did not sign, having resigned
his post that he might not be called upon to do so.

A few changes in the articles as at first drawn up were made. The
Prussians did not insist, as Bismarck had done at first, that the
cannon in the bastions should be hurled down, and regiments were
permitted to retain their colors, though Von Moltke objected strongly
to such concessions. They were granted, however, by the emperor,
when the matter was referred to him, but in words more insulting
than a refusal. "Tell the envoy of the French Government," he said,
"that we have trophies enough and standards enough taken from French
armies, and have no need of those of the army of Paris."

Then, the capitulation being signed, the armistice began. General
elections were at once held all over France, and the National Assembly
met at Bordeaux. A Provisional Government, with M. Thiers at its
head, was appointed, and peace was concluded. Alsace and Lorraine
were given up to Germany, with the exception of the stronghold
of Belfort, which had never surrendered. The German army was to
enter Paris, but to go no farther than the Place de la Concorde;
and besides the two hundred millions of francs exacted from Paris,
France was to pay five milliards, that is, five thousand millions,
of francs, as a war indemnity,--a thousand millions of dollars.
Germany was to retain certain forts in France, and her troops in
them were to be rationed by the French until this money was paid.

It was paid in an incredibly short time, chiefly by the help of the
great Jewish banking-houses; and the last of the Germans retired
to their own soil in September, 1872.

But on March 13, 1871, the German army around Paris, after remaining
a few hours in the capital, marched away towards home.

The Assembly at Bordeaux proceeded at once to transfer itself to
the late Prussian headquarters at Versailles; but on March 18 a
great rising, called the Commune, broke out in Paris, which lasted
rather more than nine weeks, with a continued succession of horrors.

CHAPTER XV.

THE COMMUNE.

The story of the Commune is piteous, disheartening, shameful, and
terrible. It seems as if during three months of 1871 "human nature,"
as Carlyle says of it in his "French Revolution," "had thrown off
all formulas, and come out _human!_" It is the story of those whom
the French call "the people,"--we "the mob," or "the populace,"--let
loose upon society, and society in its turn mercilessly