I began by telling him of the situation in France, comparing its actual condition with that of the days before the 4th of September. I tried to show him what had been done since the disaster of Sedan, from the fall of the Empire and the coming of the Republic till the present moment.

I pointed out—and he agreed—that after Sedan France was face to face with despair. She was in chaos, in the void; nothing remained; everything had to be recreated.

Paris was without arms and soldiers. The provinces were discouraged and denuded of everything that might allow of a single day’s resistance. The enemy’s armies were advancing without obstacle, invading France town by town, province by province, devastating the country and trampling it underfoot....

After this distressing but truthful picture, this miasma of exhaustion and desolation, I drew for him a picture of the awakening of the great nation on the day after the 4th of September. I described its hope when there was no more hope, its courage when courage was madness, its resistance when all means of resistance were at an end.

I described the whole nation erect, from Paris down to the smallest hamlet lost in the mountains, unconquered and unconquerable, strong and proud and with arms in its hands. A force had been created out of nothing, and arms out of the Void.

Lord Granville listened.

He listened long, without making the slightest movement.

My words became more and more animated. He followed them, if I may describe it so, with his eyes....

“You see, M. le Comte,” I said at last, “you see what we have done, and from that you can judge what we are still capable of doing and what we will certainly do. Paris is determined to undergo the greatest rigours of war rather than surrender.

“The provinces, who for a moment hesitated, plunged as they were in that evil habit of waiting for everything to come from above and never undertaking anything themselves, the provinces also have awakened to the inspiration of a powerful genius and have risen as one man. They also are up and resolute. They are animated by the same spirit, penetrated by the same conviction, and inflamed with the same courage. All France is in arms. She has lifted high her flag, on which she has written: “Victory or death!”

He still listened without a movement.

Had I spoken into space? Was silence to fall before the conversation had well commenced?

Was this silence to be interpreted as approval, or, on the contrary, was the eminent statesman’s mouth closed by the painful impression of complete disapprobation?

I looked into his eyes and said: “I have spoken frankly and sincerely to you, from the very bottom of my heart; have you no answer to give me?” His profound blue eyes rested on mine for a moment, then he said slowly, almost stumblingly:

“M. Thiers, who came to see me, has already spoken to me as eloquently as you have to-day.

“All that you have done is admirable, and France has shown an elasticity which has astonished everyone. I have already said so to M. Thiers. I repeat it gladly, and I can add with the utmost sincerity that our admiration has only augmented and increased since that time. We have attempted to intervene in your favour as much as the situation permitted. We have done all we could to stop this war, which we deplore. But we are not listened to. We have neither the right nor the power to interfere in an affair which does not concern us. We desire greatly that the war should be finished. We have made many efforts to arrive at least at an armistice, but the Government in Paris has refused the armistice which we have tried to negotiate....”

He again fixed his blue eyes on me as if to ask me: “Why has this armistice been refused?”

It seemed to me to be an unfair question, and I said with a certain amount of spirit: “Pardon me, M. le Comte, one cannot accuse the Government of Paris of rejecting an armistice and means of coming to terms. On the contrary, they have done everything humanly possible to bring it about, but an armistice without re-victualling—that is to say, an armistice with the prospect of starving Paris out, while Prussia is recruiting her strength, was not acceptable, and Prussia refused any other kind of armistice.”

“This refusal,” said he, mechanically lowering his eyes, “was not reasonable. An armistice would have prevented many inconveniences to Prussia and considerable difficulties to France, and the Government could, at any rate, have profited by it to form a legal representation of the country.” I was astonished at these words which appeared to me absolutely unfair.

“What?” said I. “You consider it a reasonable thing to offer a twenty-five days’ armistice, without re-victualling, to a town of two millions which has been besieged for three months?

“Why, that would be taking away exactly so many days from the resistance of this courageous town, which has shown in its days of misfortune that it was something more than a city of pleasure. Prussia’s acceptance of negotiations for an armistice could have had no meaning without at least the re-victualling of the city. By her refusal she has made the armistice impossible, and on her must fall the responsibility of breaking off the negotiations. It is she who has refused an armistice desired by the whole world.”

