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SHUT UP IN PARIS.
SECOND EDITION.
LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY & SON, NEW BURLINGTON STREET,
Publishers tn ©rbirarg to ftjer fHajestg.
1871.
[The Author reserves the Right of Translation.]
LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAHFOED STREET
AND CHARING CROSS,
" 0 thou resort of all the earth !
Checkered with all complexions of mankind ;
And spotted with all crimes, in whom I see,
Much that I love, and more that I admire,
And all that I abhor, thou freckled fair,
That pleasest and yet shocks't me, I can laugh
And I can weep ; can hope, and can despond,
Feel wrath and pity when I think of thee !
Ten righteous would have saved a city once,
And thou hast many righteous ; well for thee
That salt preserves."
SHUT UP IN PAEIS.
The following journal was kept by me, while
shut up in Paris, during the investment by
the German armies.
Circumstances prevented the publication of
my notes before the civil war broke out, but I
think they will be found useful to those who
would either read or write about the causes of
that crisis.
Many incidents of the hour noted down in
the following pages acquire a sinister signifi¬
cance when read byfthe light of subsequent
events.
b
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THE FALL OF THE EMPIRE.
5th September, 1870.—I think it was Madame
de Stael who said, " The French are quick to
discern on which side power lies, and swift
to range themselves upon that side ; they love
success before all other things."
On the morning of the 3rd the "discern¬
ing " people were at their wits' end, and their
" ranging" disposition was utterly confounded.
Public opinion was literally suspended.
The newspapers without news continued to
assert that something tremendous was going
to happen for the benefit of France. Mean¬
while the boulevards and cafés were crowded ;
and the stream of passers-by was arrested by
groups of people who stood still to talk and
to gesticulate eagerly, while the loungers
eddied round them for a little time, and then
• .
continued their own languid course.
There was no more singing or shouting,
the strains of the 1 Marseillaise ' had died
away. Even the gamins had ceased to whistle
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3
it. A feeling of restless suspense pervaded
all ranks. The official news was in the stereo¬
typed tenor : " All goes beautifully ; to-morrow
we shall have glorious news."
In the evening came the news, that the army
under MacMahon had surrendered, and that
the Emperor was a prisoner. At first it was
whispered as a secret from the War Office,
and then it became public and well authen¬
ticated intelligence. The first thought of Paris
was, " the war is over." For France, for their
country, the Parisians had no thought; they
had only two ideas, which found vent in the
cries,—
" DÉCHÉANCE ! "
"VIVE LA RÉPUBLIQUE!"
One felt an intense desire to have one's
capacity for hearing, seeing, and compre¬
hending increased a hundredfold ; to be enabled
to be everywhere at once; and to miss not
one phase of the situation. I would have
had wings to my feet, and eyes all round my
head, that nothing might escape my know¬
ledge. I kept my eye to the kaleidoscope
with frantic eagerness.
4 SHUT UP IN PARIS.
The two cries were raised simultaneously
about three o'clock this afternoon, Satur¬
day, the 3rd of September. At first the
cries of " Déchéance !" and " La République !"
were hesitating and inconstant, nor did they
become much more resolute or persistent
before Sunday morning. I remarked early
on that day that the prevailing feeling was
a sense of uncertainty and timidity. The
furtive glances and shy demeanour of the
people were observable even as they dashed
and spread themselves, and here and there
raised their voices to a roar. A large pro¬
portion of the crowd were mere boys, who
seemed to have no motive but frolic. The
fall of the Empire was to them only a " cry,"
" an object in life."
They were dancing and shouting; two of
them tumbled accidentally into each other's
arms, and whirled off with charming ease
and some grace ; bystanders laughed. Pretty
young women, with babies in their arms, and
ugly old ones, with fists on their arms, alike
took part in the comical-tragical spectacle.
Some of the crowd went in a body to pay
their respects to Jules Simon ; others went
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5
to General Trochu, and sent in a deputa¬
tion, asking him to take the sceptre, and to
rule alone. The general calmly and gravely
replied: "Gentlemen, you find me unpre¬
pared. I am ignorant of events. I cannot
reply to you. I am a man of obedience and
duty. I am charged with the defence of Paris,
and defend it I will at the risk of my life."
The sergents de ville made a charge on the
mob, some shots were fired, and there was a
general vanishing away ; such as only a Paris
mob can execute. During the whole of the
night there was commotion ; but as yet little
method in the madness.
At midnight a crowd assembled outside,
while the Corps Législatif were sitting. It
was a midnight never to be forgotten. None
dared to cry Vive l'Empereur ! and few ven¬
tured to cry Vive la République ! A few
mounted Cuirassiers were to be seen here and
there, people not knowing which side they
would take. The gendarmes and sentinels
were silent and impassive. Inside the build¬
ing the galleries were crammed. No tickets
were needed. All the members were present,
and the Ministers were in their places. There
6
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was Palikao, with his granite face and firmly
closed mouth, clean shaven, neat compact
moustache, small imperial, grey hair carefully
brushed, eye cold—freezingly cold—seeming
to say : " Now give me a regiment of ehasse-
pots—-just one—and we'll see who is master."
I recall the fate of the prisoners in the cave
and shudder. He would do just so by the Red
Government looming on the black horizon of
France.
The President rises. The silence is intense.
You can hear your own breathing. President
Schneider has a handsome face, and white
hair of aristocratic silkiness. He looks out
sadly over the Assembly, and says : " Adver¬
sity has brought us together at this unusual
hour. [It was now past one o'clock, a.m.]
I have been in all haste to call you together
to deliberate upon the crisis of the hour."
After saying this, the President takes his
seat—sinks heavily into his chair. . Then all
eyes turn to the crowded ministerial bench.
Silence ensues as the old Count rises. He
is not an orator—except in the sense that all
great soldiers are orators, just as all great
orators are possessed with the martial esprit.
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7
He announces the disaster at Sedan, and
says : " In the presence of such intelligence
it is impossible for the ministry to enter upon
a discussion until to-morrow. It is but a few
minutes since I was called out of my bed to
attend this sitting."
Cries of " Oui ! oui ! " The President asks
the voice of the Chamber upon the adjourn¬
ment. Gambetta makes some exclamation.
The President repeats the question whether
postponement would not be the wisest course.
Cries of approval, when up bobs the bushy
head and out rolls the rough voice of Jules
Favre, who makes a proposition with three
articles—the dethronement of the Emperor,
the nomination of a Government commission
and the continuation of General Trochu as
Governor of Paris. The signatures are those
of the extreme Left only. The proposition is
received with surprising indifference. Favre
makes no speech. A member of the Eight
says they cannot pronounce the deposition of
the Emperor.
The Assembly adjourns at 1.30 a.m. to noon
of the same day.
At five o'clock we find, upon making a
8
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reconnoissance of the city, that all is quiet in
boulevard and street.
The sergents de ville pace their beats in quar¬
tettes, eyeing us angrily and talking in sup¬
pressed tones. They know, and we know, that
this is the stillness which precedes the storm.
Snatching an hour or two of slumber on
the back of a nightmare, à la Mazeppa, I rose
early and was up and dressed, and armed (with
my passport), hurrying hither and thither.
Thousands and thousands came pouring into
the vast and glorious Place de la Concorde, and
I soon heard the cry of Vive la République re¬
peated everywhere, without fear of the ser¬
gents de ville, who were nowhere to be seen.
They belonged to the Empire, and had passed
away with it. The Garde Nationale press
their way through the vast dense throng of
turbulent rejoicing. See! they are carrying
their guns butt end up. That means, we
won't fire on the people. The people cheer
and dance and weep for joy. The two cries
of " Déchéance !" and " Vive la République !"
are universal, and the excitement is frantic.
I suppose I must have been possessed, for
as the clock of -the Tuileries strikes a quarter
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9
to eleven, I find myself, to my astonishment,
not to say terror, with my arms folded, lean¬
ing against the lamp-post nearest to the Pont
de la Concorde, crying, " Vive l'Empereur !" at
the top of my voice. I think it was the last
time that cry was heard in the streets of
Paris. I was brought to my senses by the
threatening looks and gesticulations of those
around me, and I left my position as soon as
an opening in the crowd gave me the chance.
All the statues appeared suddenly to be
stuck over with little red flags. A little
urchin, who had climbed up to place one on
the gate of the Tuileries, finds himself sus¬
pended by his trousers on the tall iron spikes.
Young fellows with the old cockade are
buying tricolour badges and red bows.
The little Italian girl from whom I bought
a white rose yesterday, offers me to-day a
crimson ribbon for my button-hole. She
knows I am an American, and infers that I
am in favour of Parisian Republicanism.
The Garde Mobile are scattered here and
there, armed with muskets, without order or
commander. The blouses are carrying mus¬
kets, yelling " Vive la République !" They look
10
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like bandits. A distant group starts the
'Marseillaise.' It is caught up by all the
immense concourse.
There are no words that can express the
effect of the tones of the 'Marseillaise' at a
moment like this; it drives men wild, and
turns even an indifferent spectator into a
revolutionist for the moment. There are tones
in it that seem to be wrung from the heart of
a whole people.
The day is bright. The sun is kindly. The
blue sky smiles. Turn round once at the
Egyptian obelisk, and you shall see the Arc
de Triomphe, which may cover the venerable
head of King William one of these days ; the
Madeleine pillars, standing sentinel against
the angry horrors of the hour; the palace of
the Tuileries, with the flag of the Empire still
floating from its top, and the Corps Légis¬
latif, where all the interest has now con¬
centred, while beyond it the gilded dome of
the tomb of the other exiled Napoleon glistens
under the blaze of noon. The fountains are
playing as usual. The flowers in the avenue
are as yet undisturbed. It is touching to see
the rough fellows step over them. The love
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11
of these people for flowers and animals is one
of the redeeming peculiarities of their volcanic
nature. One of the massive statues in the
Place is called Strasbourg. The stately figure
is crowned with the red cap and the red flag.
The Tuileries clock strikes twelve. The
flag is not down yet. The Empress is still
there. Crowds assemble—and so does the
Corps Législatif at twenty minutes past one.
The National Guard and some mounted sabres
protect the bridge and the approaches.
Again the galleries are packed to over¬
flowing. No ventilation, great smell of un¬
clean democrats. The Diplomatic Corps are
in full force. Wonderfully magnificent ladies,
and the time-honoured revolutionary dames
of dauntless front and enormous diameter.
The Corps Législatif are debating. In a
few minutes there is a fearful uproar out¬
side—soldiers and people fraternise, and in
the briefest time the edifice is inundated with
soldiers and people, young and old, both men
and women, as well as little boys and girls ;
they burst through the door opposite the
President's desk, and fill the chamber, shout¬
ing " Déchéance !" and " Vive la République !"
12
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Some are in the costume of the National
Guard, some in that of the Guard Mobile.
Many carry chassepots, and some short swords.
The women carry only their native arms,
bare and brawny, and uplifted. There is the
usual proportion of these masculine dames,
and of young women with their babes, and of
family men, taking no part particularly, simply
smoking and watching, and of boys laughing
and shouting. It is an indescribable tableau ;
and after all attempts at description, one re¬
turns to the only adequate one—it is French !
President Schneider rises, looks down upon
the tumult with a most disconsolate counte¬
nance, not unmixed with disdain, rings the
bell nervously, and says, "All deliberation
is impossible under these circumstances, I
accordingly pronounce the sitting at an end."
The president puts on his hat at about 3*20
p.m., steps down, and disappears, followed by
all the deputies present, except those of the
Extreme Left, several of whom, and particu¬
larly Gambetta, in vain endeavour to control
the new " government."
The owners of the blouses, petticoats, and
shirt-sleeves continue to dance and howl, to
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13
brandish fists, babies, and chassepots, as it
may happen ; they cry " Déchéance !" " Vive la
République J" Little dogs chase one another
over the hall ; for wherever there is a French¬
man there is generally his dog also.
Jules Favre tries to pacify them by saying,
" Union is necessary ; the Republic has not
been declared, but it will be presently."
The noise grows more unearthly—dancing,
howling, babies screaming, women and men
gesticulating, dogs joining in the chorus of
cries with ali their might, till the " extreme
Left " are driven to their wits' end. Some of
the National Guard mount the President's
rostrum ; a villainous, ill-looking fellow takes
the chair and shakes the bell ; the green
sprigs in the muskets are waved ; one man in
a blue shirt mounts the tribune and makes a
speech, but it is inaudible. Some men seize
the pens and ram them into the inkstands,
and pretend to write ; but as they do not
know how, they can only " mâke their mark,"
and spill the ink around. The ill-looking man
rings the bell furiously ; the members of the
" extreme Left " continue their exertions on
behalf of " law and order but at length they
14
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give up in despair, and depart, leaving the
mob in possession.
The " extreme Left " is succeeded by the
extremer Left ! Somebody thinks of Roche-
fort, and cries " To St. Pelagie ! " Nobody
stirs however. But the next cry, "To the
Hotel de Ville—to proclaim the Republic!"
carries all before it ; and they move tumul-
tuously and noisily to the Hotel de Ville.
In one of the rooms of the Hotel de Ville the
members of the " extreme Left " assemble and
declare the Republic, and themselves its rulers.
Favre chooses the Portfolio of Foreign Affairs.
Gambetta prefers that of the Interior. Trochu
is continued Governor of Paris. The Legis¬
lative Body and Senate are pronounced dis¬
solved. All political prisoners and exiles are
pardoned.
A pronunciamento is voted :
" The people have anticipated the Chamber,
which was hesitating. They have demanded
the Republic. They have placed their Repre¬
sentatives, not in power, but in peril. The
Republic conquered the invasion in 1792; it
is therefore proclaimed. The Revolution is
made in the name of public safety. Citizens,
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15
keep guard over the city which is confided to
you. To-morrow you will be with the army,
the avengers of your country."
But the citizens will not wait till to-morrow.
They avenge their country then and there.
They make a perfectly successful attack upon
a portrait of the Emperor, painted by Yernet.
They bayonet it. They trample it under their
feet.
While the upper branch of the Government
is deliberating in one portion of the noble build¬
ing, the lower House is busy in their mutila¬
tion of another. They burst into a thousand
infinitesimal fragments the door which is
adorned with his Majesty's head. Benches
are smashed ; busts are knocked on the head
and captured.
Rochefort appears; he is rapturously re¬
ceived, and immediately incorporated into the
Government, on the ground, says Favre, that
he will do us less harm in office than out.
Finally the National Guard induce the mob
to leave the edifice, and the doors are closed
and guarded.
Gambetta proclaims the list of the Provi¬
sional Ministers, and says they are to be only
16
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a " transitory power, designed to defend the
nation against the foreigner."
The crowd, gathering numbers as they
went, joined the crowd already assembled in
the Place de la Concorde.
As the clock of the Palace struck half-past
three, the flag of the Empiré was taken down,
and cries arose : " She is gone ! She is gone !
She will escape !" " Déchéance !" " Vive la
République .' " " Down with Badinguet ! "
" Down with Madame Badinguet ! " " To
the Palace !"
The gates were not locked, and the multi¬
tude poured through them. A few sentinels
stood at the doors of the Palace ; they looked
irresolute. An officer came out and said some¬
thing in a low voice ; the sentinels vanished.
Then there were shouts of " Open the doors !"
" Let us in ; the Palace belongs to the nation !"
" They are getting away !" " They are rob¬
bing the Palace !" An officer appears in
parley with the foremost of the crowd; but
he retires. The fence is scaled, the last gates
are burst open, and, screeching, howling, and
laughing, the crowd rush headlong in. One
man tumbles over another man's dog; he
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17
jumps up, pats the dog, begs its owner's
pardon, and then continues the chase.
The edifice seems to be occupied by the
National G-uards, who beg the people to spare
the " National property." Everywhere these
words were to be seen written in large white
chalk letters. The National Guards did their
duty admirably and successfully, and the
people deserve the credit of listening to them.
They roamed through the Palace ; but there
was no pillage, nor any damage worth men¬
tioning. Indeed there was little or nothing
to tempt the covetous. On a bed lay a toy
sword, half-drawn ; in another room a lot of
empty jewel cases were strewn on the floor,
and on a little table some bits of bread and a
half-eaten egg.
No soldiers are left to the Empire ; the few
that remain in Paris are apathetic ; they do
not cry " Vive la République /" nor anything
else. The National Guard and the Mobile
Guard fraternise with the people.
This Sunday after the disaster of Sedan is
a fête-day in Paris from the morning till the
night.
c
19
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ESCAPE OF THE EMPEESS.
Ox Sunday, the 4th of September, the
Empress had her last official interview with
Count Palikao, who told her that he and his
colleagues, and the whole Assembly, had
been driven out by the mob, and that the
Extreme Left and the mob had gone to the
Hôtel de Yille, to proclaim a Republic, and
themselves its Ministers, with General Troehn
for President and Commander-in-Chief. The
Count declared his willingness to see what
could be done, if a reasonable number of
troops could be found who might be de¬
pended upon to make a stand for her. The
Empress replied promptly and firmly, that
not one drop of blood should be shed for her
or for her family. She resolved to depart at
once, if it were still possible.
By this time it was about 3.30 in the
afternoon, and the crowd which had gathered
round the palace already filled the palace
grounds. The old Tuileries resembled a
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19
gigantic sliip in a heavy sea. The roar of
the human billows echoed through the de¬
serted halls and apartments. Voices could
be heard on the main staircase, and the
clatter of muskets on the stones below. The
flag on the cupola had been hauled down ;
perhaps in the hope of diverting the attention
of the mob, by suggesting that the Empress
had already got away. But it had no such
effect ; the voices and tramp of footsteps came
nearer and nearer—there was not a moment
to lose. Accompanied by Madame le Breton,
sister to General Bourbaki, Prince Metternich,
M. Nigra, and a few members of her house¬
hold, the Empress began her attempt to escape.
To reach the street through the courtyard,
which was divided by an iron fence from the
Place du Carrousel, was impossible, for the
Place was full of people. They were obliged to
return, and to hurry along the whole length
of the gallery of the Louvre. The party by
this time had dwindled down to the Empress,
Madame le Breton, and the two foreign
ministers; the others had dispersed to seek
safety in their own way.
The Empress and her friends reached the
20
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door opening into the Place St. Germain
Auxerrois, opposite the church of that name.
Outside the gate there is a short passage with
a tall iron railing on each side, leading to the
street. But that street was full of people cry¬
ing " Déchéance ! " and " Vive la République I
The little party paused and hesitated, before
they ventured to open the door ; but there was
nothing to be done, except to go forward.
The crowd could be heard behind them ;
to return, would have been to fall into their
hands. The venture must be made. The
gentlemen opened the door cautiously, looked
out into the street, with dismay, and the two
ladies stepped forwards. They were not studi¬
ously disguised ; indeed, they were too thinly
veiled, for one of the inevitable gamins, catch¬
ing sight of the ladies, cried out, either in jest
or mischief, " The Empress ! "
Fortunately, no one heeded the cry, and
still more fortunately, a close fiacre was drawn
up by the kerbstone of the pavement. The
Empress and Madame le Breton entered it,
and giving a fictitious address to the driver,
rode away in safety.
It was a most critical moment, and one
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21
shudders to think of what would have been
the fate of these two women if they had fallen
into the hands of that excited mob. The
recollection of a narrow escape gives one a
pang of terror sharper than any felt during
the danger itself.
The perils of the Empress were not yet over ;
as they drove down the Boulevard Haussman
the Empress asked her friend if she bad any
money, as she herself had not her purse.
Madame le Breton brought out hers, and
found that it contained three francs only, and
then the terror seized them, that they would
not have enough to pay the driver. They
decided to alight at once, to avoid all danger
of a dispute, and they pursued their way on
foot to the house of Dr. Thomas W. Evans, the
celebrated American dentist.
They had to wait like all other visitors
until he could see them. Some time elapsed
before they were called, and then, being
ushered into the presence of the doctor,
Madame le Breton closed the door and turned
the key, and, warning the doctor to make
no exclamation that might be heard, she in¬
troduced the Empress, and told bim they had
22
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come to seek protection under his roof, until
they could leave Paris.
Dr. Evans was more astonished than might
have been expected, for, engrossed in his
patients, he was ignorant of the sudden and
complete change of affairs. At first, he could
not believe that there were any grounds of
alarm for the personal safety of Her Majesty.
He asked the ladies to remain, and putting on
his hat, he went into the streets for a short
time.
On his return, he was quite convinced
that the Empress had not left the palace a
moment too soon.
He behaved like a most loyal and gallant
gentleman ; counting the risk to himself as
nothing.
He desired them to remain his guests until
such time as he could compass means to get
them out of Paris.
Fortunately, two ladies (strangers to his
servants) were expected to arrive in the course
of a few days. The Empress and Madame le
Breton were to personate these ladies—arrived
unexpectedly. Mrs. Evans was in the country,
and the Empress, as an invalid, kept her room.
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23
As soon as it was practicable, the doctor
went out in his carriage, ostensibly to pay
professional visits, as usual—in reality to
prepare the way for passing the barriers.
He drove to the Pont de Neuilly, where he
was stopped and questioned ; he declared he
was going to see a patient, and ought neither
to be stopped nor questioned. He announced
his name and profession. One of the guards
recognised him, and said he ought to be
allowed to pass without question or passport
The doctor begged them to look at him well,
that they might recognise him, as he would
probably have occasion to pass and re-pass
the barrier frequently. He drove on, and
returned after a while, without hindrance.
The Empress and Madame le Breton re¬
mained at the doctor's house. The doctor put
his wife's wardrobe at their disposal, as they
had escaped without any provision of neces¬
saries.
"When Dr. Evans considered that the barrier
might be passed by him with tolerable safety,
he informed his guests of his plan. The Empress
was to be a highly nervous patient, whom he
was taking to a maison de santé; Madame le
24
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Breton was the friend who had charge of her.
On reaching the barrier the carriage was
stopped, to account for the doctor's com¬
panions. He pointed to the Empress, and
made a sign that she was a person of unsound
mind who must not be excited or alarmed.
The guards, who recognised Dr. Evans,
courteously drew back, and made amicable
signs of wishing him a safe journey.
This first danger passed, the carriage pro¬
ceeded to St. Germains and Ma)fnt*J There
the doctor drove to an hotel, and having
told the proprietor that one of the ladies in the
carriage was a patient whom he was taking
to a maison de santé, requested him to find a
room that could not be* overlooked, and
furnished with shutters to the window and
locks to the door—a request which was very
willingly obeyed—and here the Empress and
her companion gladly took refuge while the
doctor and the friend who accompanied him
went out to make arrangements for continuing
the journey. He sent his own carriage and
horses back to Paris.
After their departure he engaged another
carriage and pair, with a careful driver, to be
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25
ready to start in an hour for a certain chateau,
belonging, as the doctor said, to a relative of
the afflicted lady.
While the fresh carriage was being pre¬
pared he returned to his charges and made
them take some refreshment. The Empress
was told of the destination of the carriage,
and she was desired to show a great objection,
and to become so angry and restive that the
route would have to be changed for another,
which the doctor would give at the proper
time. After they had left the hotel and pro¬
ceeded some distance on their road, the Em¬
press began a lively quarrel with the doctor,
and the altercation between the "insane lady"
and her friends became so violent that the
doctor desired the carriage to stop, and tried
to persuade the lady to alight and walk a
little, which she refused to do, and objected
vehemently to going in the direction of the
chateau, whither she seemed to know they
were taking her. The driver remonstrated,
and said his horses would take fright if such
a clamour were continued, upon which the
doctor, apparently driven to despair, ordered
the horses' heads to be turned and driven to
26
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the town on the next stage, where the carriage
was sent back.
The same precautions were used at the
hotel as before. Another carriage and driver
were procured, and the party proceeded on
their journey towards their real destination,
which was Déauville, where Mrs. Evans was
then staying for the benefit of the sea
air.
At each stage a fresh driver and carriage
were hired and the other sent back. The
party had one or two very " narrow escapes,"
but the Empress was more fortunate than
Marie Antoinette and the royal family in
their attempt to escape. She was never recog¬
nised, and at the end of two days, fatigued
and harassed, and with dangers and difficul¬
ties still before them, but so far safe, the little
party arrived at Déauville and drove to the
apartments of Mrs. Evans. Here the ladies
remained, and found such repose as they were
capable of taking; while the doctor, accom¬
panied by his friend, went to see what means
existed to enable them to leave the port and
cross the Channel.
There were two yachts at anchor in the
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27
harbour. They first went on board the larger
of the two, but the owner was absent. They
then went to the Gazelle ; it belonged to Sir
John Burgoyne, Bart. On telling him their
story and begging him to give a passage to
the Empress and her friend, he at first abso¬
lutely refused to he mixed up in the matter,
having possibly some fear that it might some¬
how become a source of national complication ;
but the perilous situation of the fugitives was,
urged, and it was insisted that all risks should
he run to perform an act of common huma¬
nity. Sir John at length consented, only
stipulating that the Empress and her friends
should not come on board until the last pos¬
sible moment before the vessel was ready to
sail, in order to avoid the danger of the yacht
being detained if attention were attracted to
her passengers.
It was a prudent arrangement, for vague
suspicions were afloat in the town, and the
Gazelle received visitors who were not " wel¬
come guests;" but as no one was on board
save the rightful owner and his crew, the
baffled searchers went their way ; the Em¬
press and Madame Le Breton, accompanied
23
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by Dr. Evans, got safely on board, and the
Gazelle set sail.
The perils by land were over, but the perils
by sea had yet to be encountered. A fearful
tempest arose, the most terrible and destruc¬
tive that had for a long time been known in
the Channel.
It was in that same storm that the fine
new ship the Captain went down with her
commander and all her men : a catastrophe
which moved the heart of England more
than the loss of a battle. The commander
who then perished was the son of the vener¬
able Field Marshal Sir John Burgovne.
The little Gazelle behaved gallantly, but
the peril was fearful. The ladies were lashed
in their berths and there remained during the
whole passage. At midnight all hope of
saving either the vessel or the crew was given
up. But the storm that destroyed the Cap¬
tain spared the Gazelle, a little craft not more
than thirty-five feet in length.
Seldom have those in perils of " the great
deep " had a more wonderful or unhoped for
deliverance. The Gazelle rode out the storm
and reached the harbour of Ryde about 3
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29
o'clock on Thursday afternoon, the 8th of
September.
That afternoon the party went to Brighton,
and there Dr. Evans learned that the Prince
Imperial was at Hastings, and thither the
Empress insisted on going that same evening.
For many days the mother and the son had
been ignorant of what had become of each
other. Not one human heart in the whole
world but must sympathise in that meeting of
the mother and child, after events in which
all their grandeur and pomp, and the very
empire of France itself, had been broken to
pieces and vanished away.
As soon as possible Dr. Evans endeavoured
to find a suitable residence for the Empress
and her son. Finally Camden House, at#Chisel-
hurst, was agreed upon ; the owner, on learning
for whom it was desired, offered very generous
terms, and at Camden House the Empress
and the Prince Imperial found a haven of
rest, and the hazardous task which Dr. Evans
had undertaken was successfully completed.
30
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RUBBING OFF THE LANDMARKS.
Haying disposed of the Second Empire the
Parisians proceeded to obliterate its footprints
from " the sands of time." Shopkeepers were
allowed only a few minutes in which to re¬
move the imperial decorations from their
windows, while the new rulers, the Mob,
stood by, making grimaces and antics, and
uttering every imaginable species of street
cry, mingled with an occasional menace to
accelerate the proceedings. The medals of the
Exposition Universelle, with Napoleon III.,
EmperQur, on one side, and MDCCCLXYII.
on the other, with the familiar device of
little winged boys carrying a tablet between
them, underneath which was the Napoleon
eagle, and over all the Emperor's head, were
peculiarly exasperating to the "governing
class." The words, devices, and recollections
they suggested were like a red flag before the
eyes of an infuriated bull. I saw, however,
instances in which the destroying fist was
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31
arrested before the representation of a London
medal bearing the effigy of Britannia and her
Lion, and the inscription, "Londini, 1862,"
which showed a touching discrimination.
The busts of the Emperor and Empress were
thrown out of the windows of the houses in
which they were found ; and on one ladder I
saw a well-dressed bourgeois effacing the
street name of the Boulevard Haussmann, and
substituting that of " Victor Hugo."
The great gilt " N," taken from the
Academy, left a conspicuous mark behind.
" The substance is so powerful that the
shadow is ineffaceable," whispered an old
officer near me.
It was sometimes difficult to know why cer-
. tain places and things should be selected for
demolition ; for instance, one window had
only the word " modes " inscribed over it, and
that one word was effaced—because, as a genteel
youth told me in reply to a mild inquiry,
" the shop is suspected of having furnished
flowers to the Empress so the forget-me-
nots which were growing in the vase on
which the obnoxious word was inscribed were
thrown into the street. The crowd are like
32
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children in their love of being aimlessly
busy.
