Part 16 (2/2)

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 fas.h.i.+onable 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.

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