CHAPTER XVIII.

_January 27th._

I write this, as I hear that the last balloon is to start to-night. How lucky for the English public that, just when the siege of Paris ceases, the conscript fathers of the nation will furnish them with reading at their breakfast tables. The light, airy wit of Professor Fawcett, and the pleasant fancy of Mr. Newdegate, will be served up for them with their hot rolls every morning instead of the bulletins of Count Moltke--lucky public!

Most of us here are much like heirs at a rich man's funeral. We have long faces, we sigh and we groan, but we are not quite so unhappy as we look. The _Journal Officiel_ of this morning announces that Paris will not be occupied, and that the National Guard will not go to Germany.

This is, we say, very different from a capitulation--it is a political incident; in a few days I expect to hear it called a victory. The editor of the _Liberte_--why is this gentleman still alive? for the last three months he has been making pacts with death--explains that Paris never would have and never will capitulate, but that an armistice is a very different sort of thing. Last night, notwithstanding the cold which has again set in, the Boulevard was blocked up with groups of patriots and wiseacres discussing the state of things, and explaining what Paris would agree to and what she would not agree to. Occasionally some "pure"--a "pure" is an Ultra--threw out that the Parisians themselves were only reaping what they had sown; but the pure, I need hardly say, was soon silenced, and it seemed to be generally agreed that Paris has been sublime and heroic, but that if she has been neither, it has been the fault of the traitors to whom she has confided her destinies. Some said that the admirals had stated that they would blow up their forts rather than surrender them; but if the worthies who vouched for this had been informed by the admirals of their intentions, I can only say that these honest tars had chosen strange confidants.

Paris, as I have already said more than once, has been fighting as much for her own supremacy over the provinces as for victory over the Prussians. The news--whether true or false I know not--that Gambetta, who is regarded as the representative of Paris, has been replaced by a sort of Council of Regency, and that this Council of Regency is treating, has filled everyone here with indignation. Far better, everyone seems to think, that Alsace should be lost to France, than that France should be lost to Paris. The victories of Prussia have been bitter to Frenchmen, because they had each of them individually a.s.sumed a vicarious glory in the victories of the First Empire; but the real patriotism of the Parisians does not extend farther than the walls of their own town. If the result of this war is to cause France to undertake the conduct of its own affairs, and not to allow the population of Paris and the journalists of Paris to ride roughshod over her, the country will have gained more than she has lost by her defeats, no matter what may be the indemnity she be called upon to pay. The martial spirit of the National Guard has of course been lauded to the skies by those newspapers which depend for their circulation on these braves. The question what they have done may, however, be reduced to figures. They number above 300,000. According to their own statements they have been fighting for nearly five months, and I venture to say that during the whole campaign they have not lost 500 men. They have occasionally done duty in the trenches, but this duty has been a very brief one, and they have had very long intervals of repose. I do not question that in the National Guard there are many brave men, but one can only judge of the fighting qualities of an army by comparison, and if the losses of the National Guard be statistically compared with those of the Line, of the Mobiles, and of the sailors, it will be shown that--to use an Americanism--their record is a bad one. The soldiers and the sailors have fought, and the women have suffered during the siege.

The male population of Paris has done little more than bl.u.s.ter and drink and brag.

To-day there is no firing, and I suppose that the last sh.e.l.l has fallen into Paris. I went out yesterday to St. Denis. Along the road there were a few people coming into Paris with their beds and tables in hand-carts.

In the town the bombardment, although not so heavy as it had been, was far too heavy to be pleasant. Most of the people still remaining have established themselves in their cellars, and every moment one came against some chimney emerging from the soil. Some were still on the ground-floor of their houses, and had heaped up mattresses against their windows. The inhabitants occasionally ran from one house to another, like rabbits in a warren from hole to hole. All the doors were open, and whenever one heard the premonitory whistle which announced the arrival of one of the messengers of our psychological friends outside, one had to dodge into some door. I did not see any one hit. The houses were a good deal knocked about; the cathedral, it was said, had been hit, but as sh.e.l.ls were falling in the Place before it, I reserved investigations for a more quiet moment. Some of the garrison told me that the forts had been "scratched," but as to how far this scratching process had been carried I cannot say from personal observation, as I thought I might be scratched myself if I pushed my reconnaissance farther. I am not a military man, and do not profess to know anything about bombs technically, but it seems to me, considering that it is their object to burst, and considering the number of scientific persons who have devoted their time to make them burst, it is very strange how very few do burst.