“No, it was not unreasonable,” he again answered me. “Prussia would have lost much too much during a twenty-five days’ armistice.” And he went on to give the most detailed reasons why the refusal was not an “unreasonable” one.

This was his principal argument:—

If the armistice had not been successful in producing peace, Prussia would have lost precious time which she would have been obliged to pass in inaction. She would thus herself have prolonged the term of sacrifices and of sufferings which the war necessarily imposed on her, and she would have lost this precious time without any kind of compensation.

“Your Government,” added the noble lord, “formally instructed M. Thiers to reject the armistice, so it is not Prussia that has to be considered responsible.”

It is difficult for two persons to come to an understanding if they start from such different points of view that one says to the other “This is just” where the other only sees a manifest injustice.

It was easy for me to see that Lord Granville would depart from none of his views, and would answer all my arguments by contrary ones. So it seemed useless to discuss the point any longer. I contented myself with saying that the actual Government of France would have been glad to convoke a National Assembly to share its heavy burdens, had they been allowed to do so.

“The devoted men,” I said, “at the head of our nation have picked up the fallen reins of power solely to arm the nation and organise national defence against the invasion. They are not ambitious of honours. They have arrogated to themselves only the duties of power, and they have done so with the sole idea of national defence.

“They would have been glad to convoke the delegates of the nation and place their power in the hands of a freely elected National Assembly, and it is solely and entirely for this end that they have demanded an armistice. Perhaps they would have been content with less than twenty-five days,” I added, in order to sound Lord Granville on this question.

This remark was to his liking. He interrupted me briskly and asked me: “How many days do you think would be enough for the elections?”

I answered that, at the narrowest computation of what was strictly necessary, I thought that it would take perhaps twelve to fifteen days to carry out the elections, but that I was in no sense qualified nor competent to say so, and this was merely my personal opinion. “But then,” said he, “the Government would do well to proceed to election in this delay and to ask for a twelve days’ armistice. It would be a great advantage for you if the country had a legal representation.”

“Would Prussia accept?”

“Yes,” said he, “she would have accepted any armistice without re-victualling....” Then, as if he had gone too far, and, as it were, to correct himself, he immediately added that of course he had no means of knowing what were the dispositions at this moment of the Prussian General Staff. He did not know whether they were still inclined to grant an armistice, and he did not like to promise us anything with regard to this....

Such was the dominant note I encountered in all my official conversations: an unmeasured fear of being exposed and compromised.

To reassure him I answered: “Do not think, M. le Comte, that I will take you at your word. I do not think the National Defence Government is willing to accept the responsibility of an armistice with the prospect of starving Paris out, even though it be only for twelve days.”

“But,” he answered, “since Paris could hold out a long time yet, as you have just told me, twelve days cannot hurt her much and twelve days will give you the immense advantage of having the country constitutionally represented.”

He developed the idea that up to the present the National Defence Government was only a de facto Government, and that it would be in its highest interests to have a National Representative at its side on which to lean.

I replied that his observation was subject to correction; that the National Defence Government was not only a de facto Government, but was approved within the country and recognised without as a legal and regular government. However, there was nothing it more ardently desired than the chance of convoking a National Assembly. “I will,” I said, “faithfully transmit your excellent suggestions to my Government.”

“How can you communicate with the Government in Paris?” he asked.

I was very glad that he put this question, for it was my intention to ask him to intervene so that I might be able to return to Paris in order to report directly and personally to my Government all the information I had gathered since the time I left.

But as I did not wish to interrupt the trend of our conversation, I answered that I should like to speak on this subject later, before taking my leave, and I asked him to have the kindness to continue developing his ideas regarding the question of the “Representation of the Country.”

Lord Granville then discussed two other methods of creating what he called the “legal representation of the country.” In asking for a “legal” representation he was above all guided by the following idea, which seemed to preoccupy him considerably, for he often came back to it; there was actually no longer a “legal” authority in France; there was a de facto Government, but it had not received legal sanction.

