Chapter I

Paris in March 1870—War party pushes the Emperor—His plan of
disarmament dropped—Our new home in Paris—The French and German
question—Menace and rumours again—France makes demands and then
threats.

Forebodings? There were none in my mind when we again entered Paris on that beautiful sunny March day in 1870. It was all cheer and promise, but one knows now what horrors were hanging over it all.

We engaged the same little house which we had occupied the year before. The same servants awaited us, and as we drove through the streets on our way home, we met many acquaintances, who were driving at that hour, among them the beautiful Empress, who graciously saluted us in passing. Violets were being sold everywhere, and the air was full of the promise of spring.

This season we were determined to avoid the gaiety; we declined all invitations, seldom went to the theatre, and kept ourselves quite apart, spending our evenings at home or in the society of a few choice friends.

Our plans regarding the Emperor’s scheme of disarmament were at a standstill, for the time seemed not ripe for such an idea. The people were in a turmoil, and the throne itself seemed not on the surest foundations. We grew accustomed to hear that the only safety of the dynasty would be in a fortunate campaign. There seemed no possibility of war, and yet talk of disarmament was dropped for the Bonaparte halo largely depended upon its military glory. Neither Prussia nor Austria responded to our plan. Expansion of the army was everywhere the fashion, and our dream of disarmament fell upon deaf ears.

“The time is not ripe,” said Frederick. “I may need to abandon my hope to help personally to hasten the peace of the nations. What I can contribute is small indeed, but from the first hour it dawned upon me, it possessed me with the conviction that it was the one most important thing in the world. I must be faithful.”

If for the moment the project for disarmament must be postponed, yet I was content that there was no immediate threat of war. At court and among the people those who believed the dynasty must be rebaptized in blood had to give up all hope of glory in a charming little campaign on the Rhine. There were no French allies, the harvest had failed, forage was scarce, the army had to sell its horses, the extra recruits had been cut off by legislation, and above all there was nowhere any political complication; in short, so Ollivier proclaimed from the forum: “The peace of Europe is assured.”

Assured! How the word rejoiced me. The papers repeated it, and thousands rejoiced with me. What greater good can be given to the majority of humanity than the assurance of peace?

The worth of this lulling security, of which the statesmen assured us in June 1870, we all realise now. We might have known then and always in the future that we mistake when we put our innocent trust into the statements of diplomats. How can peace ever be secure when any hour these meddlers can turn up some agitation? We can never be secure from war until some other means for settling differences is provided.

* * * * *

In Paris again society scattered itself, but we remained in town for business, since we had decided to buy ourselves a home there; but many of our friends owned houses in the near neighbourhood of Paris, and we visited them all several times during the early summer. I clearly remember that it was in the salon of the Princess Mathilde that I first got wind that there was a new agitation in the air. It was said that a prince of Hohenzollern was a candidate for the vacant Spanish throne. It seemed of little consequence who should sit on the Spanish throne, but it cut me to the heart when I heard some one make the remark: “France will not tolerate that!” I knew what this phrase always meant: “we will not tolerate.”

The subject was idly dropped, and none of us realised the fearful result of the doubtful Spanish succession. But the point obtruded itself more and more, privately and in the newspapers. Everybody declared that Prussia wished purposely to provoke war. Yet letters from Berlin assured us that the Spanish throne was not considered a question of any importance.

We were deeply interested in our house and its furnishings, and little realised the approaching storm that began to threaten louder and louder.

On the 19th of July the French declared war against Prussia.