Qth September.—Victor Hugo arrived to¬
day, and received an ovation at the station.
Among those who went to receive him was to
be seen the humorous face of Laboulaye, who
was driven out of his lecture-room last spring
for having accepted office under the Emperor,
and the handsome white head of Michelet,
and the two clever sons of Hugo. The old
man's fiery eye has not yet become dim, and
he is evidently good for much hard service in
verbal pyrotechnics.
" Paris," exclaims Victor Hugo, " must not
be sullied by invasion. To invade Paris is to
invade liberty. It is to invade civilisation.
No such invasion shall triumph. Paris will
be saved by the union of all souls, all hearts,
all arms in her defence. The defeat of Paris
means new hatred, new resentments, new
barriers between people and people. Paris
must be victorious in the name of fraternity,
for only by making the fraternity of all pos¬
sible can the liberty of all be gained."
The speaker points to the United States
SHUT UP IN PARIS.
33
flag, and says : " That banner of stars speaks
to-day to Paris and to France, proclaiming
miracles of power, which are easy to a great
people contending for a great Principle :
the liberty of every race, and the fraternity
of all."
" Fudge," sneers an American ; " the
United States Republic has about as much
sympathy with this one, as a well ordered
family circle has with a lunatic asylum."
Jules Favre publishes his circular to the
diplomatic agents. "We will not cede one
inch of our territory, or one stone of our
fortresses. . . . After the forts the ramparts :
after the ramparts the barricades. Paris can
hold out three months and conquer. If she
succumbs, France, rising at her call, will
avenge her. She will continue the struggle,
and the aggressor will perish."
Paris strikes the café table with her fist
over this, and says, " Now the war will com¬
mence, and not a German will get back, home
alive." Belleville yells with " noble rage."
Only here and there a Frenchman shrugs his
shoulders and hints the misgivings he dare
not speak.
D
34
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1th September.—Vinoy arrived at 4 p.m.
with thirteen trains of artillery, eleven trains
of cavalry, and fourteen trains of infantry;
in all about 20,000 men. His jaded columns
of red legs and disordered mass of guns and
waggons, looked like nothing so much as the
floating in of a wreck upon the beach.
St h September.—Trochu proclaims that " the
defence of Paris is assured," and Paris feels a
dangerous sense of security. Does it never
occur to her that the defence of the investing
army may be equally " well assured " one of
these days ?
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35
SYMBOLIC PATfilOTISM.
September 8th.—Jules Favre says, in his
circular ; " When they piously lay crowns at
the feet of the statue of Strasbourg, they do
not merely obey an enthusiastic sentiment of
admiration : they adopt their heroic mot d'ordre ;
they swear to be worthy of their brethren of
Alsace, and to die as they have done."
This flowery swearing has been going on
ever since the 4th. I have watched these
pious devotees with profound curiosity. There
is something inexpressibly exhilarating in
watching these crowds. There may be a
strong leaven of the histrionic faculty in all
this, for which the French are pre-eminent;
but it gives expression to a real instinct in
human nature. The chivalric and the poetical
•spirit go together. Poets have beep gallant fel-
•lows-on the" field! The history of France is par¬
ticularly full of their renown. The dreamy
eyed youth I saw go up to kiss the pedestal
of the statue of Strasbourg, will fight heartily
86
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when the sentiment has to be transformed
into hard blows. The pretty little maiden
in her white cap, who sells bouquets, would, I
believe, desire nothing better than to fall beside
her lover in the front of battle. The old
soldier who has hobbled on his wooden leg
from the Invalides with his wreath of immor¬
telles—he knows what bravery is and what
battle means. The French easily become
intoxicated with phrases ; they are so addicted
to the dramatic, that the sternest realities
become to them only more or less a drama or
a " situation." It is difficult to guard against
unfair judgments; but the histrionic genius
comes out sometimes in such intensely absurd
and grotesque touches, that no mortal can
help laughing. Even the French laugh at
themselves. Their artists and their authors
gather into their books and illustrations more
absurdities than a foreigner can discern ; and
they have an exquisite expertness in deli¬
neating French character that none but they
can attain. But there is a hard and cruel
element in the French caricaturists. The
fun is not genial, it is biting ; and there is
venom in their laughter. It is not all who
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37
bring their offerings to the foot of the Stras¬
bourg statue of whom we can hope that they
are carried awayby enthusiasm,or who "swear"
in any pious sense at all. The gigantic statue
is now covered with yellow wreaths, small
flags, and bouquets. Her headdress looks like
the many-coloured bandanna of a negress.
Mottos, and indecipherable ditties cover the
pedestal; and there is a picture of General
Uhrich, framed in a wreath, in the front.
Hundreds of people assemble and stand
staring before it. National Guards in large
detachments stack their arms there and lean
on them. I asked one of them what was
their object in remaining.
He replied : "If the tide should turn
against General Uhrich, the statue might be
demolished, and it was best to be on their
guard !"
" But is the tide likely to turn ?" said I.
" It is certain to do so, if he fails."
38
SHUT UP IN PA PIS.
"THE CRY IS STILL, THEY COME!"
September 9th.—" The Prussians are advanc¬
ing on Paris in three corps d'armée." Tliis is
the official announcement. How does Paris
take the situation? The fête day over, the
stupendous humiliation at Sedan has been
succeeded by the apathetic bewilderment which
preceded that event. The frolicsome Sunday
has been followed by a week of nonchalance.
The boulevards are packed all the long even¬
ings, and you must keep a sharp lookout, or
you will never get a seat among the cognac-
sippers, there to watch and muse upon the
two opposite sluggish and flowing tides
of insensible people. Here and there you
will see a group of from twenty to sixty
gathered round a couple of men who are dis¬
cussing the war, or one man who is reading
aloud the news from an evening paper. The
infrequency of such incidents gives effect to
the mournful spectacle of universal apathy.
All day long and all night long there are
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39
squads of men with muskets on their shoulders
in the dress of workmen, and of men in regi¬
mentals without arms, lounging about the
cafés, or sauntering leisurely through the
streets. I can count citizens armed and un¬
armed, and soldiers partially armed, by the
thousand, lounging about or sauntering along.
Victor Hugo sends a letter to the G-ermans,
in which he informs them, that " Paris is a
city," and that " in ruining her they sanctify
her. The scattering of the stones will be the
dispersion of ideas." They "will take the
forts," then " the fortification," then " the bar¬
ricade," and then "mined sewers will blow
whole streets into the air." "We will draw
from the scabbard an idea." " Do we say this
to frighten you ? No ; you are Germans, you
are not frightened ! "
10th September.—Our wives have left us,
and our children, too, have fled, and we are
as forlorn as the patriarch under the juniper-
tree. W e only are left to tell the story of the
city's doom. We wonder and wonder what
that doom will be.
Yesterday I made another tour of the forts
and of the camps of our defenders. This is
40
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in itself significant. How is it that four of us
in an open voiture could survey the defences
and defenders at our leisure, and return
unmolested through the gates of the im¬
perilled city? To make the case all the
stronger, I can add that a party of Englishmen
were, on the same day and the same route,
arrested, not by a sentinel, but by a mob.
The cabman became entangled in a network
of vehicles, refused to proceed, and called for
his pay. Kemonstrance was met by the new
and fashionable remark that Anglaise and
Allemande are one and the same language.
The " Government " is as omnipresent as
it was before the 4th. It interfered, and the
English gentlemen were glad to pay up and
make off. I myself always take to my heels
when I see the " Government" coming.
An endless line of vehicles of every descrip¬
tion, size, and sort, and with every species of con¬
tents, came winding in to-day from the country.
Paris has become a city of refuge. Women
were dragging their small load of household
goods in two-wheeled carts. The perspiration
rolled down their brown faces—or, were some
of the drops tears ? Poor Jacques had more
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41
to carry than his little legs could well get on
with. In the midst of the furniture sat an old
woman, too old to walk, surrounded by grand¬
children, too young to trust on the crowded
thoroughfare. There were piles and piles of
hay, of something in sacks, of wood, of every¬
thing. Sometimes our road was blocked for
a half hour, baffling the strategy of our ener¬
getic Jehu. But finally we got into the Bois
de Yincennes, in some parts of which we
could take a breath of refreshing and uninter¬
rupted quiet. But in other parts of it the
fine trees were cut off half way up the trunk,
and the tops were made into abattis. Houses
that would obstruct the view of the approach¬
ing enemy, or shelter him when he came,
were being demolished bit by bit with pick¬
axes and hatchets, as though time, that one
element which Napoleon I. said was the all
valuable thing in war, were perfectly at the
disposal of General Trochu, who tells us in
the midst of all this chaos that the defence of
Paris " is assured."
Nobody stopped us, nobody spoke to us,
nobody seemed to care whether we were King
William's spies, or Uncle Sam's inquisitive
42
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children, or John Bull's " busybodies in other
men's matters."
We saw " the well established enceinte, the
well provisioned ports, and, above all, the
breasts of 300,000 combatants, determined to
hold out to the last."
Marshal Marmont, who commanded the
defences of Paris in 1814, said : " Whatever
may be the consequence of the most disastrous
campaign, the scattered remnants will always
amount to from 80,000 to 100,000 men, and
supported by these the forts are unassailable."
If this could be said in 1814, how much
more reason there is for saying it since the
improvements of 1841 ?
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43
"UNDER THE BOWS, WITHOUT A LIGHT."
It is the same here as it was in Metz, when
I was there in August, although then there
had been only a little of the crash and
wreck which has since overtaken France. I
remember vividly the carnival of vanity at
Metz, when the armies of King William were
coming over the Rhine. Spurs jingled and
glasses tinkled, at the little rouud tables under
the shade of the trees at the Hôtel de l'Europe.
The new saddles creaked and the new buttons
glittered. It was difficult to get out of the
way of the officer you met upon the street.
He was so absorbed in the act of looking
down upon his new suit of clothes, that he
would run right against you if you were not
agile. He, like his country, recalled that
startle which one gets sometimes at sea in a
dark night, or in a fog, when the shout comes
up from the forward deck : " A ship under
the bows, without a light !"
Such conceit, such vanity, as there was in
44
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Metz, in August, there is in Paris to-day.
All seems like an allegory, with its fantastic
scenes and solemn moral.
I believe the vanity of France will survive
every calamity, and rise superior to every
humiliation. Is there not something akin to
the heroic in even this ? But there is the silly
giggle and complacent simper which drives
you distracted. At any rate, a vanity so vital
never was seen before on the face of the earth.
France, these Frenchmen tell me, is an
idea, a sentiment, a civilisation. She is
the world's teacher and guide. The world
could not get on without her. She will now
sweep these insolent Yandals from her soil,
and come out of the fiery ordeal mightier
than ever.
I am told here what I was told at Metz :
" Oh ! we shall clean them all out. These
reverses are the best thing that could happen
tous. They have roused us. We shall drive
them out of the Vosges and over the Rhine to
Berlin."
The person who talks thus to me, so soon
as he ceases to speak, drops into his chair in
the café, the very personification of a mollusc ;
SHUT UP IN PARIS.
45
he has not the least symptom of possessing a
back-bone, moral or physical ; he has no " grit,"
as the Americans phrase it. He is like a
schoolboy, coming in from his frolic to declaim
an " oration " on " speech-day" ; with this
serious difference, that in the schoolboy there
may be the making of a " man," but that
sonorous "patriot" will never be anything
but what he is.
If Germany could have been conquered by
the tactics which reduced the walls of Jericho,
the entire army of the Empire would now be
encamped in the suburbs of Berlin. The war
has been carried into Gascony, however, and
I must have seen, without knowing it, the
officer whose " bed is stuffed with the whiskers
of the men he had slain in battle !" •
American gasconade is neutralized by
its rollicking humour, but the vain boast¬
ing of France is the only serious habit of
the people. They believe everything they
say about themselves. The only perti¬
nacity they show is in following the devices
and desires of their own vanity ; all the
energy they have is exhausted in the pursuit
of the Will o' the Wisp, created by their
46
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morbid self-conceit. Their future is a mirage
of gloire. It would seem as if every beverage
they drink were a decoction of strong delu¬
sions. " Disillmionization " is one of their
enormous words, but it is an experience to
which they never attain. They always com¬
plain, and with perfect propriety, of being
" deceived." But they never see the deceiver,
because they never look into themselves in
search of him. In like manner they always
complain of being betrayed ; but they never
recognise that they are their own worst
traitors. In their own experience, infidelity
and deceit are common ; so they naturally
suspect easily.
Leader and follower, politician and people,
general and soldier, monarchist ajad repub¬
lican, are all equally involved in this inex¬
tricable labyrinth of deception with respect to
being " ready " for the war.
France is beaten, therefore " deceived," " be¬
trayed." From the? Emperor down they Are
all crying, " Is it I ? Is jt I ?" , And upon my
word, I also cry in bewilderment, " Lord who
is it?" Upon second thought, however,
have concluded to cry, " Who is it not?"
'SHUT UP IN PARIS.
47
With the French, a battle and a duel are
the same thing, differing only in degree, not
in kind. The duel expresses both their motive
and their method in fighting. "Wounded
honour" calling for "satisfaction," and pro¬
ceeding to obtain it according to all the rules
and regulations of the " chivalric " code—two
picked armies of equal size on an open plain,
led by picked men of equal reputation, which¬
ever falls is wrong, whichever survives is
right—this will settle which was the most to
blame in the Hohenzollern quarrel.
" If it is a challenge we accept it," says
Jules Favre. Such is bituminous France.
" My people," says King William, " My
people will with me make all sacrifices to
conquer peace again for the nations."
Such is anthracite Germany, slow to catch,
but when ignited and united, inextinguish¬
able and all consuming.
" Forty centuries are looking down on you
from the tops of those pyramids," says the
Frenchman.
"England expects every man to do his
duty," is Anglo-Saxon common sense.
43
SIIUT UP IN PARIS.
" INVESTED."
14th September.—The Mayor of Paris ap¬
points a commission to revise the names of
the streets of Paris.
La Rue du dix Décembre, to be called,
Rue du quatre Septembre.
The Orleans princes were at the Hôtel
Bristol one night, but were ordered off by the
Government, and returned to London. Their
swords are no more acceptable to the Republic
than they were to the Empire.
Some members of the Legislature made an
attempt to meet at a private residence. They
were admonished by the Favre cabinet that
no conversation among ex-deputies could be
tolerated which related to politics. They
could talk social ethics or domestic economy,
but politics were a forbidden theme ; where¬
upon the Gazette de France observes, "All
governments are alike. The administrative
atmosphere perverts the feelings and corrupts
the most deeply rooted convictions."
SHUT UP IN PARIS.
49
The Red papers want to know why there
is no " blouse " in the cabinet, and why the
Government does not ornament its proclama¬
tions with the words, " Liberty ! Equality !
Fraternity !" and why it has dared to make a
prefect of police out of a Count.
Uneasy lies the head that does not wear the
crown—in France.
17th September.—The whole eastern horizon
is full of Uhlans—hurtling clouds that portend
the hurricane and tempest. Saw some in the
distance on the road beyond Versailles, where¬
upon we retired rapidly into Paris with a
feeling curiously like that of fleeing for
shelter from a storm. The gates of the city
closed after us.
Our last letters were received by this
morning's post. The old moustache, with his
awkward leather box, which he carries before
him, said he - believed he should take a short
vacation.
19 th September.—The last train went out on
the Orleans road at 1 p.m. We hear that it
was attacked by the Uhlans. The last tele-
e
50
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grain was received at 11 o'clock. They would
not undertake to send one for me. Said the
wires were cut. They shut up the office as if
business were at an end.
This news of roads cut, wires cut, and
Prussians closing in from every point of the
compass, causes a noticeable flutter on the
boulevards and in the cafés. Paris betrays
nettled vanity and alarm, which her bluster
cannot conceal.
Felix Pyat opens a subscription in his
Combat, for a fusil dhonneur to be given to the
man who shall take off King William ; and
meanwhile Jules Favre goes to King William
to confer on the question of an armistice.
The Institute protests against the destruc¬
tion of the museums and monuments by
bombardment. Everybody seems to anticipate
bombardment.
Rochefort is made president of a barricade
commission, which is going to make 11 a second
enceinte inexpugnable, on the interior of Paris."
Former landmarks are to be restored. M.
Gaultier-Bossière is instructed by the govern¬
ment to put " Liberty, Equality, and Frater¬
nity " on the public edifices.
SHUT UP IN PARIS.
51
Victor Hugo consoles us with the informa¬
tion that "Paris has an angry civilization
fermenting within her. The red furnace of
the Republic blazes in her crater, and it is.
full, this powerful Paris, of all the explosions
of the human soul. Tranquil and terrible, she
awaits the invasion. A volcano needs no
assistance."
52
SHUT UP IN PARIS.
AN OLD HUGUENOT.
Last night I made another reconnoissance of
the pleasure-world of Paris, in order to see
how it was taking the situation ; and I found it
was taking the situation joyously. The " gar¬
dens of delight" were crammed with the lovers
of pleasure—dancing, sipping, smoking, chat¬
ting, sauntering. But there was the usual
absence of drunkenness and boisterousness.
In this respect Paris contrasts favourably with
London, and this race to ours. In all their
carousals, they are remarkable for sobriety
and quiet.
" No, Monsieur—no ; not one of the Cos¬
sacks will get back alive;" and the young
man who said this, immediately upon saying
it was summoned back into the whirlpool of
waltzers by the music of the band.
As I wandered about among the throng,
I was surprised to stumble upon an old
Huguenot, or rather, the venerable and
eccentric man who is called a Huguenot
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53
because he is proud of bis descent from an¬
cestors who suffered for their faith under
Louis XIY., when the Edict of Nantes was
revoked, which drove away the best and
most earnest of Frenchmen, whose loss is
felt in the national character to this day.
France would have been a different country
had the stern Huguenot element been retained.
The old Huguenot whom I met in my
ramble that night is what I imagine to have
been the old Puritan type. He has a mouth
to be remembered—it is the mouth of a " good
hater it has a biting expression both in re¬
pose and in action ; the upper and the lower
lip are kept scrupulously shaven, though the
operation has been somewhat unskilfully per¬
formed, as they are generally cut in one spot or
another ; the teeth are sharp, projecting, and
angular; chin and cheeks are covered with
scraggy, coarse iron-grey hair. The eyes are,
however, singularly soft and gentle, and little
children and poor people believe in his eyes,
and do not pay any heed to his hard mouth.
There is the same contradiction in the man's
character; he revels in the denunciations of
the Old Testament against sin and wickedness ;
54
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he quotes, with passionate earnestness, the
awful threatenings of the Prophets; he be¬
lieves that the Day of Vengeance is at hand,
and that judgment is gone out against Paris,
and that the blood of the Huguenot persecu¬
tions is about to be avenged; but he is
generous, charitable, and gentle in practice,
thoroughly religious, and full of earnest con¬
victions, He talks out his own ideas with a
rugged bigotry that is impressive, and which
is a complete contrast to the sonorous phrases
and glittering generalities in which most
Frenchmen indulge. His dress is in keeping
with himself ; it does not follow the fashions.
The hat resembles a chimney-pot; in some
places it is bare and napless and brown, but
it is scrupulously brushed ; his coat is old-
fashioned, and he wears a large white neck¬
cloth with ruffles at the bosom of his shirt;
and he wears sharp-toed shoes. His figure is
tall and gaunt. But the kindly look of the
eyes, and the grim expression of the mouth,
combine to give the impression of the whole
character of the man.
Such was the manner of man who startled
me with his unexpected presence in the gar-
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dens on that evening. His first words were :
" All this does not look much like preparing
for its doom, does it ? "
" Then you believe there is a doom impend¬
ing ?" said I.
" Certain ! certain ! The Lord has a mighty
and strong arm, which, as a tempest, shall cast
down to the earth, the land, with the Crown
of Pride. I have lived fifty years in expecta¬
tion of this day. I have gone about this
joyous city, weighed down with a sense of all
this appalling shame and corruption. See
how they are dancing on the brink of a preci¬
pice : nothing will awaken them but the fierce
wrath of the Almighty, devouring them with
fire and sword. ' The destruction of trans¬
gressors and of sinners shall be together ;
they shall both burn together, and none shall
quench them.' But we are observed : we must
part : we will meet again. Mark, as you go
out, that young thing in the pink dress. She is
the victim of Paris. Poor thing ! poor thing !"
I looked back as I turned away, and saw the
old Huguenot with tears in his eyes for the
people over whom he had just been breathing
forth such terrible threatening and woe.
Rfl
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FIGHTING AND NEGOTIATING.
20th September.—First battle of the siege yes¬
terday, It is difficult to get at the distinctions
which the newspapers intend when they call
one conflict an " Affaire," another a "Bataille"
another a "Reconnaissance" another a " Com¬
bat" another a " Sortie." And then one is
still more philologically bothered when all
these words are used in the course of a de¬
scription of the same contest of arms.
The affaire of Chatillon-Clamart seems to
have been an attempt to occupy some heights
in that vicinity, with the design of making
them as useful as they are now annoying.
An officer, who took part in it, says : " If
all the army had fought as well as the Breton
Mobiles, the artillery, and almost all the Line,
we would have had a beautiful success."
The fugitives here alluded to never ceased
their retreat until they fetched up on the
Boulevard Saint-Michel, where they enter¬
tained great crowds with stories of their rout
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57
and panic on the heights of Chatillon and at
the forests of Clamart. They declared that
the " Breton Mobiles, the artillery, and almost
all the line," shared in their stampede, hut
had rested under Fort Yanvres. Several were
arrested as deserters, and were carried off
amid the boisterous reprobation of the gamins
and of an old Red hag, who brandished her
long bony fingers in their faces, while she
called them cowards and scoundrels. Their
excuse was that they " have no leaders." Nor
had they on this occasiop. " Perhaps you left
your leaders at the front," the Red hag
suggested.
Supposing this affaire to have been designed
to try what the forces are made of, we may
make up our minds that the situation is dis¬
heartening, that we are now completely
invested by an alert, resolute, and powerful
foe, and completely dependent upon an army
which cannot be depended upon for anything
except for its facility in getting back behind
the walls of the city in the smallest possible
space of time.
We seem to he at once fighting and nego¬
tiating. Paris is effervescent, Belleville mad.
58
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" Manifestation " at the Hôtel de Ville, led by
National Guards and recruited by deputations
from the clubs, to protest against " Peace,"
" Surrender," " Armistice," against everything
but " War à outrance."
Jules Ferry promises " to consider." Crowd
dissolves to wreak its wrath in spy-hunting.
I met to-day a squad of moblots with an
alleged " espion" Boys and women follow,
shouting and dancing. A cabbie slashes at
the prisoner with his long whip. A huckster-
woman loaded with baskets stops on the kerb,
shakes her enormous fist at the captive, and
declares she would like nothing better than
the opportunity of biting his head off. One
of the Guard aims his chassepot at the back of
the same head, prancing and dancing, grin¬
ning and grimacing.
The venerable Marshal Vaillant was stroll¬
ing about the fortifications. He was seized
by a gang of Mobiles (who were also strolling
about the fortifications), and hauled, dragged,
and jerked along to the nearest Mairie, where
he showed a permit signed by Trochu. This
was an aggravation, because a disappointment.
The old Marshal was hauled, dragged, and
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59
jerked to the Governor's head-quarters, and
there he was recognised. One of the Provi¬
sional Government endeavoured to assuage
the patriotic rancour of his fellow citizens,
who, after hanging about for a long while,
reluctantly dispersed in pursuit of other game.
The female espionomaniacs are more savage
if possible than the male of their species.
They uniformly demand summary execution.
Their features recall the days of the Reign of
Terror, when women were always foremost
in the bloody fray.
One of the victims was hounded with the
cry, " He speaks German ! He speaks Ger¬
man ! "• He finally succeeded in getting his
back up against a shop window, and ex¬
claimed, " Yes, I do speak German, and
Italian, and Spanish, and that isn't all. I
speak better French than any man in this
mob. I am a born and bred Parisian, and
that is more than can be said of any of you.
Mon Dieu ! Things are coming to a fine
degree of liberty, equality, and fraternity if a
Frenchman cannot walk the streets of his
native city without being run down by a lot
of ruffians from the provinces."
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The boldness of this speech cowed the
mob.
"And now," exclaimed the man at bay,
"if a passage is not made for me at once
through this crowd I'll make one."
The gentleman doubled both fists, made a
dive and a plunge. The villains fled pre¬
cipitately, illustrating the proverbial fact that
110 mob is at once so devilish and so craven as
that of Paris.
21 st September.—General Trochu denounces
the soldiers who " compromised the combat of
Chatillon," and " turns over to the military
tribunals those who were found in a state of
inebriety, talking scandalously, and dishonour¬
ing the uniform they wear."
The police swoop up a lot of demoiselles
on the boulevards. The impertinence and
aggressive disposition of this class now is in
striking contrast with their retiring behaviour
heretofore. This is one of the signs of our
times—night times.
I observed on the doors of the crémeries to
day, " Closed for the want of milk." I expect
this will be found on the cradles too one of
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61
these days—a sad feature of the siege to come
so early in it.
Several thousands of boys march along the
boulevards carrying a flag and singing the
' Marseillaise.' They call themselves " The
pupils of the Republic," and have evidently
got a Republican lesson or two by heart
already.
22nd September. — The Garde Nationale
"manifest" at the Hôtel de Yille against the
armistice. Jules Favre responds, "We are a
government of national defence and not of
capitulation." The manifesters disperse, cry¬
ing " Death to the Prussians ! "
•
A reconnoissance to "feel the Prussians,"
near Creteuil. The Prussians feel strong, and
the French feel like retiring, whereupon they
retire.
A deserter fires on his captain, who in turn
fires, and kills the deserter.
62
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THE RELIGIOUS DIFFICULTY.
23rd September.—I find the following on
the walls to day :—
" Monsieur le Curé,—In consequence of the
notice of the Mayor of Paris, which orders
that the device, Liberty, Equality, Fraternity,
shall he replaced on the public edifices, I ask
(j'invite) the curés to give to M. Gr artier-
Boissiere, who has charge of this work, all
the facilities necessary for carrying out his
mission in so far as it concerns the churches.
" + Gr., Archbishop of Paris."
As I looked upon the defilement going on
at Notre Dame, I was suddenly awakened
from my reverie by a hand on my shoulder
and a voice—
"Oh! well, you know, the Kingdom of
Heaven is as a net cast into the sea. It must
yield with the tide lest the tide break it, and
In trying to catch all it catch none."
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63
This was said by the handsome curé with
whom I have had some talk, amid the roar of
the battle and in the lonely streets of old
Paris. He is one of those rare souls, who,
with brilliant intellect and the highest attain¬
ments, devote themselves to the drudgery of
their profession. He is learned in literature,
in science, and in the human heart. He is
nobly born, and has consecrated a fortune to
the service of the poor. He loves his calling
with an enthusiasm which is never expressed
in words, and which is none the less con¬
spicuous and all the more fascinating on that
account.
" And that is your explanation of that
fellow's work, is it ? " (I said, pointing to what
was going on under " the royal towers.") " It
isn't an epitaph, is it ? "
"No, my good friend, it is no epitaph, I
can assure you. That man's chisel, you see,
does not go in far. His mutilation is shallow.
He touches no artery. A few veins bleed,
that is all. The wound will soon heal. If
such as he could reach the heart of the Church,
she would long ago have bled to death. See
how careful he is, and with what a malicious
64
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delight he prosecutes his work! It is not
pleasant to see, but as there is no depth to the
ïhisel's mark, there is no depth in its wound.
The wound heals, and the mark will pass away."
" Of course the consent of the Church is not
given with goodwill, is it?"
" Certainly not."
" She yields rather than do worse ?"
" Precisely so, my good friend ; the net
yields rather than break. Our divine Lord is
explicit upon this point, you know ; when the
alternative comes of bending or breaking, we
are to bend. When pursued we are to flee ;
when we can become pursuers we are to do
so. That wall yields to the chisel, which it
cannot resist, as our wills yield to the tide,
which we cannot withstand. The Church is
founded upon a rock which does not yield,
but she herself is necessarily of a more pliable
substance. The foundation standeth sure, but
the superstructure is shattered. The rock is
secure, and so is the house on it, for that
matter, but it cannot escape damage from
rain and wind."
" Especially in the midst of this Red Sea,—
eh?"
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65
" True enough " (laughing) ; " but when the
Bed Sea has spent itself the house and the rock
will both be safe and tranquil and beautiful—
a shelter and a repose. The waters will part
some day, and we shall go over dry-shod."
" I suppose you apply your idea of the net
to the events which seem to be impending in
Borne, do you not ?"
" Oh yes—well, yes—that is, I suppose
those who set much store by the temporal
power do. For my part I have no concern
over its loss. I believe, if it ever was neces¬
sary (and I admit that it was), it is necessary
no longer. It has been means to an end, and
the end is gained."