“There is no one,” he repeated, “under existing conditions, who has the right of treating in the name of France, and Prussia would not even know with whom to come to an understanding when the moment arrives for discussing conditions of peace.”

It was with this event in view that he so desired the meeting of a national assembly. It was no use telling him he was mistaken—for I considered it essential to show him the true situation; he persisted in his opinion; and these were the two means which appealed to him for arriving at the creation of a National Representation:—

First of all, he thought, the Conseils GÉnÉraux might furnish a Constitutional Assembly.

After developing the details of his point of view and the advantages which were to be gained from such an Assembly, he finished his remarks by this question: “Why will you not have recourse to the Conseils GÉnÉraux?” I told him that the Conseils GÉnÉraux had no constitutional right to represent the nation. He seemed to admit my argument, and reverted to his first idea:—

“But why not have the Elections without an armistice?”

His previous remarks, when we were speaking about M. Thiers, had sufficiently shown me the gist of his thoughts. He wanted to see Elections held in France by any means whatever, even without an armistice.

I could not accept such a proposition and I refused to understand how a statesman, anxious for the dignity as well as for the material interests of his country could give such advice. Elections in a country invaded by the enemy! Elections under the enemy’s gun-fire! Elections at a time when every citizen was under arms against the invader, elections, in a word, while Prussia was bombarding Paris and advancing her armies! That was an idea which I simply could not grasp. I tried, but in vain, to make him share my perplexity. Moreover, I had encountered the same idea with M. de Beust.

At the time I could not understand it and it revolted me. To-day I can see how the idea arose and held its own simultaneously in the minds of these two eminent statesmen, who held the reins of Government in two countries so different in origin, constitution and tendencies.

The National Defence Government was only, when all was said and done, a de facto Government.

The men who composed it had picked up the Executive when it fell from the Empire’s hands, only for the purpose of not letting it fall into the gutter, and for using it to defend the country against the invaders. These men certainly had the confidence of Europe, and their Government was immediately and gladly recognised by all the Powers; it had been recognised and respected even by the enemy.

But side by side with this de facto Executive there also remained the dÉbris of the fallen Government, which had by no means renounced its past, and still lived in the hope of coming back and again laying hands on the Crown, which though fallen they still thought unbroken.

On the other side there were demagogues, orators and low-class politicians, all that unhealthy ferment which had burst out on the 31st of October and nearly overthrown the National Defence Government.

The latter, it is true, had conquered this first revolt, but the pretensions and aspirations of the party which had caused the rising were not conquered. They were only pushed out of the way and reduced to silence, but they still smouldered in the ashes and no one knew when they might not break out afresh, or whether the Government would again be as fortunate in reducing them to impotence and maintaining its authority.

This is what seriously preoccupied foreign statesmen and inspired them with the idea of creating a “legal representative,” in any manner whatever, by any means and at any price. Above all they wanted to guard against unexpected surprises. Before all and above all they wanted to have an authority to deal with, which was not only a Government de facto but a Government that had been consecrated—even if only apparently—by the votes of the French people, and that could by that token be accepted by all parties and be safe from sudden attacks and ambushes. This is why Lord Granville first asked me to have recourse to the Conseils GÉnÉraux of the Empire, and when I showed him the impossibility of such a solution, this is why he suggested that we should simply hold the Elections without any armistice, by carrying them through as quickly as possible.

I should have liked to show him again how unfair and impossible I considered his proposition, but it would have been preaching in the wilderness, and so all I said was: “What would you do in the provinces that are invaded and occupied by the enemy?”

The noble lord’s answer showed me, more than anything I have said up till now, what were the thoughts which exclusively obsessed him.

Lord Granville was not embarrassed by my question. He thought one could simply get the votes of the yet unoccupied provinces, and that that would be enough to obtain a “Representation of the Nation.” I began to have less and less understanding of the Minister’s arguments, and carried away by feelings which I had difficulty in controlling, I answered with spirit: “No, M. le Comte, France will never hold Elections in such a manner.”

