Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1884-02-02
THE FRANCo-cERmAN WAR.
Interesting "Reminiscences Of the Great
One.Sided Conflict.

barren Of touches of nature as was the Second
Empire. From first to last it was mere scat
| folding OF mcretrciOus artificiality. There was
| the sham Caesar. iaccid person With a knack
| OF uttering obscurities conveying vague flavor
Of ominousness at which the nations pricked
!; their sensitive ears. The inner life of the empire
i was a strange mixture of rottenness and gim-
! crackery. What q court The atmosphere OF
| COmpiegne had confused aroma OF bastardy,
the demi-monde. the bourse, bogus nobility,
| Journalism in the degradation of prostitution,
militaryism, half bravo, half gallant; of intrigue
Of dissOluteness, Of insincerity of ghastly hol-
| lOwress. 1t is among the most humilating
| problems of modern times how long this nasty
gaudy caricaturc Of empire was able to impose
| on the world. 1t Is poor consolation for the
worlds long self-delusion that when the wind
| bag was once resolutely pricked, 1t should have
| collapsed with such hfadlong swiftness. The
humiliating memory cannot out ofthat eighteen
| ycar-lOng imposition.
NAPoLEON AND HIS SON.
| have seen Napoleon III at the pinnacle of
! his hollow splendor. From the German picket
! line on tho I'd Of August, 1870, heard the dis
tant cheering on the Spicherenberg that greeted
him and the lad whom he had brought from
Metz to receive that day his .'baptism of fire. -
Again saw him on the morning after Sedan,
as the broken man-broken in power, in pres
tige in health, in spirits-sat with Bismarck on
the grass plot In front OF the weaver's cottage
| on the Donchery road. Next morning
witnessed his departure into his Wilhelms-
hohe captivity. I have seen him doddering
| about Brighton and stroling under the
beech trees that encircle Chisehurst Common.
And for the last time Of all I saw that stolid
careworn face, as it lay on the raised pillow of
the bier in the broad corridor Of Camden Place;
and when the face was no more visible wit
messed the coffin laid down in the little chapel
among the Chislehurst elm trees. l knew the
boy OF the empire when the shackles of the EN-
pire had fallen from his limbs. and he was no
longer buckram creature, but lively, natural
lad. My acquaintance endured into his man
hood. When the twilight was falling on the
rolling vedt of Zuuland, and his days work in
the staff tent was done, he liked, as It seemed to
me, to gossip with one who knew the other
side OF the picture, about the early days Of
the Frenco-German war-a war that had
wrought at once his ruin and his emancipation
And finally, poor gallant lad! l saw dimly
through tears the very last Of him. as he lay
there dead on the bloOd-stained sward by the
ltyotyos river, with calm proud smile on his
face, and his body pierced by countless assegai
stabs. Men have called his death ignoble
Petty as was the quarrel, wretched as was the
desertion that wrought his fate, I call him,
Had he lived. what of artidciality. what of hol-
low unhealthy might there not have been in
store for him. AS 1t was, he had moved in the
world live ghost. Better than this, surely, to
be dead hero:-to end the Napoleonic serio-
comedy with his young face galant;y to his
assailants, and his life-blood drawn by the cold
steel!
THE EVE OF THE WAR.
I do not know how the Palace Of st. Cloud
looks now, but when 1 saw it last it was o
CHASTITY fre-blackened wreck. A German picket
OF infantry men were quartered in the rooiess
salon, where they had built themselves a shelter
OF Kind OF sc0rched tapestries and sfnged car
pet scraps. A troop of Uhlan recruits were
practicing the ndnege on the little bend bor-
dered by the stream spot that had been the
empress flower garden. Six months earlier who
IN the Widest speculation OF fancy, could have
Imagined the possibility of such fate as
this for the beautiful chateau There was
the gaunt framework Of bow window
whose outlook was up the Seine in the direction
OF Paris; this was the chief window, was told,
of the room that had been the private bureau
the study" as we should perhaps cau it-of
the Emperor Napoleon. At that window he sat
late on the afternoon of 10th July, 1870. 1t was
lawn close under his eye was the toy railroad
track that had been one of the rare Dlaythings
Of his boy. But it was hardly time for adj
miring scenery or thinking about toys. The
dreamy-eyed man with his head on his chest
had more serious food for reflection. War had
been declared. The Germans were mobilizing
like clOck-work: the French were irving to mob
ilize and finding that the attempt produced
chaos. Olivier had proclaimed his lightness Of
heart in taking the arbltrement of war 1t was
! In the council chamber next door where LIE
B9uf had proclaimed the army ready to the
last button on the last soldiers gaiter But
the gloomy, brooding man shared none of Olli-
vier's insOuc1ance;; and he knew too well how
hollow had been lie Beufs swagger. Ever a
puppet. whose wires men with stouter will pulled,
he was never stupid man. His intelligence
was so keen as to Impair his happiness; had he
been duller man, he would have had a much
better time OF his spell Of empire. He saw him
self poised between the all but certainty Of q
revolution and the all but desperate chances Of
war. In the one direction there was no hope;
In the other he could not but realize there was
only fOrlorn hope. For he had read those
ruthlessy lucid letters of Stoffel, detailing the
German preparedness; he had seen that loyal
officers finger OF warning held sternly and
markedly aloft. He knew that the sham empire
had deteriorated the once puissant French army
into nearly as great sham as itself.
MARSHAL BAZAINE.
Not very grand soldier In the physical
sense, this man, VINO in forty years Of steady
purposeful duty had raised himself from out the
very ranks to the position Of marshal of France.
He was short. somewhat tat. long In the body.
short and bulsy about the legs, and with a
puffy, rather pasty face. But there we're phys
ical features that were to be marked favorably
He had good, straight, manly eve; his mouth
had habit of setting itself firmly; his voice,
rather hOarse IN Its lower notes, had q clear
sounding ring when raised as 1t many time
and oft had been raised to bid men follow him
In the charge. He could be silent, and he
could sit still-two rare virtues In the imperial
ist sOldiery.
WOUNDS OF GENERALS IN ACTION.
curious article might be written on the i'm
munity from wounds in action Of some gener-
ais, and the ill-fortune of others in becoming
the billet for q bullet. No commander was ever
more forward in the fighting line than Sheri-
dan, yet he never got a scratch. Skobelef, who
many time went at with his own good sword,
and In his white coat and on his white charger
headed every charge with recklessness that
men called madness. had as complete an immu-
nifty as If he carried the charmed life that his
soldiers ascrlbed, and was wounded only In the
quiet trenches by chance bullet fired into the
air mile away. Wellington was but once hit
the bullet that carried away his boot heel
scarce give him confusion. Grant was never
struck; no more was Napoleon. OF Sir Neville
Chamberlain again. one of the most distin-
guished officers of our Indian army. the saying
goes that he never went into action without
receiving wound, and the gallant old man has
been fighting pretty steadily ever since the first
Afghan war. Bazaine was man to whom For
tune was not stingy in the matter of wounds
At BOrny there came to him the ieaden remin-
der that he was mortal though this time It was
but gentle hint. The fragment of q shell hit
him on the left shoulder. but 1t had been we'll
spent, and because of the protection Of the
epaulette gave him but confusion, from which
ne had pain for several days, especially when