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The Fourth of September
way from the palace-gate at Peking to
the chief -yvharf at T’hoong Chow—
eighteen miles; and it has been made
“ for the nonce,” that the young Empe
ror may accompany to the boat the rec
ords of his father’s reign, which have
been transcribed into Manchoorian, and
are to be sent in state to Tartary._
Well, that seems to cap the climax 1
Such a road can be made for such a
purpose; but the highways of the na
tion, the people's roads and canals, can
not be kept in moderate repair 1 Let
us escape! “ Hire, dear friend, true
Caledonian master of the dialects, hire
for us the first boat you can secure, and
let us float away down this stream,
muddy in itself, but charming in our
eyes because it carries us away from a
place where we have been more perma
nently provoked, and less instructed
and entertained, than at any other spot
on earth, Aden, perhaps, excepted.”
in
Paris.
553
Easief said than done. A vociferous
negotiation with two boat-owners; a
persistent struggle of two hours’ con
tinuance, to get clear of the crust and
crowd of a hundred junks or more
jammed up in the narrow stream; a
final success and a joyful liberation, so
that we could seat ourselves quietly un
der our pent-house cabins, and feel that
we were quietly and constantly nearing
the outlet to our discomforts. And so
we went on, float, float, floating down
the stream, with two men lazily scull
ing, or two others slowly tracking our
boat round the countless bends of this
uninteresting water-course. It takes
four days to ascend the stream, but two
days and nights brought us to Tien
tsin, and on board an American steam
er again. Never enjoyed any thing
more, in all my life-time, than to re
embark on this symbol of a new order
of things.
*
THE FOURTH OF SEPTEMBER IN PARIS.
FAMILIAR LETTER FROM A YOUNG AMERICAN.
Paris, Sept. 4th, 1870.
Nous l’avons la RSpublique.” Like a
man who awakes from a long night
I write the date to my letter with mare, and, relieved from the weight that
precision, for it is a great day.
pressed him down and stifled him, gives
I have heard the Republic proclaimed himself up to the joy of living, of breath
in Paris!
ing, though but a moment. “ Enfin,
Proclaimed in the face of the news of j’ai bien un jour pleinement.” I hav§
the overwhelming defeat of the French, heard men say, “ je suis pret a; mourir
the destruction of MacMahon’s army, demain s’il le faut.”
the capture of the Emperor, the threat
“ Ich habe genossen das erdliche Gluck,
ened march of the Prussians upon Paris.
Ich habe geliebt et gelebt!”
France, humiliated by invasion, out
raged by Prussian barbarities, beaten,
But I will relate in detail what has
driven back, betrayed, almost ruined, passed. The French authorities, carry
France, or at least Paris, gives itself ing out their system of treating the
up, not to panic, but to a perfect out people like a set of babies, have shroud
burst of joy, to the jubilation of a fete- ed all military operations in mystery;
day. It crowns the statue of Strasbourg for at least two weeks there has been
with flowers, it promenades on the no official news from the front, and all
Place de la Concorde, the Rue de Rivoli, newspaper or private intelligence strictly
before the Hotel de Ville, as if to salute forbidden. They do not even publish
the return of a triumphant army. It lists of the killed and wounded! So for
forgets Prussia, it forgets even the Em some time we have only known that
peror, it is wild with delight, crying, the army of Bazaine was shut up in
“ Vive la Republique, a toi -citoyen. Metz, completely surrounded by a great
My Dear Father :
�554
Putnam’s Magazine.
ellipse of the Prussian armies, while
MacMahon, with 100,000 men, was
directed to the Ardennes, intending to
sweep round by the Belgian frontier, and
effect a junction with Bazaine. Stras
bourg resists one bombardment, Toul
another. Alsatia and Lorraine are pil
laged without resistance by the Prussian
soldiers and the Badois peasants,
Chalons evacuated, the Garde Mobile
withdrawn towards Paris, the National
Guards armed, but everywhere hindered
by the jealousy of the Government, who
forbids guns, organization, every thing,
any thing. Better a thousand times lose
France to the Prussians, than save it to
the Republicans; on the other hand the
people replied with the soldiers, “Chassons les Prussians d’abord, mais nous
regions nos comptes aprbs.”
