1
WAR AND REVOLUTION
Within hours after the outbreak of war, on July 15, 1870, word reached Washburne by telegraph in Carlsbad. It was "like a clap of thunder in a cloudless sky," he wrote. He quickly set out for Paris and along the way was caught up in the frantic mobilization for war. "The excitement was something prodigious, recalling to me the days at home of the firing upon [Fort] Sumter in 1861 . . . The troops were rushing to the depots; the trains were all blocked, and confusion everywhere reigned supreme." When at last he arrived in Paris on the night of July 18, the city was in chaos. "The streets, the Boulevards, the avenues, were filled with people in the greatest state of enthusiasms and excitation," he would recall.
The declaration of war had "inflamed the natural hatred of the Parisians toward the Germans." Many German nationals were arrested as spies and some later executed. A proclamation by the French government ordered the immediate expulsion of some 30,000 Germans who "came in shoals" to the American Legation, desperately seeking protection and assistance. Amid all the confusion, Washburne barely had time to dash off notes to his wife and brother after the grueling journey back to Paris.
Elihu Washburne, Paris--to Adele Washburne, La Rochelle, France--July 19, 1870
You will see I am back again in Paris. I telegraphed you yesterday from Belgium that I was on my way. I heard of the declaration of war on Saturday and left that night and arrived here at 10 o'clock last night after a terribly hard and continuous trip of 52 hours . . . I was sorry to have to give up my cure, but it was inevitable. This is my place where duty calls me and here I must remain. I have no time to write particulars this morning . . .
Elihu Washburne, Paris--to his brother Israel Washburn, Jr.--July 21, 1870
You see we are in troublesome times . . . I got back last night a good deal "banged up" and . . . worse off than I was when I left two weeks ago. The suddenness of the terrible events which we are now confronting appal the world. No human ken can measure the consequences . . . that will result from the fearful conflict which is impending. For one I had prayed never to see more war but here I am [in] the very midst of it and in a position of great responsibility and labor. I shall endeavor to meet, as best I can, all the requirements of my position . . . My Legation has been filled today with Prussians wanting to get home and I am in an important correspondence with the Foreign Office on that subject. Indeed I am overrun all the time. It is as bad as being Secretary of State at the advent of a new administration. The war is on the most miserable pretext but it could not be avoided . . . Both sides are ready . . . and will fight with unheard of desperation. I take no sides, but preserve an "armed neutrality." Adele and the children are well and . . . at La Rochelle, where they are taking sea baths. The Lord knows when I will see them as I am now tied to Paris.
On July 28 Napoléon III led his troops into battle with great ceremony. Washburne reported to President Grant that the Emperor had left Paris "with great panache and parade. He took more baggage than you did . . . when you [set] out on the Vicksburg campaign."
Although ill and worn out, Napoléon III accepted his fate and the inevitability of war, summoning his subjects to battle with a stirring proclamation: "Frenchmen! There are in the lives of people solemn moments, where national honor, violently excited, imposes itself as an irresistible force, dominates all interests, and takes in hand the direction of the destinies of the country. One of these decisive hours has just sounded for France."
But the Emperor's spirited call to war could not overcome a French army horribly disorganized, badly supplied, and badly led. They faced a Prussian force well prepared and ready to strike. It was led by the Prussian King himself, Wilhelm I, the first professional soldier on the throne since Frederick the Great; Field Marshal Helmuth von Moltke, chief of the Prussian General Staff; and the "Iron Chancellor," Count Otto von Bismarck, the King's Minister-President and architect of the war. Washburne had once seen Bismarck during a brief visit to Berlin in 1867. "He is the great I am of Prussia and his rod rules," Washburne wrote at the time, although he added, "But a rather gay boy, fond of wine and women."
It was a "magnificent" fighting force. Émile Zola warned of a "Germany ready, better commanded, better armed, sublimated by a great charge of patriotism; France frightened, delivered into disorder . . . having neither the leaders nor the men, nor the necessary arms."
On August 2, the first skirmish of war took place. French morale was briefly boosted when the army overran a small Prussian force at Saarbrücken. Back in Paris a great triumph was declared, but four days later, disaster struck. The Emperor's forces were crushed and routed by an overwhelming Prussian force at Weissenburg and Spicheren. "The two nations were in full war, and blood was flowing like water on both sides," wrote Washburne.
Muddled reports of French victories soon flooded the city, reminding Washburne of the Civil War when "rumors, exaggerations and . . . false reports . . . spread in times of such excitement."
Diary--August 6, 1870, Saturday evening
There was a tremendous time down town today, in a false report of a French victory. Somebody read a pretended dispatch that the French had taken 25,000 Prussian prisoners including the Crown Prince. Everybody in the neighborhood went perfectly crazy--flags everywhere went out of windows, people rushed wildly into the streets and went to yelling, hugging, kissing, singing, weeping, swearing and tearing. The Bourse went up wildly, opera singers were mounted on omnibuses and sang the Marsellaise and the whole crowd joined--never was such a scene witnessed on the face of the earth. Nobody pretended to doubt the news, everybody had seen the dispatch--it was official. But after the first furor had exhausted itself, somebody ventured to enquire a little and it turned out it was a hoax. The cry was raised that it was a stock jobbing affair, and the . . . cry was raised, "