Did Lord Granville feel the bitterness of his proposal, or did he understand the uselessness of insisting on it? Whichever it may be, he answered me in roughly these words: “I understand. But let me see if I cannot convince you. As you do not want to have Elections without an armistice, and as the Conseils GÉnÉraux cannot serve for the composition of a Constitutional Assembly—you have explained the reasons and I quite understand them—then why have you not accepted an armistice? You say that you think twelve days might at a pinch be enough for the Elections. Then why do you not ask for a twelve days’ armistice?” Without waiting for my answer he went on to say: “Think well and look the facts in the face. Prussia could push her troops even further into France. She could occupy the whole country and would always be in the situation which is troubling us, that of not knowing with whom to treat for peace.” I think that at this point Lord Granville touched as it were on the possibility of restoring the Empire. To be more exact, he allowed me glimpses of a theory, timidly and in terms that were so vague that they have escaped my memory, that Prussia might very well come to the idea, failing a better one, of treating with the last Government which France had had.

And without waiting for my reply he continued: “France has given an exhibition of military courage which has aroused the admiration of the world, but there is also a civil courage which a great people must not neglect, and which is even greater and more admirable than military courage. You have done great things, but you must now have the civil courage which consists in recognising your true situation and in ceasing to sacrifice the precious blood of your children when such a sacrifice can no longer be of use.”

“M. le Comte,” said I, “I thank you sincerely for the expressions of admiration you have just uttered. Coming from you they have great value, but I believe that though you admire our military courage you take too black a view of the situation. We have not reached that point yet.

“Paris, wonderful Paris, the heart and the hope of France, has held out. She is on her feet and inflamed with the desire to defend herself, and she will defend herself for a long time yet. The great city is not yet ready for surrender, and the provinces are only beginning to awaken. In but a little while they will bring against Prussia, who is accustomed to the idea that there are no more soldiers in France, a young but enthusiastic army, and it will not be the first time that young French recruits have beaten the seasoned armies of Prussia. There is the truth. Military courage, therefore, is not yet useless. It is not yet beaten and need not yet hand over the fate of the country to that elder brother whom you have well called “civil courage.”

Lord Granville answered: “If you think your resistance can bring about a better result for you, you are right in continuing the struggle, however unequal it may be. But if this only serves to weaken the country even more, the men who have the fate of the nation in their hands are in duty bound to stop and not to ask for useless sacrifices from this courageous people. The resources of France are immense; we know it well. She will very quickly lift herself up from these temporary disasters.”...

M. de Beust, it will be remembered, had already expressed the same idea....

“Yes,” continued Lord Granville, “she will recover very quickly. Her elasticity is wonderful, but one must not put it to too severe a test. One must not break the springs.” I found pleasure in hearing him speak in this manner, and I began to like his slow and well-weighed words, which so far had not given me much encouragement. Lord Granville had shown a certain warmth in admiring the resources and the “wonderful elasticity” of France. He finished by laying weight on his words: “Your Government’s responsibility in continuing the conflict is great, for the nation itself has not yet pronounced on the serious question: Does it want war to continue ad infinitum?

“Your Government is full of confidence in the vitality of the country and refuses to surrender to Prussian demands, but you do not know what are the feelings of the nation. And if the nation is not of your way of thinking, or if your Government is mistaken, if instead of pushing back the enemy you were to see him advance still further? His demands would only be increased and you would have imposed sacrifices on your country that are as fruitless as they are painful.”

It was difficult not to admit the justice of this reasoning, and I did not hesitate to tell him so. But I again and insistently asked him to reflect and to admit that it was impossible to go to the country to sound its feelings while the enemy refused us the physical means of doing so. I assured him that the Government would have been happy to be able to consult the country, and that even now there was no greater nor more pressing desire; but how was it to be effected?

“Can one make Electors come together with rifles on their shoulders in order to vote, while the Prussians are advancing to occupy our towns? Is it not evident that to have Elections we must have an armistice?