I am told that one reason for this is the following:--when they lose the velocity of the impelling force they turn over in the air, and as the percussion cap is on the lighter end, the heavier one strikes the ground. Many of these, too, which have fallen in the town, and which have burst, have done no mischief, because the lead in which they are enveloped has kept the pieces together. The danger, indeed, to life and limb of a bombardment is very slight. I would at any time prefer to be for 24 hours in the most exposed portion of a bombarded town, than walk 24 times across Oxford Street in the middle of the day. A bomb is a joke in comparison with those great heavy wagons which are hurled at pedestrians by their drivers in the streets of London.

_January 28th._

The Government has not yet made up its mind to bell the cat, and to let us know the terms of the armistice or capitulation, whichever it is to be called. We hear that it is expected that trains will run to England on Tuesday or Wednesday, and by the first train I for one shall endeavour to get out of this prison. It will be such a relief to find oneself once more among people who have glimpses of common sense, who are not all in uniform, and who did not insist so very strongly on their sublime att.i.tude. Yesterday evening there were a series of open-air clubs held on the Boulevards and other public places. The orators were in most instances women or aged men. These Joans of Arc and ancient Pistols talked very loudly of making a revolution in order to prevent the capitulation; and it seemed to me that among their hearers, precisely those who whilst they had an opportunity to fight thought it wise not to do so, were most vociferous in their applause. The language of the National Guard is indeed most warlike. Several hundred of their officers have indulged in the cheap patriotism of signing a declaration that they wish to die rather than yield. This morning many battalions of the National Guard are under arms, and are hanging about in the streets with their arms stacked before them. Many of the men, however, have not answered to the rappel, and are remaining at home, as a mode of protesting against what is pa.s.sing. General Vinoy has a body of troops ready to act, and as he is a man of energy I do not antic.i.p.ate serious disturbances for the moment. As for the soldiers and the Mobiles, they are wandering about in twos and threes without arms, and do not affect to conceal that they are heartily glad that all is over. Poor fellows, their torn and tattered uniforms contrast with the spick and span military gear of the National Guard. They have had during the siege hard work, and they have done good duty, with but little thanks for it. The newspapers are one and all down on the Government. It is of course held to be their fault that the lines of the besiegers have not been forced.

General Trochu is not a military genius, and his colleagues have not proved themselves better administrators than half a dozen lawyers who have got themselves elected to a legislative a.s.sembly by the gift of the gab were likely to be; but still this system of sacrificing the leaders whenever any disaster takes place, and accusing them of treachery and incompetence, is one of the worst features in the French character. If it continues, eventually every man of rank will be dubbed by his own countrymen either a knave or a fool.

_January 31st._

_Finita la Comedia._ Let fall the curtain. The siege of Paris is over; the last balloon has carried our letters through the clouds; the last shot has been fired. The Prussians are in the forts, and the Prussian armies are only not in the streets because they prefer to keep watch and guard outside the vanquished city. What will be the verdict of history on the defence? Who knows! On the one hand the Parisians have kept a powerful army at bay far longer than was antic.i.p.ated; on the other hand, every sortie that they have made has been unsuccessful--every attempt to arrest the approach of the besiegers has failed. Pa.s.sively and inertly they have allowed their store of provisions to grow less and less, until they have been forced to capitulate, without their defences having been stormed, or the cannon silenced. The General complains of his soldiers, the soldiers complain of their General; and on both sides there is cause of complaint. Trochu is not a Todleben. His best friends describe him as a sort of military Hamlet, wise of speech, but weak and hesitating in action--making plans, and then criticising them instead of accomplishing them. As a commander, his task was a difficult one; when the siege commenced he had no army; when the army was formed, it was encompa.s.sed by earthworks and redoubts so strong that even better soldiers would have failed to carry them. As a statesman, he never was the master of the situation. He followed rather than led public opinion, and subordinated everything to the dread of displeasing any section of a population, which, to be ruled--even in quiet times--must be ruled with a rod of iron. Success is the criterion of ability in this country, and poor Trochu is as politically dead as though he never had lived. His enemies call him a traitor; his friends defend him from the charge by saying that he is only a vain fool.

