The Seven Weeks' War

by H M Hozier

  Gentlemen,—I cannot speak to all the soldiers under your command—they are too many; but to you, for all, I must express my thanks for the conduct and behaviour of this army during the campaign, which your exertions have brought to such a glorious conclusion. I shall not enter into the details of the gallant conduct of your troops at the battle of Königgrätz, where for hours you stood under the whole artillery fire of the Austrian Army, and resisted successfully all the attempts of the enemy to crush you, and thus break the centre of the line of our battle. I cannot speak as I should wish of Sichrow, Münchengrätz, Podoll, and Gitschin. I can but embrace my nephew, your commander, as the representative of you all. I can but tell you that I thank you, and that your King and your Fatherland feel that you have nobly done your duty. I am sure there is nothing I could say which could be more pleasing to Prussian soldiers.

  Loud cheers greeted the conclusion of this speech, when the king turned his horse, and rode away.

  On the morning of the 31st, Prince Charles, the father of Prince Frederick Charles and Prince Adalbert, received the Order of Merit from the king, the same Order as the crown prince received on the battlefield of Königgrätz. General von Voigt-Rhetz was appointed Governor of Hanover, and many other officers and soldiers received military honours. Prince Frederick Charles received nothing, for there was nothing left to give him; he had already won every decoration which it was in the power of the monarch to bestow; but he was well contented, for the troops under his command had won a reputation, not only for courage, discipline, and endurance, but also for tenderness to their wounded enemies and for a kindly consideration for the peaceful inhabitants of the conquered countries, which must endure as long as history lives. The king’s speech closed the last scene of the war of 1866.

  The king started for Berlin immediately, and the troops of the First Army, who were reviewed on the 31st, began their northward march the following morning. During the occupation of the Austrian provinces the headquarters of Prince Frederick Charles were ordered to be established at Prague, and his army to lie between that city and the Thaya, with the Army of the Elbe on its west and the Second Army on its north and east. On the morning of the first of August, the last of the Prussian troops broke up from their positions on the Marchfeld, and began to retrace their steps towards the north. There was no need now to advance prepared to form up for battle, no scouts were required to steal along in front of the columns, skirmishers were not required to beat through the woods and search the villages alongside of the line of march, the staff-officers did not need to ride forward to gaze anxiously through their field-glasses for indications of an enemy, so the troops were allowed to march easily and carelessly along, and as far as possible the marches were arranged so that the infantry might move by separate roads from the cavalry and artillery, and press forward at their own pace, unincommoded by horsemen or waggons.

  Though only two-thirds of the First Army remained to be reviewed by the king on the 31st, and the rest were already several marches before them, it was wonderful to see what an extent of country was occupied by the same troops when moving which two days before were clumped together on the small strip of ground near Gänserndorf Along every road and every lane poured long columns: here battalions of infantry, formed of soldiers swinging along carelessly in loose formation and with open ranks, generally singing in loud chorus the Prussian equivalent to “Home, sweet home,” “Mein schönes Heimath’s Land;” there, long glittering lines of cuirassiers twisted and twined between willow-trees and vineyards, standing out with their burnished armour bright and dear against the green foliage of the copses or thickly-planted vines; further off the march of a regiment of Uhlans could be detected by the tall spears and fluttering pennons which rose above a swelling piece of ground or a plantation of dwarfed oak; while a heavy, rumbling noise, toned down by distance, through which rose faintly the voices of the singing soldiers, told that the batteries were moving along the main road to Nikolsburg.

  Every village was teeming with soldiers, who were quartered in every house, but, though the inhabitants were often inconvenienced by having to find the requisite accommodation for the men, they were very friendly, though they did not scruple openly to say they were extremely glad it was the last time they would be obliged to be the involuntary hosts of the multitudes of foreigners who, however agreeable and friendly, still took up a great deal of room. The villages of this part of the country had a harder time than those of Bohemia and Moravia, inasmuch as for many days the whole of the Prussian armies had been concentrated between Nikolsburg and the Roszbach, but by some wonderful means every village now had plenty of food and wine to sell to hungry and thirsty officers and soldiers—a marvellous fact, for they had been long shut out from Vienna, whence the inhabitants said they drew all their usual supplies; but as this was a good wine country, and poultry and eggs do not generally come out of capital cities, it is just possible that these statements might have been advanced as an excuse for the high prices by means of which they were doing their best to wring from the pockets of the passing Prussians a set-off against the heavy taxes they expected to be levied by the Austrian Government to pay the expenses of the war.

  Still, the villagers and the soldiers were on excellent terms; and as the troops were parading on the 1st, to march away, there was a good deal of handshaking and loud protestations of mutual esteem and goodwill. The inhabitants made no complaints against the troops, and had no grounds to make any. The soldiers spoke well of their entertainers, though there was a theory in the ranks that the wonderful abundance of wine was only a direct consequence of the admirable supply of water which the valley of the March boasts, and some of the men could detail graphically the different gradations of colour, from purple to very light red, which their daily beverage underwent during the period of the Prussian occupation of the district.