" What is that ?"
" Universality of dominion. The tem¬
poral power has secured a kingdom and
dominion to the Church throughout the earth.
That achieved, she may safely, and I think
profitably, lay down the temporal sword, and
devote both hands to the spiritual sceptre.
At any rate, when brought before governors
and kings, whom she cannot withstand, she
must yield in obedience to a holy command."
The evening came. The man descended
F
66
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from his half-finished work. As I parted
with the curé, I overheard a workman say,
" The good father hates that operation as
much as we hate the good father. Heaven
speed the day when there shall be no more
priests or churches Î "
We all took a parting look, as we went our
different ways, at the sad old cathedral stand¬
ing there in the twilight, with its half-written
inscription at the top of the ladder,
"LIBERTÉ, ÉGAL "
Jules Favre publishes his interview with
Bismarck. I am satisfied that but for the
insane populace, or the monarch in the red
crown who rules in this city, the terms of
Bismarck would have been accepted, revictual-
ment abandoned, and the Assembly called
together.
The official journal, after saying that the
armistice negotiations have failed, says,
" There must be no more tumultuous mani¬
festations at the statue of Strasbourg."
To-day we had an "affaire " at Yillejuif,
which was occupied by the French under the
fire of the forts.
SHUT UP IN PARIS. . 67
A soldier at Yillejuif will not retreat with
the rest. Has a hand-to-hand struggle with
a spiked helmet. Bullet through the lungs.
Falls. Bullet from a window designed for
the Frenchman mortally wounds the Prussian.
The two are borne away on the same brancard,
and are laid off for a moment near together.
They wake from their swoon. They recog¬
nise each other, shake hands, smile, and die.
24:th September.—Price of bread fixed at 45
centimes the kilogramme. The Government
of Jules Favre begins the publication of the
private correspondence of the Government of
Napoleon III.
Newsboys prohibited from crying anything
more than the titles of their journals.
Reconnoissance at Nogent, Petit-Bry, and
thereabouts.
Municipal elections, fixed for 28th inst., ad¬
journed. Ditto those for National Assembly.
National Guard to have 1 franc 50 centimes
a day.
Government requisitions the horses, and
promises to deal out horsemeat at a reasonable
and uniform price.
6# . SHUT UP IN PARIS.
General Trochu arraigns the National
Guard for behaviour unbecoming the gravity
of the situation, and enjoins fewer political
and poetical " manifestations," and more mili¬
tary discipline.
There is hardly a semblance of military
etiquette among the Guard. A private soldier
will rush up to his colonel or general without
so much as touching his hat, and make a
request concerning some grievance in the
most familiar manner. .
26th September.—Twenty-one soldiers of the
line attempt to desert to the enemy from the
artillery of Mont Yalérien. Caught. Walked
through the streets with these words on a piece
of paper on their caps : " A miserable coward,
who deserted before the enemy, and deserves
to be spit in the face by all good citizens."
And the good citizens paid the debt with
alacrity and vigour.
The Arc de Triomphe and Louvre, and
most of the monuments, are protected from the
anticipated shells by boards and earthworks.
City gates to be closed at 7 p.m. and opened
at 7 a.m.
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69
LEDRU ROLLIN COME AGAIN.
27th September.—Tlie Communists clamour
for the municipal elections, and Ledru Rollin
makes his first appearance for twenty years
in his rôle of agitator. He advocates the
"Commune" as the panacea for all the ills
that France is heir to.
He calls upon the Garde Nationale to sign
a demand for elections to be held on the 2nd
and 3rd of October. He declares himself in
favour of the elections, government or no
government, and advocates the appointment
of a committee in each arrondissement, who
shall proceed to hold them, under la surveil¬
lance du peuple. He says :—
"A member of Government has come to
me and said, ' I also wish for the Commune,
and the Government will yield if the chefs
de bataillon energetically demand the elec¬
tions.' 140 chefs de bataillon having gone to
the Hôtel de Yille, with the protest, which
had received 180 signatures, the answer of
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the Government is—an adjournment sine die.
Citizens! your reply to this decree must be
the assertion of your right. If you believe that
the Commune will give you more strength to
sweep away the insolent enemy that threatens
you, insist—act—vote ! We will be worthy of
our fathers. We will do our duty by imitating
that great people, and that great Commune,
which, in 1792, saved France, and created the
Republic!"
The advent of Ledru Rollin recalls the
Red-letter days of 1848. Time has not yet
diminished his strength ; his natural force
seems to remain unabated ; his sixty-second
birthday has not brought him increase of wis¬
dom, but it has found him as strong for mis¬
chief as ever; and there is no doubt of his
being a most successful witch for conjuring
the deadly elements of the political cauldron.
He is aging, certainly; but he is still fine-
looking, and impresses one as forcibly as of
yore with his rotund and commanding pre¬
sence, his sonorous voice and masculine
delivery. He speaks with as much energy
as ever, but perhaps with a trifle less of impu¬
dent audacity than in 1851. Jules Favre, who
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71
was formerly his secretary and coadjutor, is
now at the head of the Ministry, and will
hardly rejoice at his return.
Ledru Rollin has been twenty years a refugee
in England, whither he fled from before the
face of Louis Napoleon, who for a time rode
on the whirlwind and directed the storm
which Ledru Rollin had raised ; but now Louis
Napoleon is at Wilhelmshôhe, and Ledru Rollin
has come back to resume his place at the
" cauldron."
The newspaper called La Patrie en Danger,
contains to-day a thoroughly '95 editorial
article, to which the name of Felix Pyat is
attached. He charges everybody, except
himself, with " betraying the Republic."
The Bourbons are not the only people who
" have learned nothing and forgotten nothing "
during all these years.
"We must have no mercy," says Pyat, " but
cover the traitors with their own blood.
Down with Mirabeau ! Vive Marat I "
28 th September.—M. Courbet, in a public
réunion, advocates the transformation of the
Vendôme column into its original cannon.
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He says it is a monument of imperialism and
conquest, and expresses a sentiment wounding
to republican sensibilities. He announced that
a statue of the First Napoleon had been taken
down at Courbevoie, by order of the mayor.
He is in favour of removing every trace of
Napoleonism from the city.
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73
SOWING AND REAPING.
A looker-on" at a siege obtains an insight
into the condition of the people which he
could never have gained in the normal state
of society. The vivacity and quickwittedness
of the French, their genius for acting and
public speaking, is well known ; hut few are
aware of the ignorance that prevails in France.
It is said that not more than one in twenty-
four of the Parisians can read and write, and
that not more than ten of the educated men of
this city can speak or understand the English
language. Indeed, it is quite the fashion
among the literati here to parade their igno¬
rance of the English language and of English
literature.
You can hardly be' surprised at this absence
of common-sense, while its source is unfre¬
quented. Vanity must be in its full maturity,
if it has not reached its dotage, when it
glories in insularity, and makes an affectation
of ignorance.
74
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The French are very vain of the fact that
their language is " the Court language of the
world," and are just now exceedingly nettled,
because Bismarck and Yon Moltke have the
impertinence to communicate with Paris in
their own tongue.
I find that reading (as that word is under¬
stood in Great Britain and the United States)
is little practised here. There is no intelligent
mass of any class ; there is no well-read or
well-informed class in France.
The lowest class cannot read, the highest
class will not read, and the intermediate class
do not want to read. All classes prefer a
boozy lounge, or a silly chat, or a lascivious
dawdle, to reading or reflection.
The erudition of the French is as exceptional
as it is respectable. So in generalship, and
rulership, and statesmanship, so in literature
and learning, one man rises to an abnormal
superiority, and the rest are left in a propor¬
tional depth of darkness.
The aristocracy of France are as ignorant
of books as her democracy are of sobriety.
Both classes are equally destitute of common
sense.
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75
M. Pellatan's disgust for what his ill-read
countrymen and women do read is becomingly
intense : " A detestable novel has reached its
fourteenth edition in less than a year, and do
you know through what inspiration of genius ?
Through a night-scene beheld through a key¬
hole." If his wife had read this novel in his
(Pellatan's) absence, "he would demand on
his return the re-establishment of divorce."
He is quite right. Nothing in the way of
literature could be more nauseous and ener¬
vating than the common reading of Paris. It
suggests another point of resemblance between
the present situation here, and that which we
find when we read of the decline and fall
of ancient nations—monarchical and re¬
publican. ♦
One is constantly reminded here of what one
thought and saw among the ruins of Pompeii.
Material splendour and vicious indulgence
flourish side by side. But the latter, which
the Second Empire compelled to observe a
certain amount of reticence and retirement,
is now stalking abroad and literally fattening
upon the " liberty, equality, and fraternity "
of the new Republican regime.
76
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In 1848, about a month before the Revolu¬
tion, De Tocqueville said in the Assembly:
" Public morality is in a state of degradation
"which will shortly, perhaps almost imme¬
diately, hurry us into new revolutions." The
prophecy was fulfilled. To make it now is to
see it fulfilled again before our eyes.
The most grossly obscene brochures are cried
upon the boulevards by young women and
little children. Some of these are so abhorrent,
that one feels, upon glancing at them, that no
calamity could be too great for a city which
has neither written law nor lynch law equal
to the task of removing so odious an abomina¬
tion.
In the shop-windows of the most unfre¬
quented streets in the most licentious cities
of Italy or Spain, you will see nothing more
villainously filthy than the caricature I saw
an hour ago, dealt out to merry purchasers
on the boulevard by an equally merry young
woman of about 18 years of age, with a pretty
and unblushing face.
Books make their appearance in the shop-
windows, which heretofore were concealed
under the shop-counters ; and engravings which
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formerly were only shown to the initiated on
the sly, are now within reach of the lads and
lasses who accompany their mamma or the
servant. A shopkeeper said to me, " Let me
show you how rapidly we are progressing."
And pulling out a pile of cartes de visite, he
continued : " Look on the back of it. That is
the name of the most fastidious photographer
in the city. Before the war he would have
prosecuted the man who should have charged
him with publishing such a picture, and even
upon cartes of the ordinary departures from
decorum he would not have put his name.
Then as to selling, any shop that should have
been caught selling such a picture as this
would have been closed, and its proprietor
punished."
On the tents of the soldiers I have seen
words and sketches of the very last degree of
flagrant indecency. The songs of the camp
cannot be repeated in the presence of a lady.
An officer said, on my comparing notes with
him as to this : " Yes—and the conversation of
my comrades is no better. It is so obscene
and profane that I, without making any pre¬
tension to religion, am shocked and repelled.
78 SHUT UP IN PARIS.
With you I know it was different; I was
in your country during the war. Your camp-
songs are sung in the drawing-rooms—ours are
too abominable to be tolerated in respectable
society." I have had abundant confirmation
of this officer's testimony.
My French friends, when we talk over
these things, shrug their shoulders, and say :
"We make no pretence, like you Anglo-
Saxons ; you are hypocrites, and are in
reality as bad as we are."
There is just one step lower than a bad
practice, and that is a bad theory. Alas for
a people who say unto evil, " Be thou my
good !" When a nation takes that step, it has
reached the lowest depth.
It is a curious trait in the character of the
French that, while they will acquiesce in what¬
ever blame you may lay on society, they them¬
selves will accept none of the responsibility.
They make scapegoats of their rulers, the men
whom they themselves elect and gladly fol¬
low ; but they, the individuals, have no sense
of shame or self-reproach. " France," say they,
" is white with innocence ; her rulers and
leaders are black with guilt !" But what
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79
constitutes " France," or in what it consists,
nobody can tell.
To hear a Frenchman discourse upon his
favourite " scapegoat " (each man has one
which he believes to be the source of all evil)
is like listening to a discussion as to " Who
struck Billy Patterson ?" or " Who killed
Cock Robin ? "
At the present time the scapegoat, not only
for the war, for the insatiable thirst for domi¬
nion and military glory, but the one who has
also bewitched her out of all moral sense and
common sense, and made her — the pure
" France, who is white with innocence !"—
the involuntary source of all these nasty cari¬
catures and vicious habits, is Napoleon III. ;
on him and on his head they lay all their sins
as well as all their misfortunes. <
" The French," say they, do not read, be¬
cause they have been discouraged from read¬
ing. Who brought down the brain and
soul and understanding of France to its pre¬
sent condition of moral and intellectual pu¬
trescence? Who is the sorcerer that has
exorcised this nation of its pluck, its manli¬
ness, its veracity, its virtue, its chastity, its
80
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self-respect, its self-reliance, its love of home,
its respect for woman, its faith in religion
(heathen and Christian), and its fear of God ?
It is Napoleon III. ! No other Bonaparte, no
Louis or Charles, no " child of the people,"
and no people, had a hand (or sword) in it.
It all began and ended with Napoleon III.
He did it all, and he did it in eighteen years.
He had power over the past, the present, and
the future—and infinite power too. He must
have exerted it before he was born, and he
exerts it now that he is a captive !
What hope can there be for a people who
" rend " each one his neighbour's " garment "
instead of his own, and who imagine that to
lay the blame and shame of "the unclean
thing" upon one another is equivalent to
doing each his own share in putting it away ?
Republicanism cannot survive where there
is not a certain degree of public intelligence,
a certain amount of virtue, and a certain
measure of self-reliance. The masses here
have none of these. They have no confidence
in one another, and have less to fear from
a ruler of their own choice than from them¬
selves in the experiment of ruling themselves.
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81
The worst ruler France can have is—" France."
In the United States, and in Great Britain,
every man stands upon his own two solid legs.
Here every man leans against every other
man, and all have an ineradicable desire to
lean against some one man.
82
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" TOIL AND TROUBLE."
Is* October.—We have now made up our
minds that our bodies are shut up in Paris.
This consciousness of being cut off from the
outside world must be like the first sensation
of being shut up in a cell in solitary confine¬
ment ; it is very chafing, and makes one feel
very impatient : there is a sense of suffocation.
The Prussians have sent in the body of
General Guilhem with great solemnity. The
bier was covered with flowers and evergreens.
Go where you will, when you will, and
you see troops drilling. There is no reason
why we should not have a well-drilled army
in another month. Then we have a rare
opportunity for military rehearsals, since we
can fight a little, and run a little, and do a
little of everything known to the science of
war. Wimbledon is nowhere in comparison
for sham-fights and counterfeit campaigns.
Roehefort's Barricade Commission have done
their work well, thanks undoubtedly to Dorian,
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8S
who is the best organizer in the Government.
He is a man with great executive faculty and
good capacity for achievement. There is a
prodigious amount of work in him. He is
also as modest as he is efficient. He never
speaks, always works. To him we are in¬
debted for the enormous amount of skilful
work done on the outer defences of the city.
A small number of Parisians look on these
symmetrical mounds of earth with misgivings,
when they think of what the Parisians are ;
and are hopeless of the barricades being any
hindrance to an army which must have
previously carried the forts and moats and
walls, and iron spikes and abattis, of the out¬
ward defences. But by far the greater number
of the inhabitants believe them, as well as the
other defences, to be—impregnable 1
Gth October.—The day before yesterday we
had our first " armed manifestation." The
Belleville National Guards, with Flourens at
their head, came to make a series of "de¬
mands" upon the Government; the first of
which was, that every man should be armed
with a " chassepot," and that there should be
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il levée en masse, with one or two other items,
concluding with the proposal that the Com¬
mune should take upon itself the direction
and distribution of food.
General Trochu came out and said, some¬
what nervously, as he looked out upon that
sea of upturned bayonets, that it was not
desirable to make the sorties demanded without
having a precise object in view, and without
hope of a useful result, and without the neces¬
sary drilling in the use of artillery. This
information was received with some murmurs
and commotion, which quickly subsided as
the burly head of Gambetta appeared. He
was greeted with applause until he said his
say, which was as brief and as unsatisfactory
as the reply of General Trochu, for the re¬
maining requests were also refused.
There was a great surging and roaring of
the thousands of armed men, and it was gene¬
rally supposed that Flourens meant to board
the Palace and take command. On the con¬
trary, he threw up his command, and his
regiment dispersed. There was a prodigious
feeling of relief in the second story, doubtless,
at this collapse of the manifestation.
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85
Flourens' eyes are the wildest and maddest
I ever saw out of a lunatic asylum.
He has withdrawn his resignation, " to
preserve order and tranquillity ! "
We have received another letter from Victor
Hugo, who says :—
" 0 Paris ! thou hast crowned the statue of
Strasbourg with flowers; history will crown
thee with stars !"
Louis Blanc writes a letter. He adheres to
to the visionary socialism of his youth, and
although not to be classed with the sangui¬
nary Reds, he is scarcely to be preferred
as a leader to Victor Hugo or Ledru
Rollin. To say the truth, these three
gentlemen know nothing about the govern¬
ment of a republic. A will-o'-the-wisp would
be as safe a guide. " The beginning of the
words of their mouths is foolishness, and the
end of their talk is mischievous madness."
86
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LEADERS AND FOLLOWERS.
Poor M. Cremieux, at Tours, is getting an
awful newspapering.
I had better turn my camera upon him
before he is unseated, for he is a " child of the
people," and when his parent dismisses him,
there is no resurrection for him in this country.
He was Minister of Justice in the Provi¬
sional Government of 1848. He was in the
prime of his fine abilities during the Revo¬
lution of 1830, and figured brilliantly in the
law courts throughout the reign of the citizen
King. He took his seat in the Chamber of
Deputies in 1842 on the extreme Left, where
he was resolute and effective in opposition to
the Government. When King Louis fled
Cremieux advocated the regency of the
Duchess of Orleans, and was the author of
the appeal of the Duchess to the people.
Failing in this project, he took a powerful
oar in the Revolution and Government of
1848, and was the originator of many of the
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87
most beneficent reforms and measures of that
period. He played an important part in the
Constituent Assembly. He was one of the
arrested at the coup d'etat of December, 1851,
but was released in twenty days. Since that
he has been a not very conspicuous, but very
vigorous, opponent of the Second Empire.
One of the revenges which the whirligig of
time brings round is its tossing of Mr. Cre-
mieux back into one of the seats at the
council-table of the Republic. But he was
born in 1796, and hence can hardly be ex¬
pected to fill the post, which he should not
have accepted. Like nearly all the able men
who struggle and fret their hour on the stormy
stage of French politics, his moral ideas are
lameritably mixed, and he will pass behind
the scenes presently with a very indefinite
conception of the part he has been playing, or
the object he had in playing it.
8th October.—A newspaper of this morning
says : " France needs only one thing at this
moment—a solitary military will, which no¬
body may impede or question, and which has
no superiors, colleagues, or committees."
88
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The press gives utterance to that yearning
of the French for a supreme will, which alter¬
nates with their longing for the complete
supremacy of the whole people.
. Another " manifestation " to-day at the
Hôtel de Yille. The fall of Toul and Stras¬
bourg has disquieted the evilminded, and
disheartened everybody. The Reds were out
in great numbers, and such a fermentation as
we had !
The Government was on the ground be¬
times, however, and covered the immense
square with troops it could, or supposed it
could, trust. They soon up-ended their mus¬
kets and brandished the butts, to signalise the
innocence of their intentions toward the
people. It was the signal, too, for a trémen-
dous burst of " Vives ! " and " Vive la Com¬
mune I" Several immense pieces of white
paper, inscribed with the word " Commune,"
were hoisted on the ends of canes and um¬
brellas. Trochu rode along the line followed
by his staff, and was greeted by enthusiastic
cries. It was evident that the majority were
with him for that moment, anyhow.
The booming of the guns of Fort Mont
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89
Vale'rien is distinctly heard. Could it have
been timed to impress the dramatic imagina¬
tion of the Reds, and turn against the enemy
their sanguinary patriotism ?
Jules Favre exclaims, " That sound proclaims
to us the post of duty ! " He deprecates such
manifestations in such a crisis. There are
cheers and cries of Vive la Republique l A bas
la Commune !
Favre retires, but {he crowd of ten thousand
people in all uniforms, and of all ages, and
both sexes, and every description of odd cha¬
racter, sways to and fro—a vast hum like
millions of bees, and an awful swell of tumult
like the roaring of the sea admonitory of a
storm.
What a conglomeration of human eccen¬
tricity and inflammability indeed did that great
mob contain ! I saw little boys not over ten
screeching at the tops of their voices, and
old women shaking their forefingers under
one another's noses while they discussed the
merits of socialistic democracy, or descanted
on the good times coming when the poor and
the rich would have all things in common.
A brawny-faced workman carried a babe
! 0
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on his shoulder in the midst of the dense
mass. The wee thing had a bright face,
cunningly set off with a clean white cap, and
there it was looking out placidly on the tur¬
bulence and uproar. Not a change came over
its pretty countenance — no feature moved.
It was an emblem of purity and repose
standing conspicuously out in the fore¬
ground of that picture of unrest and dis¬
content.
A Paris émeute is a panorama of such con¬
trasts. You always see nurses drawing babes
about, and genteel-looking families—father,
mother, and children—sauntering through the
conflagration.
A moblot carries a Prussian spiked helmet
through the crowd on his bayonet. The re¬
joicing is intense. If the siege were raised,
and the King's army driven away, these
people could not dance with more delight,
or shout with more ecstasy, than they do over
this captured helmet. Well-dressed, good-
looking men and women find in this trophy
a source of the most demonstrative satisfaction.
The "clouds in the evening sky more
darkly gathered." The rain came down. It
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91
rained for the first time for a month, and
rained as you might expect it would upon such
a spectacle—furiously. The father huddled
his babe into his arms. The old women ceased
to argue and fled. All fled. It rained hard ;
then the clouds dispersed, a blood-red sky
covered the Prussian camp, the sun went
down, and the moon shone silently on the
deserted square, and the lonely sentinel paced
back and forth before the statue of King
Henry. Troubled Paris slept.
Minister Gambetta went up in a balloon
yesterday to join Minister Cremieux at Tours,
where we have a branch government. So
our Minister of the Interior becomes Minister
of the Exterior. He has a morbid horror of
travelling by balloon. He shilly-shallied for
three days, putting Nadar in a tempest of
impatience ; and when the moment for de¬
parture came, the eloquent Minister became
as white as buttermilk, and his knees smote-
together as he took his seat in the basket
that had been enlarged and otherwise revised
to suit him. However, up he went, and a
pigeon returned to-day to tell of his safe ar¬
rival beyond the Prussian lines.
92
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An intoxicated franc-tireur kills one raoblot
and wounds another in a restaurant. A mem¬
ber of the National Guard,'being suspected
for a spy, kills one of his comrades, and comes
very near being torn to pieces by the mob
before he can be locked up. These incidents
are indicative of a change for the worst
coming over our situation. And I can see
other symptoms here and there of increasing
demoralization. One is, that the English
language is about as unpopular as the
German.
10^/i October.—The Red papers call Favre
" another Palikao," Gambetta " Ollivier II.,"
and denounce Trochu, Kératry, and Thiers for
designing Orleanists. They call the Govern¬
ment organs the "journals of the reaction,"
and accuse them of secretly conspiring for the
overthrow of the Republic. The adminis¬
tration papers return the compliment by
charging the Socialist wing with breeding
the discontent which Bismarck predicted.
One of the Red journals is edited by Blanqui,
who is called " Blanqui the Younger." So I
suppose he is not the original of that name
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63
which is familiar to readers of French history.
Was it the father of this man to whom Lamar¬
tine alluded when he said, " I conspire with
Blanqui as the conductor conspires with the
lightning " ?
. The present Blanqui is grey enough and
mischievous enough to be the old forked-shaft
himself. He calls the President " Trochu le
Pieux ," and the Prefect " Kératry le Chouan."
There is a general demand for a sortie.
The Electeur Libre says : " Strasbourg and
Toul have fallen, and we learn of the inca¬
pacity of the members of the Government at
Tours. 'And in the presence of this grave
news what does the Government do? It
orders the statue of Strasbourg to be cast in
bronze ! Is this the way to avenge Stras¬
bourg ?"
The same paper says, "the capitulation of
Toul and Strasbourg has been received with a
courageous sang-froid."
Paris reads the announcement on the walls
without a change of countenance or an inter¬
change of observation. Paris is as torpid as a
frog in midwinter. But Yictor Hugo says :
"To her all transformations are possible/'
04
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so wo live in constant expectation of one of
these " transformations."
Eighteen new daily papers have been
started since the 4th of September, five of
which have stopped.
Several persons have been arrested for using
violent language against the Government.
Our Government announces 160,000 men
marching to our rescue from the Provinces,
but nobody believes a word of it. We believe
we are played out.
The fifty days' heroism of Strasbourg must
be imitated, and the failure of it " avenged."
We are to hold out one hundred days, and
then descend into the last ditch, which is to
close over us, leaving the city to its fate,
and the Prussians to the city. The truth is,
according to the heroic rhetoric of our press,
that " Strasbourg fallen is greater than Stras¬
bourg victorious." Catch our French public
mind if you can ! They will swear when
Paris caves in, and Metz follows the example
of Strasbourg, and the whole country lies at
the feet of the conqueror, that France has
been betrayed and will be avenged, and is
just going to rise and snort and soar.
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95
There has been a praiseworthy attempt on
the part of the military authorities to restore
order and decorum to our demoralized popu¬
lation by keeping the soldiers out of the
streets. The order is bearing good fruit in
increasing sobriety.
The cafés are all closed at 10 p.m., and the
stray moblots are picked up by a squad of
muskets. So that, while we have still to de¬
plore the multiplicity of these loungers in
regimentals, there is a decided improvement
in the aspect of the boulevards.
96
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A MYSTERY OF PARIS.
Walking out with my friend, the Barrister,
he suddenly said : "Now for a leaf from the
book of human life. Do you see that woman
and child? We shall meet them. Take a
good look at that child, and I'll tell you her
story when she has passed." We meet. We
stop.
I looked earnestly into the bright, face, and
sighed in advance at a venture. They passed.
" Now, I'll tell you," said the Barrister.
"The mother was a member of one of the
highest families in France. She lived at
Orleans. The father, too, was of noble lineage.
She fled to Paris—an everyday thing in this
country—to hide herself and her impending
shame. The child was born at the house of
the woman who leads her by the hand. The
mother died an hour after the child was born.
Poor thing. She was very gentle and beau¬
tiful and amiable. I knew her in the pro¬
vinces. I had some business with the family.
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97
Her remorse was poignant from the first. It
increased as the shame approached, and when
the shame came human nature was not equal
to both tortures. Mind and body gave way
together. Even the physician, who was an
old Parisian practitioner, and thoroughly
familiar with kindred incidents, was deeply
moved, and told me he never was so touched
in his life. Such an expression of pathetic
sorrow came over the lovelv creature's face,
«/ /
he says, as will never leave his memory.
The silence of the room, the babe, the motion¬
less face with its awful cloud, the impossibility
of doing anything to mitigate or soothe—-it
was altogether a spectacle of rare gloom and
melancholy. So the physician tells me, and I
can well believe it all, for I recall the graceful
form darting incog, here and there along the
streets in old Paris, and the startling shadow
that I used to see come and go on that charm¬
ing countenance. And you will see that
shadow on the child's face, if you catch it at
rest. Just now, it was chased away by the
burst of sunshine at seeing me, but there it is
and there it will ever he."
H
08
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THE BLIND LEADING THE BLIND.
12ill October.—The day before yesterday the
supply of meat was rationed by Government,
and we have all been desired to send in the
number of the mouths to be fed in each family.
Every one leaves his or her name with the
butcher of the district, who gives us each a
card certifying the right of the bearer to
receive about a quarter of a pound of meat
every three days upon presentation of the
card. Government has fixed the price, which
is two to three francs for each portion of beef,
and from two francs to a franc and a half for
a portion of horseflesh. Horseflesh is at
present the most popular.
The u boucherie " is now one of the charac¬
teristic scenes of the siege. Over the door
you read " Boucherie de cheval," or " Boucherie
Hippogriffe." There is a man, sometimes a
soldier with a musket, at the door, who asks
for and inspects the card. A queue of persons
wait their turn with basket and ticket in hand.
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99
They are mostly maidservants in the more
genteel portions of the city, and the very
common people in the very common portions.
There is a prodigious prevalence of tidy white
caps, interspersed with dilapidated old hats ;
here and there a black skull-cap fringed around
the bottom with thin white hair. The old
man totters up to his turn, takes his bit, and
totters away. At his heels a lean small dog,
who looks forward and upward for his share
in the stipulated allowance. There is very
little crowding or pushing. The boucheries
are numerous, every district has its own, and
so none are pressed by an unwieldy crowd.
As the meat is tariffed by the Government,
there is no dispute or wrangle over the pur¬
chase, so all goes on smoothly and quietly.
The beggars are a feature of the situation.
They gradually multiply, and are one of the
strongest of our reminders that the glory of
Paris is departing. Those who recollect the
rarity of mendicants heretofore can hardly
believe their eyes when they see these filthy
tableaux of deformity and disease.
As you walk along the boulevards now, you.
might almost imagine yourself in London..
