At the commencement of the engagement the Emperor Francis Joseph, together with his entire staff, leaves headquarters in order to go to Volta. He is accompanied by the Archdukes of the House of Lorraine, among whom are the Grand Duke of Tuscany and the Duke of Modena. In the midst of the difficulties of a field unknown to the French army the first meeting takes place. It has to make its way through plantations of mulberry trees, interlaced by climbing vines, which form almost impassable barriers. The earth is cut by great dried up trenches which the horses have to leap, and by long walls with broad foundations which they have to climb. From the hills the Austrians pour on the enemy a constant hail of shot and shell. With the smoke of the cannon's continual discharge the rain of bullets is ploughing up the earth and dust into thousands of missiles. The French hurl themselves upon these strongly fortified places in spite of the firing of the batteries which falls upon the earth with redoubled force. During the burning heat of noon the battle everywhere becomes more and more furious. Column after column throw themselves one against the other with the force of a devastating torrent. A number of French regiments surround masses of Austrian troops, but, like iron walls, these resist and at first remain unshaken. Entire divisions throw their knapsacks to the earth in order to rush at the enemy with fixed bayonets. If a battalion is driven away another replaces it; each hill, each height, each rocky eminence becomes a theatre for an obstinate struggle. On the heights, as well as in the ravines, the dead lie piled up. The Austrians and the allied armies march one against the other, killing each other above the blood-covered corpses, butchering with gunshots, crushing each other's skulls or disemboweling with the sword or bayonet. No cessation in the conflict, no quarter given. The wounded are defending themselves to the last. It is butchery by madmen drunk with blood. Sometimes the fighting becomes more terrible on account of the arrival of rushing, galloping cavalry. The horses, more compassionate than their riders, seek in vain to step over the victims of this butchery, but their iron hoofs crush the dead and dying. With the neighing of the horses are mingled blasphemies, cries of rage, shrieks of pain and despair. The artillery, at full speed, follows the cavalry which has cut a way through the corpses and the wounded lying in confusion on the ground. A jaw-bone of one of these last is torn away; the head of another is battered in; the breast of a third is crushed. Limbs are broken and bruised; the field is covered with human remains; the earth is soaked with blood. The French troops, with fiery ardor, scale the steep hills and rocky declivities in spite of shot and shell.