“Just now,” I said, “I think I gathered that if you had a counsel to give us it would be to try and have the Elections in the shortest possible time, and to ask for a shorter armistice than in the previous negotiations, which fell through over the question of re-victualling. Would you in such a case offer your good services, and would you charge yourself with reopening the negotiations on this matter?” He answered: “I have already told M. Thiers that the best form of negotiation would be for you to address the General Staff at Versailles direct and without intermediary.”

I pointed out to Lord Granville that he himself knew the situation sufficiently well to foresee that the result of direct negotiations with the General Staff at Versailles could only be negative. “Besides,” I said, “the question which I have taken the liberty of putting to you had its sole raison d’Être in our conversation. The question was born of the moment and is part of a purely personal reflection. It was only suggested to me by my desire to show you how much I have at heart the understanding of the remarks which I have the honour of hearing from your lips.”

After Lord Granville’s advice to address ourselves direct to the General Staff at Versailles, it was clear to me that the only wish of the English Government was not to expose itself, to keep strictly and prudently out of the way and to interfere in the negotiations as little as possible—that is to say, to have nothing to do with them. For all this there was a peremptory reason. It was not entirely lack of goodwill, but the fear of compromising themselves.

Everywhere I observed this exaggerated fear of being dragged into a conflict with Prussia. At that time I regarded this feeling as one of weakness, but on reflection it seems to me that it must be judged less severely. One cannot arm from one day to another. Moreover, a great Power cannot raise its voice without giving its words the support of arms should it not be listened to. And Prussia, as I have already said, would have listened to nothing, unless it were a general at the head of a strong army. Now England at that time had no army either. She was in a complete state of peace. Besides, had she not been warned by her rebuff from the Prussian General Staff that she had only one thing to do: keep quiet!

In fact if Lord Granville thus sent me back to Versailles to re-open negotiations for an armistice it was because “Odo”—that is the Christian name by which he called the Under-Secretary of State, Mr. Odo Russell, who was with the General Staff—had written him that M. de Bismarck would no longer listen to him. “M. Odo,” said he, “wrote to me only yesterday that France had now better approach the General Staff direct and that M. de Bismarck has nothing further to say to me.”

It was an irrefutable argument, and the least I could do to repay such frankness was not to insist any more, unless it were openly to ask the Secretary of State that England should go to war.

But yet I did not wish to retire. Seeing that Lord Granville still listened to me with interest and appeared in no hurry to terminate our interview, I moved the armchair, on which I was seated and which I had pushed back a little during the last part of our conversation, a little nearer to him. His knees nearly touched mine. I looked at him, trying to read into his blue eyes, and I said:— “You have received me so kindly that I would like to speak as frankly as you will allow me. I am young, M. le Comte, and I am still younger in diplomacy....”

“And I am old in diplomacy,” he answered, laughing and showing a line of very white teeth which seemed formally to belie his words.

“You must therefore be indulgent to me and my inexperience....”

“I have not noticed it,” said he, laughing again, in order to encourage me.

“And if you find that I am perhaps too persistent you will lay the blame on my inexperience and the youthfulness of my heart. I cannot remain calm and master my emotion, when I think of Europe to-day and of the actual situation in France. It is a situation that you know well.

“Now you have given us advice, a good and excellent piece of advice, and the advice of a friend. You have told us: Hold your Elections. I have pointed out the impossibility of doing so without an armistice.... And you send me back to the General Staff at Versailles to get it! “I assure you, M. le Comte, that means war, the continuation of war to the point of exhaustion. France will not yield; she will continue to defend herself to the last man; she will let her territory be invaded down to the last village rather than accept unacceptable conditions.

“Will Europe continue as an impassive spectator of this terrible conflict?

“Will England continue to fold her arms without intervening to stop the carnage between two peoples?”

“We can do nothing to stop it,” he objected.

“But,” I said, “what a great and wonderful part you could play! You would stop a barbarous war of destruction between two civilised peoples, give back to Europe the peace she so ardently desires, and of which she has as much need as France herself after these terrible conflicts, after the entire upsetting of all political, economic and financial relationships. You would thus create for yourselves a striking claim to the gratitude not only of France, your ancient friend and ally, but also of the whole of Europe. With your great experience you can yourself clearly see that if we remain alone to deal with our enemy, his demands will be such that peace cannot be concluded in a lasting fashion.