Great confidence was felt in MacMahon’s army. Last Sunday, the 29th,
it was understood that fighting had be
gun in the Ardennes, it was impossible
to know with what result. Towards the
middle of the week we began to receive
the Prussian telegrams, announcing a
victory—in the absence of the slightest
information on their own side. (When
the Corps LSgislatif called on Palikao,
the Minister of "War, to explain how
matters stood, he replied curtly that he
did not mean to be bothered any more
with answering questions.)
The Paris journals interpreted these
telegrams as they best could. On Thurs
day the Gaulois published an elaborate
article to prove that the Prussians had
only defeated a small detachment of
MacMahon’s army, left on purpose to
amuse them, and cover the retreat of the
main body across the Meuse.
On Friday, MacMahon was wounded,
half his army put hors de combat, the
other half, forty thousand men, surren
dered with the town of Sedan, and the
valiant Emperor, hastening to salute his
destiny, had given himself up prisoner to
the King of Prussia. Having plunged
the country into the war, betrayed its
cause and its resources, defeated, it is
said, by his obstinate incapacity this very
campaign of MacMahon, the savior of
France, true to the traditions of the
[Nov.
Bonapartes, had no thought paramount
to the desire of saving himself, and sur
rendered to the Prussians, from whom he
expected more consideration than from
the enraged Frenchmen. So perishes a
harlequin, and all his paraphernalia of
Empire collapses as suddenly as a wind
bag pricked by a pin. One thinks of
Carlyle’s description of the death of
Louis XV, and all Du Barrydom packing
its trunks in the antechamber, ready to
whisk off to the infinite nothing whence
it had emerged, leaving a strong smell
of sulphur behind it.
The news was only transmitted to
Paris Saturday afternoon. At the ses
sion of the Corps LSgislatif, Palikao
announced reverses, but not the whole
truth : perhaps he did not know it. An
extraordinary session was convoked for
the night, and the House assembled at
twelve o’clock. There Palikao declared
the situation, and it was noticeable that
the captivity of the Emperor was passed
over as an unimportant incident in the
general disaster. He concluded his re
port, significantly enough, by admitting
that the council of ministers had no
suggestion to offer in the extreme gravity
of the situation. Upon that Jules Favre,
quite simply, as if taking up the reins of
power that the agonizing empire had
let fall, pronounced the famous res lution for the dechSance of Louis Napoleon
Bonaparte and his dynasty. “ His words
were received by a profound silence,”
said the Figaro, who, already prepared
to greet the rising sun, had turned its
back on the Empire, and forgotten to
criticize the “ mauvais esprit” of this
resolution emanating from the Left Wing.
Of all the Right, only one voice was
raised to defend the old regime. Pinard,
deputy from the North, observed, “We
have not the right to proclaim the dtichSance.”
Nobody paid any attention to this ob
servation. Jules Favre, “ out of pity
for the nakedness of the situation of the
Right,” says La Cloclie, proposed to ad
journ consideration of his proposition
till the next morning, and the session
closed. “ This scrupule alone,” continues
La Cloche, “ saved the Empire from
�1870.]
The Fourth
of
September isr Paris.
being condemned, like the royalty, in
the night.”
All night the wildest rumors circu
lated through Paris, which was over
whelmed with consternation at the dis
aster, coming after such confident pre
dictions of victory. I went to the
hospital in the morning, and M. Bernutz, the chief, came to the ward in
such a state of prostration as was really
pitiful to see. He seemed literally over
whelmed, and quite incapable of making
the visit, or examining the new patients.
Only one thing roused him, and showed
the ruling passion strong in death, or
despair. A patient remarked that she
had been formerly treated by M. Nouat,
an old rival of Bernutz in his own
specialty; at that he brightened up to
retort vivaciously, “Oh, if M. Nouat
has cured you it is a proof that you
were not very ill I ”—a remark which
greatly disgusted the patient.
Returned to the R----- s. I found al
ready another current of ideas upper
most. For them, the defeat of Mac
Mahon was a fact primed by that of the
captivity of the Emperor, and of the
proposition for the dechgance. Every
one was rushing to the Place de la Con
corde in front of the Corps Lggislatif;
my little American friends and myself
took a carriage and rushed also.
AVe arrived at half-past one; the af
fair had already been decided.
