the Head of the State. I made up my mind to answer: "I believe the Marshal has sent the command to General Ducrot." A fresh silence, then, after having turned his eyes upon us once again, "Ducrot is not the senior," said the Emperor, "but what the Marshal has done is well done."

Had I been right to speak? Had there been any modification of the intentions which we knew to be those of the Marshal? If I had made a mistake, how serious might the consequences of my error prove to be!

I mounted again and galloped in the direction of Bazeilles. It was not long before I perceived an ambulance carriage coming in my direction, accompanied by several of my comrades. The Marshal was lying with closed eyes and almost unconscious. I was assured that General Ducrot had taken the command. Still haunted by the dread of a misunderstanding, I went off again to look for the Imperial Staff, in order to confirm the information which I had given. It had left Sedan, and it was some time before I was able to find it on a height which commands the town.

My mission ended, I returned to Sedan to the Marshal, whose condition made me very anxious. The surgeons had extracted a splinter three centimetres long from a deep wound below the hip. Fever had set in.

It was about half past ten when we saw the Emperor come in. He had ascended the staircase with difficulty. His face was very pale. He seemed to be in terrible pain. He half opened the Marshal's door, but was not recognised by him. In going out he came to us, and, opening a note which he held in his hand, "There," said he, "is news; Wimpffen answers for the day."

General de Wimpffen, who had appealed to the letters of the Minister in order to take over the command of the army from Ducrot, did not suspect at the moment when he was writing these words on the battlefield that the German army had continued since the morning the vast turning movement which was to envelop us some hours later. He thought himself certain of triumphing over the forces which he had in front of him.

The whole of the remainder of this fatal day, the Marshal, a prey to violent delirium, took no notice of the events which were taking place. Providence spared him the pain of seeing the retreat of our soldiers, plunging in disorder like frightened cattle into the streets of the town, the appearance

of the white flag on the citadel, the disputes of our Generals, or the signature of the most humiliating capitulation which has ever been suffered by our troops.

On the following day, September 2nd, we were assembled in the little room next to the Marshal's bedroom, when an orderly announced the Crown Prince of Saxony. He had come for news of the Marshal, whom he knew to be seriously wounded. Colonel d'Abzac received him, talked with him for some time, and reported the conversation to us afterwards. The opinion of the Royal Staff was that France would make no defence, that the Germans would enter Paris without resistance, and that peace would be signed in a fortnight on condition of the surrender of Alsace and Lorraine on the part of France.

It was agreed that the wounded General should be carried away from the poisoned air of Sedan, and that we should be authorised to remain in attendance on him as prisoners on parole.

On the 5th of September the surgeons decided that the removal could take place. We established ourselves at Pourruaux-Bois, a little town near the Belgian frontier, in a house which the mayor placed at our disposal, and where we resided until the beginning of November. Thanks to his robust constitution, the Marshal had escaped the danger of hospital gangrene, which had made as many victims among our wounded as the bullets. His strength returned fairly quickly, and at the end of two months he was in a condition to travel to Germany. He informed the Commandant at Sedan, as he had undertaken to do. Wiesbaden was fixed upon as his place of confinement.

As for his officers, they were invited to accompany the Marshal, after having subscribed to the conditions stipulated on what was called "the back."

On our refusal to sign this document, Prussian soldiers came to take us from Pourru-aux-Bois, and conveyed us to Frankfort, whence we were to be conducted to a fortress in Silesia. However, Queen Augusta intervened and obtained from General Moltke the concession that we might be confined at Wiesbaden and share the lot of our Chief.

The Marshal fixed his residence in a modest villa near the gates of the town. He hardly went out of the house, in order to avoid the sight of the manifestations which marked each of our defeats. He spent his days poring over maps of France, trying to understand the operations by following the campaign with a passionate interest. Up to the last moment he did not despair. Whenever

VOL. II.

