In Sedan meanwhile there was pandemonium. At 4 p.m. King Wilhelm ordered all German artillery south of the Meuse to bombard the town. As shells burst in the packed streets and squares, killing soldiers, civilians and senior generals, men crammed into cellars in search of safety. Incendiary rockets set more fires burning. The bombardment was intended to force the French to a decision, and it succeeded. Another white flag was raised, this time on the Torcy side of town, where the Germans made it out through palls of black smoke billowing from a blazing paraffin factory. Bavarian soldiers reached the town gates and opened a parley with the French within. As word spread on both sides, the guns gradually fell silent.89
Ceasefire
In the name of King Wilhelm, Lieutenant Colonel Paul Bronsart von Schellendorff of Moltke’s staff appeared at the Torcy gate under a white flag to demand capitulation. He was met by General Beurmann, commander of the citadel, who led him into the town. As nobody blindfolded him, Bronsart could see for himself ‘the immense disorder that reigned in the streets’ and that most French troops were ‘not averse to the prospect of capitulation’. Eventually he was led through a crowd of inquisitive French officers in the courtyard of the Sub-Prefecture, then upstairs and, to his surprise, into the presence of the Emperor of the French. Napoleon struggled to his feet using a stick, looking ‘very ill at ease and tired’. He produced a sealed letter and arranged for one of his aides, General Reille, to return with Bronsart to deliver it personally to King Wilhelm. The little cavalcade rode up towards the La Marfée heights at about 6.30 p.m. Bronsart, the earnest Prussian deeply conscious of the historic significance of the moment, disapproved of the Frenchman’s ‘frivolous’ attempt to ease the tension by banter. However, both Reille and Wilhelm now played their parts with dignity.
Wilhelm stood alone, with his entourage in a semicircle behind him. Reille dismounted, removed his cap and approached, handing over the envelope with its large red seal. Wilhelm opened it and read the letter enclosed:
Monsieur My Brother,
Having been unable to die amidst my troops, it only remains for me to place my sword in Your Majesty’s hands.
I am Your Majesty’s dear brother, Napoleon
While courtesies were exchanged with Reille, who had acted as orderly to the Crown Prince during his visit to the 1867 Paris Exhibition, a reply was written:
Monsieur My Brother,
Regretting the circumstances in which we meet, I accept Your Majesty’s sword, and invite you to nominate one of your officers invested with full powers to negotiate the capitulation of your army, which has fought so bravely under your orders. For my part, I have designated General Moltke for this purpose.
I am Your Majesty’s dear brother, Wilhelm.90
Reille returned to Sedan at about 7 p.m., his Crimean and Italian campaign medals reflecting the setting sun. There was much mutual congratulation among the German dignitaries before they dispersed to their quarters. Shaking hands with a British correspondent, Bismarck disclaimed any role in the military victory, but rejoiced that Bavarians, Saxons and Württembergers had taken such a large share in it: ‘That they are with us and not against us, that is my doing. I don’t think the French will say now that the South Germans will not fight for our common fatherland.’91
So ended the Battle of Sedan. The Germans had achieved their historic triumph with remarkable economy of force, having committed fewer than 150,000 troops to battle.92 They had lost 2,320 men killed, 5,910 wounded and 702 missing, for a total of 8,932 casualties: a marginally less costly victory than Frœschwiller, for a far more decisive result. The Bavarians had suffered the heaviest losses.93
The scale of the French disaster was never established with precision. Eight hundred officers were killed or wounded. Based on incomplete returns, the French later calculated their losses in men killed and wounded at 10,000. The Germans estimated 3,000 French dead, 14,000 wounded and 21,000 taken prisoner during the battle. The German figure for French wounded probably included some men wounded at Beaumont and hospitalized in Sedan. Independent estimates of French wounded varied between 11,000 and 12,500. After the capitulation the Germans counted a further 83,000 prisoners, including the garrison of Sedan. They estimated those interned in Belgium at 3,000, though Belgian sources put the figure nearer 8,000. In all, over 120,000 French troops, the entire Army of Châlons, had been taken out of the war in a day, with 419 field guns (including 70 mitrailleuses), 139 fortress guns, over 1,000 wagons and 6,000 serviceable horses added to the booty. It was victory and defeat on a staggering scale.94
A long night of suffering began for the wounded, the darkness lit by burning villages. Raging fires in Bazeilles cast a reddish glow on the Meuse, in which the bodies of men and horses floated. Balan too was nearly torched, but Bavarian officers managed to stop their men setting fires and pillaging houses.95 Yet a mood of awe and thanksgiving prevailed in German ranks. When news of the French surrender reached Karl Geyer’s company ‘several minutes went by before anyone could say a word or move from the spot. Each man bowed his head in silent wonder at the mighty workings of destiny.’ Then there were shouts of jubilation and cheering: ‘With deep thanks to God, the whole regiment joined in when … the band struck up the hymns “Now Thank We All Our God” and “Our God is a Mighty Fortress”.’96 This scene was repeated throughout the German camps. Hopes were raised for a speedy end to the war.