100
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Some of these mendicants are repulsive, but
others tempt the hand of charity by their
transparent candour and remarkable neatness.
The old blind woman who sits on a chair
knitting at the entrance of the Palais Royal,
looks for all the world like a piece of wax¬
work—she is so tidy, trim, and pleasing.
As to giving alms on the street, it is right
for me, whatever it may be for other people.
Thus I have the poor always with me.
13^/i October.—A trifling affaire at Bag-
neaux. " The object being attained, the re¬
treat was ordered," and we returned.
As usual, we have to deplore the loss of
one of those who are so clamoured for by our
rank and file—" leaders." In every " affaire "
however trifling, we invariably leave the
leaders we are so much in want of, and never
have, dead in their tracks, or they follow their
followers to the rear on a stretcher. In this
brush the fallen leader is the Count de Dam-
pierre. He led a battalion of Mobiles, who
wavered. He appealed to their patriotism,
and then to their sense of shame. At this
moment Dampierre fell, mortally wounded,
from his horse. His men shouted " Revenge !
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101
revenge !" turned upon their heels and fled.
At first it was thought that the rascals made
something of a stand, but it appears they were
so electrified by the heroic example of their
commander that they immediately retired to
contemplate it at their leisure.
The Count is deeply lamented. He was a
general favourite. He was about thirty, bright-
eyed, high-spirited, handsome, and resolute.
He had many amiable qualities which gave a
charm to his character, which was not without
those stronger traits which insure vigour and
dash on the field of battle. His stable and
stud were the admiration of the country.
When the Mobiles of his department were
organized for the defence of Paris, they chose
him for commandant. He had received a
military education, but had never been under
fire until to-day, when he was ordered to cap¬
ture the fortifications held by the Prussians
near the hamlet of Bagneaux.
15tli October.—The topic of the day is the
"plan Trochu," and the letter which the
G-eneral has written to the Mayor of Paris.
It has discouraged us all, for it is full of
himself and the history of his forebodings
102 SHUT UP IN PARIS.
when the war began ; though ho says truly
enough " that in the noisy manner of entering
upon the campaign, as well as in the means
brought into requisition, he perceived the
elements of a great disaster and he made his
will on the strength of it. His only hope in a
return of good fortune lies " in the great work
of resistance summed up in the siege of Paris."
He declares he will not accede to the pressure
of public impatience ; he will pursue his own
plan and keep his own council ; and he only
begs from the Parisians one thing—their faith
and confidence !
He might as well have asked them for
the moon while he was about it ; for faith,
confidence, and stability are not the virtues of
a mob—least of all of a Parisian mob.
16th October.—Garibaldi has arrived in the
provinces at the head of a very motley fol¬
lowing.
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103
THE AMAZONS.
The walls of Paris, with their wonderful
placards, would furnish at once a history and
a picture of the siege, if they could be photo¬
graphed.
Just now everybody is standing still before
an enormous green placard headed
"Amazons de la Seine."
A
The placard sets forth that battalions of
women should be formed, without distinction
of rank, in companies of 150, to the number
of 1200. They are "principally destined to
defend the ramparts and barricades, jointly
with the Nationale Garde Sédentaire, and to
render to the combatants in whose ranks they
would he distributed by companies all such
domestic and fraternal services as are com¬
patible with moral order and military dis¬
cipline. They will also charge themselves
with rendering on the ramparts the first
104
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necessary cares to the wounded, who will
thus be spared having to wait for several
hours. They will be armed with light guns,
carrying upwards of 200 yards, and the
Government will be petitioned to accord them
the same daily indemnity of a franc and a
half which is given to the National Guard.
The costume of the Amazons of the Seine
will consist of a pair of black trousers, with
an orange-colour stripe, a blouse of woollen
stuff, with a cap, and a black képi with an
orange band, together with a cartridge-box
fastening to a shoulder-belt."
Expenses are to be met by a general sacri¬
fice on the part of rich ladies of their bracelets,
necklaces, and other jewels, which they are
exhorted to give, rather than keep them to be
plundered by the Prussians.
The women declare that, " more than men,
they are gifted with the divine fire of grand
resolutions which save, and the active devotion
which sustains and consoles."
The placard is signed " Le Chef Provisoire
du premier bataillon, Felix Belly."
He has already received 15,000 applications
and innumerable letters. A notice over the
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105
door of his bureau states that each applicant
must be accompanied by a relative or guar¬
dian, and any one giving false credentials of
respectability will be prosecuted by law !
M. Belly might have achieved wonders, but
before he could organise his movement he was
" suppressed " by Government, and the plan
was laughed down.
The other day, however, there was a
woman's manifestation. The column marched
with such a heavy tramp to the Hôtel de
Ville, and carried such a mass of muscle and
sinew, that I was afraid Rochefort would
faint when he came out to address them.
Their request then was that they should be
allowed to take care of the wounded while
the " other sex " went one and all out on a
sortie, and that there should be " an equitable
distribution of subsistences." There was no¬
thing more unreasonable or sanguinary in
the manifestation than this. Poor Rochefort
listened, and bowed, and promised, and was
glad to get off without being carried off by
the women.
Everybody knows who knows the maisons,
the wine-shops, and the markets of Paris, that
106
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the common run of women here are superior
to the common run of men in all that pertains
to strongmindedness and stronghandedness.
In nine cases out of ten the homme and the
femme are unequally yoked together, and the
woman is the better man of the two. She
has more energy, more pluck, more perti¬
nacity, more sense, more brains, accomplishes
more, and often weighs more and eats more,
although, as M. Belly says, she drinks and
smokes less, and therefore mopes less. No¬
body can compare the two sexes as they sit
together in the cafés or kneel together in the
churches without coming to this conclusion.
The women are more religious and have
more sense of virtue than the men. Men in
Paris reach a depth of degradation to which
women do not, and I believe cannot, follow
them.
22nd October.—A sortie on a large scale
(for us) yesterday in the direction of Rueil
and Jonchere, under General Ducrot, with
about 10,000 men and about twenty-five can¬
non. The fight begins at 1 p.m., and continues
till about 4.30, when an " order is given for
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107
the troops to re-enter into their respective
cantonments." The " results," which are not
given, are said to be " very satisfactory."
But nobody cares for official bulletins : it is
doubtful if anybody cares for anything. The
public mind is getting callous. Paris is not at
all thin-skinned now toward the " results " of
" sorties " and " affaires."
108
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"ON WITH THE DANCE!"
23rd October..—Sunday without amusements
has become insupportable to the Parisians ; so
to-day they had a " Popular concert of classical
music ; given for the benefit of the wounded."
Hundreds were unable to get in, and about
5000 francs were taken. The excellent music
was extremely saddening at its merriest notes,
and went to the very soul of some, I am sure,
of the large audience. It brought the woes of
their country vividly home to them. I saw
several nice-looking persons drop their eyes
and dash away the tears. The poor old soul
adjoining me, dressed with such charming, old-
fashioned quaintness, was breathing hard all the
time, as if the orchestra were tearing her sensi¬
bilities to pieces, and the lips of the young
woman in deep black, a little farther along
on our seat, were working constantly as if
she too were in torture, and I presume she
was. I suppose it is very foolish for the
afflicted or the sad-hearted to go to an enter-
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109
tainment like this, since the "soothing" in¬
fluence of music, so much talked about, is
mercilessly dispensed.
But such persons are morbidly drawn to
what is certain to lacerate them. The con¬
cert was of more benefit to " wounded " bodies
than wounded spirits.
25th October.—The Temps says : " Paris has
not lost her esprit or her gaiety, and calls
for spectacles and concerts." I think this de¬
mand for the medicine is a symptom of the
disease.
The bal masqué dies for want of breath ; the
gaiety of the Maison Dorée betrays the arti¬
ficial exertion it requires to keep it up.
But it is sorrowful to see that the only
persistency shown by the Parisians is in their
efforts to follow their old diversions, and to
keep alive their animal pleasures in the matter
of wine and women. In these latter days,
drinking has become strangely and ominously
prevalent.
The The'atre Français was crammed to-day,
and hundreds were unable to get in. The
programme comprised the two first acts of
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Molière's 'Misanthrope' and the 'Cuirassiers
of Beichshoffen.' The French know how to
act. They act all over, and each player acts
with all his heart. They are born artists on
the stage.
M. Ernest LegouVe, member of the Aca¬
demy, gave a ' Conference ' on the ' Moral
Alimentation of Paris.'
To hear one of these conférences is to have
heard them all.
They are theatrical entertainments from
beginning to end, to which the orator and
the audience equally contribute. One of M.
LegouV^'s passages was :
" Paris uncrowns herself with her own
hands of the forests that surround her, as a
widow cuts off her hair in token of her grief."
The audience were moved.
The speaker caused some amusement by
making fun of the "sacred word" citoyen;
and also of the sacred pastime of changing
the names of the streets and the public
buildings.
M. Henri de Bochefort, who was sitting on
the platform, felt himself insulted by this, and
he arose and strode with dignity out of the
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Ill
little back door that was the entrance to the
platform. There was a universal titter at this
incident, one angular looking youth tried hard
to get up some applause ; but the laughter
prevailed.
Blanqui, in the leading article of his paper,
11 La Patrie en danger," is indignant at the
continuance of theatrical entertainments; he
is ashamed of the multitude who continue to
flock to them, and declares them highly unbe¬
coming in so grave a crisis.
This is all quite true and quite right. The
witches who brew the " Double, double, toil
and trouble," and who " round about the
cauldron go," are no doubt fastidious about
their ingredients.
Mégy, who was in prison for the assassina¬
tion of the sergent de ville, and who was
liberated and made standard-bearer of the 91st
Battalion, has just had a fight with his com¬
mandant, and is under arrest for it.
The countenances of many of the National
Guards are anything but encouraging to look
at. There are thousands of men in the ranks
of these citizen soldiers whose appearance
bodes ill for the future. It would be almost
112
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as safe to liberate and to arm the convicts of
the prisons, as to place muskets and ball
cartridges in the hands of these fellows.
Every owner of property in the city must
shudder to see these troops at drill or on the
march. It is hazardous to go so low for sol¬
diers ; honesty and integrity are quite as
essential in a soldier as in a citizen.
Our second postal balloon went up to-day
containing 100 kilogrammes of letters. Each
letter must not be more than four grammes in
weight.
We watch the ascent of our aerial post
with lively curiosity not unmixed with anxiety,
for it carries messages which, however brief,
will be comfortable to some beyond " the
circle of fire."
When I said to a cynical acquaintance of
mine : "Well, we shall get no more letters,"
he replied, " Thank heaven ! I've been
praying for this day these ten years."
The Mayor of Paris decrees that the Boule¬
vard Prince Eugene shall be called Boulevard
Voltaire, and that the statue therein of the
prince (Eugène de Beauharnais) shall be dis¬
placed by one of Voltaire.
SHUT UP IN PARIS.
113
My friend the barrister, although a stiff
Koman Catholic, confesses to à great admira¬
tion for Yoltaire on account of his services to
liberty.
The statue of the Empress Josephine has
been removed from the avenue that bore her
name.
Government announces a despatch by pigeon-
post, bringing the news of " la belle résistance
of • Chateaudun." One feels a real affection
for these little birds as one watches them
coming in. There is something very pathetic
in their wearied appearance and' languid
flight. The people are very kind to them,
and some weep as they watch the faithful
things alight on a roof to rest, and perhaps to
take their latitude.
114
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THE RED HAND ON THE SKY.
Last evening, Joseph, our indefatigable
forager, burst pale and breathless into the
dining-room, where we were resting after one
of the bankers' starvation dinners of delicious
chicken, to inform us that an awful fire had
broken out, and the blaze was covering, the
entire city. We seized our hats, bounded
down the steps, and out into the street
through the court, overturning the concierge's
children in our headlong haste for the Place
de l'Opéra, where we joined a big crowd to
see the northern and eastern and western
sky perfectly suffused with the deep rich red
of—an Aurora Borealis ! It was entirely dif¬
ferent from any phenomenon of the sort I
ever saw, and it was in some respects the
most extraordinary one I ever saw. I have
seen more variegated and more beautiful ones,
but I never saw one so awfully red. It rose
up out of half the horizon, hesitated, rose, re¬
coiled, expanded, contracted, faded, deepened,
shut up in PAms.
115
broke into lakes of Red intenser than any
I ever saw on canvas, or on the clouds at
sunset. It shimmered out over almost the
whole heavens. The darkness imbued it with
a heavy tinge of gloom. It assumed the
form of darting fingers. Upon my word—a
Red Hand !
11 Mon Dieu, it is Bismarck's bloody hand !"
muttered the young Mobile to his companion,
" Or Fate's ? " replied the companion, and
laughed. But I saw the restless twitch of
superstition in his nerves. A Celt is super¬
stitious while he laughs at superstition.
An officer standing by my side in the
crowd said, " Oh, as for that, you know our
common people are all superstitious." " And
they are very uncommon people who are not
superstitious," said the Doctor. " I know, if
I had more of it, I would have more peace of
mind. Better that than nothing. It is in¬
separable from religion. Without it there
can be no religion."
I said to the old woman at the kiosque,
You are not superstitious? "Not at all,
Monsieur." If you were, what would all that
mean? "Blood, Monsieur, blood! The
118
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Blessed Mother is vexed with poor France,
perhaps." And the old newswoman told the
story of her superstition in the act of denying
it. A genteelly-dressed man, with a thought¬
ful face, gazed up long and abstractedly, and
then said, " That is the blood which is to be
shed in Paris." So I knew well enough that
the newswoman and the officer and the man
with the thoughtful face went home with the
belief that they had seen the bloody hand of
Bismarck in the Red Hand on the sky.
26th October.—The papers announce the
death, from wounds received in the last battle,
of Be'renger, formerly French consul at
Stettin; Leroux, artist; Cuvillier, statuaire;
and Vibert, author, all of whom fought in the
rank-and-file.
A contracter of my acquaintance, who
wished to supply the Government, asked a
wealthy captain of the National Guard if he
(the contractor) could depend upon the men
buying their own muskets. The reply was,
" Why, do you really think that the National
Guard would fight for their country and buy
their own muskets ? That would be patriotism.
SHUT UP IH PAU IS.
117
There is no such thing in France now. The
National Guard will not buy. You'll lose
every sou of your investment if it depends
upon any considerable number of even the
rich buying their guns."
A venerable-looking fiery old Frenchman
opened in my hearing a furious tirade of
denunciation upon a lot of soldiers. Pointing
to them he exclaimed, to those of us who stood
by : " They are cowards and scoundrels. They
won't do anything. There is no blood and no
pluck left in France—no mettle, no heroism,
no physical vitality. We are gone !—we are
gone ! Poor France ! she is gone ! When
the war is over I shall go to Switzerland,
become naturalized, and deny to my last
breath that I am a Frenchman."
This declaration is quite the fashion now.
You hear it frequently, and from the best
class of Frenchmen ; and, what is still more
noticeable, those who have most to say about
the desertion, and deception, and treason, and
betrayal, and all that, to which " poor France "
is subjected, are the first to declare that as
soon as Yon Moltke opens the gates they are
going to flee their native land, and leave it to
118
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its fate. Call you this backing your country?
Is this the French " patriotism " of which we
have heard so much ? The worship of
success, the only sentiment to which the
French are faithful, kills patriotism, chivalry,
and every civic virtue. A nation guilty of
such idolatry must of necessity fall down and
perish.
There are many Frenchmen here who wear
the uniform of the National Guard and carry
an American passport. I was pleased to hear
the United States' Minister tell some of them
that their place was on the other side of the
Atlantic, though I must say I shall be thank¬
ful if they do not act upon the hint. May
the " civilization shut up in Paris " stay where
it is !
29th October.—It is asserted in Le Combat
of yesterday that Bazaine is secretly nego¬
tiating with King William for the surrender
of Metz. This has caused "a profound sen¬
sation."
General Bellamere reports the capture of
Bourget with much elation, and says, " This
enlarges the circle of our occupation," etc.
SHUT UP IN PAP IS.
119
30th October.—Bourget has been recaptured
by the Prussians. The French commander
was in bed and asleep; the soldiers were in
the wine-cellars, and mostly drunk. Those
who were drunk were killed or captured ;
those who were sober ran away.
This disgrace makes a great sensation. The
Government try to smooth the matter over by
asserting that Bourget " formed no part of
the general plan of defence."
1st November.—There was an interesting
spectacle in the cemeteries to-day. It is All
Saints' Day, when it is the custom to visit the
tombs of departed relatives ; and to-day, in
the midst of all our gloom, people came in
crowds, each to freshen up the little mound
which covered the precious dead, now " wholly
at peace and quiet." The dead discoloured
wreaths are replaced by living ones. The
French are as reverent about their dead as
the Chinese—their graves are never left alone
or forgotten. One would say that the living
strive to give their dead ones some share in
the pleasant light of the sun, and to keep their
hold of them even in the land of shadows.
120
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ANOTHER ERUPTION.
We have had another eruption of the
volcano upon which we are living! It was
brought on by three specific events—
The affair of Bourget ;
The fall of Metz ;
The negotiations of M. Thiers.
We have had one Republic taken captive,
another Republic set up in its place, and the
first Republic reinstated—all in the space of
twelve hours. By ten o'clock Bismarck's
" populace " were ominously astir, and Bis¬
marck's prophecy seemed about to be fulfilled.
People, and people, and people hurrying to
the-Hôtel de Yille—our seat of government—
Robespierre's, and King Louis's, and King
Mob's seat of government. King Mob's seat
of government last night : ten thousand,
fifteen thousand, twenty thousand, packing all
the vast open space before the palace, and all
the streets emptying into it. Women with
big feet and ankles of prodigious circumfer-
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121
3tice ; maidservants, in their clean white caps ;
boys, as frolicsome as only boys can be,
playing hide-and-seek among the forest of
legs, followed by small dogs in full bark ; old
men, who totter as they hasten ; frantic
blouses, pipe going furiously, some with the
moblot stripe down the legs; Mobiles and
Nationals, in half uniform and full uniform,
full-armed and half-armed—in they pour, and
here they gather, and shout, and squeeze, and
sway.
The Seine runs silently and swiftly by ; the
church-bells toll slowly and solemnly; Notre
Dame stands near, on an island in the river.
More history. "What history upon history
piled all round here ! The spirits of Robes¬
pierre, and Danton, and King Louis (with
King Mob's red crown on), gather about the
equestrian statue of King Henry. That fear¬
ful hum again—that long, low, awful murmur
of the human sea.
Detachments of the National Guard crowd
through the dense mass with the butt-end of
their muskets up. A pacific sign. They will
not fire on the mob. " Better," says the spirit
of King Louis. " Better not," replies the spirit
122
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of Lafayette, and the spirit of Robespierre
concurs. Mirabeau would like to address
them from the balcony, and Napoleon lead
them against Blucher's successor at Versailles.
But may not the butts mean surrender ? The
waiter from the cafe' suggests that it may, the
middle-aged woman with the thin nose fears it
does, and exclaims " Mon Dieu / it shall never
be. The women will never consent to it."
£< Never ! " cries the lame man in the straw
hat. " I will join thee, citoyenne, cripple as I
am, and never yield till the Prussians are
driven from France."
Large pieces of white paper are raised aloft,
on which we read : " No armistice ! Resistance
to death ! Vive la Commune ! " Wild cheers
and frantic swinging of hats and caps. The
ocean heaves, and swells, and roars. The
clouds hang low. An unintermittent drizzle.
Sloppy streets. Dismal enough, look which
way you will, up or down, to palace or
cathedral.
A tall well-bred-looking gentleman, in
officer's undress uniform, ventures to deplore
such factious behaviour, and looks down
haughtily on the ruffians who hustle up
SHUT UP IN PARIS.
123
around him with menacing faces and fingers.
But he folds his arms and continues to look
formidable to his tormentors, who gradually
skulk before his cool disdainful eye.
Thip combination of the sneak and the
bully is only to be found in all its perfection
in a Paris mob. Somebody of consequence,
to all appearance, is recognised by the
villains, one of whom wriggles up close to
him, shakes five filthy nails in his face, and
screams, " Vous êtes un lâche ! Vous êtes un
lâche !"
A French revolution thaws out some of
the oddest and strangest-looking human beings
that ever were seen on the face of the earth.
Delegations wedge their way through to
the iron gates, carrying banners inscribed,
"Levée en Masse !—Pasd' Armistice !—• Vive la
République I" The largest of these banners
is snatched from its two poles by a gust of
wind. " A good omen ! " growls the tall
officer. The woman with the thin nose grabs
at her boy, exclaiming, " Look ! I tell thee,
child, the winds are against the Republic !"
A shrill voice cries, " Vive la République
Rouge ! " The clock over the entrance chimes
124
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the quarter-hour. The pleasant melody is
sadly out of keeping with the angry and vin¬
dictive shouts. We are overheard talking
English, and a moblot takes his pipe from his
mouth to remark, "We don't want to hear
any language spoken that we cannot under¬
stand." " Then you'll not hear your own,"
growls the handsome officer. But nobody
minds what the officer says. We keep close
to him. We hear it whispered, "An
Imperialist ! How he'd like to shoot us
down with his master's muskets ! " The
answer was, " But it is our turn now. Look—
they are forcing the gates."
So they are. The gates come open. The
crowd pours in. Flourens, at the head of
several hundred armed tirailleurs, leads the
attack. There is a parley with the sentinels,
who give way. Shots are fired, by whom, at
whom, no one knows. They fire the mine.
Ten thousand people run hither and thither,
crying, " To arms !—to arms ! They are
attacking the Government. They are firing
on the people." Now a spectacle of panic,
stampede, and lunacy, such as only Paris can
furnish. The ten thousand lunatics run down
SHUT UP IN PARIS. 125
the Bue^Rivoli, into the Boulevard Sebastopol.
Some spin round on their axis—-just spin
round, that's all. Others make frantic ges¬
tures. National Guards plunge into their
shops, and rush out again with their muskets.
The shops close magically. Paris shopkeepers
excel in shop-closing. They can keep ahead
of the rapidest mob. " Clap, clap, clap," all
along the street. It is like a drill. Fastidi¬
ously-dressed Nationals are rolled over in the
thin slop. I sit suddenly on the kerb, with
an enormous woman in my lap. I slip out
from under, and leave my burthen in my
place. I take shelter in a restaurant. The
handsome officer stands still. The freshet
goes round him like a brook round an oak.
I can see him wish that Napoleon were ten
years younger, and at the head of 50,000
men. Such antics and frantics, such grotesque
contortions of rage, such gesticulating and
perspiring, and shaking of fingers and brand¬
ishing of fists and hats, and such laughing
and jesting, too ! If a terrified woman ex¬
posed her ankle in her flight, the lunatical
patriots would pause and stare. No male
Parisian would miss such a sight on his
120
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death-bed. You would see a man suddenly stop
running, take out a pipe, light it, and become
perfectly composed and unconcerned.
We gather at the door of the palace again,
and rush in. The Government are in session
in one of the rooms, but break up in disorder.
Flourens, with his great wild eyes wilder than
ever, mounts the table and proclaims the Red
régime. He calls out a dozen names for the
offices of state, Dorian for president. He
declines ; not—such is the astounding de¬
moralization of everybody and everything
—because he holds an important office under
the old (?) Government, but because he does
not feel competent to form a new one. He is
afraid he is not the man to form a ministry,
and he is sure it is not modesty that induces
him to decline. Trochu mounts a stool in the
passage, and exclaims : " Citizens, hear the
words of a soldier. Your city was in danger ;
I have secured its defence. The enemy could
have entered in forty-eight hours, now I can
defy him." Cries of " A bas Trochu ! "—" No
armistice !"—" Vive Flourens !" The general
is asked why he did not march on the enemy.
He replies, because it would be butchery to do
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127
so. Jules Simon and Mayor Arago try in vain
to soothe the lunatics. A scuffle occurs on the
great stairway, so often trodden by the feet of
revolutionists.
An officer gets slapped in the face. He
draws his sword. It is snatched from him.
Another shot outside, followed by the cry,
" To the Seine—to the Seine !" It was pro¬
posed by the Trochu party to drown the man
who had fired a revolver. He was rescued-by
some of the National Guard. There is an
attempt to shut the gates ; it succeeds but par¬
tially. They are forced back again. The iron
banister of the stairway bends1 under the tre¬
mendous pressure. Furniture is smashed. A
splendid plan of Paris, drawn up by Hauss-
man's engineers and Napoleon's Haussman, is
cut to pieces by the revengeful Reds. They
break into the chamber where the twenty
mayors are in session. The mayors flee.
Din, racket, confusion, in all the rooms and in
all the halls. Trochu is incarcerated in one
of the rooms, with his coat mutilated and his
decorations torn. Favre is also shut up.
Rochefort is as pale as on the day of Victor
Noir's funeral. Jules Ferry slips out, and
128
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rallies the National Guard for the rescue of
the Government. The unwashed and un¬
combed crowd are addressed by Flourens,
Pyat, and Blanqui. " The country is to be
saved by the Commune. You workmen and
artisans are to save it," and so forth.
While the mob inside is deliberating in this
maniacal manner, the mob outside is delibe¬
rating in a manner no less maniacal. A shot
is fired before the entrance, by a man who
was grabbed and called a Prussian, because—
as a wild woman exclaims, as she brandishes
her fists in the man's face—he has light hair
and light complexion. " Did you ever see
such hair on a Frenchman ?" vociferates the
hag. " Never ! " echoes the mob. But the
supposed espion eludes his followers and
escapes. While the clock over the door is
chiming the quarter before five, slips of paper
are thrown from the windows, announcing the
proclamation of the Commune and the elec¬
tions. Darkness adds to the entanglement
and confusion. It is evident that the great
body of the National Guards are on the side
of the old (!) Government. There is an en¬
counter with the white-bearded Blanqui. The
SHUT UP IN PARIS. 129
old revolutionist is hustled and knocked hither
and thither in the fray, and at last falls sense¬
less over against the bench. The Reds hold
the field, or rather floor, and carry off their
wounded leader. Favre looks out of the
window of his prison-room upon the sea of
troubles, that looks all the more sinister and
ominous by reason of the gloomy drizzly
night. At one time the Reds have possession
of the Hôtel de Ville on the inside, and the
Trochu troops on the outside. So we have a
siege within a siege. This was very comical,
and was hugely enjoyed by the volatile
Parisians, who forgot their sorrows in the
enjoyment of the comedy. For about five
hours the Reds had control and held the
quarter-deck, as it were, while they kept their
opponents in the hold below. So Flourens
followed the example of Favre, and " picked
up the authority he found lying on the
ground." The Mayor made a speech inviting
the people to support the cause of order, and
to abide by the result of the elections, which
would take place on the following day. Dorian
was declared president ad interim, and the
Favre government would resign. The twenty
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mayors also met, and proclaimed the elections
for the following day.
This was a capitulation on the part of the
Favre government, but it was no sooner over
than—lo ! presto ! change !—they found them¬
selves out of the hold and on the quarter¬
deck, in undisputed supremacy.
Ferry's Nationals got the upper hand, and
Flourens fell back down the great stairway,
and has since declared, in the language of the
official reports of the sorties, " having attained
our end we retired." The crowd dissolved,
the morning dawned, the river ran on, the
clock on the palace chimed the quarter-hours,
and all was quiet once more.
How the émeute passed off without blood¬
shed is a mystery even to those who are used
to the caprices of fortune in a Paris " mani¬
festation."
Certainly we are not indebted to either the
Trochu or the Flourens party for our escape.
It is no credit to any of them that " the Revo¬
lution " continues to be " bloodless." If it
continues so to the end it will be a " Divinity "
indeed that " shapes " it.
Rochefort has resigned his seat at the
SHUT UP IN PARIS.
131
council-board of the Republic, but retains his
stand at the barricades.
Rochefort is not either cruel or ferocious.
The ugliness of his face is relieved by its
drollery, and the savage chatterings of his
pen are redeemed by their grotesque inco¬
herence.
5th November.—Jules Favre tells us that M.
Thiers spoke with Bismarck on the question
of the revictualling of Paris.
My morning paper has a gleam of sense, for
it says: "We are expiating the blunders of
the late (and present ?) Government and it
says also :
" It is time for illusions to cease. Now
is the time to look the reality in the face.
We are vanquished. France is beaten and
•prostrate. Can she prescribe absolute condi¬
tions ? Can she speak as the victorious party ?
It is impossible."
Then the lunacy returns, and it goes on to
say:
" Thank Heaven, we can subsist for awhile
on our antecedents ; they are sufficiently
illustrious ! "
132
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This is something like the boy at the base
of the monument at Bunker's Hill, who, being
asked by a stranger " what people lived upon
in those parts," replied, " Pumpkin Pies and
Past Recollections."
SHUT UP IN PARIS.
133
MENTAL HORRORS.
The mental "horrors of the siege" are the
most distressing to experience or to witness.