As regards the armed force, the sailors have behaved so well that I wonder at the ease with which our own tars have always beaten them. They have been kept under a rigid discipline by their naval commanders. The line, composed of depot battalions, and of the regiments which Vinoy brought back from Mezieres, without being equal to old seasoned troops, have fought creditably. Their great defect has been an absence of strict discipline. The Mobiles, raw peasants fresh from their homes, have shown themselves brave in action, and have supported the hardship of lengthy outpost duty without a murmur. Unfortunately they elected their own officers, and this weakened their efficiency for offensive purposes.

When the siege commenced, every citizen indiscriminately a.s.sumed the uniform of the National Guard. Each battalion of this motley force elected its officers, and both men and officers united in despising discipline as a restraint to natural valour. The National Guard mounted guard occasionally on the ramparts, and the rest of their time they pa.s.sed in parading the streets, drinking in the pothouses, and discussing the conduct of their military superiors. General Trochu soon discovered that this force was, for all purposes of war, absolutely useless. He called for volunteers, and he antic.i.p.ated that 100,000 men would answer to the appeal; not 10,000 did so. He then ordered a marching company to be formed from each battalion. Complaints innumerable arose. Instead of a generous emulation to fight, each man sought for an excuse to avoid it. This man had a mother, that man a daughter; one had weak lungs, and another weak legs. At length, by dint of pressure and coaxing, the marching battalions were formed. Farewell suppers were offered them by their comrades. They were given new coats, new trousers, and new saucepans to strap on their haversacks. They have done some duty in the trenches, but they were always kept away from serious fighting, and only gave a "moral support" to those engaged in the conflict, until the fiasco in the Isthmus of Gennevilliers a fortnight ago. Then, near the walls of Buzanval, the few companies which were in action fought fairly if not successfully, whilst in another part of the field of battle, those who formed the reserves broke and fled as soon as the Prussian bombs fell into their ranks. The entire National Guard, sedentary and marching battalions, has not, I imagine, lost 500 men during its four months' campaign. This can hardly be called fighting to the death _pro aris et focis_, and sublimity is hardly the word to apply to these warriors. If the 300 at Thermopylae had, after exhausting their food, surrendered to the Persian armies, after the loss of less than one per cent. of their number--say of three men, they might have been very worthy fellows, but history would not have embalmed their act.

Politically, with the exception of the riot on October 31, the Government of National Defence has met with no opposition since September last. There are several reasons for this. Among the bourgeoisie there was little of either love or confidence felt in Trochu and his colleagues, but they represented the cause of order, and were indeed the only barrier against absolute anarchy. Among the poorer cla.s.ses everyone who liked was clothed, was fed, and was paid by Government for doing nothing, and consequently many who otherwise would have been ready to join in a revolt, thought it well not to disturb a state of things so eminently to their satisfaction. Among the Ultras, there was a very strong distaste to face the fire either of Prussians or of Frenchmen. They had, too, no leaders worthy of the name, and many of them were determined not to justify Count Bismarck's taunt that the "populace" would aid him by exciting civil discord. The Government of September, consequently, is still the Government of to-day, although its chief has shown himself a poor general, and its members, one and all, have shown themselves wretched administrators. In unblushing mendacity they have equalled, if not surpa.s.sed, their immediate predecessor, the virtuous Palikao. The only two of them who would have had a chance of figuring in England, even as vestrymen, are M. Jules Favre and M. Ernest Picard. The former has all the brilliancy and all the faults of an able lawyer--the latter, although a lawyer, is not without a certain modic.u.m of that plain practical common sense, which we are apt to regard as peculiarly an English characteristic.

The sufferings caused by the dearth of provisions and of fuel have fallen almost exclusively on the women and children. Among the well-to-do cla.s.ses, there has been an absence of many of those luxuries which habit had made almost necessaries, but this is all. The men of the poorer cla.s.ses, as a rule, preferred to idle away their time on the 1fr.

50c. which they received from the Government, rather than gain 4 or 5fr.

a day by working at their trades; consequently if they drank more and ate less than was good for them, they have had only themselves to thank for it. Their wives and children have been very miserable. Scantily clad, ill fed, without fuel, they have been obliged to pa.s.s half the day before the bakers' doors, waiting for their pittance of bread. The mortality and the suffering have been very great among them, and yet, it must be said to their credit, they have neither repined nor complained.