At
noon the crowd had begun to gather,
and found the bridge leading from the
Place to the Corps Lggislatif guarded by
sergeants de ville, supported by a double
line of municipal guards—the regular
army. The crowd grew more and more
dense, and, emboldened by the conscious
ness of the National Guard behind them,
(which had only just been armed), called
upon the policemen to surrender. At
this moment the crowd was unarmed,
the National Guard nowhere in sight;
but, on -the other hand, the policemen
felt the dissolution of all the powers
above them ; they had no word of com
mand, they knuckled under completely,
gave way, melted into invisibility. As
a proof of fraternization, they lighted
[Cigars, and patting the blouses friendlily
555
on the back, declared themselves their
best friends, “ honnStes gens, bons Rgpublicains.” “ Allez-vous-en, changez vos
habits, nous n’avons pas de casse-tgtes,
nous autres,” was the reply. The ad
vice was followed; by one o’clock not a
policeman was to be seen in Paris.
The soldiers of the Municipal were
even more easily vanquished. The crowd
put out feelers and talked with them.
An officer rode up on horseback. “ Vous
savez,” dit-il, “vous n’avez rien b
craindre de nous,” and with that the
second barrier melted away like the
first, the foot-soldiers mingled with the
crowd, the cavalry moved from in front
of the bridge, and the people rushed over.
The building itself was surrounded by
the National Guard. But they reversed
their guns, “ mettaient la crosse en air,”
as a signal that they intended no firing,
and the crowd ran up the steps, precipi
tated itself into the antechambers, and
awaited the arrival of the Deputies that
were to decide the fate of the nation—
fate already decided.
The President, Schneider, came out
and made a speech. His voice was
drowned in the tumult. “ Allez-vousen, allez-vous-en, nous n’avons pas
besoin de vous.” Deputies of the Right
tried to make a stand. “Allez-vousen,” was the pitiless cry. “ Vous avez
perdu la France,” cried E---- - R----- .
“ Laissons-nous la sauver,” and they de
camped one after another. One old
fellow tried the heroic style; opening
his coat, he placed his hands on his ex
panse of waistcoat, “ J’ofire mon corps
it vos coups,” he declaimed, “ vieille
charogne,” (old carcass.) “ Vous n’avons
pas besoin de vous.” And he made
tracks also.
Finally some members of the Left
tried to persuade the people to leave.
“ The House is about to deliberate on
the gravest questions; we wish to pro
claim the dgchgance, but in order.”
“ Ge n’est pas assez la dgchgance, il faut
proclamer la Rgpublique. Vive la Rgpublique! Vive la Rgpublique! ” and then
with solid fists they began to batter
against the solid oaken doors that shut
in the Chamber of Deputies. It was
�556
Putnam’s Magazine.
like the booming of distant cannon;
it sounded the death-knell of the old
regime. The majority felt that the
cause was hopeless, and took refuge in
the library under the protection of the
National Guard. The Republicans spent
some minutes in haranguing the crowd,
that now had begun to force its way
into the Chamber, and then withdrew
to the Hotel de Ville, where they pro
claimed the Republic to the expectant
masses assembled on the Place. It was
the repetition of the Jeu de Paume.
The antechamber remained full. No
one credited the report that the Repub
lican deputies had withdrawn—every
one was afraid of trickery. Finally,
they burst open all the doors, rushed en
masse into the chamber—it was com
pletely empty. The powers that were
had abdicated; the people ruled.
In leaving the buildings, M. R----observed to a member of the National
Guard, “ I recommended the deputies oi
the Right to claim your protection if they
had need of it in getting away.” “Il
y en a un pourtant, qui fefait bien de ne
pas se fier A moi, car je le fusillerais contre cette mur,—c’est Granier de Cassagnac.” Three weeks ago this famous
blackguard had threatened to shoot down
every member of the opposition. “I
should have been sorry,” said R----- to
me, “ had one of the people shot Cassagnac; but should a member of the
National Guard, a bourgeois, undertake
the affair, I had nothing to say.”
During this time the manifestation
had been lively on the Place de la Con
corde. On the central pillar of the
Corps Legislatif some one had written
in* red letters, “Rfjpublique Franqaise,”
and cries of “Vive la Republique!”
deafened the ears. There was the most
perfect order, united to the most joyful
enthusiasm. There was no occasion for
fighting any one, for every one was ani
mated by the same sentiment; and in
the general outburst of fraternity, each
individual seemed really enchanted to
grasp the hand of his neighbor, and cry
“Vive la R^publique!” A man in a
blouse came up to our carriage and ad
dressed the coachman: “Bon jour, ci-
[Nov.
toyen ; eh bien, nous l’aurons ce soil-, la
R6publique! ” He lighted his cigar,
and went off, repeating, “ Merci, citoyen,
merci, citoyen,” as if he could not too
often find a pretext for pronouncing the
dear word.