  On the afternoon of the 1st, the headquarters of the First Army were all ready to march in the direction of Iglau, en route for Prague, where they were to be established until the conclusion of peace, or until such an apparently improbable event should occur as the expiration of the armistice without the conclusion of a treaty. When all was ready, horses saddled, saddle-bags packed, and every preparation had been made to evacuate Ebenthal, a telegram arrived ordering Prince Frederick Charles to march to Lundenburg, and thence to proceed by rail with some of his troops to the capital of Bohemia. The field post-office and some of the baggage had already moved off and were well on their way to a village named Peirawerth, which would have been the first halting-place had the original route been adhered to. It was useless to recall them, so orders were sent to them to move to Zisterdorf, where the staff joined them on the morning of the 2nd, after a short march over the undulating country which lies between the March and the great highway from Nikolsburg to Vienna.

  The land was now bare of its corn crops, for the harvest was already nearly over, and stretched away in a rolling plain of bare stubble land, broken here and there by bright green patches of vineyard, which contrasted refreshingly with the monotonous yellow, or by clumps of pollard willows or stunted oaks, which cluster round the little watercourses in the hollows. A miserable little town at the best of times, off the main road, hot, white and dusty, Zisterdorf that day looked worse than usual; it had been for some time occupied by troops, who had left untidy souvenirs of the encampments of horses in the market-place and streets in the shape of remnants of down-trodden straw and fodder.

  Every house had been more or less tenanted by soldiers, and the traces of their visit were still extant in the crushed bundles of straw which formed their sleeping-places, and now lay in most of the rooms disregarded by the dirty inhabitants, and afforded a copious supply of waifs and strays to be carried by the feet of everyone who went out of the house along the passages and into the unpaved street, where the marks of the numerous waggons which had passed through the town were preserved in deep rough ruts sunk far into the mud, which had since been hardened by the heat of the
sun. But men who were turning homewards from the end of a successful campaign faced cheerfully even the dirty rooms and straw-covered floors of this worst class of German village; so the staff-officers did not grumble, but made up their minds to it, and looked forward to Prague as a happy haven, where clean beds would at last be found.

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  It may not be uninteresting for anyone who happens to have that rare piece of property, a good map of this part of the country, to see how the different divisions of this army were billeted, as it serves as an example of the manner in which divisions have been quartered during the advance, and shows what extent of country each body of troops occupies in its nightly quarters when moving. The fifth infantry division occupied Laab, Hoflein, Ruhhof, Rothenseehof, Neudorf, Neusiedl, Hanitthal, Reiselbrechtsdorf, Wülzershofen. The sixth division was in Gross Teijar, Erdberg, Klein, Grillowitz, Waltrowitz, Klein Olkowitz, Zulb, Klietemanns, Raissenbrück, Josewitz, Isefeld, Malberg, Zwingendorf, Derhhof, Carlhof; the seventh division, in Guttenfeld, Bartelsbrünn, Schafferhof, Stuttenhof, Prerau, Wildendürnbach, Poltenhof, Ruffersdorf, Kirchstätden, Zabern, Falkenstein, Pugsbrünn, Stutzenhofen, Gutenbrünn, Offenthal, Schwenwarth; the eighth division, in Nikolsburg, Voitelsbrünn, Drasenhofen, Tunstkirchen, Steinabrun, Garrenthal, Haithof, Feldsberg, Eisgrub, Keudek, Pilgram, Evrett, Mitlowitz. The reserve artillery was parked in Grussbach, Neuhof, Sihoenau, Grafendorf, Auschanhof, Tröllersdorf, Neusiedl, Pardorf, Illemnitz, Bergen, Dannowitz, Weistenitz, Guldenfurth. It may be seen from this what an extent of country even a small portion of this army required, for the above list does not include the quarters of the cavalry corps, but of only four infantry divisions, with their reserve artillery.

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  A march of twenty-five miles brought the headquarters of the First Army on the 3rd August to the village of Eisgrub, where they were established in the château of Prince Lichtenstein, said to be the most beautiful country-seat in the territories of the Kaiser. The château inside consisted of long series of wide halls, high corridors, and magnificent rooms, decorated and adorned with oak carving of rare workmanship, and precious suits of ancient armour, where stood furniture of exquisite finish and taste, and the walls of which were hung with glorious old pictures recording the noble deeds done by the house of Lichtenstein. Outside stretched away into the far distance long vistas of pleasure-grounds, the green turf of which was thickly studded with clumps of full-grown cedars, tulip-trees, and coppice-beech, grouped among other more common but not less beautiful trees, with so high a skill that all trace of art was concealed, and Nature was courted so skilfully as to be outrivaled.

  The River Thaya, which flows through the grounds, was by hidden means constrained to form wide lakes or narrow winding creeks of dark blue water, which in some places washed with a tiny wave raised by the gentle summer breeze against sloping banks of emerald turf, sometimes lay calm and still under the shelter of the woods, reflecting the light green weeping willows which overshadowed it, and floated their lowest leaves upon the surface. Where the trees did not occupy the ground, bright beds of carefully-tended flowers, jets of water springing from quaintly constructed fountains, orange-trees loaded with bright yellow fruit, flowering shrubs covered with full blossoms, and bushes of nearly full-blown roses of every shade and hue, threw just the proper amount of life into the picture to prevent it from being melancholy, and make it sublime.