Business has, of course, been at a standstill since last September. At the Bourse the transactions have been of the most trifling description, much to the disgust of the many thousands who live here by peddling gains and doubtful speculations in this temple of filthy lucre. By a series of decrees payment of rent and of bills of exchange has been deferred from month to month. Most of the wholesale exporting houses have been absolutely closed. In the retail shops nothing has been sold except by the grocers, who must have made large profits. Whether the city has a recuperative power strong enough to enable it to recover from this period of stagnation, and to pay its taxation, which henceforward will be enormous, has yet to be seen. The world is the market for _articles de Paris_, but then to preserve this market, the prices of these articles must be low. Foreigners, too, will not come here if the cost of living is too exorbitant, and yet I do not see how it is to be otherwise. The talk of the people now is, that they mean to become serious--no longer to pander to the extravagances of strangers, and no longer to encourage their presence amongst them. If they carry out these intentions, I am afraid that, however their morals may be improved, their material interests will suffer. Gambling tables may not be an advantage to Europe, but without them Homburg and Baden would go to the wall. Paris is a city of pleasure--a cosmopolitan city; it has made its profit out of the follies and the vices of the world. Its prices are too high, its houses are too large, its promenades and its public places have cost too much for it to be able to pay its way as the sober, decent capital of a moderate-sized country, where there are few great fortunes. If the Parisians decide to become poor and respectable, they are to be congratulated upon the resolve, but the present notion seems to be that they are to become rich and respectable--a thing more difficult. Paris--the Paris of the Empire and of Haussmann--is a house of cards. Its prosperity was a forced and artificial one. The war and the siege have knocked down the cards, and it is doubtful whether they will ever serve to build a new house.

As regards public opinion, I cannot see that it has changed one iota for the better since the fall of the Empire, or that common sense has made any headway. There are of course sensible men in Paris, but either they hold their tongues, or their voices are lost in the chorus of blatant nonsense, which is dinned into the public ears. _Mutatis mutandis_ the newspapers, with some few exceptions, are much what they were when they worshipped Caesar, chronicled the doings of the _demi-monde_, clamoured for the Rhine, and invented Imperial victories. Their ignorance respecting everything beyond the frontiers of France is such, that a charity-schoolboy in England or Germany would be deservedly whipped for it. _La Liberte_ has, I am told, the largest circulation at present.

Every day since the commencement of the siege I have invested two sous in this journal, and I may say, without exaggeration, that never once--except one evening when it was burnt on the boulevard for inadvertently telling the truth--have I been able to discover in its columns one single line of common sense. Its facts are sensational--its articles gross appeals to popular folly, popular ignorance, and popular vanity. Every petty skirmish of the National Guard has been magnified into a stupendous victory; every battalion which visited a tomb, crowned a statue, or signed some manifesto pre-eminent in its absurdity, has been lauded in language which would have been exaggerated if applied to the veterans of the first Napoleon. The editor is, I believe, the author of the "pact with death," which has been so deservedly ridiculed in the German newspapers. The orators of the clubs have not been wiser than the journalists. At the Ultra gatherings, a man who says that he is a republican is regarded as the possessor of every virtue. The remedy for all the ills of France has been held to be, to copy exactly what was done during the First Revolution. "Citizens, we must have a _Commune_, and then we shall drive the Prussians out of France," was always received with a round of sympathetic applause, although I have never yet found two persons to agree in their explanation of what is meant by the word "_Commune_." At the Moderate clubs, the speeches generally consisted of ignorant abuse of Germany, attempts to disprove well-established facts, and extravagant self-laudation. I have attended many clubs--Ultra and Moderate--and I never heard a speaker at one of them who would have been tolerated for five minutes by an ordinary English political meeting.

The best minister whom the Parisians have, is M. Dorian. He is a manufacturer, and as hard-headed and practical as a Scotsman. Thanks to his energy and business qualities, cannon have been cast, old muskets converted into breechloaders, and ammunition fabricated. He has had endless difficulties to overcome, and has overcome them. The French are entirely without what New Englanders call shiftiness. As long as all the wheels of an administration work well, the administrative coach moves on, but let the smallest wheel of the machine get out of order, and everything stands still. To move on again takes a month's discussion and a hundred despatches. A redoubt which the Americans during their civil war would have thrown up in a night has taken the Parisians weeks to make. Their advanced batteries usually were without traverses, because they were too idle to form them. Although in modern sieges the spade ought to play as important a part as the cannon, they seem to have considered it beneath their dignity to dig--500 navvies would have done more for the defence of the town than 500,000 National Guards did do. At the commencement of October, ridiculous barricades were made far inside the ramparts, and although the generals have complained ever since that they impeded the movements of their troops, they have never been removed.