People climbed on ■ the statue of the
City of Strasbourg, and covered it with
flowers, writing inscriptions on the
pedestal, “ Vive la Republique! ” The
statue of Lyons also was decorated in
honor of the army that this city is sup
posed to send to the relief of the Alsatian
capital. Men, mounted on carriages,
harangued the people, and especially
warned them against the excesses of ’48.
Squads of the National Guard patrolled
the Place, with reversed bayonets, and
blouses of all descriptions mingled with
the handsome bourgeois uniform. “ Vive
la Garde Nationale,” cried the citizens.
“ Vive la R^publique, Vive la France! ”
replied the citizen-soldiers.
We stayed two or three hours at the
Place de la Concorde, but during this
time many events had transpired else
where. A detachment of the National
Guard had accompanied a mass of un
armed citizens to the prison of St.
Pelagie. “ 11 nous faut Rochefort,” they
thundered at the door. “Il est a Vin
cennes,” was the first reply. “ Ce
n’est pas vrai, avouaient quelques uns
de la garde tout has. 11 est ici.” With
that the crowd forced its way into the
prison, the guard only making a feint of
resistance. They demanded Rochefort
of the governor. “ Mais, messieurs,”
said the official, “ je n’ai pas d’ordres
avous le rendre.”
“Vos ordres.?
Les voici,” said one burly fellow, show
ing his fist. “ Oh, tres bien, messieurs,
devant la force, je n’airienadire,”—and
he gave up the keys.
He was logical. He had supported an
empire of force, which must necessarily
crumble before a force superior.
Rochefort was borne in triumph on
the shoulders of the people out of the
prison, as he had been carried in on the
shoulders of policemen nine months be
fore. He was carried to the Hotel de
Ville,—Jules Favre embraced him in
public.
�1870.]
The Fourth ok September in Paris.
When we drove up a little later, and
found the people still swaying under the
influence of some recent excitement, we
asked the explanation. “ C’est Jules
Favre qui embrasse Rochefort,” was the
answer. Rochefort is a symbol, and
possesses, in consequence, all the supe
rior significance possessed by a symbol
over the reality. Carrying out the rad
ical protest against the Empire made last
year by his election, the Deputies assem
bled at the HStel de Ville immediately
placed him on the list of the Provisional
Government. I 'will notice, in paren
thesis, they have also had the good
sense not to include Thiers.
*
But Rochefort was not the only sym
bol upon which the popular instinct fas
tened itself. All the signs and insignia
of the Empire and the Emperor were
attacked, the imperial eagles torn off
the Hotel de Ville, the multitudinous
busts of the imperial family shivered in
fragments, the very signs of the tailors
and other “ Fournisseurs brevetes de
l’Empereur,” broken in pieces. At one
establishment on the boulevard, where
the individual charged with the icono
clasm had demolished the first half of
the name, and there only remained-ereur,
the people, perceiving the pun, cried
out to leave it as it was.
The garden of the Tuileries was early
invaded, but no attempt made to enter
the palace. People contented them
selves with scrawling over the walls,
“Respect a; la propriStS, mort aux voleurs.” “Vive la Republique.” And
all along the Rue de Rivoli was written
on the palace, “ Logement ft Louer.”
In the sentry-box at the gate some one
had carried the joke still farther, and
written, “ Parlez au concierge; chambre
lien meublee ft louer.” Of course, the
“gracious sovereign” had put for Bel
gium some time before. Her fanfaro
nades of proclamations as ImpSratrice
Begente still decorate the dead walls of
Paris, and the recollection of her dec
larations, “Si les Prussiens viennent, ils
m’y trouveront,” remain to lend a pi
quant contrast to the reality. The im
perial family has decidedly come to the
grief it so well deserved—Monsieur at
557
Mayence under Prussian escort; Madame
at Brussels, with, it is said, the crown
jewels; the little prince, after his “bapt5me de feu,” scouring over the country
with two physicians; Plon-plon at Na
ples, whither he fled as soon as war was
declared.