“Therefore your intervention would be a service to all Europe.

“And all this would cost you no great sacrifice. There would be no need for you to go to war against Germany. It would be enough for you to take up a firm and resolute attitude such as reason, humanity and forethought for the future all dictate to you.”

“And if they do not listen to us? We cannot make war on Prussia! We have done all we could; we have made many representations at Versailles, but they will no longer listen to us.”

“Because you have not dared to speak as one must speak in order to be listened to. Because you have not dared or wished to speak the strong words which alone carry weight with Prussia and because you have confined yourselves to timid observations and discreet counsels, hesitatingly offered ... and which you scarcely dared to offer.

“Prussia will certainly not yield to these! But if you were to change your tone, you would very quickly see Prussia change her attitude.”

“But what attitude do you want us to take up, and what do you mean by “strong” words?”

“I will tell you, M. le Comte; say this to Prussia:—

“You have attained unprecedented successes and you have completely and entirely gained all your desires. A new conflict will add nothing to the advantages you have gained. Therefore stop now, for the war is now beginning to become a war of racial destruction. Stop, and give the French Government a chance of consulting with the people, and then conclude peace with it. Do not refuse Europe the peace which she has need of.”

—“But if Prussia pays no attention to these words?”

—“You must support your words by arms, I admit. But that will not be war, because you do not want to make war. No, it will not be war, because Prussia does not want it any more than you do. But Prussia will yield before the possibility of seeing England entering the fight at a time when she has need of all her strength to finish off with France alone.”

“How should you know that?” he answered. “What guarantee can you give me? Allow me to tell you,” and he smiled very graciously in order to sweeten his words, “you are not in the counsels of the King at Versailles and you cannot know anything about it any more than I can.”

“I do not know, it is true; but may one not make calculations?

“You know even better than I how immensely the whole of Germany desires to see the war ended. Prussia thinks that with France alone she will soon reach her goal. Will she be willing to prolong the war and in a sense renew it with a great Power like England? And I am entitled to tell you that England would not be alone with France in such a war. “I have just come from Vienna. I was told at Vienna, and authorised to repeat it to you, that Austria is disposed to go hand-in-hand with England in everything that concerns France. Austria would follow England if the latter would decide to intervene effectively in favour of France.”

“... Who told you that?” Lord Granville quickly interrupted me. “Was it M. de Beust?”

As I saw that Lord Granville was in no way inclined to do what I asked him, it did not seem necessary to answer him and perhaps to compromise a sincere and devoted friend by publishing the secret of his friendly disposition towards ourselves. So I answered this question by saying that, if Lord Granville would be kind enough to wait a moment, I would later on tell him who was the person in question. The promise, however, had been made me in Vienna, it had been made in full view of its provoking action on the part of England, and I had been expressly authorised to speak of it here. “But that would be war—and we do not want war!” he answered energetically.

“No, it will not be war. On the contrary, it will be the end of war,” I said with spirit. “It is certainly very bold of me to want to foresee events better than you and contradict a view which appears to you sound. But I say it with conviction, it will not be war. No, it will be peace, and a peace worthy of two nations, a durable peace.

“And this is the reason why. In the face of European intervention, brought about by the initiative of England, Prussia would be obliged to diminish her exorbitant pretensions, and France would, on her side, be reasonable and listen to the counsels of Europe.

“You know from his action at FerriÈres what M. Jules Favre’s policy is.

“That policy has not been changed.

“We are decided to continue the fight to the last limits of human strength, as against demands which we cannot accept. But we are ready, France is ready, to accept any conditions which are not incompatible with her honour. “Effective intervention on the part of England would therefore mean peace, and a durable peace, because it would be consented to without humiliation for the conquered side, for valiant France who will always, in spite of her actual defects, remain a great and chivalrous nation.”

