tion, anguish in the imperturbable serenity of mankind and nature. That great Oracle of which we stand in silent awe, that Pythian prude of many suitors, the Times, "ce coquin de Times en un mot," took leave of us with sundry speculations as to how much bread and water of affliction would tame our rebellious spirit, and how long "the city of luxury and pleasure" would consent to endure the miseries of a siege. "The city of luxury and pleasure "-there was a nasal puritanical twang about that which offended more than the smell of Bismarck's cookery: we would rather stew than be preached to.

A town that once feels itself besieged settles down to the siege, and the first distant roll of the enemy's thunder brings the same relief to the nerves as the first big drops burst from a thunder-cloud on a sultry day. With the fight of Chatillon at noon, and the Prussians still outside our walls at sunset, the siege of Paris had lost half its terrors to the imagination, and had begun to pass into the common-place of fact. But before taking up at this point the thread of my story, and proceeding with the recital of what, during our long months of captivity, we did or said or felt or suffered, I think it may be as well to pause and look backwards at the critical stages through which we had passed since the day when the first disasters of the campaign opened to us the distant prospect of what we now confronted.

Eye-witnesses of the scene which the boulevards presented on the nights of the 5th and 6th of August, can scarcely fail to recollect how the news of Wissenbourg sent Paris howling with rage and disappointment, mingled with consternation, and how the subsequent tidings of Wörth and Forbach struck her dumb with blank dismay. At once, the speedy collapse of the dynasty appeared inevitable; but what, perhaps, mere lookers-on were less prepared to witness, was the sudden and entire collapse of patriotic feeling in the capital; they had not sufficiently perceived from the first that Parisian patriotism had not as yet got beyond the stage of an exuberant Chauvinism,* confined to theatres, cafés, concerts, and boulevards, and fed with extravagant anticipations of fresh Magentas and Solferinos, military promenades and triumphal entry into Berlin by the 15th of August.

Now the drunken revel was over; Paris had danced out her imperial cancan, and woke to find herself, like Pierrot in jail, lying hopelessly prostrate in her drunkenness. It was painful to observe how vacantly she would stare at her regiments crossing her wide streets and avenues on their way to the invaded frontier. On they trudged, weary, overladen and forlorn, meeting with small comfort and still less welcome. The crowd gazed silently as they passed by; or if faint

• Chauvinism, from Chauvin, the type of a blustering patriot.

cheering broke the general silence, it only made it felt the more depressing. Unthankful, wayward Paris— what were her soldiers to her but broken playthings to a disappointed child?

In this state of utter prostration, Paris surrendered to a new Cabinet, with Palikao at its head. It was well known that the chief recommendation of the

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Chinese Count" to this post of supreme trust was a career of distinguished unscrupulousness in Africa and China which involved him in the desperate fortunes of the empire. But Paris was lost to all sense of reality. She put her faith in shams, and endured Palikao as a cleverer sham than Ollivier and Gramont. The working classes, who as a class had shown from the outset strong aversion to this war, remained in their faubourgs sullen and threatening, after some ineffectual demonstrations against the Legislative Body. Working men would congregate in knots around the ramparts and saunter on the slopes of the glacis, shrugging their shoulders at such vain demonstrations of defence as were then apparent-a few bronze 24-pounders lying on the grassy platforms of the bastions, halfpierced embrasures, spades and pickaxes strewn about in corners. "Ah! Monsieur," cries an ouvrier, "what's the use of all this without 'la République?' 'Tis useless we are betrayed. Live under Badinguet or the Roi Guillaume, what difference is it to us-'tis

only a difference of masters. Defend Paris? defend the property of the rich? A quoi bon? I don't see much good to us in that. Vive la République !"

Meanwhile Paris-that part, I mean, of Paris which struts between the Boulevard Montmartre and the Grand Hôtel, and of which numerous specimens have, no doubt, come to the surface again in Regent Street, and that other part which vegetates between the Faubourg St. Honoré and Quartier St. Antoine,-Paris had surrendered to the charms of the Chinese Dragon, Cousin Montauban de Palikao. The Gaulois, Figaro, Paris-Journal, and all that portion of the Parisian press which is ever ready to kiss a pair of gilt spurs on a pair of military boots, set to work to make matters straight, danced, and howled, and shrieked at the Prussians by way of reviving the patriotism of the boulevards, soothed Parisian susceptibility, explained away defeat, reviled Ollivier and Leboeuf, and held out promises of speedy triumph and revenge with Montauban in Paris and Bazaine at Metz. Day by day we watched the progress of the fortifications; but all this preparation was slow and dilatory, and conveyed an impression of unreality. The new Ministry pampered our fond illusions, revived our drooping confidence with skilfullydrugged telegrams and ingenious compounds of truth and falsehood. We lingered on in this state of somnolence till General Trochu's appointment to the Gover

7

norship of Paris. Thenceforth, each official bulletin which made matters right at Metz was confronted by some paper of Trochu's, conveying intimation of impending danger to the capital. Trochu and Palikao acted towards each other and towards us, respectively, the parts of Doctor Tant-Pis and Doctor Tant-Mieux

of course we gave the preference to Doctor TantMieux and his physic. Physician Tant-Mieux prescribed confidence, doled out victory in small doses, spoke mysteriously of "plans"-we always believed in "plans;" Physician Tant-Pis shook his head, looked grave, prescribed fortifications, earthworks, huge naval guns, gave orders to level houses, and razed the Bois de Boulogne.

Sunday the fourth of September came-I shall not attempt to describe the tumultuous scenes of the preceding night, for one good reason-I did not witness them; but morning came, a grey dull morning, solemn and un-Parisian, even news-boys hushed with creation into silence on this side-the left, or rive gauche of the Seine. At the Mairie of St. Sulpice, I find the crowd silently scanning the dismal tidings of the night. "Forty Thousand Prisoners. The Emperor Captured in the Fight." These last words a workman fiercely thumbs: "They've got him, so much the better, let them only keep him." We We pause before Trochu's and the Cabinet's rival proclamations, both