CHAPTER XXXII
The Franco-German War
1
149.
The First French Defeats
2
It was on July 28, 1870, that the emperor left the palace of
St.-Cloud, to take command of the army in person. A gentleman
belonging to the court, who was present at the moment of
departure, recounted to me that the occasion was a most solemn
one, and that even then there was a prescience that the emperor
was leaving Paris never to return. By a decree, the empress was
made regent during the absence of the emperor. She remained
at the palace of St.-Cloud. Before the emperor left for the army,
he issued a proclamation to the French people, the first paragraph
of which was as follows: "Frenchmen! there are in the
lives of people solemn moments, where national honor, violently
excited, imposes itself as an irresistible force, dominates all
interests, and takes in hand the direction of the destinies of the
country. One of these decisive hours has just sounded for
France."
The emperor having reached the French headquarters, there
was a skirmish at Saarbrücken, on the morning of August 2.
And there was shed the first blood in the stupendous contest.
The emperor and the prince imperial1 were present at the engagement.
Napoleon magnified that little affair into an episode,
and sent an account back to Paris which only excited ridicule;
particularly, that part of it in which he stated that Louis had
received "le baptˆme de feu."2 These proclamations did not
disturb the Germans, and they soon put an end to those grotesque
fanfaronades.
On August 4 took place the first great battle of the war, at
Weissenburg, in which the brave General Douay was killed on
the field, and the French were very badly defeated. They here
fought with great courage and desperation, and the luster and
the traditional glory of French arms were upheld, but they were
crushed by the overwhelming German forces. . . .
When these events were in progress, the two nations were in
full war, and blood was flowing like water on both sides, yet the
people of Paris could get no trustworthy information from the
seat of war, though in New York and London the particulars of
the battle of Weissenburg were published by the newspapers
the next day.
The feeling of suspense and the excitement in Paris were
something most painful and extraordinary at this time, and
everybody was on the qui vive in search of news. It was not
until the London Times of August 5 arrived that anybody in
Paris had any particulars of the battle which had taken place
at Weissenburg. Between twelve and one o’clock of that day,
a very brief and unsatisfactory notice of the affair was communicated
to the press by the French authorites. The suppression
of the intelligence for so long a time excited a good deal of indignation
among the public, and the Parisian newspapers were
particularly indignant that the London Times should have published
the news six or eight hours before it was given out to them.
There was great uneasiness and discontent all over the city, and
the people were prepared for anything.
At about noon on the next day, Saturday, one of the most
remarkable and extraordinary events took place. It showed
how easily large masses of people could be deceived. There
was assembled, as usual at that hour, a great crowd of people
in front of the Bourse.1 It was then that a man in the uniform
of a courier, or messenger, rode up in front of the Bourse and
delivered into the hands of a person, who was evidently his
confederate, what he pretended was an official dispatch, and
which gave an account of a great battle having been fought, in
which the French had been victorious, taking forty guns and
twenty-five thousand prisoners, among whom was the crown
prince. A spark of fire falling upon a magazine could hardly
have produced a greater explosion. The assembled multitude
broke out into the wildest shouts, and the contents of the dispatch
were repeated from mouth to mouth, and men ran in every
direction communicating the joyful intelligence. The people
rushed into the streets; the tricolor was everywhere displayed;
men embraced and kissed each other, shedding tears of joy;
shouts, vociferations, and oaths filled the air, and such a delirium
has been seldom witnessed. The Rue de Richelieu, the Boulevards
Montmartre and des Italiens, and the Rue de la Paix were
filled with people singing the Marseillaise. Everybody declared
that the news was true; the official report had been seen and
closely scanned, and there could be no doubt of its correctness.