I like the Parisians and I like the French. They have much of the old Latin _urbanitas_, many kindly qualities, and most of the minor virtues which do duty as the small change of social intercourse. But for the sake of France, I am glad that Paris has lost its _prestige_, for its rule has been a blight and a curse to the entire country; and for the sake of Europe, I am glad that France has lost her military prestige, for this prestige has been the cause of most of the wars of Europe during the last 150 years. It is impossible so to adapt the equilibrium of power, that every great European Power shall be co-equal in strength.

The balance tips now to the side of Germany. That country has attained the unity after which she has so long sighed, and I do not think she will embroil the continent in wars, waged for conquest, for an "idea,"

or for the dynastic interests of her princes. The Germans are a brave race, but not a war-loving race. Much, therefore, as I regret that French provinces should against the will of their inhabitants become German, and strongly as I sympathise with my poor friends here in the overthrow of all their illusions, I console myself with the thought that the result of the present war will be to consolidate peace. France will no doubt look wistfully after her lost possessions, and talk loudly of her intention to re-conquer them. But the difficulty of the task will prevent the attempt. Until now, to the majority of Frenchmen, a war meant a successful military promenade, a plentiful distribution of decorations, and an inscription on some triumphal arch. Germany was to them the Germany of Jena and Austerlitz. Their surprise at seeing the Prussians victors at the doors of Paris, is much that which the Americans would feel if a war with the Sioux Indians were to bring these savages to the suburbs of New York. The French have now learnt that they are not invincible, and that if war may mean victory, it may also mean defeat, invasion, and ruin. When, therefore, they have paid the bill for their _a Berlin_ folly, they will think twice before they open a fresh account with fortune.

I would recommend sightseers to defer their visit to Paris for the present, as during the armistice it will not be a very pleasant residence for foreigners. I doubt whether the elections will go off, and the decisions of the National a.s.sembly be known without disturbances.

The vainest of the vain, irritable to madness by their disasters, the Parisians are in no humour to welcome strangers. The world has held aloof whilst the "capital of civilisation" has been bombarded by the "hordes of Attila," and there is consequently, just now, no very friendly feeling towards the world.

Of news, there is very little. We are in a state of physical and moral collapse. The groups of patriots which invested the Boulevards on the first announcement of the capitulation have disappeared; and the gatherings of National Guards, who announced their intention to die rather than submit, have discontinued their sittings, owing it, as they said, to their country to live for her. No one hardly now affects to conceal his joy that all is over. Every citizen with whom one speaks, tells you that it will be the lasting shame of Paris that with its numerous army it not only failed to force the Prussians to raise the siege, but also allowed them whenever they pleased to detach corps d'armee against the French generals in the provinces. This, of course, is the fault of the Government of Trochu and of the Republic, and having thus washed his hands of everything that has occurred, the citizen goes on his way rejoicing. The Mobiles make no secret of their delight at the thought of getting back to their homes. Whatever the Parisians may think of them, they do not think much of the Parisians. The army, and more particularly the officers, are very indignant at the terms of the armistice. They bitterly say that they would far rather have preferred to have been made prisoners of war at once, and they feel that they are in p.a.w.n in Paris, a pledge that peace will be made. M. Jules Ferry was treated so coldly the other day by General Vinoy's staff, when he went upon some business to the headquarters of the Commander-in-Chief, that he asked the cause, and was told in plain terms that he and his colleagues had trifled with the honour of the army. The armistice was, as you are aware, concluded by M. Jules Favre in person. It was then thought necessary to send a General to confer with Count Moltke on matters of detail. General Trochu seized upon this occasion to a.s.sert himself, and requested to be allowed to send a General of his choice, saying that his book which he published in 1867 must be so well known at the German headquarters, that probably his envoy would meet with peculiar respect. To this General Vinoy acceded, but Count Moltke refused to treat with Trochu's General, who was drunk, and the chief of General Vinoy's staff had to be subst.i.tuted. General Ducrot is still here. He resigned his command, not as is generally supposed, because the Prussians insisted upon it in consequence of his evasion from Sedan, but because General Vinoy on a.s.suming the command of the army gave him a very strong hint to do so. "I did not"' observed Vinoy, "think your position sufficiently _en regle_ to serve under _you_, and so----"

The question of the revictualling is the most important one of the moment. The railroad kings, who had an interview with Count Bismarck at Versailles, seem to be under the impression that this exceedingly wide-awake statesman intends to throw impediments in the way of Paris getting provisions from England, in order that the Germans may turn an honest penny by supplying the requirements of the town. He has thrown out hints that he himself can revictual us for a short time, if it really be a question of life and death. Even when the lines are opened to traffic and pa.s.sengers, the journey to England, _via_ Amiens, Rouen, and Dieppe will be a tedious one. The Seine, we learn, has been rendered impa.s.sable by the boats which have been sunk in it.