It is the intolerable tension of expectation
and the baffling uncertainty that besets every
hour and minute of the day which tries us.
One really knows nothing of what is going
on, and there is an all-pervading sense of
something that is going to happen, and which
may come at any moment. This gives a sense
of unreality to one's whole life. The strain
upon, and the exhaustion of, both moral and
physical energy, that this state of uncertainty
and expectation produces, is not to be put into
words. This vague expectation becomes, after
a while, unendurable. Something is coming—
is on its road—is impending. We know not
what it is, or what it may be ; nor how it will
come, nor when it will come. The solid earth
seems turned into smoke, and to be going
away from under our feet. Bodily health and
moral sanity are alike difficult to. preserve
134
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under this prolonged state of things. Our
grief for those who go out to battle and do
not return has the horrible element of sus¬
pense. The certainty of death would be a
blessed relief.
There is just enough of hope to keep the
imagination keenly alive to the tortures of
apprehension. One longs for a word, and
dreads to hear it. The mind is haunted with
melancholy suspicions. The silence becomes
terrifying. Many have not heard from their
friends since the siege. I hear one cry, " Oh,
for a single word to tell me of my beautiful
babes ! " Another says, " I. would give all
I possess to hear from my poor mother, but
it is so long since I heard anything that I
dread what might come !"
In some cases the silence of months is
broken by the worst of tidings.
The first news one young man has of his
mother is that she is dead.
A lady, who had used every means to
obtain information of her daughter, who was
on her wedding-tour when Paris was invested,
at last succeeded in hearing that her daughter
was lying at the point of death, with the
SHUT UP IN PARIS.
■135
words always on her lips, "Tell mother to
come." The next tidings are that all is over ;
the mother could not come.
Another learns from an incidental remark
in a friend's letter that she has lost her only
sister.
Such is the inner life of the siege.
136
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"WHAT DO WE HERE?"
6th November.—Attended the concert at the
Cirque National. There were, I should think,
about 3000 people ; many were not able to
get in, and many of those who made good
their entrance were unable to hear or to see.
There was a preliminary discourse, delivered
by the Protestant minister, Alphonse Coquerel.
He has a good voice, a pleasing manner, and
a prepossessing presence. The subject was
" Mendelssohn and the Reformation." Here is
one of the introductory paragraphs :—
" While they enclose us with a girdle of
artillery, and with great trouble bring their
enormous Krupp cannon from afar and put
them in place against us, what do we here ?
We play their music. (Laughter.) You
come to hear and applaud the grand works of
Beethoven, of Weber, and of Mendelssohn—
Germans all three. Is this, on our part, an
infidelity to our country, a complicity some¬
what with those who have so cruelly invaded
SHUT UP IN PARIS.
137
her? Not in the least. These illustrious dead
are not our enemies. The domain of the ideal
into which they introduce us has no frontier.
Their great works are a part of the universal
patrimony of humanity." ....
Coquerel is a good speaker; his discourse
was well delivered, and it contained a vein of
poetic feeling, but there was nothing in the
oration commensurate with the occasion. The
orator paid a high compliment to Edgar Quinet,
and called his work on the Revolution " the
most admirable and useful work of our age,"
and he promised that, " when we are quiet
and at peace," he would give a discourse upon
it. Then he went into a critical and rhetori¬
cal disquisition on Mendelsshon, and on the
peculiarity of his qualifications, of which he
said the greatest was " that he was a fervent
and modest Christian." One object of the
discourse, perhaps, was to make its hearers
understand that if they wanted to have gold
prize-medals, and decorations of the Legion of
Honour, they were bound to do something
really good to deserve them ; and that, unless
good service has really procured them, the
decorations and rewards are a mockery and a
caricature, instead of an honour, which
SHUT UP IN PARIS..
is all true ; but the very phrases in which he
spoke were so turned and decorated, that
the meaning did not strike home to the heart
sharp and stern, as it ought to have done.
The object of the concert and of the oration
was to raise a fund on behalf of the wounded.
After the music was over, the orator appealed
to the audience, and said that if they had
entered into the spirit of the music they had
just heard, they would be moved by generous
emotions to a patriotic impulse, from which
the wounded would profit.
" If our ambulance beds are empty," said
he, " we are no longer men, we are no longer
Frenchmen, we are no longer anything "
The remainder of the sentence was drowned
in applause ; but there was a despairing in¬
tonation in the speaker's voice, as though he
did not hope much from his hearers.
In a great national crisis oratory is a great
power ; but the orator must have a great faith
and a passionate hope, for which, if needs be,
he is ready to perish, so that he may rouse
and fire men by the message he delivers.
But in this siege-time of 1870 "the oracles
are dumb," and there is no prophet left
amongst us.
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139
"NO THOROUGHFARE.
1th November.—It is plain, from the tone
or semitone of the more reasonable news¬
papers, and especially from the unawed
public opinion privately expressed, that the
failure of the negotiations is a pungent dis¬
appointment. There was a widespread wish
that M. Thiers would find a way for France
out of her present predicament. Rational
Paris longs for peace.
The thoughtful people, among whom, I have
no doubt, all our leaders, civil and military,
are to be classed, put the situation about
thus :—
We are done for. There is now no
prospect, scarcely a possibility, of succour from
the provincial armies. They are so watched,
hunted, and disintegrated by the enemy that
it is not possible for them to consolidate
sufficiently for a march on Paris. The most
that can be expected of them is guerilla war¬
fare, and in that there is little help for Paris.
140
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As for the army of Paris, it is quite incapable
of coping with the Germans. Tbeir insubordi¬
nation makes even a reconnoissance perilous.
We might as well expect the " foam on the
waters" to break through the German lines
and to raise the siege.
We can indeed hold out while there remain
horses aud bread to eat, and they may last for
two months yet ; but this, without some good
fighting to show for ourselves meanwhile, will
do little towards raising the foreign estimation
of France.
The most propitious moment for obtaining
a truce, and after that a peace, has passed
away.
Oh ! for an opportunity to escape !
This, I think, is the secret aspiration of all
who have not gone quite mad with Red
fanaticism, or who dare to realize our situa¬
tion, and among these M. Thiers and Jules
Favre, and many others of our leaders,
must be reckoned ; but they fear the Red
Indians of Belleville, and the favourable
moment for coming to terms with the Germans
has passed by.
I ventured to hint at the possibility of
SHUT VP IN PARIS.
141
capitulation to a National Q-uard shopkeeper,
and he replied, " But as you value your life
be eareful how you use that word. You
might as well drop a match in a powder
magazine."
Just so ; the war party à Voutrance rule the
city, and the rulers of the city, with an energy
which might go far to deliver the city if it
were put in practice in the right place, i.e., in
front of the soldiers before the enemv : but
« *
when it comes to fighting, they not only run
away themselves, but carry with them even
those who are disposed to stand. They will
not capitulate, nor allow the G-overnment to
do so. While the sober-minded deplore the
failure of negotiations, the men of Belleville
are jubilant in their salles and clubs over their
own victory, and—Bismarck's ! One of them,
M. Veuillot, writes in the Univers :—
" Let the black flag which now floats on the
walls of Paris be henceforth the flag of France
to the day of resurrection. Let this flag be
,the symbol before Grod of our repentance, and
before the human race of our resolution not to
survive our country ! "
Rhetoric and epithets intoxicate the brain
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like strong drink, and render men incapable
of right reason.
I3M November.—The National Guards are
being mobilised, that is, weeded, for fighting
men to go to the front. Great commotion in
the Guard in consequence. It is sickening to
hear their remarks.
This mobilisation is due to the popular
demand, which can no longer be disobeyed.
The feeling of other sections of the army
towards the National Guard is bitter and
demonstrative.
To hesitate longer would be perilous, for it
seems that the first duty of our leaders is
obedience to their followers.
All men between twenty-five and thirty-
five, who have never served, or who are un¬
married and widowers without children, are
called into service.
Far better would it be for France if all who
have refused to serve could be draughted out
of the ranks ! If one half of the garrison could
be got rid of, or sent as prisoners to Von
Moltke, there would be some chance of the
remainder making a decent fight; as it is
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143
demoralization and cowardly fear of the enemy
work apace : the whole lump is being rapidly
leavened.
A German, English, or American army, half
the size of this army shut up in Paris, could not
be kept inside these walls if they wished to get
out. But the French soldiers are terrified at
the sight of a body of spiked helmets, and as
they do not often see this sight, they are the
more frightened when they do. The Germans
have a way of being invisible, which affects
the nerves of the troops, and which is cer¬
tainly remarkable.
Butchers now give only forty grammes of
beef or mutton to each person every three days.
The theatres are opening one by one. The
Ambigu tries to give some reflexion in its
pieces of the great drama of which France
is now the theatre.
Crowds go to witness ' Les Pays auxLor-
rains,' but without any enthusiasm.
144
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STEEET LIFE.
The Boulevards have long since lost their
old order and decorum ; they are now filled
with street performances of all kinds and
descriptions. Music upon every instrument
that can make it; fortune-tellers, conjurors,
gymnasts, dancing dogs, mountebanks—every
conceivable device, trick, or sleight-of-hand for
entrapping money.
The new policemen are among the de¬
lighted lookers-on at these entertainments.
Two lads perform gymnastics on a carpet, a
weazened old witch shows you cheap battles
through a small hole in a pasteboard house ; a
brisk young fellow in the National Guard
stripe performs innumerable tricks after a
sufficiency of sous have been pitched into his
ring. Two little boys and a little girl attract
quite a crowd ; one of the boys plays a harp,
the other a violin, and the little girl sings.
They make a pretty and pathetic tableau ; the
music is wonderfully sweet, and there is a
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145
refinement about tbe whole performance.
There is something in it which touches a
young and pretty " unfortunate after listen¬
ing a few moments she turns in tears. A
little farther on is a chiropodist, who has
beguiled an old man into allowing him to try
the magic efficacy of his " wonderful inven¬
tion." A molasses-caridy man finds plenty of
customers for farthing portions of his sweets,
as he shouts and screams their virtues.
Paris has become very like Na'ples in the
character of the entertainments of its streets,
and above all in the crowds of greasy and
sometimes not unpicturesque beggars.
Trochu confesses with some bitterness that
tbe émeute of the 31st ultimo nipped the
armistice and the hope of peace in the bud.
His proclamation deprecates any further
" manifestations."
L
146
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ESPIONOMANIA.
Bismarck's wonderfully early news from
Paris, during his interview with M. Thiers,
shows that Prussian spies ply their trade with
skill and success. There is no limit to their
audacity, and the Parisians are driven wild
with suspicion of everybody; and this uni¬
versal suspicion has a curious effect. The pos¬
sibility of being taken for a spy makes you
feel like one. You return furtive glances
with glances as furtive. You colour in trying
not to colour. You become ill-at-ease in the
endeavour to seem unconscious. If you have
a passport or a letter, with the signature of
someone in power, that is exactly the docu¬
ment with which a spy would provide him¬
self. Whatever you say seems to be exactly
what a spy would say. In fact, the sense of
self-enosciousness makes you feel as if you
were bewitched into behaving like a spy ! and
the idea of being arrested and arraigned before
one of the rough-and-ready itinerant tribunals
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147
of Red justice, more summary and less dis¬
criminating than " Lynch law," rouses one's
indignation as well as one's apprehension.
Added to all this, the suspicion of being
suspected for a spy turns one into an in¬
voluntary spy-hunter. I strongly suspect
that the man who just now urged me to buy
a cane is one of Yon Moltke's agents. He
dropped a sentence, sotto voce, in excellent
English, to draw me out probably ! I feel
sure that the man who was so inquisitive in
his conversation at Duval's yesterday was a
spy, and perhaps he thinks that he discovered
a spy in me !
The papers comment upon the increase of
drunkenness; one certainly sees more now
than formerly, nevertheless I am bound to
say that I have seen three times as many
drunken men in the course of one evening's
ramble in Liverpool, Grlasgow, or Edinburgh
than I have seen in the course of three days
here since the war commenced. " Everybody
drinking and nobody drunk," is still the
singular fact. A great deal is said, too, about
the drinking of absinthe, and one of the
newspapers warns its readers against " cette
148
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funeste liqueur." But in Paris people sit at a
table and sip their absinthe, while in London
and New York they stand at the bar and take
it down at one fell gulp ; so that, though the
liquor may be equally poisonous in both
places, there is a great difference in the quan¬
tity swallowed, and in the mode of drinking it.
I have walked the whole day long over
Paris during the siege, comprising its worst
portions, without seeing one man reeling
through the streets.
In another such excursion I have seen three.
I once saw five in a walk of five miles of
crowded boulevard. And I have counted a
half-dozen men in the cafés who, I thought,
were boozy. But I must confess, after a large
and studiously intentional observation, that
the number of intoxicated people in tbis city
is marvellously small.
The difference, indeed I may say the con¬
trast, between the revellers in a Paris cafe,
a London 'public,' and a New York bar-room,
is striking. To whatever lengths the French¬
man may go in his indulgences, he is at least
quiet. Each circle keeps to itself. There is
no such thing as an uproarious row, gradually
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149
rising from many centres, until the whole
assembly becomes a mass of pugnacious
brawlers. The French, on the whole, are
quiet in their dissipations. It is only in
politics that they are noisy. In their delibe¬
rative assemblies and in their public meetings
they can play the drama of Pandemonium to
perfection, but in the café or at the ball they
seldom rise above a cheery chatter or a merry
hum.
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STIRRING THE EMBERS.
14th November.—A pigeon came in the day
before yesterday, and soon after its arrival
the walls were posted with its news :—
The army of the Loire is victorious !
Orleans retaken !
Yon der Tann and the Prussian division
driven back before the French troops !
Newspapers make the most of this success—
so does the Government—so do the orators
in the clubs. Everything is done to rouse
the patriotism of Paris ; but since the dismal
affair of Bourget, we have been so inert that
even this victory fails to rouse us. There is
nothing approaching to enthusiasm, indeed
there is something approaching to misgiving,
if not despair, in the presence of the " first
victory." Still the club orators gesticulate,
stamp, harangue, and rave. But their pul¬
monary patriotism has quite lost its charm,
and the audience, in full uniform, listens with
apathy when they are told that the enemy
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151
must be pursued to his own country, where
the flag of France shall be planted and made
to grow ! All falls flat.
I am surprised to find so much oratori¬
cal ability in these clubs. Most of the
speakers have more or less of real power,
while some of them speak with a vigour and
wit, facility and felicity, which seem to be
indigenous to this country, and inherent in
its language. The French have the gift of
speech enormously developed ; they are in a
chronic state of utterance ; they are for ever
saying something, whether they speak or not.
Their shrug is a speech, and language is with
them an end and not a means ; they begin and
end with " words, words, words."
At the representation off Esther ' to-day, at
the Théâtre Français, there was much feeling
shown by the audience where the actress
alluded to the calamities of France.
We have a report of the secretary-general
of the committee of la viande de cheval. He
says that horseflesh is one-sixth more nutri¬
tious than beef. The best parts of a horse
bring two francs a pound.
Tried to see what we could do to-day in
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the way of a siege dinner, and here is our bill
of fare :—
1. Soup from horse-meat.
2. Mince of cat.
3. Shoulder of dog with tomato sauce.
4. Jugged cat with mushrooms.
5. Roast donkey and potatoes.
6. Rat, peas, and celery.
7. Mice on toast.
8. Plum-pudding.
Expense : Twelve francs a mouth.
It would be difficult to take a restaurant
meal now in Paris, without being served with
at least one of the abovenamed animals. The
bland market-man tells you it is an otter, or a
rare species of hare, or an extraordinarily small
and odd kind of sheep ; but still you go away
with the suspicion that you have seen, and
will presently eat, a cat in disguise. And,
upon my word, they have a skill in this pro¬
cess of concealment which keeps one, I have
no doubt, a constant victim of his imagination.
As to our appetites, they increase fear¬
fully—everybody complains of his appetite.
And we live in a state of misery, because we
fear the day is at hand when we shall have less
to eat than now, when we have barely enough.
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153
EXODUS.
19th November.—About 200 English and
Americans bave left the city, with Count
Bismarck's permission. General Trocbu did
not wish any of them to leave, as " the effect
is so demoralizing to the army and the citi¬
zens."
Trochu is as much afraid of his troops as
his troops are of the enemy.
The American minister Washburne spent
two hours with him, arguing the cause of
those who wished to leave. The fugitives left
in nineteen carriages all in a string.
They did not receive even so much as a
shout from the Red gamins, nor did they seem
to excite curiosity in the sentinels.
The Government informs us that fresh beef
has come to an end, and that henceforth we
must be content with salt-beef and fresh horse
alternately.
20t/i November, Sunday.—At a concert to-
154
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day, the young lady received, instead of a
bouquet, a—piece'of cheese. This seems prac¬
tical, at all events ; but for all that, Paris has
no realization of her situation—none. Toward
the crisis she is torpid; toward everything
else she is jolly. On the ninth Sunday of the
siege, no stranger would mistrust that we are
an invested population. Even the multiplicity
of swell officers and the variety of strolling
regimentals might be regarded as an indis¬
pensable feature of a frolicsome capital. It has
been one of those superb days in which Paris
excels, even in midwinter. The sun was just
warm enough for comfort. The atmosphere was
kindly. It thawed out the Parisians, and the
Parisians, thawed out on an autumn day, are
always a diverting spectacle. But on this
autumn day, at this state of the siege, there
was nothing dejected in the appearance of the
crowd. On the contrary, nothing could be
more indicative of satisfaction and content¬
ment than the faces of the people under
the genial November sun. They were each
and every one the picture of self-congratula¬
tion. Their boots were polished and their
bellies were full—thanks, so far, to the for-
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155
tunes of war. The children were sportive
from inability to comprehend the situation,
and for the very same reason their parents
sauntered along under the leafless trees without
the least appearance of solicitude or appre¬
hension. Do you see that group—always
changing in persons, always the same in
number—looking out through the opening
made by the street opposite ? They are watch¬
ing, with all their native indolent intentness,
the nothing that is going on at the outposts.
The National Guard and the old gent in the
big blue necktie, the two little girls chasing
one another round the group, and the matronly
lady who holds her puny lad by the hand, the
maidservant in her white cap, the mobiles
and the policemen—all look out over the tops
of the houses upon the tops of the hills, with
the hazy stare which seems to come from the
haze that covers the hills.
At the Arc de Triomphe there is another
crowd. An old man will give you a peep at
the Prussians through his telescope for four
sous.
An urchin telescope proprietor cries con¬
tinually, " Here's a fine view of the Prussian
156
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batteries for ten centimes ! " and a prodigious
woman with a basketful of lorgnettes ex¬
claims : " If you want to see old Bismarck,
buy one of these ; only twenty-five francs ! "
Chocolate and gingerbread are everywhere
for sale.
The churches are open, and full of women
and Bretons.
Two moblots were playing pitch-and-toss
to-day on the steps of the Madeleine, an inci¬
dent significant of our demoralization.
A woman's committee of the 18 th arron¬
dissement have " decreed " the " melting of the
bells into cannon," an " immediate ration-
ment," and " the abolition of the ouvrières
religieuses and the Maison de Prostitution."
Delescfehze, editor of the Reveil, invites the
arrondissements to constitute a popular jury of
forty members to search and try all officers
who betray their country—not only Bazaine
and his accomplices, but all traitors of all
grades, civil and military.
Delesc&uze is one of the educated Reds,
who give respectability to the Communist
party, and plausibility to their theories.
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157
A RED CLUB IN SESSION.
21s# November.—The clubs are the waste-
pipes of the fermenting " civilization shut up
in Paris."
Last night we had a séance at the Salle
Fa vie', which was too characteristic to go
unreported. There is where the Reddest of
the Reds most do congregate. There you
hear the most " advanced " sentiment of the
" Universal Republicans," unembellished by
the poisonous sophistry of Louis Blanc, and
unobscured by the pyrotechnics of Victor
Hugo.
The salle is filled to suffocation. The
president smokes, the secretaries smoke, the
orator takes his cigar from his mouth to
address the assembly, and the assembly takes
its hundreds of cigars and pipes from its
mouths to hoot or applaud the orator. It
is a sulphurous place for a stranger in more
senses than one. It is a pandemonium, a
zoological garden, a pantomime, a comedy,
158
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« backwoods' Fourth of July, and a Donny-
brook Fair all combined.
The men are in the uniform of the National
Guard, and all who are not are in the uniform
of the Garde Mobile. We miss the blouses,
but not those who used to wear them. There
is the usual proportion of women in all their
imposing proportions, speaking physically.
That raw-boned, broad-faced, towering female
form over in the corner I have seen many a
time before in Red " manifestations." She is
a fine specimen of the Amazon. I would like
to see her under fire.
There is a fine old Red for you about half¬
way down the aisle—that cadaverous, sharp-
nosed veteran with a pipe going furiously.
How the old chap's eyes glitter ! What a
mixture of drollery and savagery in his face !
There is Yoltaire's monkey and tiger. Meet
that man in Westmeath, and you would take
him for a native.
There is a rising Red on the platform, who
revels in the occasion. He is not without
marks of gentleness and good-nature. He
has, strangely and probably enough, stepped
down from a higher social sphere to breathe
SHUT UP IN PARIS,
m
this more congenial atmosphere. He leaves his
gentle circle to join the sans culotte. But he,
too, betrays the " tiger." Kindliness alter¬
nates with ferocity.
The séance opens with an orchestra of
oratory and a pantomime of shaking fingers.
Everybody shakes his finger in everybody's
else face. The president shakes his finger
in the face of the audience, the audience
shakes its multitudinous fingers in the face
of the president. The president rings his
bell, and rings it so furiously that it won't
ring at all.
I catch enough that is said by the speakers
to know that they propose to march en masse
on the enemy, and make a trouée, on condition
that the old sergents de ville, the gardes-côtes,
the aristocrates, and the séminaristes shall fol¬
low, and if they are allowed to go where they
please and come when they please, and not be
obliged to " go to the left when they wish to
be at the right," and vice versa, " simply be¬
cause their officers desire it."
A speaker opens upon " the sluggards who
carry a red cross on their caps, and a white
dish-cloth for a flag." This is received with
160
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uproar. One cries, " This is an insult an¬
other " wants to know who shall take care of
our wounded, then ?" The towering form in
the corner screams, " The women ! the women !
ye lâches I Ye will neither let them fight
nor take care of the wounded."
The president takes the cigar from his
mouth, lays it on the table, rises to his legs,
shakes his bell with one hand and his finger
with the other ; finally he is heard to say that
" Citizen Beaurepaire has discovered a new
tactic against the Prussians, which he will
exhibit to-morrow to the citizens of Belleville.
The proceeds of the conference will be given
to tbe poor of Belleville." The last words
are enough, for they are not Red enough.
The young Red on the platform shakes his
finger, the old Red shakes his finger, all the
Reds shake their fingers, and all the Reds
scream and stamp. The tobacco-smoke in¬
creases to a suffocating degree, and the whole
question, whatever it was, seems involved in
the same blue stifling haze. Everybody
coughs and blows their nose, and shake their
fingers, and cry one thing and another thing
and everything.
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1G1
From the cries I learn at last the cause of
the disturbance. " It is contrary to equality "
(to devote money to this purpose). " Let us
make powder and ball with it." "We don't
want the bread of the aristocrats." " We'll
starve before we eat their bread."
At this moment there is a cry from the
back part of the hall—" A mouchard !—a mou¬
chard r and the whole audience jump up and
shake their fingers at the mouchard, or at least
where he is supposed to be. The president
rings and shakes* his finger, with his cigar
burning like a chimney on fire.
" To the door with him !—out with him !"
is the cry. The mouchard resists, and with
success for a minute ; but then trips, stumbles,
and falls,.and is borne out of the door instead of
being murdered, as I expected he would be, and
as the towering squaw in the corner demanded.
" Kill him !—kill him !" she screams.
The storm abates. It is the relief of ex¬
haustion. We settle back to business, and I
take the opportunity to retire.
The Club de Belleville had one of their most
maniacal meetings last evening. One of the
orators said, " Je ne crams pas la foudre, je hais
M
162 SHUT UP IN PARIS.
le Dieu, le misérable Dieu des prêtes, et je
voudrais, comme les Titans, escalader le ciel pour
aller le poignarder." A voice cried, " You can
go up in one of Nadar's balloons," and there
was a boisterous enjoyment of this wit ; but
here let us draw the curtain.
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163
PIGEON POST.
2 it h November.—Two pigeons arrived to¬
day, bringing 1X00 private despatches. We
examined these microscopic letters with intense
anxiety. This method of communication was
suggested last October by J. J. Arnold, Esq.,
an English barrister, on behalf of his clerk,
a young Frenchman, M. Chas. Mangin, who
invented the material on which to print the
despatches. It is quite flexible, and entirely
waterproof, and so light that it can be affixed
to the leg of the bird without annoying or
overweighting it.
M. Mangin has even put the whole contents
of a newspaper in a space which, as a French¬
man expresses it, " is not larger than the end
of Voltaire's nose !" Another Frenchman (of
Irish mixture) declared the letters " were so
invisible that they could hardly be seen."
The potato-dealers at the Halle this evening
were assailed by the mob, who seized their
stores ; the people were in such numbers that
164
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they only obtained about one potato to three
persons.
25th November.—The queue at the Halle
to-day must have been nearly a mile long;
each person had a card marking his allowance.
S EUT UP IN PARIS.
165
ALIMENTARY.
2 6/A November. — Vive les Bats ! The
Academy of Science, after sitting on our
alimentative condition for some time, have
pronounced—that rat is incomparably superior
to horse, dog, or cat Rats are indeed far
from being bad to eat, and they are not in¬
digestible ; but cat is, to my taste, far
superior. You may cook the rat in all sorts
of ways ; but rat pâté is a delicacy ! These
luxuries are not plentiful ; there are only two
places where they are sold, and only one shop
where you can buy rat pâtés. Dogs and cats
are difficult to meet with, except in the streets,
when one wishes them hanging up in the
butchers' shops !
The rationment announced to-day is—27th,
codfish; 28th, salt-pork ; 29th, codfish? 30th,
beef and mutton; 1st, 2nd, and 3rd of De¬
cember, beef.
We all seem to have returned to the days
when we were little boys, and used to hang
round the pastrycook's window I Now,
ICG SHUT UP IN PARIS.
however, it is the grocers' shops which are
the attraction, and to look in at every grocer's
window we pass, is one of the most exciting
incidents in our daily walks. My friend and
I have just secured the two last remaining
jars of Scotch marmalade in one shop—each
jar cost two francs and a half.
The greatest sufferers from the present
state of things are the poor little babies. In
ordinary times a baby is sent out to nurse in
the country ; " the mother has no milk," or it
may be that the baby has no mother. Paris
hates babies, and now, as they cannot be sent
into the country, and there are hardly any
milch-cows left, the poor little things die like
flies in cold weather. It may not be the
worst fate for them, but it is very sad to look
on and see them perish. Edmond About writes
a very French article on this topic, and calls
the King of Prussia " Herod "
30 th November.—No gas in the streets—
and the petroleum lamps are a very dark
substitute. The Boulevards are in gloom;
but the people who love darkness rather than
light are numerous and animated. The cafés,
however, are brilliantly furnished with lamps,
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167
and they never looked gayer, or were more
crowded.
A battle is impending, and we Anglo-
Saxons are unsuccessfully trying to feel
neutral. I defy man, woman, or child of our
race to look on at a battle in the streets, even
between dogs, or cocks, or cats, or a squabble
among boys, without taking sides ; while as to
a war between nations, which most people
can only read about, neutrality of sympathy
is quite impossible—we must express our
feelings, or die of their suppression ! The
contrast between the French, and both
Americans and English, is remarkable in
this respect. We are a fighting race by nature,
and we never get anything worth having
without fighting for it. .The French are a
military people, if you will, but they don't
like a pounding match as we do, and cannot
stand it, or stand up to it, as we can. With
the French, " nothing succeeds like success
with us, "pluck" stands before all things.
Here, the unsuccessful are execrated ; with
us, we make men into heroes, if they only
"die game." There is a significant difference
between the two tests.
1G8
S1IU.T UP IN PARIS.
the red nobleman.
In my "meditative moods," I often "walk
by myself" through the narrow and pictu¬
resque streets of old Paris. In the cafés and
restaurants there I meet with many strange
and curious specimens, both of people and of
things, as in marine stores and brokers' shops,
one comes upon objects obviously designed to
adorn places of elegance and pleasure. Torn
from their original belongings, they have come
down in the world, and are jumbled in places
where their beauty of design and workman¬
ship is neither known nor recognised, unless
some casual passer-by can discern their value
through all their dirt and varnish, and the
incongruous objects amongst which they lie.
One day I saw a quaint Louis Quatorze mirror
on the walls of a coal-shed, and a clock that
had once marked the hours for some fair dame
of the Regency in a cobbler's stall, reflecting
dimly the shapes of dilapidated boots and shoes,
some of which had also moved in good society.
