The Sun.
London, England, 1864-04-12 00:00:00

great reason why I should take up my pen this
afternoon. There is no progress to be reported in

,he war in Denmark. The distance between the

Prussians at Dybbol village and the Danes on the

Dybbol bastions is one-third of a mile at the
utmost, but it may take weeks before either party

gets over that narrow but well-contested strip of
ground. What sheer strength may not accomplish
the Prussians seem inclined to achieve by surprise.

The nights are rather dark, and the line of the
Dybbol cassions is long; and the soldier who has not
pluck enough to run in at a dash may be induced to
try and creep in by stealth. Some such attempt was
made last night. At about 11 o'clock a small de-
tachment of Germans, two companies, the Danes

think, mode their appearance between Bastions 4
and 5, and driving in the Danish pickets, established
themselves in the rifle pits of these latter. There

they lay still for the whole night, for the Danes,
who have been for a long time in constant expecta-

tion of a night attack, did not deem it prudent to
issue forth in the dark, and give battle to those few
skirmishers, but preferred to give time to the main
body of the enemy to come up within range of their
cannon if they were so inclined. In the meanwhile,
however, the alarm was sounded in the Danish
camp, and the whole army throughout Sundewed
and Alsen was under arms. When morning
dawned, however, those two small bands of in-
truders were seen all alone crouching in the Danish
trenches, and upon a first show, on the part of the
Danes, to send forth skirmishers to dislodge them,
they went "back again."
Yesterday, as the day before, nearly at the
same hour, between 2 and 3, the Germans broke
the silence of the night and morning, and there
was a rather lively cannonade at the Dybbol
bastions, with a continuation of the' bombardment
of miserable Sonderborg. To-day the entertain-
ment is still the same, though it has been kept up
for a few hours longer. The noise began between
10 and 11 o'clock in the morning, and appears to be
gradually dying off just as I am writing (half-past
5). The fire against the Dybbol bastions (why
need I repeat it? is mere waste of powder and
shot, although the cannon that batters those
trenches is no longer at a mile and a half's dis-
tance, but scarcely, as I said, onsethird, or at the
utmost one half mile. Vast as the array of the
Prussian cannon may be from the Avnbjerg, le bol
churchyard, Ragebol, and other spots along the
their cannonade i- not sufficiently well maintained
to work any lasting mischief. Whether it arises
from want of a well-settled resolution, or from
scarcity of ammunition at hand, or from lack of
energy and endurance, or from the liability of their
new-fangled cannon to get out of order upon con-
stant use, the fact is that at no time has the shower
of projectiles been so thick and so constant as to
take away the breath of the defenders, to bewilder
their minds, and so harass and belabour them as to
prevent their standing to their guns and repairing
such damage as their bastions may suffer. After
nearly four weeks' cannonade, the Prussian progress
may be reported in those few ott-repeated words—
'" the Dybbol position is uninjured."
The same cannot be said of Sonderborg. At the
time I posted my last letter, aboet one-third of the
town was either burnt or totally destroyed. Since
that time, twice more have the heavy guns of the
Broagerland batteries been roaring against the
quarters still standing, adding ruin to ruin. I have
just been out to-day.to see the usual spectacle, and
took my standing on the south-eastern shore,
whence I could command a view of the whole line
of fire. About one shell every two or three minutes
was falling upon the town, and twice as fast was
the cannonade exchanged simultaneously between
the Prussian and Danish batteries on Dybbol-
hill. The sharp ringing bang of the latter
strangely contrasted with the long and solemn
boom of the former. Toe Broagerland batte-
ries fired against the wind, and their shell was
heard struggling through the air, and rattling like
a thunder-clap for fully 20 seconds before it reached
its gaol. The efforts of these batteries were to-day
especially directed against the houses lying on the
slope of the hill, between the Town-hall and the
castle. Some of the buildings immediately behind
the Town-hall were on fire, and their smoke was
carried by the wind right aeroge the Wemmingbund
Bay up to the very muzzle of the very cannon from
which the incendiary shell had taken its start.
Masses of smoke rose from more than one point
behind the:crest of Dybbol, playing a brilliant part
in to-day's action, and the effect of its various hues,
if transferred to canvass, would have made the
glory of a first-rate landscape painter. The sky
was swept clear of clouds by the keen north-east
winds, but a rather heavy haze lingered on the
western horizon, and formed a background for the
phantasmagoria of the smoke playing before it,
puffs of gunpowder smoke flitting here and there
along the hill-crest, columns of incendiary smoke
slowly rolling heavenwards, ashy pale at the summit
where they vanished in heaven's blue, dark and red
at the base, where the vapour blended with the fiery
tongues darting through it. The damage to the town
seems no very serious matter when seen from the
outside. Moss of the roofs visible from where I
stood are still untouched, and the Town-hall is
almost the only building through the crumbled walls
of which daylight shines. The real injury in the.in-
tenor is, however, terrific, as I was able to ascertain
by personal observation these last two days. The
burgomaster's house, that of Dr. Mathison, with
many others in the lower town, nearly at the water's
edge, which had escaped the fury of the first day's
bombardment, have been erueily shattered since
then. The Slot, or castle, the foremost object on the
shore, lying precisely where the Alssund widens
into open sea between the Wemmingbund and
Horup Hay, has been repeatedly hit, but stands yet
almost wholly unscathed. It would be no very ma-
terial loss if it were levelled with the ground, for
the barracks and sick wards established in its empty
and dilapidated apartments are now untenanted, and
its downfall would be unattended with loss of life.
As to the edifice itself, it possesses no other beauty
than that of bulk; it is a plain, square, yellow brick
structure, with round, low, flat-roofed turrets at the
four angles—a mere unsightly cumbrance of a large
plot of ground which could be much better dedicated
to the shipping interest, converting it into docks
and marine stores. It possesses, however, some his-
torical interest, as the spot where the ruthless
tyrant Christian 11. of Denmark, was kept prisoner
for seven years bfhis rebellious subjects previous to
his removal to still stricter confinement at another
castle in Zeeland, where he expiated by long suffer.
ings the crimes with which the early years of his
reign were stained. The dungeon in which the
wretched monarch was immured is still shown for
money by the town policeman. Were even the Prus-
sian shells to strike daylight into the darkness of that
prison-house, it is not likely that the memorials
connected with it would perish, or that such a lesson
as Christian's fate conveys to despots would be lost.
The total destruction of this ill-starred Sonder-
borg is the only intelligible part of the Prussian
programme, and its execution will cost them much
time and labour. For the rest, it is idle, I should
think, for them to hope that their bombardment
may cause any permanent or irreparable injury
to the bridges (not one plank of which has
yet been struck, or to any material extent cripple
the means of communication between Alsen and
Sondewed, between Sonderborg and Dybbol.
Nor is there much chance of their catching the
Danes napping, for their watchfulness is carried to
a fault, and some of the ease-loving officers com-
plain of the frequency of the unnecessary nightly
alarms. As to silencing the batteries of the Dy bbol
line, and carrying its bastions by storm, it is an
achievement which will require a brisker fire than
the Prussians have hitherto been eble to kindle ; a
greater pluck than they have as yet evinced. The
expectation of the Danes is excited to the utmost
stretch, and every night we go to bed with the hope
that our slumbers may soon be broken by the trum-
pets giving us warning of an attack. But precisely
benause the Danes so ardently wish it, it is natural
that the Prussians should pause before they venture
upon what may turn out a desperate attempt.
SONDERBORG LADEGAARD, April 7.
The townspeople of Sonderborg seem determined
to risk a thousand lives rather than leave their fur-
niture a prey to the flames which are rapidly con-
suming their shattered dwellings. The procession
of eartloads of their trumpery household goods still