French gloom would have deepened had they known that 100 kilometres to the south that day Bazaine had failed to break the German blockade of Metz. On 29 August he had received a note from Ducrot dated the 27th warning him to be ready ‘to march at the first sound of cannon’.97 Yet Bazaine’s attempted sortie on 31 August–1 September was ineptly planned and executed, and his unsupported troops fell back. With all prospect of rescue gone, the capitulation of France’s first line army too was now only a matter of time. It would surrender on 29 October.
Chapter 12
Aftermath
Capitulation
Furious that the Emperor had raised the white flag without his agreement, Wimpffen sent in his resignation as commander-in-chief. After Ducrot and Douay had resolutely declined the poisoned chalice, Napoleon refused to accept the resignation, urging that Wimpffen had a duty to the army and country to try to obtain the best terms possible. Reluctantly, Wimpffen acceded and arrived at the Sub-Prefecture towards 8.30 p.m. in rancorous mood. He burst into the Emperor’s presence, declaring, ‘Sire, if I have lost the battle, if I have been beaten, it is because my orders were not executed, and because your generals refused to obey me.’
At this the resentment that Ducrot had harboured all day erupted. He squared up to Wimpffen, shouting, ‘What are you saying? Who refused to obey you? Do you mean me? Your orders were followed all too well, alas. If we have suffered a disaster more frightful than anyone could have imagined, we owe it to your mad presumption. You alone are responsible, for if you hadn’t halted the withdrawal in spite of my pleas, we would now be in safety in Mézières, or at least out of the enemy’s clutches.’
‘Well then,’ rejoined Wimpffen, ‘if I’m incompetent, the more reason that I should relinquish command.’
This further inflamed Ducrot: ‘You claimed command this morning when you thought there were honour and profit in exercising it; I didn’t contest it, though I could have. But now you can’t refuse it. You alone must shoulder the shame of capitulation.’
Wimpffen parried: ‘I took command to avoid a defeat which you would have hastened by your withdrawal … Besides, General, I’m not here to confer with you. Please leave us.’1 Officers present separated the two men, and Ducrot left.
Armed with full powers to negotiate, Wimpffen, accompainied by Chief of Staff General Faure and General Castelnau of Napoleon’s suite, rode into enemy lines, where the discipline and efficiency of German sentinels attested to the quality of their opponent. The Frenchmen were ushered into a ground floor room of the mayor’s house in Donchery, where Moltke had his headquarters. They
were joined by Moltke, Bismarck, and a group of senior officers. The packed room was dimly lit by candles and an old oil lamp. ‘The varied uniforms, the solemn silence, the grave faces covered with perspiration and dust in the almost uncanny light, all this I shall never forget,’ wrote a German officer, adding that ‘the scene was made still more spectral by a ray of light …[which] fell upon an excellent portrait of Napoleon I.’2
Moltke curtly demanded the French officers’ credentials and shortly announced his terms: the entire French army would become prisoners of war, with all its arms and equipment. Officers would be allowed to keep their side arms in recognition of their courage. Considering these terms harsh, Wimpffen tried several gambits to soften them. Could not his army march out with its flags and arms and go to Algeria or some agreed part of France, on oath to take no further part in the war? Moltke refused. Would he not grant more honourable terms out of professional consideration for a fellow general who had just arrived from Africa to be faced with a disaster not of his own making? Moltke was unmoved. Wimpffen then threatened that if better conditions were not offered, his army would fight on. Moltke lectured him on the hopeless military position of the French army, showing an intimidating knowledge of its condition and prospects.