Oh, dethroned princess! Oh, captive
monarch! Oh, wretched prince! The
day has gone by when the world will
weep tears over your hapless fate; when
poets will choose your woeful history as
theme for their tragedies ; when painters
will represent you, even on the back
staircase of the Tuileries, where the
brush of Gros has fixed Louis Philippe
forever! For the strange, extraordinary,
and, at first sight, almost inexplicable
circumstance in the affair, is the com
pleteness with which every trace and
vestige of imperial existence is swept
away. Since the beginning of the war,
the Emperor has indeed faded out of
sight, but that is hardly since six weeks
ago. But as late as May, the Empire
seemed in the full bloom of prosperity;
the plebiscite trick had succeeded be
yond expectation, and given the Bona
parte dynasty an indefinite lease of life.
The war, even, in concentrating all
thoughts upon foreign danger, had
hushed up for a moment the incessant
warfare of the Opposition, and such as
persisted were forcibly suppressed by
the government. People submitted to
every thing—the mobilization of the
Garde Mobile ; its incorporation in the
army; the loan of 750,000,000, covered
in a single day ; the establishment of an
Imperial cabinet; the dictature of Pali
kao ; the atrocious silence in which all
military operations were shrouded. In
deed, if the French had had only a mod
erate success—although the war was un
popular, although the majority regarded
it as senseless and unjust—still, with
success, the Empire might have been
consolidated, and the proposed reckoning
indefinitely adjourned. But, as La
Cloche remarks this morning, “the cap
tivity of the Emperor is the liberty of
the country.” L’Empire s’est donnS
sa demission. Not a blow has been
struck, hardly a protestation made or
�558
Putnam’s Magazine.
required, not an act of courage, or, alas!
I fear that it would nut have been forth
coming. But the whole gigantic hum
bug dissolved, melted away—eaten out
and out by its own rottenness. “ Je
n’ai aucune commande a l’arm^e,” said
the Emperor. “Vous n’avons aucune
proposition a; faire,” avow the minis
ters.
I am forcibly reminded of the famous
story of Edgar Poe, concerning a man
who was mesmerized at the point of
death, in such a manner that his soul
could not escape from his dead body.
The corpse, on the other hand, could
not decay as long as any soul remained
entangled in its meshes, and stayed,
therefore, in an intermediate condition
between life and death, for three years.
At the end of this time the mesmerizer
reversed his passes. The spell was brok
en ; with an immense sigh of relief, the
soul shook itself free of its charnelhouse, and at the same moment the body
tumbled into a liquid mass of putrefac
tion.
In the same way one might say that a
spell had been broken which bound
France to the Empire. The living soul
escapes—free—the Empire melts away
of itself. It is extremely important to
understand this, so as not to be the dupe
of the amiable sneers which will pres
ently circulate: ‘Oh yes, the French
never are satisfied with their government.
Four months ago they voted for it with
acclamation, and now they want a re
public again. They are not fit for a re
public.” This is most superficial non
sense, as is shown by the very simple
consideration that it is not the same
people who change, but two parties, who
have constantly been at war with each
other, and who have alternately obtained
the power. The seven and one half
millions who voted for the plebiscite will
certainly do nothing for the revolution,
but the million and a half who voted
against it are quite capable of the task,
and also of cowing into subjection the
great mass of inertia that is flung like
ballast from hand to hand. Any state
of society whose stability reposes on an
army is in a condition of unstable equi
[Nov.
librium that can always be upset in the
twinkling of an eye. It is like an in
verted pyramid, whose superhcial ex
panse only serves to conceal the narrow
base upon which it reposes. Indeed,
the main thing which excites uneasiness
after the joy of the 4th of September, is
its resemblance, in suddenness of transi
tion, to the 18 Brumaire, the 24 Fevrier, and the 2 Decembre.
But in no other respect does it resem
ble these famous days. Never was so
great a revolution accomplished in so
absolutely pacific a manner. I repeat,
it was less a revolution than a declara
tion of what really existed ; and as the
French boast, such a change of front,
made under fire of the enemy, is almost
as sublime in its boldness as in the elec
tric shock that it has given to the panicstricken people.
Panic! It is not dreamed of. The
Prussians are at Soissons — more inso
lent than ever. Already they dicrate
terms of peace from Berlin. Already are
anticipated cries of rage, both from Ger
many and England, at the proclamation
of a republic that will call into life the
republics of Spain and Italy, to form a
sanitary cordon of Latin democracy that
shall hem in the boasted Teutonic civil
ization—stronghold of feudalism.
