“It seems that a solemn moment occurred during the review held by the new Emperor on the Hippodrome de Longchamps, before the troops started to enter Paris. I have been told the sight was most imposing, and must have roused a world of remembrances in the heart of its principal hero. What must have been his thoughts at a moment when the history, as it were, of a whole century was suddenly recapitulated before his eyes? His fate had made him witness the present triumph, after the humiliations of Jena and that first occupation of the French capital by the allied troops in 1815, when another Napoleon had seen fortune retire from him! It seems that after the review was over, the Emperor looked wistfully for a considerable time at the long line of troops filing along on their triumphal journey, and before dismounting from his horse he turned towards the Crown Prince with the simple remark, ‘I hope that you, too, have thanked God to-day!’”
CHAPTER VIII
The Commune
As already mentioned, I returned to Versailles during the last days of January, and, except a short visit to Paris, whither I went to see after my household gods which had been left to their fate during the siege, and to inquire after the friends who had remained in the capital during those anxious months, I stayed there until I left for Bordeaux, where the National Assembly met in order to ratify the conditions of the peace that was ultimately to be signed in Frankfurt.
At Bordeaux, to my great surprise, I found that the sole topic of popular conversation was the declaration of the overthrow of the Bonaparte dynasty. It seemed as if that was the principal object of the elections that had taken place, and that it was far more important than the establishing of an understanding with Germany. The ambitions of the different parties which divided public opinion in France had been newly awakened at the unforeseen chances which they suddenly saw looming before them. Orleanists, Legitimists and Republicans were all eager to come forward with schemes to take the place of the regime that had so recently come to a tragic close. I remember that one evening after dinner I was sitting together with some friends in one of the most elegant restaurants of Bordeaux, and we listened to a discussion that was taking place at the next table, and during which the chances of the different parties that the country had sent to represent it at the National Assembly were enumerated. What struck me in this conversation was that France itself was not even mentioned; it seemed as if the catastrophes that had accompanied the war had swept it from the face of the earth, and had only left political parties and political convictions, the leaders of which wanted to find some personal advantage out of the general disasters. Another thing I also observed that appeared even then strange to me, and it seems stranger still to-day—it is that very few people believed the Republic would be able to maintain itself. On the contrary, they felt convinced that France was standing upon the threshold of a Monarchist restoration. The Orleans princes had a considerable number of adherents, and were made much of in certain quarters, where the courage displayed by the Duc de Chartres and the Prince de Joinville, who had joined the Republican armies as volunteers, was extolled at every opportunity; whilst the Legitimists kept hoping that the Comte de Chambord would seize the opportunity and rally himself to the tricolour flag, thus to clear his path to the throne of his ancestors. The Republicans seemed still surprised and dazed by the unexpected events that had raised them to power, and did not believe that their party would succeed in maintaining itself at the head of the country. I believe that if the Orleans princes had been generous enough to forgo the millions that had been confiscated under Napoleon III., and which they hastened to claim from the State, they would have been able easily to provoke a manifestation in their favour that would eventually have led to a restoration of their dynasty. The government was thoroughly discredited, in spite of the great influence wielded by Leon Gambetta, in whom everyone saw the man of the future, and it was generally felt that it would not be strong enough to compel the country to accept the heavy peace conditions which Germany was determined to enforce. Unfortunately, among all the representatives of the nation who met at Bordeaux, there was not a man daring enough, and brave enough, to suggest the recall of any of the pretenders. On the other hand, the Bonapartes had still a considerable number of partisans, who did their best to paralyse every effort to substitute another dynasty. They hoped that, in spite of Sedan, France would remember the eighteen years of prosperity which it had just gone through, and would recall the child who had been so popular, under the name of “le petit Prince,” until the catastrophe that had sent him together with his parents in exile on British shores.
The only one who appreciated rightly the intricacies of the situation such as it presented itself, and who very cleverly played his cards, in such a manner that he made himself indispensable, was M. Thiers. He flattered everybody, promised everything that was required of him, gave every pledge that he was asked for, and finally secured his own unanimous election at Bordeaux, by the National Assembly, as chief of the executive power—one did not dare yet to use the term President of the French Republic.
The new head of the government very soon made himself the master of the situation, and his influence became in a short time paramount in everything. He rapidly brought to a close the peace negotiations with Germany, and on the 26th of February its preliminaries were signed at Versailles.
M. Thiers returned to Paris, determined to settle down to the task of mending the many sores and wounds which the months that had just elapsed had left behind them. Unhappily he found himself confronted by a situation far more dangerous than he had expected, owing to the want of foresight of Jules Favre, who had not had the courage to resist the foolish demands of the mob, and who, obeying the orders which he had received from the leaders of the extreme Radical party, had during the peace negotiations with Prince Bismarck insisted upon the Parisian population being allowed to retain their rifles, and the National Guards not being disarmed. In a curious book called “Journal d’un Officier d’Ordonnance,” an aide-de-camp of General Trochu, Comte d’Hérisson, relates that Bismarck replied to these demands with the prophetic words: “I am willing to accede to your request, but believe me you are acting stupidly.”
Stupidity or not, the National Guard was left in possession of its weapons, and the first thought of M. Thiers when he reached Paris was to take them away. But this was not so easy; the National Guard was for the greater part composed of excitable men who dreamed only of the sovereignty of the mob. When the hour for laying down their arms arrived, the Guard refused to do so, and the rebellious feelings which had been brewing ever since the revolution of the 4th of September broke out at last into a fury that culminated in the brutal assassination of two generals, Clément Thomas and Lecomte, who had been sent by the government to disarm the National Guard.
Much has been written about the day which saw the beginning of the Commune; I will merely add a few quite personal remarks, which, perhaps, will make the reader understand more clearly than a long narrative the state of mind of the Parisian population at that particular moment.