On that same day (August 6) a disaster scarcely less serious overtook the French 2nd corps, which had been holding Saarbrücken. Convinced that that post was too advanced and too weak in presence of the foremost divisions of the First and Second German Armies now advancing rapidly against it, General Frossard drew back his vanguard some mile and a half to the line of steep hills between Spicheren and Forbach, just within the French frontier. This retreat, as it seemed, tempted General Kameke to attack with a single division, as he was justified in doing in order to find the direction and strength of the retiring force. The attack, when pushed home, showed that the French were bent on making a stand on their commanding heights; and an onset on the Rothe Berg was stoutly beaten off about noon.
But now the speedy advance and intelligent co-operation of other German columns was instrumental in turning an inconsiderable repulse into an important victory. General Göben was not far off, and marching towards the firing, sent to offer his help with the 8th corps. General von Alvensleben, also, with the 3rd corps had reached Neunkirchen when the sound of firing near Saarbrücken led him to push on for that place with the utmost speed. He entrained part of his corps and brought it up in time to strengthen the attack on the Rothe Berg and other heights nearer to Forbach. Each battalion as it arrived was hurled forward, and General von François, charging with his regiment, gained a lodgment half-way up the broken slope of the Rothe Berg, which was stoutly maintained even when he fell mortally wounded. Elsewhere the onsets were repelled by the French, who, despite their smaller numbers, kept up a sturdy resistance on the line of hills in the woods behind, and in the iron-works in front of Forbach. Even when the Germans carried the top of the Rothe Berg, their ranks were riddled by a cross fire; but by incredible exertions they managed to bring guns to the summit and retaliate with effect[39].
This, together with the outflanking movement which their increasing numbers enabled them to carry out against the French left wing at Forbach, decided the day; and Frossard's corps fell back shattered towards the corps of Bazaine. It is noteworthy that this was but nine or ten miles to the rear. Bazaine had ordered three divisions to march towards the firing: one made for a wrong point and returned; the others made half-hearted efforts, and thus left Frossard to be overborne by numbers. The result of these disjointed movements was that both Frossard and Bazaine hurriedly retired towards Metz, while the First and Second German Armies now gathered up all their strength with the aim of shutting up the French in that fortress. To this end the First Army made for Colombey, east of Metz, while the leading part of the Second Army purposed to cross the Moselle south of Metz, and circle round that stronghold on the west.
It is now time to turn to the French headquarters. These two crushing defeats on a single day utterly dashed Napoleon's plan of a spirited defence of the north-east frontier, until such time as the levies of 1869 should be ready, or Austria and Italy should draw the sword. On July 26 the Austrian ambassador assured the French Ministry that Austria was pushing on her preparations. Victor Emmanuel was with difficulty restrained by his Ministers from openly taking the side of France. On the night of August 6 he received telegraphic news of the Battles of Wörth and Forbach, whereupon he exclaimed, "Poor Emperor! I pity him, but I have had a lucky escape." Austria also drew back, and thus left France face to face with the naked truth that she stood alone and unready before a united and triumphant Germany, able to pour treble her own forces through the open portals of Lorraine and northern Alsace.
Napoleon III., to do him justice, had never cherished the wild dreams that haunted the minds of his consort and of the frothy "Mamelukes" lately in favour at Court; still less did the "silent man of destiny" indulge in the idle boasts that had helped to alienate the sympathy of Europe and to weld together Germany to withstand the blows of a second Napoleonic invasion. The nephew knew full well that he was not the Great Napoleon--he knew it before Victor Hugo in spiteful verse vainly sought to dub him the Little. True, his statesmanship proved to be mere dreamy philosophising about nationalities; his administrative powers, small at the best, were ever clogged by his too generous desire to reward his fellow-conspirators of the coup d'état of 1851; and his gifts for war were scarcely greater than those of the other Napoléonides, Joseph and Jerome. Nevertheless the reverses of his early life had strengthened that fund of quiet stoicism, that energy to resist if not to dare, which formed the backbone of an otherwise somewhat weak, shadowy, and uninspiring character. And now, in the rapid fall of his fortunes, the greatest adventurer of the nineteenth century showed to the full those qualities of toughness and dignified reserve which for twenty years had puzzled and imposed on that lively emotional people. By the side of the downcast braggarts of the Court and the unstrung screamers of the Parisian Press, his mien had something of the heroic. Tout peut se rétablir--"All may yet be set right"--such was the vague but dignified phrase in which he summarised the results of August 6 to his people.
The military situation now required a prompt retirement beyond the Moselle. The southerly line of retreat, which MacMahon and de Failly had been driven to take, forbade the hope of their junction with the main army at Metz in time to oppose a united front to the enemy. And it was soon known that their flight could not be stayed at Nancy or even at Toul. During the agony of suspense as to their movements and those of their German pursuers, the Emperor daily changed his plans. First, he and Leboeuf planned a retreat beyond the Moselle and Meuse; next, political considerations bade them stand firm on the banks of the Nied, some twelve miles east of Metz; and when this position seemed unsafe, they ended the marchings and counter-marchings of their troops by taking up a position at Colombey, nearer to Metz.
Meanwhile at Paris the Chamber of Deputies had overthrown the Ollivier Ministry, and the Empress-Regent installed in office Count Palikao. There was a general outcry against Leboeuf, and on the 12th the Emperor resigned the command to Marshal Bazaine (Lebrun now acting as Chief of Staff), with the injunction to retreat westwards to Verdun. For the Emperor to order such a retreat in his own name was thought to be inopportune. Bazaine was a convenient scapegoat, and he himself knew it. Had he thrown an army corps into Metz and obeyed the Emperor's orders by retreating on Verdun, things would certainly have gone better than was now to be the case. In his printed defence Bazaine has urged that the army had not enough provisions for the march, and, further, that the outlying forts of Metz were not yet ready to withstand a siege--a circumstance which, if true, partly explains Bazaine's reluctance to leave the "virgin city[40]." Napoleon III. quitted it early on the 16th: he and his escort were the last Frenchmen to get free of that death-trap for many a week.
While Metz exercised this fatal fascination over the protecting army, the First and Second German Armies were striding westwards to envelop both the city and its guardians. Moltke's aim was to hold as many of the French to the neighbourhood of the fortress, while his left wing swung round it on the south. The result was the battle of Colombey on the east of Metz (August 14). It was a stubborn fight, costing the Germans some 5000 men, while the French with smaller losses finally withdrew under the eastern walls of Metz. But that heavy loss meant a great ultimate gain to Germany. The vacillations of Bazaine, whose strategy was far more faulty than that of Napoleon III. had been, together with the delay caused by the defiling of a great part of the army through the narrow streets of Metz, gave the Germans an opportunity such as had not occurred since the year 1805, when Napoleon I. shut up an Austrian army in Ulm.
The man who now saw the splendid chance of which Fortune vouchsafed a glimpse, was Lieutenant-General von Alvensleben, Commander of the 3rd corps, whose activity and resource had so largely contributed to the victory of Spicheren-Forbach. Though the orders of his Commander-in-Chief, Prince Frederick Charles, forbade an advance until the situation in front was more fully known, the General heard enough to convince himself that a rapid advance southwards to and over the Moselle might enable him to intercept the French retreat on Verdun, which might now be looked on as certain. Reporting his conviction to his chief as also