My persistence did not appear to satisfy Lord Granville. He followed me willingly on every question and infused much spirit and cordiality into the conversation, but every time I came back to the noble rÔle that England might play by using her authority and power for effective intervention, he seemed painfully impressed and impatient to terminate the discussion. Perhaps he himself felt, without caring to confess it, that I was right when I showed him the splendid part his country might play in the sanguinary drama that was being enacted in France, and perhaps his were the painful feelings of a man who is obliged to fight against his own convictions. In any case, the subject seemed to importune him and try his patience. On this occasion he answered me that France must not forget that it was definitely she who had commenced the war. Our conversation turned at length round this point, the declaration of war by the Empire, the military consequences of the Empire’s fall and the change in the very nature of the war. But these questions are no longer of interest to-day, and I pass them by. Our conversation had already lasted more than an hour, and I was getting ready to say good-bye to Lord Granville.

“If I have understood you aright,” I said, “you will do absolutely nothing for us?”

“Personally I should like to do all that is in my power. For you see,” he added, with a sincere and almost paternal air, “I am fond of France and the French, and I would be happy to contribute to your success. But as a statesman I must tell you that we cannot make war for France. War, you see, is a terrible thing, and one must think well before going to war. You are a more warlike people than we are; the French fight for an idea, and that would be impossible for us. When we closed the last Session of Parliament, we undertook not to deviate from the strictest neutrality, and we were applauded by Parliament. We cannot go before Parliament now and proclaim war. We have not the right and we cannot do it.”

“But, if I am well informed,” I objected, “a war with Prussia would not actually meet with much opposition from public opinion. It seems to me that such a war would, on the contrary, be popular in England.” I also said that the situation had altered considerably since the English Cabinet had given its parting message to Parliament.

“France is to-day fighting for a just cause. She is defending hearth and home and the integrity of her soil. She has given proof of extraordinary strength and vigour in this unequal and terrible combat and she has regained that which she had lost by the declaration of war—I mean the sympathies of the entire world. That is why public opinion has changed also in England, and that is why I believe that effective intervention would in England to-day be a popular action.” Lord Granville answered me: “Let me explain the true situation of our country in this matter. The military, particularly the officers, are in favour of France. They want war. Then there is a numerous enough party among the working-class population who share this sentiment. But all the rest of the population have ideas which differ according to the political opinions which they profess. We have Republicans, Imperialists, Orleanists, Legitimists, etc. You see we have seriously considered the question,” he went on to say, “we don’t want to speak without being able to give our words the support that is necessary to make them heard. If Prussia did not listen to us, we could not let it remain at that, and we are quite decided to keep the undertaking we have made to Parliament. That is why we cannot do more than we have done up till now.”

“Which means,” I said, “that you can do nothing?” “Not so,” he answered. “But for the moment we can do nothing. Later on, when peace conditions are discussed, we will be able to intervene in the negotiations more successfully.”

“Later on!” I exclaimed. “Do you know what will happen later on, M. le Comte. Later on one of two things will happen; either we shall be victorious and we will push the Prussians back; that is what I hope, and then we will have need of no one; or we shall be conquered, and then you will dare to speak even less than now; at any rate, Prussia will then pay no more attention to your words than she does now. If you do not want to be condemned never to act, you must act now.”

Lord Granville answered: “I don’t want you to leave me under the slightest illusion on this matter. I have already said so to M. Thiers—we cannot deviate from the strict neutrality which we have observed till to-day.” He added that Prussia had long been complaining about England’s interpretation of neutrality in delivering arms to France and so prolonging her resistance. But he, Lord Granville, had answered that such had been England’s conduct since the beginning of the war, that her conduct was perfectly compatible with strict neutrality, and that she was not going to change it now, etc.

I answered: “Your reply, M. le Comte, is distinct and categorical, and I thank you for it. Only let me present one last consideration. It concerns the Eastern question. Have you nothing to fear on that side? Do you not think that France’s word will one day be useful and her help precious?

