ue in
actual warfare. Towards the Rhine were hurried soldiers, recruits,
cannon, horses, artillery, ammunition, wagons full of biscuit and
all manner of munitions of war. The roads between Strasburg and
Belfort were blocked up, and in the disorder nobody seemed to know
what should be done. Every one was trying to get orders. The telegraph
lines were reserved for the Government. Quartermasters were roaming
about in search of their depots, colonels were looking for their
regiments, generals for their brigades or divisions. There were
loud outcries for salt, sugar, coffee, bacon, and bridles. Maps
of Germany as far as the shores of the Baltic were being issued
to soldiers who, alas! were never to pass their own frontier. But
while this was the situation near the seat of war, in other parts
of France the scene was different, especially in Brest and other
seaports. These towns were crowded with soldiers and sailors; the
streets were filled with half-drunken recruits bawling patriotic
sentiments in tipsy songs. And now, for the first time since the
Empire came into existence, might be heard the unaccustomed strains
of the "Marseillaise." It had been long suppressed in France; but
when war became imminent, it was encouraged for the purpose of
exciting military ardor.

[Footnote 1: Erckmann-Chatrian, La Plebiscite.]

Every day in the provincial towns the war fever grew fiercer. The
bugle sounded incessantly in the streets of any place where there
were troops in garrison. Regiment followed regiment on its way
into Paris, changing quarters or marching to depots to receive
equipments. Orderlies galloped madly about, and heavy ammunition
wagons lumbered noisily over the pavements. Everybody shouted "A
Berlin," and took up the chorus of the "Marseillaise." The post-offices
and telegraph-offices were crowded with soldiers openly dictating
their messages to patient officials who put them into shape, and
it was said that nearly every telegram contained the words, "Please
send me..." Alas, poor fellows! it is probable that nothing sent
them in reply was ever received.[1]

[Footnote 1: I am indebted for much in this chapter to a private
journal.]

Parisians or residents in Paris all believed at that time in the
prestige of the French army; only here and there a German exile
muttered in his beard something about Sadowa.

On July 27 all Paris assembled on the Boulevards to see the Garde
Imperiale take its departure for the frontier