progress of events, Moltke, seated on his great black horse, calmly surveyed,
telescope in hand, the movements of the troops, or later, resting quietly in his
room at Versailles, awaited the result undismayed. When war was declared, a
friend met him with the remark: "You must indeed be overworked at present."
"No," replied the General, "the work was done beforehand; all orders are gone
out; I really have nothing to do."

Married in 1842, shortly after his return home from the East, to Miss Burt,
an English lady, he lived with her in the bonds of a rare union of happiness,
concord, and mutual sympathy. On the occasion of her death, which took place
Christmas Eve, 1868, he withdrew still more from public life, and found in quiet,
studious, and laborious life some slight relief for his grief. Very touching was
his devotion to the memory of his wife. Upon his estate at Kreisau he built a
little mausoleum, situated on a beautiful eminence, embowered in foliage. This
little chapel, constructed of red brick and sandstone, was lined inside with black
and white marble, and in front of the altar was placed the simple oak coffin in
which the remains of his wife reposed, covered at all seasons of the year with
wreaths. Sculptured in the apse was a finely carved figure of our Lord in an
attitude of blessing, copied from Thorwaldsen. Above were inscribed the words
of St. Paul, "Love is the fulfilment of the Law." When at his country-seat the
aged warrior visited the tomb morning and evening. Now at her side slumbers
the veteran, awaiting with her the signal of the resurrection.

Of his bearing in the time of his bereavement, the following incident was
related by the late Mr. George Bancroft, the distinguished historian, at that
period United States Minister at Berlin. Mr. Bancroft was one of the favored
few who were accustomed to accompany Von Moltke in his daily rides in the
Thiergarten or to the Grunewald. Seeing the general on horseback, "my first im-
pulse,'' said Mr. Bancroft, "was to trot into another lane. On second thoughts,
however, I turned my horse alongside his, remembering that it was for him to
talk or be silent. To my surprise, he forthwith began a lively conversation,
describing the happiness with which Miss Burt had blessed her husband, and
expatiating upon her manifold virtues as one crushed by an overwhelming, irrep-
arable loss. Then of a sudden he grew silent, as if a new current of thought
had carried him sheer away. 'Do you know,' he said, when his lips were again
opened, 'it has just been brought home to me that, after all, perhaps it was
better that this happened now than at another time? You see, I am convinced
that a French invasion is impending; it will burst upon us sooner or later, what-
ever the plea may eventually be. Now think if the fortune of war was to be
adverse to our arms! Why, her grief over the country's adversities must have
cut her life short. No, no; that would have been worse!'"

Von Moltke was a passionate lover of children, and is said to have been quite
the slave to the caprices of his little grandnephew, the son of Major Hellmuth
von Moltke, the aide-de-camp of the count, whom the emperor, as a special
mark of his royal favor, immediately after the funeral of his chief, made one of
his own aides-de-camp.

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