drags along all the roads throughout the islan.
The steamers at Horup Hay, and most of its smallet
craft, have left their moorings. A great part of the;
wandering population of the bombarded place have
embarked, and sought a refuge in the neighbouring
island of Faint].
The night has been quiet, as usual, if we take
into no account tho cannon shots which the Prus-
sians have been firing at regular intervals, like the
clock striking the hours. The morning is perfectly
still, and as I look out from the windows of the
farm house where I am quartered, there is neither
sight nor sound to remind me that I am within so
short a distance from the theatre of actual war. This
Ladegaard is but one hundred yards from the sea-
shore, and lies in as close a proximity to the
Broagerland batteries as the Sonderborg Slot
itself. Only hitherto the Prussians have beta
too busy with the town to turn their attention to
this mere rural suburb, Tho Ladegaard is a farm-
ing establishment on a gigantic scale. Its barn is a
mass of building hardly less lofty Than the Scala
theatre, only not quite so solid nor so elegant. Its
cow-house has room for 150 cattle, and the dwelling-
house is, as I have often said, in ordinary times,
enlivened by the presence of a bevy of no less thou
12 daughters. No less than two batteries, with all
their men and officers, have been billeted on worthy'
Farmer Petersen, who has yet found means to
accommodate a couple of houseless, wandering Cor-
respondents, It is true, however, that the 12 damsels
have been sent to safer quarters, and room is found
in the casket empty of its precious jewels. For the
rest, the scene about us is blissfully calm and peace-
ful. The artillerymen issue forth from the stables
with their teams of horses which they go to water
at the pond, hardly distinguishable in their weather-
stained shelljackets from the farm labourers who
go out on the same errand. The Newfoundland dog
chained in yon corner of the vast farmyard is rather
whining than barking, not by any means angry at
the presence of so many strangers, but very much
grieved that no one Ishould take notice of him. Here
are bleating newly.ewed lambs, there cooing doves ;
farther newly-hatched chickens. Everything
about us speaks of inoocetace, trust, and security ;
yet yon Broagerland batteries have only to say the
word, and all things that hale life must try to save
it by taking to flight, leaving the rest to share the
fate of demolished Sonderborg.

id.