Madame Sass, a distinguished opera singer, was found in the
street, and the crowd insisted upon her singing the Marseillaise
from her carriage, which she did three times amid shouts of
enthusiasm. In another part of the street the multitude forced
another distinguished singer to mount to the top of an omnibus,
also to sing the Marseillaise. Soon the furor of enthusiasm began
to abate, and some persons were wise enough to suggest that it
would be well to inquire more particularly into the news, and to
see whether or not it could be confirmed. The result was, that
it was found to be a stupendous hoax. The songs at once ceased,
the flags were taken in, and the victims of the canard began to
feel indignant. As the affair originated at the Bourse, the cry
was raised in the crowd "à la Bourse," and away the people went,
breathing vengeance against the money-changers and speculators
who, it was alleged, had taken advantage of the false report to
get the benefit of a rise of about four per cent in the stocks.
Never were money-changers more summarily driven out of their
temples. In a few moments, all persons in the Bourse were
expelled, some of whom, it was said, were thrown head and heels
out of the windows and doors. About half-past three o’clock
in the afternoon, the crowd, greatly exasperated at having been
made victims of so cruel a hoax, started from the Bourse and
directed themselves toward the Place Vendôme, halting under
the windows of the Ministry of Justice. There they shouted
for Émile Ollivier, the minister of justice, and demanded of him
the closing of the Bourse from which the false news had emanated.
M. Ollivier responded in a short and well-turned speech,
closing by asking them to disperse, which they did. But still
there was great excitement all over the city, and there was intense
indignation at so easily being made the victims of a vile
canard. . . .
The Journal Officiel of the next day (Sunday) contained a
dispatch of two lines, dated at Metz, at eleven o’clock the evening
before (Saturday). Here is the text of the dispatch: "The
corps of General Frossard is in retreat. There are no details."
This and nothing more. And it is not to be wondered that such
a dispatch inspired the greatest uneasiness and anxiety. It
gave no indication of where the battle was fought or what was
the extent of the losses, and naturally the great Paris public
was tormented with fear and suspense. A proclamation of the
empress and her ministry appeared at noon in the second edition
of the Journal Officiel. This proclamation contained a bulletin
from the emperor, dated at Metz, at half-past twelve o’clock
Sunday morning, announcing that Marshal MacMahon had
lost a battle and that General Frossard had been obliged to retreat.
Another bulletin from the emperor, dated at Metz, three
hours later, announced that his communication with Marshal
MacMahon was interrupted, and that he had had no news of
him since the day before; and still another dispatch, one hour
later, from headquarters at Metz, both of which were also contained
in the proclamation of the minister of the interior, giving
a brief account of the battles of MacMahon and Frossard, but it
said that the details were wanting. It further stated that the
troops were full of élan, and that the situation was not compromised, but that the enemy was on French territory and a
serious effort was necessary.
A decree of the empress-regent convoked the Senate and the
Corps Législatif for Thursday the 11th of August. Another
decree by her Majesty placed the department of the Seine in a
state of siege. No person not in Paris at the time could have
any adequate idea of the state of feeling which the extraordinary
news from the battlefield had created, to which was added the
declaration of the siege of Paris and the convocation of the Corps
Législatif. Never had Paris seen such a day since the time of
the first revolution. . . .
It is hard to imagine the excitement and indignation among
the people of Paris upon the reception of the news of the first
disastrous battle. After the declaration of war, they seemed to
have convinced themselves that the French army would go
straight forward, conquering and to conquer, and that Berlin
would be at their feet "en huit jours."1
The trifling affair at Saarbrücken, having been unwarrantably
exaggerated, had given the people great hopes. While waiting
with confidence reports of new victories, the unquestioned
defeats at Weissenburg, Reichshoffen, and Forbach produced
the most stunning effect. They had been most completely
humbugged by the canard in regard to the pretended victory
by MacMahon. Like all people who have been deceived and
humbugged, they became very much exasperated. The empress-regent
had come to the Tuileries and had issued her proclamation,
all of which tended to increase the excitement.
1 E. B. Washburne, . 2 vols.
New York, 1887. Charles Scribner’s Sons.
2 Washburne, , vol. i, pp. 55–56, 58–62, 64–68.
1 Eugène Louis Jean Joseph, son of Napoleon III and Eugénie de Montijo, was
born in 1856.
2 "The baptism of fire."
1 The Stock Exchange and financial center of Paris.
1 "In eight days."