We have as yet had no news from outside. The English here find the want of a consul more than ever. The Foreign Office has sent in an acting commission to Mr. Blount, a gentleman who may be an excellent banker, but knows nothing of consular business, notwithstanding his courtesy. As whenever any negotiation is to take place at a foreign court a Special Envoy is sent, and, as it now appears, whenever a Consul is particularly wanted in a town a Special Consul is appointed, would it not be as well at once to suppress the large staff of permanent amba.s.sadors, ministers, and consuls who eat their heads off at a heavy cost to the country. I should be curious to know how many years it would take to reduce the intelligence of an ordinary banker's clerk to the level of a Foreign Office bureaucrat. How the long-suffering English public can continue to support the incompetency and the supercilious contempt with which these gentry treat their employers is to me a mystery. Bureaucrats are bad enough in all conscience, but a nest of fine gentleman bureaucrats is a public curse, when thousands are subjected to their whims, their ignorance, and their airs.

The Republic is in very bad odour just now. It has failed to save France, and it is rendered responsible for this failure. Were the Comte de Paris a man of any mark, he would probably be made King. As it is, there is a strong feeling in favour of his family, and more particularly in favour of the Duc d'Aumale. Some talk of him as President of the Republic, others suggest that he should be elected King. The Bonapartists are very busy, but as regards Paris there is no chance either for the Emperor or the Empress Regent. As for Henri V., he is, in sporting phraseology, a dark horse. Among politicians, the general opinion is that a moderate Republic will be tried for a short time, and that then we shall gravitate into a Const.i.tutional Monarchy.

Little heed is taken of the elections which are so close at hand. No one seems to care who is elected. As it is not known whether the National a.s.sembly will simply register the terms of peace proposed by Germany, and then dissolve itself, or whether it will const.i.tute itself into an _a.s.semblee Const.i.tuante_, and decide upon the future form of government, there is no Very great desire among politicians to be elected to it.

Several Electoral Committees have been formed, each of which puts forward its own list--that which sits under the Presidency of M.

Dufaure, an Orleanist, at the Grand Hotel, is the most important of them. Its list is intended to include the most practical men of all parties; the rallying cry is to be France, and in theory its chiefs are supposed to be moderate Republicans.

The ceremony of the giving up of the forts has pa.s.sed over very quietly.

The Prussians entered them without noise or parade. At St. Denis, the mayor of which said that no Prussian would be safe in it, friends and foes, I am told by a person who has just returned, have fraternised, and are pledging each other in every species of liquor. The ramparts are being dismantled of their guns; the National Guard no longer does duty on them, and crowds a.s.semble and stare vaguely into the country outside.

During the whole siege Paris has not been so dismal and so dreary as it is now. There is no longer the excitement of the contest, and yet we are prisoners. The only consolation is that a few weeks will put an end to this state of things.

CHAPTER XIX.

_February 1st._

The Government of National Defence has almost disappeared from notice.

It has become a Committee to preside over public order. The world may calumniate us, they said in a proclamation the other day. It would be impossible, replied the newspapers. Trochu and Gambetta, once the idols of the Parisians, are now the best abused men in France. Trochu (a friend of his told me to-day) deserted by all, makes speeches in the bosom of his family. No more speeches, no more lawyers; is the cry of the journals. And then they spin out phrases of exaggerated Spartanism by the yard, and suggest some lawyer as the rising hope of the country.

The cannon have been taken from the ramparts. The soldiers--Line and Mobile--wander about unarmed, with their hands in their pockets, staring at the shop-windows. They are very undemonstrative, and more like peaceful villagers than rough troopers. They pa.s.s most of their time losing their way and trying to find it again; and the Mobiles are longing to get back to their homes. It appears now that there was an error in the statistics published by the Government respecting the stock of grain in hand. Two accounts, which were one and the same, were added together. The bread is getting less like bread every day. Besides peas, rice, and hay, starch is now ground up with it. In the eighth arrondiss.e.m.e.nt yesterday, there were no rations. The Northern Company do not expect a provision train from Dieppe before Friday, and do not think they will be able to carry pa.s.sengers before Sat.u.r.day. We are in want of fuel as much as of food. A very good thing is to be made by any speculator who can manage to send us coal or charcoal.