Changing ground, Wimpffen urged that generous terms would be gratefully appreciated by the French and lead to better future relations, whereas harsh ones risked ‘igniting an interminable war’ between the two countries.
Bismarck dismissed Wimpffen’s argument as specious. What faith could be placed in the gratitude of a country which had changed governments so frequently in the last eighty years? It would be folly for Germany, Bismarck insisted, to trust in the goodwill of an ‘excessively envious, jealous and proud people’, which had declared war on her umpteen times in the past two centuries. France thought she had a monopoly on military glory, and had not forgiven the victory of Sadowa. What security had Germany that France would not seek revenge for Sedan within five or ten years? Bismarck painted the Germans by contrast as a quiet people who desired no conquests, but only to live in peace. (A French officer present was put in mind of a crafty pickpocket who, after robbing someone, is the first to cry ‘Stop, thief!’) ‘Now,’ continued Bismarck, ‘enough is enough. France must be punished for her pride, aggression and ambition.’ Germany must have territory and fortresses.
Wimpffen objected that France had changed since 1815, and was now devoted to peaceful industry and the fraternity of nations, but Bismarck was in full spate: French popular love of glory, whipped up by journalists, had conspired with dynastic interest to provoke war, and moderate opinion had acquiesced. No doubt there would soon be a government in Paris which respected nothing and which would refuse to accept any capitulation agreement. Germany could not take the risk of allowing the French army its liberty.
Castelnau pleaded that the Emperor had surrendered his sword in the hope of obtaining honourable terms for the army. Bismarck wished to know whether the sword was that of France or merely Napoleon’s own. ‘Solely that of the Emperor,’ Castelnau replied. Moltke jubilantly declared that in that case his conditions were unchanged. Wimpffen rose, announcing his intention to renew the battle. Moltke rejoined that he would reopen fire at 4 a.m. precisely. It was Bismarck who urged the uselessness of further bloodshed. At his behest, Moltke conceded Wimpffen a few hours to consult and respond before the recommencement of hostilities at 9 a.m.3
Wimpffen returned to Sedan after midnight and reported to the Emperor, who undertook to ride out early to make a personal appeal to King Wilhelm to moderate the terms. At 6 a.m. on 2 September Bismarck was awoken at Donchery by General Reille, who called up from the street that the Emperor wished to speak with him. Hastily pulling on his uniform, Bismarck rode down the poplar-lined road to Frénois, where he encountered Napoleon’s carriage. The Emperor seemed reluctant to go into Donchery to talk, selecting instead a modest house nearby, the home of a weaver named Fournaise.
Neither man got satisfaction from the ensuing interview, first inside the stuffy house, then on chairs in front of it. Napoleon sought better terms for his army, even its internment in Belgium, but Bismarck repeatedly blocked him, declaring that this was a solely military matter. Moltke appeared, and shortly rode off to warn the king, who readily agreed that he should not meet Napoleon until after the capitulation had been signed. Meanwhile, when Bismarck tried to explore peace terms, Napoleon maintained that he was a prisoner with no power to negotiate, and referred him to the government in Paris. Bismarck left before 9 a.m., leaving Napoleon to pace up and down a potato patch smoking cigarettes as a crowd of officers and reporters looked on.4
In Sedan, Wimpffen put the German terms to a formal council of war of his generals. Only two junior men, Bellemare and Pellé, argued for fighting on, but withdrew their objections when the army’s plight was spelled out to them. With little ammunition or food and in utter disorder, the French had the bleak option of surrender or being massacred by artillery in the streets of Sedan. Capitulation was unanimously accepted, and as Wimpffen wrote up his notes one of Moltke’s officers arrived to demand an immediate answer, or firing would be resumed. Understanding that his attempts to stall until after an interview between the sovereigns were bootless, Wimpffen rode out to the Château de Bellevue, a mock-gothic mansion near Frénois owned by a manufacturer, Louis Amour (brother of the mayor of Donchery), which the Germans had selected as a suitable venue. Napoleon had been escorted there by Bismarck and a German honour guard, and he had to confess to Wimpffen that he had been unable to see the king.
