led to blame what
I thought blameable, and although I have not gone into ecstacies over
the bombastic nonsense which is the legacy of the vile despotism to
which the French were foolish enough to submit for twenty years, and
which has vitiated the national character, I have endeavoured in my
correspondence to be, as far as was consistent with truth, "to all their
virtues very kind, to all their faults a little blind."

_January 20th._

This morning several fresh regiments of National Guards were ordered to
march out to the Peninsula of Gennevilliers. I accompanied one of them;
but when we got into Neuilly a counter-order came, and they were marched
back. Every house in Neuilly and Courbevoie was full of troops, and
regiments were camping out in the fields, where they had passed the
night without tents. Many of the men had been so tired that they had
thrown themselves down in the mud, which was almost knee-deep, and thus
fallen asleep with their muskets by their sides. Bitter were the
complaints of the commissariat. Bread and _eau de vie_ were at a high
premium. Many of the men had thrown away their knapsacks, with their
loaves strapped to them, during the action, and these were now the
property of the Prussians. It is impossible to imagine a more forlorn
and dreary scene. Some of the regiments--chiefly those which had not
been in the action--kept well together; but there were a vast number of
stragglers wandering about looking for their battalions and their
companies. At about twelve o'clock it became known that the troops were
to re-enter Paris, and that the battle was not to be renewed; and at
about one the march through the gate of Neuilly commenced, colours
flying and music playing, as though a victory had been won. I remained
there some time watching the crowd that had congregated at each side of
the road. Most of the lookers on appeared to be in a condition of blank
despair. They had believed so fully that the grand sortie must end in a
grand victory, that they could hardly believe their eyes when they saw
their heroes returning into Paris, instead of being already at
Versailles. There were many women anxiously scanning the lines of
soldiers as they passed by, and asking every moment whether some
relative had been killed. As I came home down the Champs Elysees it was
full of knots of three and four soldiers, who seemed to consider that it
was a waste of time and energy to keep up with their regiments.

In the