  Never had it been more admired than on this day. Men who had come over down-trodden cornfields, destroyed villages, woods cut away for palisades or abattis, and trees torn down and shivered by tempests of shells, required no knowledge of landscape gardening, no wisdom in architecture, to make them heartfelt admirers of the peaceful prospect here; they saw its beauty, and felt it. Prince Lichtenstein himself could not have been more satisfied than his unknown guests that his property lay where no skirmish had to be fought, no defence made in his château, and no attack directed against it.

  The headquarters of the crown prince had been here for twelve days before the place was occupied by Prince Frederick Charles, but no traces had been left of the former tenants, either in the house itself or the adjoining grounds. Troops had been in and around Eisgrub for more than a fortnight, yet no trees had been broken, no grass cut up by horses’ feet, no flower-beds trampled down; all the servants and inhabitants, with two exceptions, were well pleased with the Prussians, and were perfectly satisfied that the soldiers they had been told were little better than barbarians were very easy-going quiet sort of people after all. The two exceptions were the chief butler and the head gamekeeper. The former had a great grievance—the whole of the wine in the cellar of Feldsberg, a neighbouring property which also belongs to the Lichtenstein family, had been “required” by the Prussian commissariat It was in vain to urge that some of it had been thirty years in bottle, that it would not bear carriage, or even that the key of the cellar had been lost.

  The commissariat officers would take no denial; if keys were not forthcoming, doors could be broken open; as for the not standing carriage, the troops would take their chance of that, and probably the great age of the wine would compensate for any deterioration it might undergo by shaking. Finding all excuses unavailing, the unwilling functionary had to yield up his keys, and in silent agony to see what he had watched with an almost fatherly care for many years, and had been intended for the consumption of far more delicate connoisseurs, carried out of the cellars by working parties of soldiers, stowed away in rough provision waggons, and carted off to be served out as rations to Prussian troops. What comfort was it to him that he was assured the wine would be paid for when the war was over? No money could buy such vintages again, and even if it could, the present generation could barely hope to drink it.

  The second complainant, the gamekeeper, was more indignant than sorrowful; it appeared that a number of soldiers belonging to some regiment of the Second Army quartered near Eisgrub organised a battue on their own account, and with their needle-guns succeeded in killing a large number of the deer which were in the park.

  “But,” as he said triumphantly, “we forwarded a complaint to the crown prince himself.”

  This step, by the tone in which it was announced, seems to be supposed to have resulted in some terrible punishment being inflicted on the nefarious sportsmen who expended Prussian Government ammunition on unoffending stags, instead of against the enemies of their country; but what was actually the fate of these violators of the game laws, or whether, as the gamekeeper evidently thinks, the commander-in-chief of the Second Army carried out some such penalty against the delinquents as those which were enacted by the laws of William the Conqueror against similar offenders, has not been recorded. It is certain that a body of military police remained as watchers of the deer park during the rest of the time that the Army of Silesia was here, and that after the appeal to its commander no zündnadel-gewehr prevented the deer from roaming about in undisturbed safety.

  On the 2nd August the king’s headquarters moved to Prague; the next day he went to Berlin, whither he was accompanied by the crown prince, to be present at the opening of the Prussian Chambers. The troops of the First Army were about Eisgrub that night, the next day most of them crossed the Thaya. The headquarters of Prince Frederick Charles left Lundenburg on the morning of the 4th, and by that evening every Prussian soldier was out of the Crown lands of Austria, There was great reason to rejoice that the army was now free to move its position, and was not tied down by the necessities of war to the Duchy of Austria, for cholera had within the last few days broken out among the inhabitants with great violence.

  In Lundenburg the people were said to be dying at the rate of ten an hour; this appeared to be the exaggerated report of the frightened inhabitants, but there is no doubt that the pestilence was very prevalent, and was causing much mortality among the country people. The Prussian troops had suffered, but not to a very great extent, and more cases had been cured than had proved fatal. It was hoped that change of quarters, rest, and p
lenty of food would soon free the troops of the disease; but it was feared that it would rage among the natives, who had little to eat, and could hope for little from the vintage, for the late frost in this spring nipped the early vines, and almost ruined the crop of grapes.

  On the morning of the 5th August, at four o’clock, the headquarters of the First Prussian Army broke up from Eisgrub, by a short march reached Lundenburg station, and thence by railway to Prague, where Prince Frederick Charles remained until peace was definitely signed, and no possibility remained of his army being required again for the present. Although only one battalion of Jägers formed the escort of the train which brought the prince and his staff, yet the number of carriages required to convey the whole of the heads of departments who moved with headquarters, their servants and horses was very great; and on account of the numerous curves in the line, the long train was only able to jolt so slowly along that, although it left Lundenburg at half-past six in the morning, it did not arrive at Prague till midnight. Slow and tedious as the journey was, and much as at the time the impatient officers grumbled, they had good cause to be grateful for the tardiness with which it was driven, for the next morning intelligence was received which told that a train, following a few hours after, in trying to go faster, met with a terrible accident.