The Irish standard., 1918-11-23

was published by the Boston Daily
Globe, whose splendid handling and
dissemination of the momentous news
of the war has been highly praised by
all its readers.
It was the early Fall of 1870.
Along a road of Northern France
that led out from the old Fortress of
Sedan, an open carriage passed. Be-
fore it rode guard, helmeted, with
shining arms and gaily pennanted
lances. Behind it rode officers in
French uniform. Again, farther in the
rear, steel helmeted Prussian hussars,
Gathering in solid array.
In the carriage, thus guarded, sat
Napoleon III, Emperor of France. He
was going to meet the King of Prus-
sia, at Chateau Bellevue, to surrender
his sword and his armies. Great ply
sical suffering was written upon his
face, the deep lines telling of grew
GUS illness which was fast bringing
him to the grave. But the mental suf-
fering of the day was greater.
Followed by the officers of his staff,
Napoleon Ill entered the salon of the
chateau, where the Prussian leaders
awaited him. The German officers
arose courteously, as custom dictated,
and stood at attention as the Emperor
faced them. The King of Prussia,
alone remained seated. Arrogantly he
looked up at the man whose honored
guest he had been in Paris not long be-
fore.
Bent with pain, Napoleon III. drew
his blade and presented the hilt.
"Sire, here is my sword" he said.
II take it," the churlish Prussian
answered. Then he added: II give it
back to you'
The officers of the Emperor's staff
drew deep breaths, and their eyes
flashed fire. It wassthe tone of the
speech that stung them.
"He clearly meant I'll take care of
you,'" said one of the Emperor's staff,
years afterward. The officer was al
most boy at the time of the surrend-
er, fresh from st. Cyr, the West Point
of France. Into his impressionable
heart the scene at Chateau Bellevue
burned itself. He never forgot it, nor
the words of the Prussian King.
The King was grandfather of will
liam Hohenzollern, former Kaiser of
Germany.
**
The Fall of 1918!
Searchlights play upon a crossroads
not far from Sedan. Into the zone of
light three limousines come creeping
under white flags of truce. They bear
a German delegation seeking an arm
istice.
The Germans are met with every
courtesy. French officers enter their
cars to guide them over the dark roads
until Chateau Frankfort, in the forest
of Compiegne, is reached. There stop
is made for the night.
And the next day they move to Sen
lis, where, in a railway car, sits the
maker of history.
AS the Germans enter the car he ris-
es to meet them.
"What do you wish, gentlemen?"
His voice is tense, but calm.
1--WE have come, Marshal, to arrange
terms of an armistice."
His reply we do not know. 1t may
have been:
''The terms, gentlemen, already have
been arranged"
Then he reads to them the program
agreed upon by the Allies. No more
crushing ultimatum ever had been de-
livered to Power by it's triumphant
enemies.
! AS he read there was no tone of ex
ultation in the voice of this wiry, sill
ver-haired man. There was no at
tempt at vain triumphing. But way
down in his heart was stamped the
burning picture of another surrender
when he had stood among the van
quished. For the man who read tc
Germany the terms of surrender which
she must accept, and the freshly com
missioned cadet of the Emperor's stafl
at Sedan, was the same Ferdinand
Foch, today Marshal of France and
Generalissimo of Allied Armies.
|
The first picture, that of Chateau
Bellevue, was drawn by Foch himself
many years ago, while chatting in a
Paris club with an old Bostonian who
has resided in the French capital the
last 80 years. The second might
have been seen last Saturday at Foch's
Headquarters near Compiegne.
Never has the hand of fate done its
work better. For nearly so years the
i young officer who had witnessed the
humiliatipg surrender at Sedan had