More than 23,000 persons have applied for permits to quit Paris, on the ground that they are provincial candidates for the a.s.sembly. Of course this is a mere pretext. A commission, as acting British Consul, has been sent to Mr. Blount, a banker. Will some M.P. move that the Estimates be reduced by the salary of the Consul, who seems to consider Paris _in partibus infidelium_?

The only outsider who has penetrated through the double cordon of Prussians and French, is your Correspondent at the Headquarters of the Crown Prince of Saxony. He startled us quite as much as Friday did Robinson Crusoe. He was enthusiastically welcomed, for he had English newspapers in one pocket, and some slices of ham in the other.

VERSAILLES, _February 6th._

I am not intoxicated, but I feel so heavy from having imbibed during the last twenty-four hours more milk than I did during the first six months which I pa.s.sed in this planet, that I have some difficulty in collecting my thoughts in order to write a letter. Yesterday I arrived here in order to breathe for a moment the air of freedom. In vain my hospitable friends, who have put me up, have offered me wine to drink, and this and that delicacy to eat--I have stuck to eggs, b.u.t.ter, and milk. Pats of b.u.t.ter I have bolted with a greasy greediness which would have done honour to Pickwick's fat boy; and quarts of milk I have drunk with the eagerness of a calf long separated from its maternal parent.

Although during the last few months I have seen but two or three numbers of English papers, I make no doubt that so many good, bad, and indifferent descriptions of every corner and every alley in this town have appeared in print, that Londoners are by this time as well acquainted with it as they are with Richmond or Clapham. Versailles must, indeed, be a household word--not to say a household nuisance--in England. It has been a dull, stupid place, haunted by its ancient grandeurs; with too large a palace, too large streets, and too large houses, for many a year; and while the presence of a Prussian army and a Prussian Emperor may render it more interesting, they fail to make it more lively. Of the English correspondents, some have gone into Paris in quest of "phases" and impressions; many, however, still remain here, battening upon the fat of the land, in the midst of kings and princes, counts and Freiherrs. I myself have seldom got beyond a distant view of such grand beings. What I know even of the n.o.bility of my native land, is derived from perusing the accounts of their journeys in the fashionable newspapers, and from the whispered confidences of their third cousins. To find myself in familiar intercourse with people who habitually hobn.o.b at Royal tables, and who invite Royal Highnesses to drop in promiscuously and smoke a cigar, almost turns my head. To-morrow I shall return to Paris, because I feel, were I to remain long in such grand company, I should become proud and haughty; and, perhaps, give myself airs when restored to the society of my relatives, who are honest but humble. There is at present no difficulty in leaving Paris. A pa.s.s is given at the Prefecture to all who ask for one, and it is an "open sesame" to the Prussian lines. I came by way of Issy, dragged along by an aged Rosinante, so weak from low living that I was obliged to get out and walk the greater part of the way, as he positively declined to draw me and the chaise.

This beast I have only been allowed to bring out of Paris after having given my word of honour that I would bring him back, in order, if necessary, to be slain and eaten, though I very much doubt whether a tolerably hungry rat would find meat enough on his bones for a dinner.

I have been this morning sitting with a friend who, under the promise of the strictest secrecy, has given me an account of the condition of affairs here. I trust, therefore, that no one will mention anything that may be found in this letter, directly or indirectly relating to the Prussians. The old King, it appears, is by no means happy as an Emperor.

