The 1st of September was with me a busy day; among its incidents, receiving instructions from the War Office, special passport from the Foreign Office, letter of credit and necessary cash from agents, and lastly, taking leave of my beloved wife. Leaving Charing Cross by the 8.45 p.m. train, I arrived in Paris early the following morning. Later in the day, in obedience to orders, I reported my arrival to the British Embassy, presenting at the same time my official credentials. I was informed that an application would be made to the Ministry of War for a _sauf conduit_, to enable me to proceed and join the “Army of the Rhine” under Marshal MacMahon, at that time “somewhere between Verdun and Mezières, on the left side of the Meuse.”
An impression was “in the air” that all was not well with that army, but beyond rumours more or less vague nothing seemed to indicate knowledge of actual events of the previous day, still in progress at, and in the vicinity of Sedan. Afternoon and evening brought more definite particulars; telegrams from Mezières announced that MacMahon was wounded, fugitives inundating that town, all communication with Sedan “interrupted”; but to inquiries made in official quarters there was silence.
We had observed that near the Gare du Nord large numbers of workmen were engaged on the fortifications in that direction. Within the walls bodies of armed men, some in uniform, many not, marched along the thoroughfares or were undergoing drill. As day advanced crowds assembled at corners; pedestrians increased in number; kiosks and windows presented caricatures, in execrable taste, of Prussians from king to peasant. The Champs Elysées was comparatively deserted; already it had an unkept appearance. Here and there a small group gazed at the performances of Punchinello; a few equipages drove along its centre way. Agencies of various Sociétés des Secours aux Blessés had taken up positions in large buildings or open spaces; from many windows and over entrances floated Red Cross flags.
At an early hour on the 3rd, Colonel Claremont, Military Secretary to the British Embassy, conducted me to the several offices, from one or other of which he expected that the necessary orders would be issued to enable me to carry out the mission assigned to me. Failing to obtain those orders at one and all so visited, he made direct application to the Minister for War, but with no other result than an intimation that “the correspondence on the subject must pass through the ordinary routine, and in the meantime I must wait.” It was evident that something very unusual had taken place or was in progress; the demeanour of the officials with whom we came in contact indicated the fact with sufficient clearness. Colonel Claremont was in all probability made acquainted with the nature of the events in question, for as we separated, each to proceed his own way, his parting remark was, “I don’t expect now that you will go much beyond Paris.”