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■ 169
The " human mortals" sometimes met in
the small out-of-the-way cafés are often, in
their way, as much removed out of their
natural position in the world, but their sordid
surroundings cannot obliterate
" The mark of that which once has been."
I had been wandering one morning, with
" devious steps and slow," going I knew not
whither, until, hungry and tired, I entered a
small restaurant, which stood in my road. I
asked for something to eat, and sat down at
one of the tables. The place had a certain
air of doing a thriving business in its own
way. There were no tablecloths nor dinner-
napkins ; the spoons were of dull pewter, the
glasses were thick and dim ; the crockery
clumsy, and the salt anything but white ; but
the table at which I sat was clean. M y plat
was composed of meat, which was possibly
beef, but légumes and pommés de terre were the
chief features ; the bread was good, and the
vin ordinaire might have been a great deal
worse. It was not high-tide of business, for I
was early ; but several blouses were sitting in
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a distant part of the low room, which, even in
the daytime, required a petroleum lamp.
At the table next to mine sat a young man
whose appearance interested me. He might
have been about thirty, was dressed in the
uniform of a National Guard ; but it was
worn with a difference. His light hair hung
in heavy masses, and would have been all the
better for a comb—his beard for a razor, and
soap-and-water would have acted beneficially
upon his general appearance. But his skin
was fine, and his features refined and distin¬
guished. He kept on his hat, and seemed to
affect slovenliness ; yet, in all his movements,
his manner of sitting on his chair, the shape
of his hands and feet, and certain indefinable
airs, all betrayed the secret, that he belonged
to another grade of society, although he chose
to pass as an ordinary " Red," and to asso¬
ciate with men of the Belleville type. His
face attracted me ; it was pale, thin, and
marked with traces of fatigue and dissipation ;
but it was touching in its expression of gen¬
tleness and refinement, and there was an
eager restlessness in the eyes which contra¬
dicted and disturbed the rest of the eoun-
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171
tenance. The eyes were beautifully brown,
clear, and large ; the mouth delicate and
mobile ; and his voice and intonation were
those of an educated man accustomed to
frequent cultivated society.
I had seen him once before, and I knew
him to be a stiff Communist. I thought I
would try if I could get him into conver¬
sation, so I plunged into the midst of things
by saying,—
" Well, how does your party get on ?"
" Oh, badly enough, citizen ; we are no
better off under this Government than we were
under the Empire."
" But you have more opportunity to pro¬
pagate your views, have you not ?"
" Yes, we have—that is true. And we
mean to make the most of that opportunity.
We shall succeed ; we will have what we
want after the war."
" What is that ? "
" The Commune."
" Well, what is the Commune ? Pardon
me ; I am a foreigner, and ignorant."
" A Commune is a body of men elected, for
example, by universal suffrage in Paris, who
172
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have supreme control in Paris. They make
and unmake municipal laws, they control
the National Guard, and, in short, perform
all the duties and fill all the functions
of a Government, and are responsible only
to the people, who elect them at stated
periods."
" Should their power extend beyond Paris ?"
" That depends upon the people out of
Paris. If they fall in with our system, every
town will have its Commune, each having its
stipulated and limited rights and preroga¬
tives, the Paris Commune being supreme over
all."
" That will leave the rural districts under
the dominion of the cities ? "
" Certainly, citizen. The centres of popu¬
lation, industry, commerce, and intelligence
will rule the scattered masses of the ignorant,
whose very isolation and disintegration
renders them unfit for self-government, and
much more unfit for the government of the
great cities. Paris has had enough of being
outvoted and oppressed by the provinces ; it
is high time she should assert her independence
and natural rights."
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173
" Suppose the provinces refuse to join in
this scheme ?"
" Let them. Paris will cut loose from
them, leave them to their fate, and take her
destiny into her own hands."
" Are there no other features peculiar to
the Commune system of government ?"
" Oh yes, citizen-—several ; but they are all
to he considered."
" How about Socialism ; is that an essential
feature ?"
" That depends upon what you mean by
Socialism."
" Well, what do you mean by Socialism ?"
" It means simply absolute equality before
the law;—an equalization of property—so that
no one person shall get so excessively rich as
to make any other person excessively poor.
Extreme poverty is only the result of extreme
wealth, and extreme destitution of extreme
luxury. I suppose you know there is nothing
new about this, citizen ? "
" I presume you will refer me to some such
practice among the Eomans—the Agrarian
Law of Spurius Cassius, perhaps ? "
" Yes, citizen, quite right. We might go
174
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further back than the Romans ; but to stop
with them. I think Spurius Cassius was the
author of what you call the Agrarian law,
was he not ? "
" It is thought so ; but his motives were
none of the best, you know. He was a dema¬
gogue ; and to curry favour with the people,
and so elevate himself, he "
" Never mind his motives or his object,
citizen ; lie was preaching no new doctrine ;
and in recognising it as a dream of the people,
he was but paying tribute to their sense of
justice, which is always right, while the sense
of justice in kings and nobles, who have
inherited their possessions from their bar¬
barian ancestors, who began this devilry of
royalty and nobility, is always wrong. Cassius,
doubtless, who was a patrician, felt that the
ideas of justice which prevailed in his class
were cruel and oppressive ; hence his plea
that the lands which had been conquered by
the people should be distributed among them,
instead of being added to the already super¬
abundant possessions of the rich."
" Well, now, suppose the property of this
city were distributed in equal parts among its
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175
inhabitants, bow long would it be before the
old inequality would return ? "
" Ab, citizen, that is an old question, but it
is not a fair one. In the first place, so sweep¬
ing a measure nobody would approve ; and in
the second place, the measure that would be
approved would not only be slow but sure,
not only gradual but discriminating—or should
be, at any rate. To begin with the doing away
of one extreme would do away with the other.
Luxurious wealth and squalid poverty would
disappear together. Then it would be time
enough to see what further could be done to
equalize the product of labour."
" But would not the idle be put upon an
equality with the industrious, and shiftlessness
and thrift have the same reward ? "
" No, citizen ; not idleness and industry,
but honesty and chicanery, would be put on
an equality ; or rather, honesty would be
enabled to at least hold its own against chica¬
nery. Depend upon it, citizen, it is artifice
and not industry that now rules in trade.
Trade is a game in which the sharper wins,
and the simple are ruined. This is not equality
or justice. It is a cruel injustice upon the
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honest and illiterate, and a reward to the
clever and designing. This, Socialism would
put an end to. No—no, citizen ; we are not
to be frightened by these spectres, which are
raised by the timid and the selfish. It is not
necessary to work out all the details of the
Socialistic scheme before putting it in motion.
Its first step would remove a great and wicked
injustice,—the monopoly by a few of what they
never earned by legitimate means, but obtained
by fraud, or inherited from those who came
into possession of it by rapacity or artifice.
Why, look at it, citizen ; the whole machinery
of the state in Europe is worked with the sole
object of preventing rich men's sons from be¬
coming poor, and poor men's sons from getting
rich. The laws hedge about the stupid child
of noble parents, lest his stupidity should fail
him in competition with the brighter child of
the common people. The one is prevented
from rising, the other from falling, to the
place in which his natural calibre would place
him. No, citizen ; if all property were put
up as a prize for the reward of industry and
honest toil, my word for it, there would be
a great changing of places in the world."
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177
" But wouldn't that bring us back, in the
future, to where we are now ? Would not the
new aristocrats he as objectionable as the old ?"
" Ah, citizen, you do not understand. We
would have no aristocrats. Socialism inter¬
poses to protect the weak against the strong,
and the honest against the crafty, so that
men should not get so far apart as to be
divided into ruling class and servile class.
There should be serving, but the servant of
to-day should have every opportunity of be¬
coming the master of to-morrow, and no law
should hinder him, nor hinder the master's
degradation, if he deserved it."
" I think I get at your idea, and am ex¬
ceedingly obliged for your explanation ; but
before we part, pray tell me how it is that a
man with such surroundings as these can
show so much thoughtfulness and intelligence.
You are an educated man, if I mistake not?"
" As you please, citizen. I will not deny
that I have had more elegant surroundings,
and that I have seen the inside of more books
than one."
" You are not a nobleman ?"
I am."
N
178
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" And a graduate of a university ? "
" Yes."
" You excite me with a curiosity "
" Which cannot be gratified."
" But you will tell me somewhat of your
history ; I am sure it must be one of great
interest ?"
" Oh no, not so interesting as all that. My
case is not singular. There are not a few of such
as I throughout Europe. You know Rochefort
and Flourens : their career has not been dis¬
similar from mine. You will call us fools and
fanatics, but we know what we are after. We
can fight or think, carry on a revolution or edit
a newspaper, as circumstances may require.
We shall do our work and gain our point. We
are the picket-guard of the new civilization.
But I must leave you now, I have an appoint¬
ment of great importance."
" Political, I suppose ? "
" Political,"
"Then you won't give me your name ?"
" Yes ; mine, but not my family's."
" Do you never hear from your relatives ? '
" Never."
" Do you net care to hear of them ? Is it
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179
necessary to immolate our natural affections,
and natural ties, in order to serve the progress
of society?"
" Yes, citizen ; the cause is more to me than
relatives. Our oath enjoins the sacrifice.
" Then you are under oath ? "
" Yes."
" But the fictitious name ? "
" No, citizen, not even that now ; I have
said too much. I can depend upon your never
even recognising me, I suppose ? "
" Certainly."
" Adieu."
" Adieu."
He bowed to me, and left the restaurant,
now become unpleasantly full.
This interview confirms me in the opinion
that these Communists have an " idea," as the
French say, and mean to plot for its attain¬
ment. But it is impossible to imagine how a
body of so much contrariety of social grade,
and so little coherence, are to work together
■ at the critical moment. If they had a leader
who could weld them, and use them, they
would become extremely formidable.
180
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BREAKING THE CIRCLE OF FIRE,
3rd December.—On the 28th of November
all was ready for the grand sortie. Paris
was in great excitement, and my American
friend and myself resolved to go out to
see what we could, and to give what help
we might to the wounded. It was lovely
weather, like an Indian summer; our voiture
arrived at five o'clock in the morning, yet
the air was so clear that we could see far and
near distinctly. The driver had got up both
himself and his horse as though for a fête ; the
harness and the carriage could be seen to
shine even in the dark.
Before we reached the ground across the
Marne, we met a stream of wounded and
retreating soldiers; and as we drew nearer
to the scene of battle, the crowd of wounded
brave men and cowardly skulkers increased
greatly. No need to tell all the terrible and
pitiful sights we saw. One young fellow,
lying wounded in the hall of a house, beckoned
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181
to my flask. He smiled the thanks he could
not speak. A little dog was curled up asleep
on his breast, and did not stir. The French
soldiers are wonderfully attached to their
dogs. The Zouave and his dog go into battle
together, and it is remarkable how few of the
dogs get killed.
The French had made progress ; the village
of Ohampigny was captured. Alas for the
pretty homes deserted and laid desolate !
History again ; new battles on old battle¬
fields. This little town (a very little town
then) was taken in battle by the Armagnacs,
in the year 1418. This plain old church is
not so plain inside. It was built in the thir¬
teenth century, and in the interior pleases the
eye ; and just now, amidst this din of war,
refreshes the mind with thoughts and hopes
and dreams of peace, if not in this world in
another, where none shall hurt or destroy in
all His Holy Mountain. I have seen no
battle yet that had not its restful church.
I do not wonder at the military spirit. It
is certainly one of the deepest of our instincts.
There is a tremendous fascination in the
thunder of artillery ; a battle charms, enthuses,
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crazes, and there is an unspeakable enjoyment
in the craze. Cannon-balls went whizzing
by, and a great shell rushed hissing and
sweeping over our heads, but we did not care,
nor think that we might be hit. The sound
of the mitrailleuse is like nothing so much
as the ripping-up of thousands of planks.
Musketry—cannon—what a din there was,
and yet it was terribly fascinating ! The soul
rises with the awful majesty of the strife.
There were no officers, or very few, in the
stream of fugitives, but there were a great
number picked up among the wounded.
An officer rode slowly up to our place of
observation. " "What news ? "
" Bad at the right, better at the left.
Ducrot is doing well, as you see. We are
making headway. We have advanced a
quarter of a mile, but on the right we have
been driven back. Our troops fought well at
first, but afterwards broke, and we retired in
some disorder on Creteil. Have you seen
anything of Trochu ? "
"No."
" He was at Champigny just now ; ah ! here
he comes."
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183
Sure enough, at a brisk trot, the staff of
the Commander-in-Chief came up. Trochu
looked calm enough, and we could not but
feel a deep sympathy with him.
The sun at last went fown, and the
cannonade gradually died away. There is no
silence like that after a battle. The cold soon
became intense. The indefatigable corps
under the Geneva flag searched woods and
houses for the wounded. It is extremely sad
to find the miserable beings, silent and suffer¬
ing, and watching for the lantern. There are
few groans heard on the field of battle. The
wounded seldom groan. Sometimes from the
slightly wounded may be heard sounds indica¬
tive of pain ; the worst wounded are the least
complaining. In truth there is little noise on
the battlefield besides that of the battle itself.
Now and then a shout from commander or men,
but mostly all goes on silently. The marching
and countermarching, the advance and retreat,
the picking-up of the wounded, even the rout,
has a muffled sound. The voices sound sup¬
pressed. Awful stillness and awful storms of
sound and fury go together in a time of
battle. A battle is like nothing else in the
184 SHUT UP IN PARIS.
world, either for noise, or the silence that
succeeds to it.
There was a cessation of hostilities on
Thursday, but on Friday, the 2nd of Decem¬
ber, the terrible roar and thunder again rever¬
berated through the city, and throughout all its
once beautiful but now desolated and deserted
environs. The day was fine, the scene was
grand. The landscape comprised, as on Wed¬
nesday, a vast extent of hill and valley and
river. The Marne makes a horseshoe behind
the French positions. These were Champigny
and Brie, which the Germans attacked at day¬
break. The French were furnished with
artillery and redoubts, besides having the
thundering assistance of three forts. The day
passed on ; suddenly there was a panic among
the French troops, but the day was not lost.
Thousands and thousands of the troops turned
and tumbled back in appalling disorder to the
very banks of the river, and artillery came
tumbling after. A river is said to be a great
disadvantage to an army ; in this instance
it brought the fugitives to a stand, and to
their senses. A general, who was near when
the panic began, rode up to the affrighted
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185
mass with such resolution of language and
seriousness of front, that his presence was at
once a reproach and an inspiration. He said
little hut did much, and what he said was said
calmly. He cried—" Follow me, men, where
duty as well as danger calls. Let us save
France, whatever becomes of us." To every¬
body's surprise the men rallied, and followed,
and, for a while, fought bravely, but it was
only for a while. The French were driven
from all their positions of the morning, and
from more than all the ground they had gained
the day before ; and at night it was a pitiful
sight to see the whole French army, 100,000
strong, recross the Marne under cover of the
guns of the forts. The next day the Parisians
are consoled by the " orders of the day," and
official announcements, which soften the bad
tidings as best they may ; but it certainly taxes
their powers of diction, and the fact remains
that the " Circle of Fire " is formed by soldiers,
and only soldiers could break through it.
Tbe Ambulance Corps have their hands
full ; they are in very diverse garments, from
magnificent regimentals to the most grave and
quaker-like costume, but they have all one heart
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to animate the many hands. On the battle¬
field they are indifferent to danger, and they
range over the field of battle from the extreme
front, where they have no business to be, to
the extreme rear, where there is no business to
do. As to the nurses, there is no doubt of
their hard-working fidelity and instinctive
skill, but I would prefer to see older women at
the work.
The wounded die off rapidly, in spite of
care and skill. In every church, at all hours
of the day, you see the burial-service going on
over many coffins, and you meet the hideous-
looking black hearse coming many times a day
out of the court of the Grand Hotel, where
death and suffering now reign supreme. What
a change since this time last year ! The deaths
from amputation alone in the Grand Hotel
are said to exceed twenty per cent., and not
more than one in ten who are taken there
return alive. The burials, numerous enough
by day, are still more numerous at night.
Among the dead in the late sortie were
found several " Brothers of the Christian Doc¬
trine." These brancardiers exhibit the greatest
ooolness and deliberation in lifting and carrying
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187
off the wounded under fire, which requires
more courage than going into the battle to
fight, for they have none of the delirium which
sustains the soldiers. Many soldiers and
officers have told me that after the first
round they knew no more, and that coming
out of a battle was like recovering from a
brain-fever, or the effects of a blow on the
head,
188
8HUT UP IN PAEIS.
A DREARY SUNDAY.
5th December.—This is Sunday evening. I
am sitting shivering by a little grate-fire in
the fourth storey, with the fumes of a cup of
tea drifting into my face. The thermometer
is at zero. The moonshine makes the night
seem colder, and the crisis drearier. The
forts are silent—everything is silent. The
city rests from strife. We have had a cold,
bright, dreary Sunday.
There were many sad faces and dark dresses
in the Madeleine to-day. The organ was in
sympathy with them. It touched the deepest
feelings. It groaned and moaned. It sighed
with an awful sense of bereavement, and sang
with a divine expression of relief. There
were some soldiers present, mostly Bretons.
You can pick out a Breton. He is always
rooted where he prays. He looks neither
to the right nor left. The Bretons have
many jests made on them by their Parisian
compatriots, for being so religious, and for
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189
wearing a little cross in. their kepis. Trochu
is a Breton, and goes to mass; so the Bed
papers call him Saint Trochu, and sneer at
his piety. Paris has a great contempt for
religious people and religious things.
The leading article in Le Combat of to-day,
signed Felix Pyat, has the following para¬
graphs :—
" A battalion of the National Guard has
made use of the liberty of Béranger under the
Bepublic, and has attended mass before going
to the battle. It is even said that they re¬
ceived the sacrament, not of wine, but of
punch, which has not diminished their ardour.
A drop of brandy by no means spoils the
blessed water, and makes a good grog, which
has happily succeeded in the case of this
battalion."
* # * * *
»
" The proclamations of our chiefs are unfor¬
tunately more deist than republican. They
are really professions of faith rather than
' ordres du jour? They sin both by admission
and omission ; they avow themselves without
opinion, but not without religion. I should
prefer opinion. They preach God, and are
190
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silent upon the Republic. I should prefer the
Republic. They have more faith in Gospel
than in social agreement. Gospel may make
a man a good Christian, but certainly not a
good soldier. Jesus is only a God, not a
hero.
" Fight for France ; die for her faith, her
life, her laws, and her holy dogmas, which
Danton and St. Just, Hoche and Marceau, have
professed even in dying. Fight for that uni¬
versal religion that has had its apostles and its
martyrs, its professors and its heroes—this
Trinity in the future, of which France is the
word : Liberty, Equality, Fraternity !"
To be shut up in Paris, or, I suppose,
any city besieged and invested, produces the
dreariest feeling of home-sickness that it is
possible to conceive. The loneliness of a large
house, echoing .to the footfall of a solitary
owner, is more depressing than to be shut up
in a cell, for it is more suggestive of homes
and friends, and family. To be one of a vast
mass without an intimate friend is to realize
Byron's solitude in a crowd. You feel so
" cut off from the congregation " that you
long even to be once more under the
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191
surveillance of " Mrs. Grrundy," who certainly
has the credit of feeling an interest in her
neighbours' business! It is very lonely and
dismal to know that nobody cares in the least
what becomes of you.
192
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DEMOCRATIC SOLDIERS.
7 th December.—General Thomas, commander
of the National Guard, publishes the " Tirail¬
leurs de Belleville," who have in a cowardly
manner taken .to flight in the presence of the
enemy." Their brigade commander reports
that "such is the hatred between them and
the 147th Company, that they have established
in the trenches a kind of barricade which it is
mutually forbidden to pass." * * " Under
the present circumstances a fight among our
troops would be disastrous."
Of another battalion he reports that " sixty-
one returned to Paris without leave ; " and he
also says : " The men for the most part have
declined to undertake the service of the de¬
fences."
The insubordination is universal, and if it
were not so alarming, would be ludicrous.
Soldiers shout mock orders to their officers.
The other evening I saw and heard a common
soldier in full uniform mount the tribune and
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193
retail complaints of the officers, for whose
misdemeanours he declared that he would take
the heads off the officers whose discipline was
so severe. The burden of the grievances was
having to hear mass. A soldier objected
to attending mass. The officer said : " Are
you not a Christian, and are you not afraid of
being killed in battle?" [Rounds of fierce
laughter.] Trochu was complained of for
going to church, as well as for not going at
the Prussians.
Paris has long been practically the most
democratic city in the world. The sentiment
of perfect liberty and entire equality has long
since undermined the discipline of the family,
and all respect for the ancient courtesies
of society. Servants, children, clerks, have
been gradually attaining the present " superior
equality," in which " one man is as good as
another," and better in his own esteem.
I am sorry to say that public and commer¬
cial honesty does not flourish under this Re¬
public. If contracts are made and broken,
there is no authority capable of enforcing
justice, and if you are cheated you must abide
by it. A fellow who swindled me out of fifty
o
194
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franca justifies himself on the ground that he
had been defrauded out of the same amount
by a countryman of mine. Drunkenness, how¬
ever, does not increase in Paris : there is the
virtue of ebriety left, at least.
9th December.—I attended the funeral of
General Renault, the eminent artist, who was
mortally wounded in the last sortie. He had
been wounded also in Italy. He had brilliant
penetrating eyes, and a face very like a wedge.
In dash and mettle he realized one's idea of
what some of the chiefs must have been who
served under the First Napoleon. Shortly
before his death, when he was breathing with
difficulty, a Sister of Mercy said to him,—
" Shall we pray for you ? "
" Pray for France," was the reply, and they
were his last words.
The funeral ceremonies were performed at
the Invalides. Gorgeous catafalque; cloudy
day ; " dim religious light ; " green flames in
tall urns ; black canopy sprinkled with white
stars ; immense white cross against a black
background ; mass by the choir, and Dies Irœ
by a military band ; striking tableau of
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195
eminents—generals, ministers, ecclesiastics,
and statesmen.
Jules Favre led the line. The colour had' all
gone from his face, and his lips were resolutely
closed. The sight of him filled me with sym¬
pathy for him. Jules Ferry, Simon, Ernest
Picard, and Eugène Pelletan were also in the
line ; the venerable Governor of the Invalides,
General de Martigny, Schmitz of German
descent, and the sturdy Clement Thomas, the
new commander of the National Guards.
The venerable Archbishop of Paris spoke
briefly, but he was not impressive on this occa¬
sion, and his words were. indistinct. Not a
speech or sermon calculated to impress or
inspirit the people have we had yet. Nobody
speaks the word which everybody is longing
to hear. No archbishop, nor priest, nor par¬
son—no Catholic or Protestant ! No public
utterance is equal to the occasion—all of them
are far below the occasion. Great preachers,
great orators, great statesmen, great generals
—all fail, utterly fail, to say the rousing or
inspiring word.
196
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BREAD RAID.
12th December.—Yesterday there was a
Bread panic and a raid on the bakeries.
<f What has become of the Bread ? " was the
universal question. It was the first symptom
of the ugly possibility that is never absent
from our minds. I made a tour of the
bakehouses. Every one I found empty, and
nearly all closed. As I had very recently
seen those same bakeries well supplied, I was
startled at this spectacle of dearth. " What
does it mean?" said I, to the weary-faced
woman who stood at the door of one of the
shops. "It means, Monsieur, that our flour
is giving out. I am told there is plenty of
wheat, but nothing to grind it with."
13th December. — The Government has
soothed the Bread panic, declaring there was
no cause for it. They promise that Bread
shall be "at discretion" and not rationed, but
to-day there is a line at the bakers', as there
is at the butchers'.
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197
The principal topic of conversation just now
is—Food! and the universal salutation is,
" What do you get to eat ? " The worst of it
is, the more one talks about eating the more
one wants to eat People are beginning to
dream of eating and of good dinners, from
which they awaken and find themselves
hungry. Oh ! the mirages we have of those
mutton-chops and large, mealy, well-roasted
potatoes which are only found in perfec¬
tion in London ! The poorest class are now
provided with " canteens," where, for a few
sous, or even for nothing, they obtain an ex¬
cellent palatable soup. There is comparatively
little suffering among this class.
16th December. — Another encouraging
pigeon despatch from G-ambetta.
The Temps speaks sneeringly of the " sono¬
rous incertitudes of Grambetta," and seems to
have no confidence in his despatches.
17th December.—The Minister of Agricul¬
ture says we still have 10,000,000 kilogrammes
of rice, 10,800,000 kilogrammes of split peas
and beans, and a large quantity of cheese.
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As other articles disappear, Colman's mus¬
tard becomes more and more conspicuous. It
is in every grocer's window. It is tantalizing
and aggravating to see windows full and
windows full of these hateful little jars of
mustard ! They attract the attention of every¬
body. There is something absurdly horrible
in the suggestion of a surfeit of mustard and
a famine of meat !
mh December.—General Thomas again
complains of the National Guard. The 200th
Battalion marched to the front in a state of
intoxication. The 201st added profanation to
intoxication. They broke into a church,
arrayed themselves in such vestments as they
could find, passed round the bread and wine,
and performed a sham mass.
20/A December.—Four thousand eggs were
sold at the Halle for 1023 francs. The English
baker told me pleasantly to-day, " This is the
last loaf you will get during the siege."
21 st December.—Madame Jules Simon states,
on behalf of a ladies' society for the succour of
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199
the victims of the war, that they have kept up
five kitchens and disbursed 100,000 portions
a day, given meals to the children of two
infant asylums, and given employment to 600
women, and distributed food and fuel,—in all
expending 32,000 francs a month.
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ANOTHER SORTIE.
22nd December.—We were up at six and off
at seven o'clock. The morning was dark,
drizzling, chilling, penetrating. It came down
upon you like a weight, and went through
you like pins of ice. Here and there a small
lot of shivering workpeople. Pass a long line
of ambulances—the ambulance of the Press,
the Italian, the Swiss, the American, the In¬
ternational, and the rest, rolling along toward
the field. That ecclesiastic who goes dashing
by on a gay charger is a Hungarian bishop
in partibus, they say. His regimentals are
gorgeous. His ecclesiastical hat is bounded
and suspended (behind) with a scarlet scarf.
On his breast blazes an enormous star, sug¬
gesting the order of the sunflower, to say the
least.
The French are evidently making an attack
upon Bourget, which they lost with so much
discredit about six weeks ago. But there is
the usual interminable length of line, and the
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201
usual complicacy of strategy. To the right, to
the left, far away and near at hand, there is the
customary bang, crackle, roar, and thunder.
Here go the Marines, the best fellows in
the army. They are soldiers of the past;
know no better than to obey orders, stand to
their posts, and fall at them. They are going
to the extreme front. A dogged, sullen coun¬
tenance the captain has, which seems to say,
" We are going to our doom." They did go
to their doom. Out of 600 nearly 300 fell.
An hour after they marched past us, they
were carried past us on stretchers—among
them the captain, with the same dogged, sul¬
len countenance. The little town of Bourget
was terrifically alive with batteries. To the
right of it, to the left of it, and in front of it,
the fire belches and the thunder rolls. The
wretches seem to fall to no purpose. 100,000
men gathered about Bourget, where, probably,
there are about 20,000 Prussians, none of
whom are visible to the naked or assisted
eye. There was very little movement of
troops, or a change in positions. It was a
stationary banging of artillery mainly, from
early morning to early in the evening.
202
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That day passed, and this day has passed,
without result. The cold is perilous. We
hear of several having perished on the field
during the night. They become completely
benumbed, and cannot be resuscitated ; nor
have they sufficient animal food to resist the
rigour of the weather. Poor fellows ! it is
very sad to see them suffer and perish in this
purposeless way.
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203
CHRISTMAS.
Christmas in the Siege of Paris ! It was
the climax of the forlorn. Thermometer at
zero, snow dribbling, scowling heavens, slip¬
pery pavements, ominous silence all round
the city ; failure of another sortie ; troops
ordered in to get warm ; thousands of people
lying abed to save food and fuel ; long line
taking their turn for hoofs of horses at the
butcheries at a franc a pound, and for dirt-
coloured bread at the bakeries ; a thousand
soldiers lost from cold ; growing growl of
indignation against Trochu, against the Go¬
vernment, against everybody, the Deity not
excepted ; coal nearly gone, wood ditto ;
National Guards protecting the wood-yards
from the freezing, women ; freezing women
succeed in a raid, and carry off armloads ;
at other places National Guards do the carry¬
ing off ; soldiers denouncing their officers in
the clubs ; complaints of commissariat depart¬
ment ; complaints of every department ;
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wounded dying hourly of cold, of bad food
or no food, and of infectious atmosphere, as
at the Grand Hotel, where it is said a man
can't cut his finger and reach the door alive ;
smallpox deaths nearly 400 a week ; typhoid
fever, 220—total, 2,728. Horse-meat getting
scarce ; hares, forty francs apiece ; cats, fifteen ;
chickens, sixty ; turkeys,100 ; dogs, fifty ; ducks,
eighty ; rats, two ; wood, a penny a pound, and
hard to find ; no coal ; gas gone, lamps in¬
stead ; dismal Boulevards in consequence.