But whatever the danger, men feel
that they live—that they are men. “ Un
til now I cared little for our disasters,”
said the interne this morning. “What
did it signify—a province more or less
to the Empire? But now that the hon
or of the Republic is concerned, I am
aroused to the gravity of our military
situation.” “ Until now,” said another
medical student, “ I have done my best
to evade being called to the army; but
to-day I have enrolled myself—for I
shall be a soldier of the Republic.”
The same feeling animated the boule
vards all night, where the Marseillaise
and cries of Vive la RSpublique certain
ly did not cease till two o’clock in the
morning. (We were on the boulevard
till midnight.) One man said: “Je
n’aime pas la Marseillaise, depuis qu’il a
6t6 souilli dans le service de l’Empire,
mieux vaut le chant de Depart:
�1870.]
The Fourth
of
September
“ La r6publique nous appelle,
Sachons nous battre au p6rir—
Un Frangais doit vivre pour elie,
Pour elie un Frangais doit mourir.”
When we returned home last evening,
the concierge and his wife stood at the
door to greet us.
“Sommes nous aussi des Republicains ? ” they cried, holding out their
hands to us as Americans.
The door was opened by an old Re
publican friend of the family. “Nous
l’avons, nous l’avons! ” he exclaimed.
At the same moment E. R. arrived; the
two men rushed into each other’s arms.
“ Ah quelle belle journee! Nous l’avons
la RSpublique ! ”—“ Oui, maintenant il
s’agii de la garder.”
It is this feeling of tenderness, of affec
tion, with which the Republic is wel
comed, that is most touching. A lost
ideal refound; no, it is more personal—
it is the exultation of a lover who finds
his long-lost mistress; and, absorbed in
delighted contemplation of her beauty,
forgets to think even of the future that
she brings back with her. It is this that
rendered the manifestation yesterday so
singularly joyful. No one seemed to
care much whether or no the Republic
could really repulse the invasion that
the Empire had called down on their
heads. A lady passed in a carriage on
the Place de la Concorde, and cried,
“A has la Prusse!” but nobody paid
any attention to her.
This appreciation of Beauty—this
perfectly developed self-consciousness
which enables each individual in mass
to seize the character of the ensemble—
(I heard several people say to-day, “ ah,
n’avons nous pas ete beaux hier! ”)—
gives a French crowd and a French
revolution a physiognomy entirely dif
ferent from that possible in our colder
northern races. It indicates their role
in the Etats-Unis of Europe for which the
present war—started in the interest of
a parvenu dynasty, and carried on in
the interests of a military feudalism—
seems really destined to pave the way.
This unanimity of the crowd is ex
plained in part by the' enthusiasm com
municated by the republicans to the
in
Paris.
559
neutrals, of all shades, from the ser
geants de ville to the National Guard and
the bourgeois, and in part by the utter
suppression of such solid sterling bour
geois as had supported the Empire, and
hated the Republic, but in the moment
of consternation do not dare to say any
thing. One could see their faces here
and there on the boulevards yesterday
—cold and sneering rather than sour or
provoked. Scepticism is always a
Frenchman’s refuge. I was furious this
morning, at the hospital, under charge of
P----- , to see the frigidity with which
he received the enthusiasm of the
interne who had helped to force the
Tuileries yesterday, of the externe who
enrolls as a “ soldier of the Republic ”
to-day. 41 This is the second Republic I
have seen,” he remarked, and busied
himself with some miserable details, af
fecting to ignore the whole matter.
I do not wonder that such men as
R----- are furious against the savants,
and corps medical, who as a body as
sume just this r61e—sneering; accepting,
fighting for all the solid crumbs of mate
rial comfort that the powers that be can
place at their disposition, but whenever
it is question of the people, treating
them as “insensgs,” “hair-brained,”
“ animus d’un mauvais esprit.”
No; fraternity cannot be universal. It
is the church militant that has to defend
truth ; and the life of every person who
cares about truth must be one of in
cessant warfare. He must learn to ren
der hate for hate, contempt for con
tempt ; to keep his back and knees stiff
and his head upright—proud, inflexible,
uncompromising. Then, perhaps, in the
course of his life-time may come to him
one such day of perfect, unalloyed tri
umph as yesterday.
