and give their countrymen the benefit hereafter, and so disappoint the somewhat disheartening forebodings of the exordium of this discourse!

The Mutineers of the 'Bounty' and their Descendants in Pitcairn and Norfolk Islands. By Lady Belcher. John Murray.

Lady Belcher, having obtained possession of a variety of private documents, and having from private sources gathered a variety of details, has, in this volume, told over again the romantic story of the Pitcairn Islanders. Lady Belcher herself is the step-daughter of Captain Heywood, a midshipman of the 'Bounty' at the time of the mutiny—she naturally, therefore, feels a personal interest in the subject. She is not very skilled in book-making; her narrative is desultory and overlaid with documents; but she has told the story with a fulness of detail to which the volume of Sir John Barrow, written for 'The Family Library' thirty years ago, makes no pretension. The diary of Morrison, a petty officer of the ship, gives for the first time the details of the voyage, and of the tyrannous conduct of the commander of the 'Bounty,' Lieutenant Bligh, prior to the mutiny. Clearly, Fletcher Christian was maddened by insults and overbearing tyranny. Bligh's conduct indeed seems to have been that of a madman rather than of a sane person. After the mutiny the narrative divides itself into three independent branches. First, a history of Bligh and his companions, who were sent adrift in the boat; next, of Christian and those who remained in the 'Bounty,' some involuntarily, having taken no part in the mutiny, simply because the boat in which Bligh was sent off could contain no more—among these was Peter Heywood, the midshipman. This section of the crew of the 'Bounty' landed at Tahiti, and there gave themselves up to the captain of the 'Pandora,' by whom they were treated with great and unnecessary harshness. They were put in irons, and sent to England for trial. The 'Pandora,' however, was wrecked upon a reef, and after a hazardous boat voyage, they reached Batavia, and were thence sent to England. Heywood and Morrison were adjudged guilty, on the formal ground of insufficient resistance to Christian, but were instantly and honourably pardoned; others were executed.