Such is Christmas in the siege of Yanity
Fair !
There was no midnight mass. On Christmas
Eve we hurried shivering through the nipping
air to the Church of St. Roch. The doors
were closed ; the gates were closed. The lamps
threw a sickly illumination on the sacred mass
of revolutionary history. Lonely—lonely !
We turned away with a sense of bereavement.
It would have been a comfort to have heard
the music, and joined in the prayers of the
midnight mass, on this gloomy Christmas Eve.
27th December.—The Germans tried the
range of our forts to-day. The ground has
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205
frozen hard enough to enable Yon Moltke to
order up his Krupp cannon.
Long before the break of day, we arose in
our beds, and leaned upon our hands in the
biting atmosphere, listening to the unusually
lively cannonade. When daylight came, we
were up again, and off again. Paris was
alert. Everybody was talking about the
big racket to the eastward. People stood in
groups. Rumour rose and spread. The bom¬
bardment had commenced !
With intermissions, the terrific storm goes
raging on all day long. As the day closes,
and the sky darkens, the storm gradually
subsides. There is a lull, then a booming,
then a longer lull, then a shorter din, then
a bang and a burst at longer intervals, and
then—silence and darkness. The wind moans
on, the gunners rest. Some sit on a bench,
some lean listlessly against their favourite
gun, some roam round chatting over their
day's work. All smoke, and nobody knows,
or seems to care, what it all means, or what
will be on the morrow.
If there shall be anything done toward
redeeming the fall of this nation, or averting
206
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the doom which impends over this city, you
may depend upon it, it will not be done by the
Parisians of any class or any battalion. It
will not be done by the prolétaire or the bour¬
geois, by the fire-eaters of Belleville, or the
snobs of the Quartier de Champs Elyse'es. It
will be done by these steady-headed, straight-
stepping fellows from the ^jo^th and East of
France—by the Norman Mobiles, the Alsatian
Liners, or the gendarmerie from the provinces,
who have been picked and assorted for several
generations for military duty. The gendarme
is the best-dressed, best-behaved, best-drilled
soldier in the city—if, indeed, he is not the
only real soldier in the city. To see them on
guard, or on the street, or in their quarters, is
to be impressed with their appearance, and to
believe in their fidelity. I have never yet
seen one of them lounge, or slouch, or draggle.
They are all and always minding their own
business. Their dress is neat, pretty, substan¬
tial, and picturesque ; those of them who wear
long-tailed, blue, double-breasted coats, with
short sword, and kepis in keeping, being par¬
ticularly attractive. The gendarme becomes
his uniform and the uniform becomes him,
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207
and I shall grieve to see one of these hand¬
some veterans carried by me on the stretcher.
But how can we grieve for the loss of those
reprobate Parisians who live without an object
higher than their own enjoyment, and fight,
if they fight at all, with no definite end what¬
ever ?
29th December.—The Plateau d'Avron was
swept clean to-day by the Krupp guns.
The number of persons detected in giving aid
and comfort to the enemy is, I am sure, much
larger than the number given by the news¬
papers. A little boy, of about ten years of age,
carried on a traffic in newspapers and tobacco for
two months before he was detected. A quarry-
man, aged fifty-two, has been sentenced by
court-martial to twenty-five years' hard labour
in the penitentiary, for having given the
Prussians the route to the catacombs of Paris.
As he was a well-known inhabitant of the
vicinity of Chatillon, he went back and forth
through the Prussian lines unsuspected. In
the course of the trial two respectable citizens,
one of them the Mayor of Clamart, were impli¬
cated.
2D8
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In the balloon department, a man who is
intimate with several members of the Govern¬
ment is strongly suspected of being in league
with the Prussians.
Four women escaped the lively pickets, and
even their livelier bullets, and reached the
Prussian lines with their information or
booty.
We have all taken our turn in being run to
earth for spies. The other evening an Ame¬
rican banker, a Chicago merchant, and myself
were sauntering along the Champs Elysées,
on our way home from one of Consul-General
Read's rare siege-dinners, when a small
Englishwoman stepped up to us from behind,
and asked the time of night. The banker
replied, "Quarter to ten." In five minutes
we were conducted into a caserne by a chasse-
pot, and arraigned before a diminutive Na¬
tional, for the crime of having said " Quarter
to ten" in German. We denied the charge,
and produced our passports. The diminutive
National became exasperated at being foiled,
and, but for the interference of his associates,
would doubtless have sent us into confinement
for not being the spies he took us for. My
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209
knuckles itched to knock the little tribunal
over. However, we prudently held our
tongues and our temper, and were soon bowed
out of the august presence of the diminutive,
with whom we exchanged cards, when, lo and
behold ! he turned out to be a Dutch chemist !
Then we tried, but in vain, to induce him to
say " Quarter to ten " in German.
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NEW YEAR'S DAY, 1871.
A sad New Year's Day for Paris ! There are
110 visits exchanged. The presents are pieces
of cheese and loaves of bread. The news¬
papers take the occasion to renew their " No
surrender " vows. The bells are ringing. If
they only would " ring out the false and ring
in the true ! "
The Minister of the Interior distributed to¬
day 104,000 kilogrammes of preserved beef
(not horse-meat), 104,000 kilos, of dried beans,
104,000 kilos, of olive-oil, 104,000 kilos, of
unroasted coffee, and 52,000 kilos, of chocolate.
There is, and will be to the end, whenever
that may be, no deficiency in and no change
in the price of coffee, chocolate, wines, liqueurs,
and tea.
We have been breathing an atmosphere of
zero for a fortnight. Several hundred soldiers
have been disabled or killed outright by the
cold.
My little pile of wood is diminishing with
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211
ominous rapidity, and when it is gone there
will be no more to be had !
The Boulevards are a spectacle still. It
would require several sieges to rob them of
their unexampled interest. At about 9 p.m.,
notwithstanding the bitterness of the atmo¬
sphere and the gloominess of the lamps, which
drop but a feeble and circumscribed light,
there is the same old languid tide of thought¬
less Parisians. Your thoughtless Parisians
will stroll and lounge, and sip and smoke and
chat, although they curl up and shiver in the
nipping air.
As you go hurrying along in your massive
overcoat, even trotting to get up a glow, you
see the thoughtless Parisian absolutely sitting
without gloves on the Boulevard benches, or
at the outdoor café tables. He shivers, and
sips on, and thinks about nothing.
I sat last evening and watched the panorama
of faces that came and went at the café 1 Left
Centre.' There was a decent-looking family
—husband, wife, and two pretty children.
One of these children was particularly sweet
and pretty. She was dressed in white, which
gave her ethereal beauty a still more ethereal
'212
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appearance. That family have no home hut
the café—some rooms, doubtless, but cheerless,
dismal ones. That family sit in the open café,
suffocating with tobacco-smoke, and odorous
with unwashed Frenchmen, and buzzing with
harlots—what could it mean for the husband's
fidelity, the mother's constancy, and the pretty
little daughter's future ?
The cafés are full, too, of spurs and swords,
and red trousers and blue. The tide on the
Boulevards contains all the colours of the
military rainbow. These are the rearguard
of the sortie-ing army. Cafe's, boulevards,
theatres, all going—these are the signs of the
times. The temper of the people in the play¬
house has its relations to the temper of the
army at the front. How can there be health
in the right arm of Paris while she is decaying
at the heart ?
Poor, beautiful, sad, fascinating, detestable,
comical, tragical Paris ! There is just one thing
she can do in order to pull through—nothing.
Doing nothing will bring her through, and
that she can do. She can go to bed at bed¬
time, whenever that is ; and get up at getting-
up-time, whenever that is ; and she can browse
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213
about, and pick up what she can find to eat,
whatever that may be. So she can go on for
two months for aught I know. This torpid
nothing she can do, and this torpid nothing
her poets may call endurance and heroism
and all that ; but enduring heroism is as pro¬
nounced and perceptible a quality as any
other, and if Paris had real heroic endurance,
and not sham twaddle of that name, in her
streets, she would have resolution, pluck, and
some measure of success at the front.
3rd January.—No end of glorious rumours
from the provinces ! Shall we ever have any
realities ?
6th January.—G-eneral Trochu placards all
the walls with a denial of the rumour of
capitulation. He says—" The Governor of
Paris will not capitulate."
The Rothschild's offer to the city, for the
poor, clothes sufficient for 48,000 children,
32,000 women, and 12,000 men.
News of a victory by Faidherbe at Bapaume.
The Church of St. Etienne du Mont was
quite filled to-day. This is the church of the
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patron saint of Paris, Saint Geneviève, whom
the crowd were supplicating to-day in behalf
of the beautiful capital.
9th January.—A wine-seller near the ram¬
parts of Pont du Jour put upon his half-
demolished shop, " The rendezvous of the
obus."
The Yaugirard omnibus-conductors at the
Palais Royal cry, " Here's your 'bus to the
bombardment ; fine view of the Prussian
batteries from the top ! "
11 th January — Another hurly-burly. It is
over the sortie which did not come off. The
" plan Trochu " hung fire, and the newspapers
say the reason why there was no sortie is that
the enemy heard of it, and prepared for it.
Somebody has revealed it, cry the news¬
papers! The civilization shut up in Paris
vibrates between "trompé" and " trahison."
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215
BOMB-GAZING.
13 th January.—Last night we were a
thousand or two strong on the Place de la
Concorde, looking at the bomhs. Everybody
enjoyed it hugely. The little pale woman,
leaning on the arm of a littler and paler
man, said she wouldn't have missed it for
the world. The boys vied with dogs in
gamboling ecstacy. The moon sat on her
bowl-side in the cloudless sky, pouring her
shimmer on monument and river. The Seine
furnished us one of her tranquil night-scenes,
which, once seen, are never to be forgotten.
We missed the lustre of the gas, but miles of
lamps, acres of lamps, contributed to the spec¬
tacle. Before us a dark mass of columns—the
Corps Le'gislatif, mutely eloquent of other
days. Behind us a dark mass of columns—
the incomparable Madeleine, always pic¬
turesque, but particularly so when illuminated
into sombre outline by the moonlight through
the trees—the Madeleine, pathetically poetical
216 SHUT UP IN PARIS.
of a better country beyond. To our right, down
the Champs Elyse'es, the Arc de Triomphe,
its columns of lies protected from the bombs
by planks. Among the victories you will
read the town " Wt&ssenburg." To our left,
gloomy, silent, dark, the Tuileries; the
Empress' birdcage empty, the Prince's apart¬
ments dark, the lonely sentinel gone from his
beat, the great park covered with sheds for
army horses, and some of the mammoth trees
lying prostrate. In the midst of the capacious
Place the Egyptian obelisk, grim and old—
nobody knows how old—a witness of all the
tempestuous ages. Near by stands the droop¬
ing and forsaken statue of Strasbourg, a faith¬
ful symbol at last, telling its "tale of two
cities " and their doom.
A black lump with a bright spot makes a
vast grand curve, makes a whizzing, howling
sound, and drops, with a resounding boom
and clang, into the " Latin quarter," into the
revelry of vice and the carnival of lascivious
pleasure. Another, and another. The boys
and dogs scamper, the little girl is afraid her
mamma will not see it. The beautiful night
passes, the moon sets, the shells cease, the
SHUT UP IN PABIS.
217
crowd dissolves silently. Heroic Paris goes to
bed.
The weather has changed at last, but I fear
not for the better. The biting cold has given
place to a penetrating damp, and from com¬
plaining of being cold we have passed to
growling about taking cold. Every man,
woman, child, and National Gruard of us has a
cold, a bad cold, a wretched cold. The wring¬
ing wet atmosphere goes through and through
you, sinks through your thickest garments,
and reaches your remotest joints; you are
alternately twitched with the tweezers of rheu¬
matism, and stabbed with the stiletto of
neuralgia.
14tlx January.—I suspect that Jules Favre
and all the rest of the Conservative Republi¬
cans here are afraid of their own principles.
The Reds, or Communists proper, have an
Idea, or think they have, which amounts to
the same thing. Their " Commune " may be
but a mirage with most of them, but even that
much their compatriots of the Conservative
school do not seem to possess.
Our concierge has turned Communist. The
218
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concierge, or the porter who pulls the cord for
you when you ring the bell of the street, gate,
or door, is not as a general thing a public
favourite, since (perhaps by reason of his
vocation of night-watchman) he is of an ex¬
tremely inquiring turn of mind and eye.
But I have just heard of an incident which
has somewhat softened my prejudice. A con¬
cierges wife, who was very popular with the
lodgers on account of her fidelity at the cord,
as well as for her amiable demeanour, died
the other day. During her last and delirious
moments she was deeply concerned lest any¬
one should be kept waiting at the gate. She
must have somebody at the cord perpetually,
and her last words were " Tirez le cordon,
Marie."
Let us hope that at that moment the door
of one of the " many mansions " was opened
for the poor soul who in this life was so
faithful over her " few things."
16/A January.—Dinner at the London
Tavern. Bill of fare—Ass, mule, larks, fried
potatoes, peas, red wine, and coffee—twelve
francs.
SHUT UP IN PARIS.
219
I prefer dog-meat to horse-meat, but I can¬
not say I like it. I suppose, however, it is
hardly fair to pass judgment upon these
unusual viands until one has tasted them at
their best.
Oat is downright good eating. A young
one, well cooked, is better than hare or rabbit.
It tastes something like the American grey
squirrel, but is even tenderer and sweeter.
I saw a beautiful Angora for sale by a mob-
lot to-day on the Boulevard, stolen probably,
price twenty-five francs. I was touched to
observe what pity poor Tabby drew from all
classes of persons, illustrating the fondness of
the French for pet animals. Some of them
are hiding their ugly terriers and hateful old
scratchers. An old lady tells me she will
starve before she will consent to be saved by
eating her cat.
Rats, to my surprise, taste somewhat like-
birds. My restaurateur says he paid a franc-
and-a-half for the one he gave me, and I see
them occasionally at the Halle selling, or at
least for sale, at one franc. But they are
extremely scarce.
This is Molière's birthday. Performances
220 • SHUT UP IN PARIS.
at the theatres in honour thereof ; at the
The'âtre Français, ' Amphitryon' and 'Depit
Amoureux.'
Bakers announce that they can give only
400 grammes, and this only to clients with
butchers' cards.
Horrible bread it is. It tastes as if it were
made of sawdust, mud, and potato-skins.
17th January.—Watched the bombardment ;
but it was not very lively.
Trochu's throne is tottering ; Favre's is
trembling. G-ambetta's only seems at this
moment to be firm. But it will not stand
long. "Uneasy lies the head that wears the
crown " in France, whether the crown be red
or golden.
18*A January.—Spent the day in watching
and dodging shells.
It is very fascinating to see these huge pro¬
jectiles . flying through the air. The crowds
who look on share I am sure in my fascination.
Old and young, women and little boys, espe¬
cially the boys, are drawn to the perilous
entertainment by an irresistible bewitchery.
SHUT UP IN.PARIS.
221
We are alternately hilarious and terrified.
The moment the peculiar whiz and whir of
the coming shell is heard, everybody falls face-
foremost upon the pavement. Sometimes the
Boulevard St. Germain resembles the tho¬
roughfare of a Mohammedan town when some
high ecclesiastic passes that way.
Prostrations such as these, to either God or
man, were, I am sure, never seen before on
the streets of Paris.
Then one's curiosity is to the last degree
keen to see the effect produced by the obus,
some of which are as big as the ordinary
sugarloaf, and about the same shape, and
weigh about 150 pounds.
222
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"THE FOG IS THICK."
Midnight, \9\th January.—We are nearly
through now. The end cannot be far off.
Paris betrays apprehension. The old woman
at the kiosque handed me my evening papers
without a word. She is usually very talkative.
She did not look me full in the face. Could
I be mistaken ?—was it my friend in regi¬
mentals who gave me a furtive glance, and
shrank out of the café door ? Poor man ! he
feels deeply, for he is a Breton, and is ashamed
of Paris. The bookseller, who so often pre¬
dicted the hour of deliverance, stepped out as
I stepped in ; why in such haste ? The shoe¬
maker, who has always been so anxious to fit
me, was quite sure he had nothing that would
fit me to-day.
The coffee and absinthe sippers under the
lamps in the cafe's, and the shiverers at the
tables on the pavement, the crowd around the
crack billiard-player, the silent group around
the silent chess-players, the enormous chim-
SHUT UP IN PARIS.
223
ney-pot hat in the corner sipping absinthe,
the bizarre necktie smoking drearily at the
pillar, the middle-aged woman who always
comes into the café at 9 p.m. alone, and always
goes out alone at 10—all looked, everybody
looked to-day, as if the end were near. There
can be no doubt of it this time. It is very
exciting. It is impossible to sleep. What a
day we have had ! So let me make note of it
hour by hour :—
8 a.m.—The enemy kills our women and
children. He bombards us day and night.
He throws obus on our hospitals. A cry to
arms escapes from all breasts. " Those of us
who can give our lives on the field of battle,
let us march against the enemy; and those
who remain behind, zealous to show themselves
worthy of the heroism of their brothers, will
accept the most painful sacrifices as another
means of serving their country. Let us suffer,
and die if need be, but vanquish."
There was something extremely sad in the
sound of this. Paris read it on the walls with
a shrug ; hardly that. " To arms ! escaped
from all breasts," and into the arms of the
Prussians are already gone " those of us who
224
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can give their lives on the field of battle."
Into the arms of Delilah are gone the re¬
mainder, and into the arms of Doom go we
all.
10 a.m.—Combat at Montretout. " We are
masters. The column Bellemare hold the
heights of Bu^$nval."
10.32 a.m.—Poor Trochu! He says : " Fog
intense ; observations very difficult."
10.50 a.m.—" Fog absolutely conceals the
phases of the battle. Officers carrying orders
cannot find the troops. This is very much
regretted by me, because it is very difficult to
make the combinations I had intended !"
9.50 p.m.—" Our day, happily commenced,
has not had the issue we hoped for. The
enemy having borne down on our position
with enormous masses of artillery and reserves
of infantry, our columns were obliged to retire
from the heights which they had taken in the
morning.
" A pigeon arrived yesterday evening with
despatches, which we could not decipher
before the publication of the official journal."
21 st January.—Bread is now rationed 300
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225
grammes for two sous for each adult, and 150
at one sou for each child.
Poor Paris! The political fog is indeed
intense, and " observations are difficult." No¬
body knows our latitude. But the foggy,
drizzly day has been followed by a beautiful
night. I spread apart the curtains just now,
and saw the stars. The guns boom, but the
streets are silent. An occasional footfall only.
The fire is almost out. In the mass of ex¬
piring embers I see the doomed capital with
its glorious churches and noble trees. I never
felt so sad in all my life : and with this is
mingled a strange feeling of shame and
humiliation.
One cannot help feeling ashamed of a people
who are not ashamed of themselves. The
bravest army and the manliest nation have to
submit to the conqueror sometimes, but the
fall of Paris is the fall of all that goes to con¬
stitute heroism and patriotism. In all history
there never was so humiliating a disaster. -It
is the wreck of a national manhood.
It is not easy to keep down the spirit which
would thank God that one is not of this
people, who will not make a heroic failure of
Q
226
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it even ; or to repress the pride with which one
recollects the two Fatherlands, the one across
the Channel, the other over the sea.
I seriously doubt whether an Anglo-Saxon,
ever so well-grounded in the homely virtues
of our forefathers, can for any considerable
time keep his manhood in the social atmo¬
sphere of Paris. Certainly it is not an atmo¬
sphere in which heroes can breathe and live.
It is fatal to the moral sense. And if that be
valuable to the youth who visits Paris, I
would advise him to imitate Pilgrim, put
his fingers in his ears, turn his back upon
this " City of Destruction," and take to his
heels.
Some small idea may be formed of the cost
of the war, in one fraction of one department
only, when we read : " The calculation of the
newspapers is, that in five days the forts re¬
ceived 25,000 projectiles, each weighing 50
kilogrammes, total 1,250,000 kilogrammes—
to throw which cost 1,500,000 francs. Dam¬
age, nil."
9.30 a.m.—Trochu tells us again that "The
fog is thick. The enemy does not attack. We
have asked for an armistice for two days, for
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227
the purpose of relieving the wounded and
burying the dead."
The despatch from G-ambetta has been
deciphered. Chanzy, after two days of bril¬
liant battles, near Mans, has retreated behind
the Mayenne.
Furious hurricane of shells. The enemy
pressing in on all sides. Two forts seriously
damaged. The irreconcileables are restless.
The hungry are pillaging the markets and
shops. A long, long, anxious day.
Some noteworthy names are on the roll of
losses in the "foggy" sortie of the 19th.
Regnault, a promising young artist, was
killed. When the order came to retire from
the Buzanvfl wall, he remained, and shouted
that he would not return until he had killed
a Prussian. He did not return until he was
brought back killed himself.
Among the lost are Count D'Estournal, who
fell at the head of his battalion, and was there¬
fore one of the " leaders" so loudly demanded,
but never followed, by our garrison ; and
Lambert, who was captain in an expedition to
the North Pole ; and Topin, author of a History
of the Fronde ; and Peloux, a barrister of
228
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note ; and Tavernier, an eminent polyteeh-
nician ; and De Brançion, mathematician ; and
Perilli, one of the greatest pianists in the
world; and the Marquis D'Espinouze, who
fell dead in the ranks; and the Vicomte de
Murat; and Lereste, a young actor of the
Théâtre Français ; and the Count de Montbrian,
colonel of Mobiles ; and the Vicomte de Char-
sonville ; and Kaiser, a frigate captain ; and
the Count de Langle, of Trochu's staff ; and
Bernard, a distinguished musician of the
Conservatoire ; and two women cantinieres,
Madame Massey and Madame Phillipo^ who
seized flie ehassepôts of fallen soldiers, and fell
themselves in the very first rank.
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229
EXIT TROCHU.
Trochu has resigned, and General Vinoy
has succeeded him—so ends the " plan Trochu."
In the midst of famine and dearth of most
things, with horseflesh and black bread for
our chief food when we can procure it, there
remains the solitary luxury of chocolate ! We
have even chocolate queues ! There is appa¬
rently abundance of chocolate left, which is
sold at the ordinary price.
Quantities of potatoes have suddenly made
their appearance, to the surprise of everybody,
and we hope there are more where these came
from. The bread which we receive in rations
is very black, and very unwholesome.
Stepping to-day into a church where there
was a funeral service, I observed that there
were five coffins of little children lying on
the bier. I stopped to question the old man
in the skullcap at the door, who held the
brush which protruded with a dozen fingers,
made of bristles, and saturated with holy
230
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water. Anything less suggestive of the beauty
of holiness than one of these brushes, I cannot
imagine. It is ugly, slovenly, greasy ; in short,
filthy, like the sour-looking and sour-smelling
old citoyen who holds it. He told me, with a
flashing eye, that these little ones were killed
by Bismarck's "Obus." Bismarck has the
credit of all the casualties and calamities of
this war. The coffins Avere spread all over
with pretty flowers, and I heard the sobs of
the parents, amidst the chanting of the priests
and the responses of the boys. Poor little
children ! or rather happy children, to be safe
in the Arms where no war, nor any hunger,
or pain, or sorrow, will ever reach them more !
The pity should be given to those left behind !
As I repassed the old man with the holy-
water brush, he said, " Bismarck will have to
answer for this ! "
As I was going out of the church-gate, a
French lady said, bitterly, " And this is youn
Protestant King ! Oh, he is so good, and so
pious ! " I could not find it in my heart to
remind her that French rulers and French
armies have done the same sort of things in
their wars. I do not know how it* may be
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231
in other cities under bombardment, but for the
damage done to real estate in the city by the
obus, it requires, to my certain knowledge,
a prolonged, elaborate, and scientific search
to see it with the naked eye. The space
shelled does not comprise more than one-tenth
of the city, so that it is absurd to call it a
" bombardment of Paris."
232
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THE SISTER OF CHARITY.
A Sister op Charity, whom I conversed with
to-day, spoke with great simplicity and earnest¬
ness of the present state of things. I have
written down our conversation as well as I
could recollect it. She said, pointing through
the window at the huge hole the shell had
made in the wall on the opposite side of the
street—" That is a messenger from heaven to
remind us of our wickedness and sin."
I felt my whole nature startle at the words
" wickedness and sin," coming from a face so
eloquent of purity and devotion.
"Yes, yes; God is displeased with us. I
know it—oh ! I know it. He has borne long
with us, and now He is chastising us. Have
you not observed, Monsieur, how everything
has been against us, and favourable to our
enemy ? We have noticed it in the convent,
and have spoken of it often and often. It has
made us very, very sad. The weather, the
clouds, the winds — everything, everything
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233
against poor France ! Such a winter as it has
been — we have never had such a winter !
The sun refuse^ to shine on us, and the moon¬
light was so'queer and uncertain. Oh ! I have
thought of it over and over, as I have watched
through the night by the bedside of the
wounded, and heard the awful crash of the
bombs."
" And were you not afraid ? "
" Oh no, no, Monsieur. Are you ever afraid
of anything that happens in this world ?
Surely it is not the child of God who should
be afraid of his Father. No, it was not that.
I felt so for my dear country, to think that
God should visit it in such wrath. I know it
is all for our sins. For years Paris has been
doing wickedly. Our churches are not as well
attended as they used to be, nor the confes¬
sional, nor the early prayers. Neglect of the
holy ordinances, infidelity, luxury, idleness—
these have eaten up the soul of Paris. A
judgment is on her, and that is what that
means " (pointing to the handwriting on the
opposite wall).
"Will the judgment benefit Paris? Will
the sinful lay it to heart ? "
234 SHUT UP IN PARIS.
" I sometimes fear they will not, but some I
know will. They have already done so.
Some who have wandered have returned.
Only to-day I saw a youth who has been lost
to us for a long time, come back, driven back
by the conviction which so many of us have,
that God is making His power felt in France.
And yesterday a young woman, whose brother,
who was her all, had been killed, threw herself
upon my neck, and sobbed, as if her heart
would break, over the sins of Paris, and begged
to be received back into the fold of the Blessed
Shepherd."
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235
"THE BLOODLESS KEVOLUTION."
22nd January {Midnight).—The fog is
thicker than ever. Last night Flourens was
released from prison by the Reds, who to-day
(22nd) pillaged 20,000 rations from the 20th
Marie, made an attack on the Hôtel de Ville,
and " the bloodless revolution " posts up about
twenty-five persons killed and wounded. The
Grovernment, as usual, speaks with great con¬
tempt of the petit number of the émeutes;
and declares, as usual, that it " will not fail to
do its duty."
The Hôtel de Ville becomes, for the hun¬
dredth time, the theatre of a bloody " mani¬
festation." Again that extraordinary spectacle,
a Paris mob—thousands of. people of all ages,
from aged men to infants iu arms. Little
children laughed and frolicked ; dogs scam¬
pered ; babes crowed or slept in their mothers'
arms ; well-dressed gentlemen strolled leisurely
through the angry turbulent mass, with their
wives upon their arms, and leading fancifully-
236
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dressed children by the hand. Some of the
multitude cry, "We want bread;" others,
" A bas Trochu ! " others, "We are betrayed ; "
others, "War to the death!" others, "No
capitulation ! " others. " Vive la République
Rouge J "
Some of the faces are the faces of ourang-
outangs, others of gentle youths, and others
of pretty, gentle-looking women ; but there
was a terrible look of insanity in the eyes of
the whole mob. Sounds of rollicking laughter
are to be heard amid the fiendish cries for
murder and revenge.
Some one at the door of the Hôtel de Ville
tries to appease the armed crowd of Nationals,
who surge up against the iron railing.
Muskets are pointed at the windows of the
palace—muskets are pointed at the crowd
from the windows. A shot is fired — a
scream—a headlong rush and tumble. Shouts
of " Provocation ! " " Provocation ! " " They
fire on the people!" "Oh, my poor babe!"
" Citizens !" (implores a tall old gentleman)
" for God's sake stop ; you will overturn the
Republic and restore the Bonapartists." A
wild-looking woman is fired by this sug-
SHUT VP IN PARIS.
237
gestion, and flies about, shouting, " The Bona-
partists are doing this ; they are in the Hôtel
de Ville. Let us storm the palace !"
Bullets rattle through the window-panes,
and chip the grey stone of the old revolu¬
tionary pile. The confusion and uproar is
now positively frightful. Men can be seen
rushing hither and thither, making frantic
efforts to stop the firing. A lull. Another
shot—two shots—a dozen ! A woman shrieks,
throws up her hands, and tumbles. As is
always the case on such occasions, most of the
bullets fly too high to be fatal ; or else the loss
of life would be prodigious.