17

C

an opportunity was offered, in conversation with us, his companions in arms, prisoners like himself, he took up the defence of Gambetta. He admired his indefatigable activity and energy. Once he wrote to him to support a demand for the exchange of an officer. I do not know whether the letter reached its destination. It ended, I remember, with the expression of his warm approval of the efforts made, and with earnest wishes for their success.

Repression

Commune

During the siege of Paris, MacMahon of the displayed his soldierly qualities-energy, method, coolness. This terrible struggle, in which he conquered fellow countrymen, left no bitterness against him. His severity had been attended neither by passion nor cruelty. The tone of his proclamations was always temperate and sorrowful. He felt no triumph in such a victory. To him it was merely the fulfilment of a duty.

Such was the career, such the man. A son of two great European races, a Celt and a Frenchman, MacMahon was free from intrigue and without guile, a man of discipline and clannish fidelity. In him there was no self-seeking, no obscure motives; his character was bright and spotless, like his uniform. An excellent, industrious and judicious soldier, MacMahon was nothing but a soldier, in the sense of that sharp distinction which a uniform made, at the time when he lived, between a military man and a citizen.

Political

and

of the Marshal

This very fine man, so solid, so serious, Opinions never interfered in political affairs exAptitudes cept on the rare occasions when his conscience spoke. Bugeaud had judged him correctly politics were not his business. He said one day to the Emperor Napoleon, in the course of their long conversations during the Algerian tour, " I have never had any luck; I have

always served Governments other than that which I should have preferred." We may compare this sally with a saying imparted in confidence to the Abbé Auvray, priest of the parish of Montcresson, and alluded to by the latter when delivering the Marshal's funeral oration-" that he had regretted the fall of every Government, with one exception -his own." 1

By tradition, by tendency, he was a Legitimist, but he loved order before everything; he bowed to the accomplished fact, and in this way all his conduct must be explained, even his accession to the Presidency on the 24th of May, 1873.

He considered himself the mandatory of the Assembly as representing the country. By accepting the highest place, he was obeying orders.

Believing in deeds more than in words, he said, in the same spirit: "Confidence is not made to order, but my actions will be of a nature to command confidence."

He took no side in the moral confusion which was to accompany the birth of a new France, but he had an honourable desire to remain above all parties.

If he had been taken in this sense, all that was good and useful in him would have been turned to account, and his election would have seemed natural and wise. But passions are jealous; was required of him, perhaps some kind of intervention, the abuse of which had,

more

1 See a fragment of Mémoires inédits de MacMahon, published by the Gaulois, May 14, 1894. "A soldier, I have remained a soldier, and can say on my conscience, that not only have I served all the successive Governments loyally, but further, that on their fall, I regretted all of them except my own."

however, seemed so intolerable in the case of M. Thiers. As soon as politics were in question, the Marshal was no longer himself; his simple mind became entangled, his clear sense clouded, he lost his temper, and put himself in the wrong. Add to this the fact that M. Thiers, by no means willing that his own incontestable superiority should be forgotten, conducted, both in conversation and in the press, a lively campaign of gnat-bites and pinpricks. He put all his malice into this phrase, which he often repeated: "MacMahon! He is an excellent fellow!"

The Marshal's

With his military inferiors the Marshal Outbursts was shortspoken and clear, but in society, and especially in the presence of ladies, he was ill-at-ease. In the course of familiar conversation among intimate friends, he spoke with ease and force, and not without a certain spontaneous charm. But, on too many occasions, everything was spoiled by his shyness. At such times, unexpected and disconcerting speeches escaped him. Here are some examples of both.

One day, in the course of a review an officer left the ranks and advanced towards him with a petition. in his hands: "Before going into arrest for fifteen days," said the Marshal, "hand your petition to Colonel de Broye."

Another day, on an official circuit, a Mayor advanced, paper in hand, opening his mouth to read a long speech. The Marshal snatched the paper from the hands of the astounded Mayor and remarked with great cordiality: "Don't be put out, Mr. Mayor, I want to study it at leisure." M. Thiers would have spoken better, but perhaps he would not have said so exactly the right thing.