In the meantime Austria fomented disaffection in the provinces which Prussia had acquired, and Bismarck resolved to cut the knot by the sword.  Prussian troops marched to the frontier, and Austria on her part also prepared for war.  It is difficult to see that a real casus belli existed.  We only know that both parties wanted to fight, whatever were their excuses and pretensions; and both parties sought the friendship of Russia and France, especially by holding out delusive hopes to Napoleon of accession of territory.  They succeeded in inducing both Russia and France to remain neutral,—­mere spectators of the approaching contest, which was purely a German affair.  It was the first care of Prussia to prevent the military union of her foes in North Germany with her foes in the south,—­which was effected in part by the diplomatic genius of Bismarck, and in part by occupying the capitals of Hanover, Saxony, and Hesse-Cassel with Prussian troops, in a very summary way.

The encounter now began in earnest between Prussia and Austria for the prize of ascendency.  Both parties were confident of success,—­Austria as the larger State, with proud traditions, triumphant over rebellious Italy; and Prussia, with its enlarged military organization and the new breech-loading needle-gun.

Count von Moltke at this time came prominently on the European stage as the greatest strategist since Napoleon.  He was chief of staff to the king, who was commander-in-chief.  He set his wonderful machinery in harmonious action, and from his office in Berlin moved his military pawns by touch of electric wire.  Three great armies were soon centralized in Bohemia,—­one of three corps, comprising one hundred thousand men, led by Prince Charles, the king’s nephew; the second, of four corps, of one hundred and sixteen thousand men, commanded by the crown prince, the king’s son; and the third, of forty thousand, led by General von Bittenfield.  “March separately; strike together,” were the orders of Moltke.  Vainly did the Austrians attempt to crush these armies in detail before they should combine at the appointed place.  On they came, with mathematical accuracy, until two of the armies reached Gitschin, the objective point, where they were joined by the king, by Moltke, by Bismarck, and by General von Roon, the war minister.  On the 2d of June, 1866, they were opposite Koeniggraetz (or Sadowa, as the Austrians called it), where the Austrians were marshalled.  On the 3d of July the battle began; and the scales hung pretty evenly until, at the expected hour, the crown prince—­“our Fritz,” as the people affectionately called him after this, later the Emperor Frederick William—­made his appearance on the field with his army.  Assailed on both flanks and pressed in the centre, the Austrians first began to slacken fire, then to waver, then to give way under the terrific concentrated fire of the needle-guns, then to retreat into ignominious flight.  The contending forces were about equal; but science