In the month of May, 1869, Mr. Washburne arrived in France, and entered upon the duties of his office. In the mean time I had been promoted, at the request of General Dix, to be secretary of legation. At Mr. Washburne's request, I was retained in that position. Paris was uneasy and restless. Conspiracies against the empire were rife. The Republicans, as they called themselves—Radicals is a better name for the majority of them—became bold and defiant. France was jealous, too, of the renown acquired by Prussia at Sadowa. She had been so accustomed to consider herself, and to be considered, the first military power in the world, that she could not bear the semblance of a rival near the throne. The Emperor was suffering from the disease of which he afterward died, and no longer governed with "the hand of steel in the glove of silk" always needed in France. The Church was alarmed at the rise of a great Protestant power, and the Empress sympathized with her Church. In short, public sentiment had reached such a pass in France, or rather in Paris, which is France, that the Emperor was compelled to choose between war and revolution. He naturally chose war. It was definitely resolved upon on the 15th July, 1870, but not officially declared until the 19th. I was chargÉ d'affaires, Mr. Washburne being absent at Carlsbad.

On the 13th of July I went to the sitting of the Corps LÉgislatif to learn what were the prospects of war. In the tribune of the diplomatic corps I met the Spanish Embassador. He told me that peace was assured, as he had persuaded Prince Hohenzollern to decline the proffered crown of Spain, and that now nothing remained to fight about. On the 14th, I went again. I found Lord Lyons there, and, falling into conversation with him, he left the impression upon my mind that there would be war, for the proffered mediation of England had failed. Lord Lyons had come to the sitting expecting to hear an authoritative declaration by the Government, and this declaration he thought would be warlike. I at once telegraphed to Mr. Fish that the chances were strongly in favor of war. This, and all our subsequent telegrams in cipher, were delayed by the French Government for twenty-four hours, probably with a view to decipher them. On the 15th I was again at the sÉance, and heard the warlike declaration made by the Government. It was not the formal declaration of war, but was equivalent to it. Thereupon Mr. Thiers rose, and attempted to address the House in a speech deprecating hostilities. The scene that followed was indescribable and most disgraceful to any legislative body. The great mass of the members sprung to their feet, pointed their fingers at the orator, yelled, and shouted "TraÎtre, traÎtre! Allez À Berlin!" The little man stood like a rock, and when the tumult had somewhat subsided, I could hear his shrill, piping voice raised in solemn warning against the step they were about to take. The Government had stated that their embassador had been insulted by the King of Prussia. Mr. Thiers asked that the dispatches might be produced, that the Assembly might judge for itself. This the Government refused; and, on a show of hands, but twenty members—among whom were Favre, Arago, Simon, Pelletan, and others, most of them afterward prominent in the Government of the National Defense—voted with Thiers.

While the debate was proceeding I was called out by the messenger of the Legation, with word that the German Embassador was very anxious to see me. As soon as the proceedings in the Corps LÉgislatif were ended, I went to the German embassy. The embassador told me that he had been instructed by his Government to ask the United States Legation at Paris to assume the protection of the North Germans in France during the coming war. I saw at once the importance of this step, the compliment paid us by a great power like Germany, and the advantages to the country. I replied that I felt confident that my Government would gladly assume the charge; that if there were no cable across the Atlantic, and it were necessary to say "Yes" or "No" at once, I should say "Yes;" but as there was telegraphic communication, and I could receive an answer in forty-eight hours, I must ask instructions from Mr. Fish. He appeared to be disappointed, and inquired when I could give him an answer, as he must leave Paris in two days. He evidently desired the matter to be settled before he left. I told him that I thought I should receive a reply within that time. I went at once to the office, and telegraphed Mr. Fish as follows. This telegram, like the other, was detained for twenty-four hours by the French Government.

On the 17th I received Mr. Fish's answer, as follows:

On receipt of this instruction, I wrote at once to the Duke de Gramont, to ask for the assent of the French Government. My note was as follows:

The Duke de Gramont replied, on the 18th, that the French Government gave its "entire assent," whereupon I telegraphed to Mr. Fish as follows:

I learned afterward that my note to the Duke de Gramont produced quite a sensation in the Emperor's cabinet. The French Government had already requested the good offices of Great Britain to protect French subjects in North Germany, and it had fully expected that North Germany would make a similar request. Speculation was therefore rife in official circles as to what the action of Count Bismarck meant. It was supposed that he anticipated a general European war, into which Great Britain would necessarily be drawn; and preferred, therefore, to ask the good offices of a power which under all circumstances was likely to remain neutral.