The military capitulation was signed by Wimpffen and Moltke at about 11 a.m. By its terms the French army became prisoners of war. All its weapons and equipment, together with the garrison and citadel of Sedan, were surrendered. Wimpffen negotiated one concession that later earned him a censure from a Court of Inquiry. French officers who signed an undertaking to take no further part in the war would be allowed to return home. This was contrary to French military law, which forbade officers to separate their fate from that of their men, and illustrated the class divide that had so undermined morale in the French army. Of 2,866 French officers captured, some 500 – nearly one in six – took advantage of this clause. They alone were permitted by the Germans to retain their side arms, unlike those who remained prisoners.5
Wilhelm waited on the hills above until all was concluded, meanwhile expressing his thanks to those around him, since ‘these great successes will indeed cement more strongly the union with the Princes of the North German Confederation and my other allies.’6 He went to meet Napoleon at the chateau at 2 p.m., having rejected hard-line advice to inflict a ceremonial submission on him, though such a humiliation would have been popular with many in Germany.
Despite his age, Wilhelm’s tall, imposing figure towered above the ashen cheeked and tearful Napoleon. Wilhelm shook hands with him with the words, ‘Sire, I am very sorry to see you again in such painful circumstances,’7 then took him by the arm and led him to a room where they talked privately. Wilhelm offered the castle of Wilhelmshöhe near Cassel for Napoleon’s internment, which he gratefully accepted. Napoleon complimented him on the performance of his army, admitting that ‘in my artillery I feel myself personally conquered,’8 and lamented the indiscipline of his own troops. Evidently he imagined that the whole German army was present, and was visibly shaken when told that Friedrich Karl with seven army corps was still blockading Metz.
In his talk with Bismarck, Napoleon had stressed that he personally had not wanted the war, but had been forced into it by public opinion, and he again played the innocent bystander in his interview with Wilhelm. Napoleon habitually distanced himself from unpleasant developments, and conveniently forgot that he had endorsed Gramont’s declaration on 6 July and strengthened the demand for guarantees on the 12th. It had been within his power to prevent both, and he would have used a victorious war to strengthen his position. Wilhelm willingly ascribed blame to the Liberal ministry, but pointedly observe
d that it had led public opinion.9
When they emerged, Napoleon spoke graciously to the Crown Prince and Bismarck. The red kepis and trousers, gold braid and white kid gloves of the Emperor and his companions and the gold livery of his attendants contrasted strikingly with the drab, campaign-soiled uniforms of the Prussian military. After a farewell that moved both monarchs deeply, Wilhelm set off on a triumphal tour of his troops, and was cheered to the echo far into the evening.
Death, Wounds and Imprisonment
In the days following the battle, surgeons had few breaks between operations, and when they did venture outside they found little to relieve their spirits. ‘The natural beauty of the country serves only to throw out into blacker, more fearful relief, the horrible desolation of the battlefield,’ wrote one.10 The Germans organized burial parties quickly, not least to spare their men demoralizing sights, but the work took time. Male citizens of Sedan were requisitioned to help from 6 September.11 Meanwhile, the dead lay in the open: ‘Their features in some instances were contorted and dreadful to behold – some with portions of their skulls and faces blown away, whilst what was left of their features remained unchanged; others with their chests torn open and bowels protruding; others, again, mangled and dismembered.’12 Feet, legs and heads sometimes lay far from the bodies to which they belonged, and limbs had been blown into trees. William Howard Russell stopped at random to contemplate the body of a lancer, who bore ‘a small blue wound in his chest which let out his life’, and examined his papers which, by their suddenly poignant personal and family details, testified silently but eloquently to thousands of individual tragedies.
Sedan 1870- The Eclipse of France Page 25