“You do not want to make war now, but perhaps you may be forced to make it later, and then you will be isolated and alone because you have abandoned France, your old friend and natural ally, in the hour of danger. Think of the future, M. le Comte! France has a future; she will recover from this war and she will be stronger, greater, and more powerful, because she has given proof of her wonderful vitality and energy in adversity. Our fleet will then be able to play a great rÔle. If you abandon us now you may be alone in your turn when you are forced to take up arms and have need of an ally.”

“When we are forced to it,” said he, “well, we will take up arms and we will go to war....” But he said that England was not for the moment in this situation and consequently he did not see the necessity for changing her policy. His Government would never take the formidable decision of dragging the country into war without being absolutely obliged to do so.

He once more recalled the terms with which the last Session of Parliament had closed, and the terrible responsibility for a Government to precipitate a nation into the sufferings and miseries of war. Then, after some protestations of friendship towards France, he finished with these words:—

“I do not want to leave the slightest misapprehension in your mind, and would like to continue elaborating my ideas.” He then definitely laid down as it were into an unchangeable proposition, the reasons which he had indicated why it was impossible to change anything in the policy that England had observed up till now.

Our Interview was at an end. Only I did not want to leave Lord Granville without saying a word on the impossibility of restoring the Empire.

He had done no more than hint at the idea that the Empire might possibly be restored to France by the enemy, and his allusions were so slight and, I might almost say, so intangible, that when an hour afterwards I returned to my lodging and made notes of the principal passages in our conversation, I found it impossible exactly to remember the terms he had employed in speaking of it.

However, he often came back to this point. Even when he insisted that the National Defence Government would do well to call a National Assembly under any conditions whatsoever, even without an armistice, one of his arguments consisted in pointing out the possibility of an Imperial Restoration. “At the worst,” he insinuated, “Prussia might well negotiate with what remains of the Empire.”

I therefore thought it would be useful not to let this idea take root in his mind, and to make him understand that it was a pure delusion, which it would even be dangerous to entertain. I told him that I did not know up to what point competent men in England were capable of seriously regarding such an event as being possible in France, but if they believed in it for a single moment they would be strangely deceived. The restoration of the Empire was henceforward absolutely impossible. The supporters of the fallen rÉgime had absolutely no illusions on this point.

“They themselves are perfectly aware,” I continued, “at least, those who have remained in France, that the country is no longer with them, and that the prisoner of Wilhelmshohe will never remount the throne of France, neither he nor those that are his. Sedan has for ever demolished the Napoleonic Idea, and the bloodstained and terrible ending of the Second Empire has for ever cured the nation of all dangerous legends. To-day we know too well what it costs a great country to give itself a master whose only merit is an illustrious name, and there is no temptation to again give way to that sort of madness! He who is to-day the enemy’s willing prisoner has fallen too low for a proud nation like France ever to forget the disgrace. Has the unhappy Emperor even to-day no fear of accusing, against all sense of justice, the brave country which was formerly his Empire, of having wanted and provoked the war? His return to France would be the signal for a general rising, and if Prussia wanted to attempt it she would be obliged to protect him with her armies and so perpetuate the war instead of definitely terminating it.”

Our conversation had lasted more than an hour and a half, and it was at Lord Granville’s own wish that it had done so, for he had been interrupted several times. On each occasion I rose to retire, but he had held me back every time, graciously and with the serious insistence of a man who does not wish to interrupt a subject which he does not yet consider exhausted. When at last I took my leave of him, he wrung my hand cordially and said he would be happy to obtain me a safe conduct which would allow me to go back to Paris, and that he would ask for it to-morrow morning.

In our conversation, as has been seen, I did not conceal my desire to find a means of returning to Paris. I would thus be able to describe to the National Defence Government the general situation in Europe, and the attitude of the Cabinets and the sentiments of the Courts of Vienna and London.

Lord Granville heard my wishes very affably, and was at great pains to help them. So I did not hesitate to profit from his disposition, and begged him to ask for a safe conduct for me.

Unfortunately my desire and his were not realised. Next day Lord Granville informed me that the dÉmarche had not succeeded and that he had been refused the safe conduct which he had asked for me.