He was only persuaded to accept this t.i.tle for the sake of his son, "Our Fritz," and he goes about much like some English squire of long descent, who has been induced to allow himself to be converted into a bran new peer, over-persuaded by his ambitious progeny. William is one of that numerous cla.s.s of persons endowed with more heart than brains. Putting aside, or regarding rather as the delusion of a diseased brain, his notion that he is an instrument of Heaven, and that he is born to rule over Prussian souls by right divine, the old man is by no means a bad specimen of a good-natured, well-meaning, narrow-minded soldier of the S.U.S.C. type; and between Bismarck and Moltke he has of late had by no means an easy time. These two worthies, instead of being, as we imagined in Paris, the best of friends, abominate each other. During the siege Moltke would not allow Bismarck to have a seat at any council of war; and in order to return the compliment, Bismarck has not allowed Moltke to take any part in the negotiations respecting the armistice, except on the points which were exclusively military. Bismarck tells the French that had it not been for him, Paris would have been utterly destroyed, while Moltke grumbles because it has not been destroyed; an achievement which this talented captain somewhat singularly imagines would fittingly crown his military career. But this is not the only domestic jar which destroys the harmony of the happy German family at Versailles. In Prussia it has been the habit, from time immemorial, for the heir to the throne to coquet with the Liberals, and to be supposed to entertain progressive opinions. The Crown Prince pursues this hereditary policy of his family. He has surrounded himself with intelligent men, hostile to the present state of things, and who understand that in the present age 110 country can be great and powerful, where all who are not country gentlemen, chamberlains, or officers, are excluded from all share in its government. Bismarck, on the other hand, is the representative, or rather the business man, of the squirearchy and of the Vons--much in the same way as Mr. Disraeli is of the Conservatives in England; and, like the latter, he despises his own friends, and scoffs at the prejudices, a pretended belief in which has served them as a stepping-stone to power.

The consequence of this divergency of opinion is, that Bismarck and "Our Fritz" are very nearly what schoolboys call "cuts," and consequently when the old King dies, Bismarck's power will die with him, unless he is wise enough to withdraw beforehand from public life. "Our Fritz," I hear, has done his best to prevent the Prussian batteries from doing any serious damage to Paris, and has not concealed from his friends that he considers that the bombardment was, in the words of Fouche, worse than a crime--an error.

I find many of the Prussian officers improved by success. Those with whom I have come in personal contact have been remarkably civil and polite, but I confess that--speaking of course generally--the sight of these mechanical instruments of war, brought to the highest state of perfection in the trade of butchery, lording it in France, is to me most offensive. I abhor everything which they admire. They are proud of walking about in uniform with a knife by their side. I prefer the man without the uniform and without the knife. They despise all who are engaged in commercial pursuits. I regard merchants and traders as the best citizens of a free country. They imagine that the man whose ancestors have from generation to generation obscurely vegetated upon some dozen acres, is the superior of the man who has made himself great without the advent.i.tious aid of birth; I do not. When Jules Favre met Bismarck over here the other day, the latter spoke of Bourbaki as a traitor, because he had been untrue to his oath to Napoleon. "And was his country to count for nothing?" answered Favre. "In Germany king and country are one and the same," replied Bismarck. This is the abominable creed which is inculcated by the military squires who now hold the destinies of France and of Germany in their hands; and on this detestable heresy they dream of building up a new code of political ethics in Europe. Liberalism and common sense are spreading even in the army; but take a Tory squire, a Groom of the Chamber, and a Life-guardsman, boil them down, and you will obtain the ordinary type of the Prussian officer. For my part, I look with grim satisfaction to the future. The unity of Germany has been brought about by the union of Prussian Feudalists and German Radicals. The object is now attained, and I sincerely hope that the former will find themselves in the position of cats who have drawn the chestnuts out of the fire for others to eat. If "Our Fritz," still following in the steps of his ancestors, throws off his Liberalism with his Crown Princedom, his throne will not be a bed of roses; it is fortunate, therefore, for him, that he is a man of good sense. I am greatly mistaken if the Germans will long submit to the horde of squires, of princes, of officers, and of court flunkeys, who together, at present, form the ruling cla.s.s. Among the politicians here there is a strong feeling of dislike to the establishment of a Republic in France. If they could have their own way they would re-establish the Empire. But those who imagine that this is possible understand very little of the French character. The Napoleonic legend was the result of an epoch of military glory; the capitulation of Sedan not only scotched it, but killed it. A Frenchman still believes in the military superiority of his race over every other race, as firmly as he believes in his own existence. If a French army is defeated, it is owing to the treachery or the incapacity of the commander. If a battle be lost, the General must pay the penalty for it; for his soldiers are invincible. It is Napoleon, according to the received theory, who has succ.u.mbed in the present war; not the French nation. If Napoleon be restored to power, the nation will accept the responsibility which they now lay to his door. The pride and vanity of every Frenchman are consequently the strongest securities against an Imperial Restoration. Were I a betting man, I would bet twenty to one against the Bonapartes; even against a Republic lasting for two years; and I would take five to one against the Comte de Paris becoming King of the French, and three to one against the Duc d'Aumale being elected President of the Republic. This would be my "book" upon the political French Derby.