The Duke de Gramont was then Minister of Foreign Affairs, and was supposed to have had much to do with bringing on the war. The story was current in Paris that, when he was embassador at Vienna, Bismarck represented Prussia. They quarreled, and Bismarck remarked of him, "C'est l'homme le plus bÊte d'Europe." He never forgave it. At Vienna he naturally associated with the Viennese aristocracy, who disliked the Prussians. From them he got the idea that Austria would readily join France in a war against Prussia, and so reported to the Emperor. He took no note of the all-powerful middle class, which rules in constitutional countries. This class would not hear of becoming allies of France in a war against Germany.

Late in the evening of the 18th of July, Mr. Washburne returned to Paris. He had been at Carlsbad for his health, but on learning the probability of hostilities, started at once on his return to his post. We had telegraphed him, but he never received the telegram. Few private telegrams were forwarded at all, and none with promptitude, in those days.

Paris now put on its war-paint. The streets were gay with the pantalon rouge, and all day long the French drum rat-a-tapped in the streets. The Mobiles began to arrive, the National Guard to parade—everywhere was heard the "Marseillaise." The forbidden air was delightful to Parisian ears, because it was forbidden. Long before the end of the siege it was rarely heard. The Parisians could chant it as they pleased, so it soon lost its attractions.

The war was popular in Paris. The journals clamored for it, and the violent republican papers, whatever they may now say to the contrary, were among the most blatant. The Emperor, personally, was opposed to war. He was suffering from the acute disease which afterward killed him, and was naturally depressed and despondent. He would gladly have avoided hostilities, but he was pushed into them. They persuaded him, too, that the continuance of his dynasty, the succession of his son, demanded war; and this was the one ruling motive which governed both his conduct and that of the Empress. The Emperor was by no means the omnipotent potentate he was popularly supposed to be. He was scarcely a free agent. It was his misfortune to be surrounded by a crowd of adventurers—French carpet-baggers. The best men of France, the gentry of the country, held aloof. The Emperor felt this, and often tried to reconcile them. Had he reigned ten years longer, I think that he would have succeeded. There were signs of relenting. He was consequently thrown, for his high officers of state, upon a class of clever adventurers. Look at his last cabinet before the Revolution of September. One member was most unenviably known for the loot of the Summer Palace at Pekin; another is now in Mazas, convicted of swindling; and a third, it was currently reported in Paris, received one hundred thousand francs in the Transcontinental, Memphis, and El Paso swindle; and I have heard from high Prussian authority that when the gates of Paris were opened after the siege, and the Germans sold flour and cattle and sheep to meet the pressing necessities of the starving Parisians, of a flock of three thousand sheep not one was permitted to enter the city till this gentleman had received two francs a head.

I have said that the Emperor was scarcely a free agent. Here is an anecdote in point. Prince Metternich, the Austrian Embassador, returning from Vienna, called to pay his respects at the palace. The Emperor asked him what military news there was in Austria. He replied that they were arming with the Remington breech-loader. "The Remington," said the Emperor, "what is that? I thought I knew all the principal breech-loaders, but I never heard of that." Metternich explained. "Where is Remington?" said the Emperor. The Prince replied that he happened to be in Paris. "I wish you would bring him to me, and do you bring him yourself; this will insure my seeing him." Metternich brought him. The Emperor examined his piece, and was much pleased with it. He wrote a note with his own hand to the Minister of War, Le Boeuf, and told Remington to take it at once: of course he was received without delay. "So, my good friend, you have seen the Emperor, have you?" "Yes, sir, I had the honor to see his Majesty." "Well, you won't see him again:" and he did not. This was the way the Emperor was served. Le Boeuf was the capable and well-informed Minister of War who stated in the Assembly that France was thoroughly prepared for the field—"not a button on a gaiter was wanting." When the sad truth became known, the French wits said that his statement was literally correct, for there was not a gaiter in store.

But while the war was popular in Paris, it was not so in the provinces. After the Revolution broke out, the Provisional Government found in the Tuileries a number of important historical documents, and among them reports from the prefects of the different departments on this subject. They breathed one tone. The people wanted peace; but if they were attacked, if the honor of France were at stake, they were ready to fight. Considering the source whence this information came, from imperial prefects, creatures of the Government, there was no mistaking the pacific feeling of the country.