At Metz, and I heard that it was so, generally, throughout both the annexed provinces, a great many people were desirous of selling their houses and land. There was not, however, by any means an equal number of people who were desirous of purchasing. This fewness of purchasers indicates the prevalence of an opinion that the loss of these provinces is far too great for France ever to acquiesce in; and that, therefore, she will, on the first opportunity that may offer, endeavour to recover them by the sword: in which case they will become the theatre of war. It is true that the course of events in the New World, as well as in the Old, has taught the present generation, very impressively, the lesson that what is expected is seldom what happens; still, one may say, of course with a strong feeling of the uncertainty of human affairs, that there is nothing apparent, at present, on the surface of things, to give rise to the supposition that a second reference, on the part of the French, to the arbitrament of the sword, would lead to a different issue from that which the first had. Empire is maintained, and retained, by the means by which it was obtained; and there seems no probability of Germany ever allowing herself to be caught napping; or of her strength, energy, and determination being sapped by national corruption. That is not a consummation which the solid character of the people renders at all likely. Even their rude climate, which, to some extent, forbids a life of sensuous and vicious self-indulgence, will, we may think, help them in the future to maintain the character, which has always distinguished them hitherto; it seems to make earnestness, and mental hardihood, natural to them. One’s thoughts on this subject would be very much modified, if there were in France any symptoms, which might lead one to hope that she was ‘coming to herself.’
On leaving Metz, by an early train, I had to form one in a scene of crowding and confusion greater than I had ever elsewhere encountered on that side of the Channel, except a few days before at Strasbourg, where it was as bad. We are often told that the advantage of the foreign system of over-administration is that everything of this kind is rendered impossible; but here it was all in excess. Tickets for all classes were issued by the same clerk, and for two trains at the same time, for one was to start only a few minutes before the other. Some people were pushing; some were in a high state of excitement. There was no possibility of forming a queue. I was told that this, and many other things of the same kind, would be set right after the 1st of October, on which day the Germans would take all these matters into their own hands. Hitherto they had interfered with the local administration as little as possible. One consequence of this had been that the existing authorities, whose reign was so soon to expire, had not been very attentive to their duties; perhaps they had not been very desirous of keeping things straight; and the lower orders, availing themselves of the license that had been permitted, had become so insubordinate, that it had been found difficult, in some cases impossible, to carry on the operations of factories, in which many hands were employed. But after the 1st of October there was to be an end of all this: a German burgomaster was to be appointed, and German order was to be maintained. On that morning I wished that, as far as the station at Metz was concerned, the change had already been effected.
In the neighbourhood of Luxembourg, I saw several trains full of iron ore. From Luxembourg to Namur the country is, generally, very poor. It consists mainly of lime-stone hills, heaths, and woods in which there is little or no good timber. Between Namur and Brussels the country improves, agriculturally, very much.
At Brussels I had some difficulty in getting a bed; all the hotels being full of Belgian and English volunteers, and of people who had come to see the international shooting. There had just been a public reception of volunteers, and everybody was in the streets. I heard a burly tradesman, who was standing at the door of his shop, shout at the top of his voice, but the result did not correspond with the effort, as one of our volunteers was passing, in the uniform of a Scottish corps, ‘Shotland for ever’—the land, doubtless, of good shots. Etymologists, consider this, and be cautious.
The much-lauded Hotel de Ville I venture to think unsatisfactory. For so much ornamentation it is deficient in size. Its chief external feature is the multitude of figures upon it. The effect of this is bad. One sees no reason why they should be there. They are too small. They are indistinguishable from each other, There is no action: merely rows of figures. This was unavoidable in the position assigned them, but its being unavoidable was no reason for assigning them that position, nor does it at all contribute towards rendering them pleasing objects.
Many of the volunteers made a night of it in honour of their English visitors. Having been woke, by their shouting and hurrahing in the streets, at one o’clock in the morning, I was disposed to think such demonstrations unbecoming in bearded warriors.
I went with a party of Englishmen, and some Americans, to Waterloo. We were driven over the old, straight, stone-paved, poplar-bordered road, by an English whip, in an English four-horse stage-coach. The road is just what it was, when Wellington passed over it, from ‘the revelry at night’ for the great fight. That part, however, of the Forest of Soignies, which should be on the right of the road, has been destroyed, to make way for the plough. What remains of the forest, on the left, consists of tall, straight, unbranching beech, with the surface of the ground, between the trunks, clear and smooth. While we were at Hougomont a violent thunderstorm, accompanied with heavy rain, drifted over the field. As the soil is a tenacious clay, which becomes very slippery when wet, this storm was most opportune, for it showed us what kind of footing the contending hosts had on the great day. Hougomont is still very much in the condition in which it was left on the evening of that day. What was burnt has not been rebuilt; and what remained, has not been added to, or altered. The loop-holes that were made in the garden wall are still there. So also are the hedge, and ditch, on the outside of the orchard. The only difference is that the whole of the wood of Hougomont has gone the way of a part of the Forest of Soignies. We have all of us tried to understand Waterloo; but a visit to the field itself will show that it is no more possible to understand, fully and rightly, this than any other battle, without ocular knowledge of the ground on which it was fought. A comparison of the field of Waterloo with that of Gravelotte will assist a civilian in estimating the extent of the change in tactics, which modern improvements in the weapons of war have necessitated. He will see that the battle of June 18, 1815, belongs to an order of things that is obsolete now. With the cannon, and rifles, of the present day, it could not have been fought as it was; and would not, probably, have been fought where it was.
CHAPTER XVIII.
HOW THE OBSERVATION AND KNOWLEDGE OF NATURE, AND THE CONDITIONS OF SOCIETY AFFECT RELIGION AND THEOLOGY. AN INSTRUCTIVE PARALLELISM. CONCLUSION.