Such days, in which a people lives, in
which individual lives are absorbed into
a Social Being that for a moment has be
come conscious of itself—such moments
realize the old conceptions of ecstacy
among the Neo-Platonists. It is the life
of Humanity that is the Infinite; it is
the mysterious progress of Ideas that we
understand by the “ workings of Provi
dence ; ” it is the unerring exactitude of
�560
Putnam’s Magazine.
moral retribution for good or for evil,
for true or for false, for sham or for
reality,—which represent the recom
pense of heaven and hell. The tremen
dous importance of ideas ! the only reali
ty behind the shifting phenomena of ex
istence—how is it possible to live thirty
years in the world and not have learned
it ? And yet how few there are who
trouble themselves about such “abstract
questions,” who do. not consider the
whole duty of man to consist in raising
his family in material comfort and lining
[Nov.
his pockets as comfortably as possible by
every windfall that luck or Providence
may throw in his way! Such crea
tures deserve to be cast out to wither,
severed from the deep, fruitful life of
Humanity like a branch cut off from a
vine.
I have written this long letter “ d’un
seul coup,” because I thought you would
like to hear from an eye-witness how the
Republic was proclaimed in Paris on
the 4th of September, 1870.
Your affectionate-------- .
EDITORIAL NOTES.
THE LESSON OF THE DAY.
There is a great lesson to be learned
from the present war—a lesson of the
day, and yet the lesson of six thousand
years. It is, that he who sows the wind
shall reap the whirlwind. The man or
the nation that worships wrong, shall
be by that same wrong overthrown.
Napoleon III won his throne by treach
ery and bloodshed ; he has lost it by a
tenfold treachery and a tenfold blood
shed. The French people allowed
themselves to be duped by his frauds
and cajoleries, and now they are pay
ing the penalty of their want of manli
ness and self-respect. They did not
have the courage to meet and cast off
the seducer, when he came with his
specious promises of order, prosperity,
and glory; and now, when he has
brought them before an earnest foreign
enemy, they must have courage, or die.
Louis Napoleon, as President of the
French Republic, might have lifted his
country to a pinnacle of moral prosper
ity and grandeur that the nation had
never before reached. He might have
trained his countrymen, weary of revo
lutions and suffering under the woes of
long civil wars, to a respect for law and
a love of peaceful industry which would
have given their fertile and elegant ge
nius an easy mastery of modern civili
zation. He would have retired, then,
in due time, from the seats of power,
blessed by the gratitude and love of a
happy and advancing people. But his
imagination was smitten by the dazzle
of dynastic glory. He wanted to be an
emperor, and to transmit the imperial
dignity to his descendants; and, with
that unhallowed purpose, he violated
his oaths, destroyed the constitution of
his country, butchered his fellow-citi
zens in the streets or sent them into
exile, and for eighteen years main
tained his ill-gotten power by corrupt
favoritism and the force of bayonets.
His crime was seemingly triumphant.
The nations cried out, “ Io Napoleon,
the great warrior and statesman! ”
when, suddenly, the hour of trial came
—a trial provoked by his own precipi
tate and arrogant ambition—and the
entire fabric he had so carefully reared
fell to pieces as the rottenest of struc
tures. The favorites whom he had nour
ished by corruption, were as treacherous
towards him as he had been treacher
ous towards his country. Those swords
in which he had trusted were swords of
lath, and those armies, armies of paste
board and shoddy. All his subordi
nates had but too well learned the les
son he had taught, but too well copied
the example he had set. A single ear
nest campaign snuffs out his preten
sions ; he falls without a regret, cov
ered by disgrace and contempt, and the
unmeasured ridicule of the world.
And the French people acquiesced in
his crimes; they approved, by their
�
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Title
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Victorian Blogging
Description
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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Pamphlet
Dublin Core
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Title
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The fourth of September in Paris : Familiar letter from a young American
Creator
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Putnam, M. C.
Description
An account of the resource
Place of publication: [New York]
Collation: 553-560 p. ; 26 cm.
Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. From Putnam's Magazine, Nov 1870.
Publisher
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[G. P. Putnam's Sons]
Date
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1870
Identifier
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G5732
Subject
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France
Republicanism
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<img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /><br /><span>This work (The fourth of September in Paris : Familiar letter from a young American), identified by </span><span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk">Humanist Library and Archives</a></span><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
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application/pdf
Type
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Text
Language
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English
Conway Tracts
Siege of Paris