A band of what looks very like women, in
the costume of the National Guard, is led by
a veritable woman in the costume of a student
of Saint-Cyr. She orders her troop to fire at
the palace, which they do. A captain of the
National Guard falls. The fiends yell ; the
women scream ; the dogs bark ; well-dressed
men stand on the outskirts of the crowd,
looking on and smoking. A child is shot.
" They kill our women and children ! "
Bullets whiz high and low, far and near ; a
man falls in the doorway of a cafe' ; those on
238
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the outskirts of the crowd make off. The crash
of the windows, the whiz of the cartridges,
the maniacal shrieks of the women, the shouts
of the men, the shrill terror in the voices of
children, the stampede of the terrified, the
chiming of the clock over the palace-door,
mingling with the rapid clap of the closing
of the shop window-shutters ; above all, the
rattle of the musketry, and the boom from the
cannon at the forts, can be heard. What
scenes !—what sounds !
Suddenly a compact body of troops appear,
as if out of the ground. They are Bretons ;
they hate the Parisians. They turn the corner
of the palace with fixed bayonets, and fire a
few shots.
The Red Nationals turn instantly upon
their heels and run, tumbling over one another.
In three minutes the great square is cleared,
the palace is surrounded by troops, which
come in on the double-quick from the front,
and all is still.
The statues in their niches on the walls of
the palace have been well peppered with
cartridges. The statue of St. Vincent de Paul
has lost the stretched-out hand ; the mantle
SHUT UP IN PARIS. 1
239
of St. Landry is torn ; the niche of Sully is
chipped ; a ball rebounds from the stony breast
of Juvenal ; Le Rollin loses his right arm ;
Colbert, Catinet, and Condorcet are more or
less mutilated ; Lafayette is wounded ; while
in the midst of the fight (as ever), proudly
and unharmed on his fiery charger, sits King
Henry of Navarre ; and while a ball bites a
piece out of his horse's thigh, one recalls his
words :—"Where you see my white plume,
there, my children, will you find victory and
your King ! " Henry IY. lived in stormy
times ; and as it was then, so it is now.
Such is the record of this day, the 22nd of
January ; what will the next bring forth ?
What will come of it all ? What sort of a
G-overnment of France had one better pray
for ? In any event may she (and the rest of
us) be delivered from an unlimited Republic
with the hydra monarch in the Red crown !
240
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A LULL.
23rd January.—Paris is as tranquil as any
rural village. Who would ever suspect her
of being the insane asylum that she is ? The
Hôtel de Ville is completely surrounded with
troops and artillery; mitrailleuses decorate the
streets of Belleville. The frantic mob of yes¬
terday gaze on them with indolent curiosity—
torpid, smoking, chatting, sipping coffee or
absinthe.
Victor Hugo is quite right : " To Paris all
transformations are possible." The conse¬
quence is that the most contradictory state¬
ments may be made of this city, every one of
which shall be correct, since nothing can be
said of Paris but what is as true as it is im¬
probable. It is everything delightful and
everything abominable. It is a volcano on
which flowers may be plucked and children
may gambol, and it is a political Vesuvius
whose crater may at any moment open itself
precisely where you reside. You might live
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241
a long life—thousands I know do live long
lives in Paris—without seeing an eruption.
There are plenty of people here who never
read the papers, and never go near the crater.
Nor does the crater ever come near them.
Indeed, a newspaper correspondent might,
would have to indeed, run the whole gamut
of description from heaven to hell, in order
to compass this capital, subject to all " trans¬
formations," a prey to all moods, and
" checkered with all complexions of man¬
kind "
The clubs are silenced, one of them having
informed M. Favre that if he went to London
his house would be torn down. Two of fhe
Red papers are suppressed, and no more of
that sort will be allowed. Force reigns as it
has for twenty years past, and our prison is
perfectly quiet—quiet within, noisy enough
without. The thunderous cannonade goes on.
It is like the tramp of the feet of a rescuing
army, not an army of invaders and usurpers.
Hist ! comrades, deliverance is near. Paris in
her deepest heart prays for it.
23rd January.—The official report of the
R
242
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victims of the bombardment yesterday is—
killed, one child, two women, and three men ;
wounded, two children, six women, and four¬
teen men—total, twenty-eight.
The victims of the émeute of this same day
were—killed, one child, one woman, and seven
men ; wounded, two women and fifteen men
—total, twenty-six.
24th January.—"A pigeon has arrived, but
it brings no despatches. It has lost five
feathers, from which we infer that it has
dropped its messages."
A newspaper says: "With that fatality
wbich follows everything we do, a pigeon
comes in without despatches." Another news¬
paper says : " Why are the forts so silent
to-day ? "
I met the Count ; he simply lifted his hat and
passed. I am afraid he does not think, as he
used to, that " all goes beautifully." Neither
does boulevard or café. They think that Jules
Favre has gone to Versailles. They suspect
that all is over, but they do not care. There
was the old crowd this evening about the crack
billiard-player, and the silent group round the
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243
silent chess-players. Everybody sipping and
everybody shrugging ; but very little is said.
I met a friend of one of the members of the
Government, and asked him if be knew any¬
thing ?
He only knew it was all up with us ; that
the food is nearly all gone, that the army is
used up, and that Jules Favre was at that
moment at Versailles talking with Bismarck
over the terms of capitulation !
This is something like news; and enough
for one day.
244
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THE FOG LIFTS A LITTLE.
25th January.—The dense fog which has
enveloped the Government and their doings
is beginning to lift. The rumour of nego¬
tiations is well-founded. Favre is negotiating.
Other rumours :—Provincial armies smashed ;
Gambetta and Bourbaki have committed sui¬
cide ; two Governments in the provinces.
Nothing definite. Oppressive suspense.
Boulevards crowded and silent. Cafes full and
silent all the evening. The crack billiard-
player draws his usual audience ; the silent
chess-players have their usual group of silent
lookers-on ; the tall hat in the corner sips his
absinthe ; the flaring necktie smokes dreamily
against the pillar; the middle-aged woman
comes at 9 and goes at 10, as usual, alone ;
the gaudy French " girl of the period " caresses
her curls, and makes herself fascinating to her
" young man." The everlasting sipping goes
on, and Paris is about to capitulate !
26th January.—The Government is silent,
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245
to everybody's surprise, but the German
batteries are not silent. " The bombardment
goes on with implacable regularity," says my
paper. "The anxiety is more lively and
poignant than ever. It is said that Bourbaki
is beaten, and Chanzy is beaten, and Faid-
herbe is beaten, and that our armies of succour
are in full retreat."
Jules Favre is said to have returned from
Versailles. Cannonade subsides during the
evening. Groups on the Boulevards discuss
the situation. One man cries, " Oh, for a
Gambetta ! "
Another replies : " Why, citizen, he is a
lawyer, and you have been complaining of
the Paris Government for being lawyers.
Besides, Gambetta's armies are beaten."
" Yes," added another, " He wished to ape
([singeyr) '92, and he has spoiled everything."
" Thou art a capitulard !" screamed Gam¬
betta's champion.
" Ah, citizen," said a little round-shouldered
old fellow, weeping. " What can we do ?
We cannot make a trouée. Our armies in the
provinces cannot get to us. 0 ! mon Dieu !
mon Dieu I Poor France !—poor France ! "
246
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The cafés are full as usual. What incor¬
rigible sippers these French are ! Perhaps
their sipping disposition has something to do
with their fall. They sip cognac, sip coffee,
sip wine, sip absinthe, sip books, sip women.
They sip with their knives and forks, sip
with their chassepôts, and sip with their
swords. They take a little sip of a stroll, a
little sip of sleep, and a little sip of manual
labour—a very little sip of manual labour.
This sip, sip, sipping race have been devoured
bv a race which does nothing by sips, but
everything by craunches.
In my tour of the bombarded district I
stumbled on the old Huguenot. He had one
child in his arms, and led another by the hand.
Upon these his eyes were looking with loving
tenderness, while his mouth was muttering—
I well knew what.
" What ho ! good friend," I exclaimed ;
" what does all this mean ? "
" It means that we have been given to
pleasures, and have dwelt carelessly, and Paris
has said, ' I shall not sit as a widow, or know
the loss of children.' But these things have
come upon her in a moment."
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247
We huddled into a doorway to get out
of the whirring crashing shells. The old
man's eyes looked pityingly on the children,
but he smiled grimly, as he ran on about the
doom and the punishment of Paris.
" It is all, I tell thee, on account of the revo¬
cation of the Edict of Nantes. My forefathers
will have joy if they are allowed to look down
upon this. These people are not the Lord's
people. Their Bishop at Orleans is quite right,
' they have almost all of them ceased to speak
the truth.' They trust in vanity, and speak
lies. We wait for light, but behold obscurity
—for brightness, but we walk in darkness.
We grope for the wall like the blind, and
are groping as if we had no eyes ; we stumble
at noonday."
The voice of the old man and his words
terrified the children, but he had only to turn
his eyes upon them to compose them. Lower¬
ing his tones, he bent over me and whispered,
or rather hissed :
" Stand fast in the truth of the Lord God
of battles, my son, and thou shalt have peace
in the midst of war. Remember what I tell
thee. War is a mighty worker for truth in
248
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tlio earth. Armies are the flail of the Lord,
and with them He thrasheth the nations out
of the north. Out of the north an evil shall
break forth. They shall come and set every¬
one his throne at the entering of the gates of
Paris. But I must get the poor children
away from this. I knew their mother, poor
thing! Wretched life, more wretched death.
Father's life a wretched death. 0 Paris—
Paris ! Adieu !"
The old Huguenot was soon out of sight,
hurrying away with his charge from the
perilous streets.
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249
BREAKING THE NEWS.
2 7th January.—The news at last — the
dreadful news—is broken gently this morn¬
ing in the official journal :
" The Government, not being able longer
to count on an army of succour, do not feel
it their duty to prolong the defence of Paris.
Armies in the provinces are overwhelmed ;
subsistence in the city nearly ended. In this
situation we are forced to negotiate. German
army will not enter Paris during the
armistice. National Guard to preserve their
"arms. Assembly to be called. More details
to-morrow."
The destruction of three great armies, and
the capitulation of Paris ! It is useless to
write or speak of events of such magnitude.
Last night, at precisely fifteen minutes past
twelve, the reverberation of the last shot died
away. The first gun was fired at Saarbruck
by the French on the 2nd of August, 1870,
and the last was fired from Mont Yalerien
250
SI.JUT UP IN PARIS.
at midnight on the 26th of January, 1871.
What a history in less than six months !
In the course of a conversation with the
Swiss gentleman, he called my attention to
these words of Wolfgang Menzel :—
" The French owe all their earlier successes in Ger¬
many to the mutually destructive conflicts of popular
parties among the Geimans, or to the reciprocal enmity
of the various cabinets. When the Germans ranged
themselves as Guelfs and Ghibélines (partisans of the
Pope and the Emperor), the French wrested Artois and
Burgundy from the German Empire. Again, when the
Germans were divided into Leaguers and Reformers,
the French laid hold of Alsace, secured the friendship
of the Swiss, and obtained a commanding influence in
Italy, where the enfeebled Emperors redeemed their
authority only by permitting Lorraine to revert to
France." . . . . " Prussia was cajoled at the Treaty of
Basle, and immediately after France achieved boundless
success, gaining possession of Holland and the Nether¬
lands, the whole left bank of the Rhine, and Switzer¬
land."
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251
"ALL IS LOST EXCEPT"—YANITY.
28th January.—Government to-day gives
us another glimpse into the abyss :
" The convention is not yet signed, but you
may count upon the enemy not entering Paris
during the armistice. The enemy recognise
your bravery and energy."
And so, with these sugar-plums, it is hoped
that the people will swallow the bitter draught
of humiliation quietly, or at least without
another " manifestation." An order of the day
from General Thomas puts the number of the
National Guard killed in the late sortie at two
hundred. Two hundred killed out of an army
of 300,000 men during a siege of four months !
These two hundred, says the general, have
had a grand funeral, and the sixty who were
not recognised by friends have been photo¬
graphed. It seems hard to " point a moral "
with these brave dead ; but I cannot refrain
from the remark, that this absurd partiality of
the military authorities for a section of the
252
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army, which was notoriously its most mis¬
chievous portion, is just one of those in¬
excusable blunders which have fomented
jealousies, and sown discord and insubordina¬
tion in the garrison.
Some of these Nationals have been, and are,
as brave and true soldiers as ever carried
musket or sword ; but a faithful and detailed
report of the part they have, as a body,
played in this siege would be simply in¬
credible, which is reason enough, perhaps,
for leaving it unwritten.
Upon calling the attention of a kiosque
woman, as I bought a paper, to our blue
sky and sunshine, she said: "Yes, citizen,
yes—it is very strange. God has been
against us. We have never known such a
winter. One sortie was prevented by the
freshet, another by the cold, another by the
rain, another by the fog. Then look at the
sickness and death ! Oh ! it is dreadful the
way our poor children are dying. Oh, Mon¬
sieur, if I can only save my poor boy ! He
is very ill, Monsieur. Have you seen the new
caricature, Monsieur?" (getting it). "Ha!
ha ! Isn't that a good one, now ?"
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253
It was a "good one" in the French sense,
but a detestable one in every civilized, decent
sense.
29 th January.—The weather is dismally
chill, and the air is saturated with moisture.
A dull sunless sky reigns over all.
On my way to breakfast I try in vain to
get the Journal Officiel, which is 'to tell the
worst and all of it. Not out yet, although it
is eleven o'clock. Read some other papers
over my ragout de chat. They all growl over
the delay of the final revelation.
The Siècle says, " Paris has compelled the
respect of Europe," which is explained by
what the Journal des Débats says : " For six
months we have lived on illusions, and the
last of our illusions is death." The Soir says,
" France is dead !—vive la France !" But the
Temps says, " It is time to have an end of
the charlatanism of rhetoric, which is one of
our chief plagues." But Edmond About is still
smitten with it, and writes, " France is going
to renew a lease with history ; " but perhaps
history will reply that the " lease" is " taken"
by a better-behaved tenant, very properly.
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The Rappel says, " It is not an armistice, it
is a capitulation," and cries " Away with illu¬
sions—away with, sophisms !" But it retains
one or two for its own consumption, for it
says : " Paris is trembling with anger, admired
of Europe, and feared by Prussia. It is the
Senate that capitulates in the person of Vinoy,
and the Corps Législatif in the person of
Thiers, and 'the sword of Bazaine in the hand
of Trochu.
"France will be saved by the Republic,
which will merit, after having been called by
our fathers the Government of Terror, to
be called by our grateful children the Govern¬
ment of Revenge."
This theatrical panacea, for all the ills that
France is heir to, is quite inexhaustible.
When we stupid Anglo-Saxons are licked,
we are the first to acknowledge it, although
we are the first too to pick our flint and try it
again ; but these dramatic people always find
a reason- for their misfortunes in the necro¬
mantic regions of the mind, or in the mystic
pages of the book of fate.
I would as soon expect to see a camel go
through the eye of a needle as to hear a
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255
French man or woman say, "We are beaten
in this war."
But perhaps happy is the disposition
" That can translate the stubbornness of fortune
Into so quiet and so sweet a style ! "
On my return to my fourth-storey cell, I
find the Journal Officiel has arrived. I set
fire to the last three sticks of my precious
pile, and read the text of the convention be¬
tween M. le Comte de Bismarck, chancellor,
stipulating in the name of His Majesty the
Emperor of Germany, King of Prussia, and
M. Jules Favre, Minister of Foreign Affairs
of the Government of National Defence,
furnished with regular powers.
The Government, in their preface to the
announcement, resort to the usual "charla-
latanism of Rhetoric." Paris, say they, is not
vanquished by Von Moltke. She could have
held out against him, but, Paris succumbs to
hunger, and capitulates to famine. If we sur¬
render to famine and not to Von Moltke, it is
the bread, and not Paris, that deserves the
credit of these heroic four months !
The fog lifts entirely and reveals France,
256
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with her armies and her people, her fortresses
and her territory, her commercial centres and
her munitions of war, all at the feet of Ger¬
many.
I watched the people read " the hand¬
writing on the wall" signed "Jules Favre"
and " Bismarck." There was here and
there a shrug, and now and then a brief
ejaculation like " betrayed," " treason," or
something more profane. One genteelly-
dressed woman hurried away sobbing, and
one gendarme merely glanced, passed on, and
wept, muttering something to himself. The
mass of readers read it all over, word for
word, with torpid indifference. Of course
there are people who make manifestations of
emotion. The irreconcileables are effervescent.
They fly about with protests and remon¬
strances, calling quiet people " Capitulards
I saw a lot of wild National Guard officers
gesticulating and smoking in the court of the
Grand Hotel. Presently two of them, young
and fleet of foot, ran out, one of them carrying
a roll of paper, which I was told was a re¬
monstrance against capitulation. It was
taken to General Thomas, who sarcastically
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257
commended the eleventh hour zeal of the
protestants, but begged them to lay it by for
some future opportunity. He also publicly
reproved the delegation, and expressed the
fear that these " illusions" might compromise
the armistice.
Among these indignant uniforms, that of the
Nationale Garde Sédentaire figure excitedly.
It is the first time they have figured excitedly
during the siege.
258
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DEAD ON HIS GUN.
Three captains of frigates have been killed
in the battles around Paris, nine lieutenants
of fleet and three ensigns. In all, fifteen
marine officers, of whom three were superior
officers.
The losses in the rank and file of these
faithful gunners are comparatively enormous.
When Trochu was remonstrated with for so
often putting them at the front, he replied :
"How in God's name am I to help it? I
must have some men at the guns who will
not run away from them at the first round."
Like the. gendarmerie, the marines were
always prompt, obedient, and energetic, and
were never known to disobey.
I shall never forget the appearance and
the conduct of these gallant gunners.
They were the personification of fidelity.
They looked as they behaved, and always
compelled respect wherever they appeared.
When the capitulation came it was difficult
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259
to restrain them from blowing up their guns,
they declaring they had as much right to do
so as to blow up a ship. Some of them blew
out their brains—Captain de Lamalgini for
example, who commanded at Mont Rouge.
I must record the name of another of these
staunch gunners, a Breton nearly seventy-
years of age. He had the Breton's sturdiness
of face. He had nothing of that skinniness
and angularity which you find in the visage
of the Parisian French. And there was an
honestness in his eye and an openness in his
brow which you never see in a typical
Parisian. Really there was an expression of
sweetness on the old man's countenance. He
was erect, and in stature, too, he was con¬
spicuously unlike the short-legged lot who
inhabit these parts.
Well, the good old marine from Brittany
was pointeur of ^ good old gun from Brittany.
It was diverting in the extreme to see the old
man's affection for the old 24-pounder. The
gunner loved his gun as an engine driver
will his locomotive or a farmer his favourite
plough. There the old Breton has stood for
all these four months at his place in the Bat-
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terie de Nanterre. Few of the young eyes at
the ramparts could point a gun better than
those of this venerable marine. Many an
unwelcome shot he has sent into the Prussian
defences. Better than eating, better than
sleeping, was his employment liked by old
François Deldroux. When there was no firing
to do he could be seen scouring or rubbing, or
leaning against the earthwork, smoking his
pipe and gazing affectionately on his gun. He
would take his great coat off and put it on his
gun. He robbed himself of clothing to shelter
his gun from the rain, and was jealous of the
sunshine that smiled upon it.
The day of doom came for France at last.
The old man leaned against his gun for sup¬
port as he listened to the horrid news. He
leaned upon his gun and wept. The order
was for him to join his comrades and leave
the ramparts.
" But my gun ?"
" Oh, that will be taken care of."
" But I can't leave my gun."
" Then you will be guilty of disobedience."
" I cannot go. I would prefer dying on my
gun to seeing it carried away by the enemy."
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261
There was a report of a pistol. The poor
old marine sank lifeless against his gun—he
was not quite dead, hut he expired in less
than an hour.
Among the names of gentle memory which
occasionally occur on the roll-call of the dead
at Paris, write the name of old François
Deldroux—dead on his gun.
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GATHERING THE FRAGMENTS.
30th January.—Already the troops which
Bismarck had allowed to retain their arms for
" interior service," have occasion to use their
chassepôts. This morning the Halle was
attacked, and not without reason, by a mob of
hungry wretches, who declared they were
tired of seeing food kept from them by the
cupidity of (not the rich but) their fellow-
working people. The poor have no crueller
enemy than the poor.
Sure enough, there stood the long row of
large dames with their pigeons, hares, ducks,
and chickens, which have now fallen 50 per
cent, in price, that I have seen from day to
day ever since the commencement of the siege.
It is funny enough to see the old woman pick
up her old hens and trundle off back to her
cottage at the suburbs, " conquered by famine."
She has " held out " nobly, she and her hens,
and now that she is starved out, will she eat
her hens? Another woman waddled away
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263
with her duck under her' arm, and the girl
followed with her box of rabbits, as the crowd
came pouring in from all the streets.
" They have been making money out of our
distress," growled the young woman in the
faded blue dress. " Some have got rich during
the siege, while the rest of us have been
starving," shouted a well-kept, burly fellow,
in Mobile uniform, as he tapped his pipe
against the lamp-post, and then shouted to
a slovenly youth who was making for a pile of
potatoes, "Jean, Jean, where is the tobacco?"
But the slovenly youth was too intent upon
the potatoes to hear, and exclaimed, "We are
entitled to all we can lay our hands on, while
we are charged such prices, citoyenne." The
citoyenne was of the usual diameter, with a
face on fire with excitement, and the whole of
her vast physique in a tremendous state of
perspiration. She screamed her orders to a
much thinner but no less perturhated asso¬
ciate, " Don't let them carry off the Baron's
cabbage." This injudicious remark did away
with the Baron's cabbage immediately.
" Sacre !" cried the fellow who snatched it,
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" the citoyenne dares to preserve cabbages for
barons under a Republic !"
The potato baskets were overturned, and
the contents scrambled for with shouts of
laughter. " To the cellars !" they cried. The
cellars were supposed to be full of vegetables.
The new police began, according to venerable
custom, to arrest spectators, while the mob
continued to appropriate the potatoes. A
body of National Guard cleared the market at
la'st, and the pillagers dispersed, " having
attained their object," as General Trochu
would say. The slovenly youth made strides
with his pockets full of potatoes, and a bunch
of celery under his arm, followed by a yelling
lot of gamins, and the fat Mobile shouting for
tobacco.
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265
"THE DEEDS OF MERCY."
Among the names which Paris cannot " let
die," are those of the committee of the British
Charitable Fund :—
Charles Shrimpton— Chairman.
Richard Wallace.
John Rose Cormack.
J. W. Smyth, D.D.
H. Herbert—Treasurer.
The number of English supported by this
fund, rose from about 300 to nearly 1600.
The committee had not only the disbursement,
but the creation of the fund ; Mr. Wallace's sub¬
scriptions amounting to about 30,000 francs.
Dr. J. W. Smyth endured all the priva¬
tions that he helped others to endure, and
thus fulfilled the Apostle's injunction, to
remember them that are in " bonds as bound
with them," and to feel for those that suffer
adversity " as being yourself also in the body."
The English ambulance, established by Mr.
266
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Richard Wallace, contained fifty beds, and
was under the care of the English surgeons,
Herbert, Cormack, and Shrimpton, who de¬
serve commendation for their gratuitous and
skilful services.
The American Ambulance was one of the
most conspicuous features of the siege. Its
neat and tasteful grounds, its ample and well
ventilated hospital tents, and above all, the
skill of Surgeon Swinburne, and the energy
and fidelity of his fellow-workers on the field
and at the bedside, must ever be remembered
in Paris with gratitude and delight.
The Ambulance was founded by Thomas
W. Evans, M.D., Ph.D. The committee of
superintendence during the siege were, Dr.
E. A. Crane, Rev. W. 0. Lamson, and Mr.
Albert Lee Ward. Surgeon, John Swin¬
burne, M.D., Physician ; W. E. Johnston,
M.D. The volunteer aids comprised fourteen
ladies and twenty-three gentlemen.
Among the foremost of those who laboured
amongst the poor were the Sisters of Charity.
I have seen so much of their usefulness, that
I could never forgive myself if I were to
neglect to speak of them here.
SHUT UP IN PABIS.
26T
It is a fact worth noticing and remember¬
ing that, amid all this wreck of faith in God,
and reverence for woman, there is an excep¬
tional and remarkable feeling of respect
shown to these Sisters. This respect is like
the feeble flame of a lamp left alive in some
mysterious and deserted fane. It will not
long survive alone, and when it expires, the
darkness will be such " as may be felt."
Thirty or forty Sisters died of smallpox,
contracted in the hospitals. They never hesh
tated when called upon, and the places of
those who fell were instantlv filled. In one
«/
hospital where a dozen sisters died one after
the other very rapidly, a call was made for
others to fill the vacant places, and about
forty responded.
At the head of the Ladies Ambulance
Committee was the Countess de Flavigny,'
who, with a score of other ladies of the highest
rank and of great distinction in fashionable
circles, devoted her money and her hands to
the care of the wounded. Several noble ladies
filled their houses with wounded.'
A leader among the devoted women was
Madame Jules Simon, whose Fair realized a
large amount of money for the wounded.
268
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The Rothschilds gave away clothes to the
value of 200,000 francs. But I do not
pretend to give all the good deeds that were
done, or the names of all the good people who
dwelt in Paris during the siege. I have only
wished to say a word on a topic upon which
much more could be said—the good influences
that were at work during the siege of Vanity
Fair.
Well for this world, that in the midst of
all its iniquity and corruption, there is always
to be found this incorruptible salt of human
goodness. O! Paris, " Well for thee that salt
preserves ! "
31 st January.—I visited the ruins of St.
Cloud. I know of no more pathetic or sug¬
gestive picture left by the war than the church
of St. Cloud, standing solitary and alone
among the " ruinous heap." One obus did
indeed fall through the roof, but I looked in
and saw that no harm had come to the altar ;
the lamp had gone out, but the tower is intact.
It guided us to the scene of desolation, and
there pointed us to the tranquil skies. The
churches and cathedrals have been wonder¬
fully preserved during the war. He seems
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269
to have given His angels charge concerning
them; for as the battle clouds dissolve and
drift away, we behold unharmed the splendid
spire at Strasbourg, the Gothic mass at Metz,
the stately pile at Eheims, the glorious Nôtre
Dame, the charming Madeleine, and the weird
old cathedral of St. Denis.
I have wondered, as I saw the poor souls
in peasant's gown or blouse, crouching under
the pillars, and muttering before the altar,
with its solitary lamp burning dreamily in
the shadow, whether they were not a little
safer there than anywhere else, and whether
the god of battles would not turn away the
bomb from these hallowed places, which are
as a shadow of a great rock in a weary land.
The palace of St. Cloud is completely de¬
stroyed, scarcely a dwelling of the town is
left ; the church alone survives. It is impos¬
sible to ramble over these ruins without recall¬
ing the history of the illustrious chateau.
French shells destroyed the apartment in
which the first Napoleon subscribed the decla¬
ration of his abdication, and the Third Napo¬
leon signed the declaration of this " long and
painful " war now come to an end.
270
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"KING'S EVIDENCE."
Let us look through the medium of the
judicial press—Le Droit and Gazette de Tri-
buneaux, official police reports—upon the morale
of the people during the siege of Vanity Fair.
They are not mere detached crimes and
offences ; they illustrate the condition of the
whole body, social and politic, and especially
administrative.
Le Droit of the 11th November, 1870,
says :—" The Francs-Tireurs are a thousand
times more formidable than the Prussians for
the unhappy villages situated between our
walls and the enemy's lines. On the Prussian
side the harvests are still standing ; on ours
all is devastated and ravaged. The pillagers
not only steal, they waste and destroy. The
wine they cannot drink, they spill ; they
leave the spiggots in the casks running. The
answer to the question, 4 Who has done these
things?' is invariably, 1 The Francs-Tireurs;
who tell us it is better than keeping things
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271
for the Prussians.' The Francs-Tireurs begin
the work of devastation, which is subsequently
finished by the common marauders, who roam
about like wolves, and who sometimes give
largesse out of the booty which has cost them so
little to obtain. The example of the Francs-
Tireurs develops the cupidity of all who covet
the things that belong to their neighbours."
Here is what a magistrate, M. Alexandre
Sorel, says of the normal state of the Corps de
Garde of besieged Paris :—
" If any one had ever doubted the perni¬
cious influence of drunkenness, he would be
convinced by the sights of daily occurrence
in the terrible period we are traversing. At
the time when all hearts should be animated
with one thought, when all the physical and
moral energies ought to be braced up, and
when the prospect of privation and endurance
ought to excite the sentiment of self-sacrifice
and self-denial, there is the spectacle of men
drinking beyond measure, and forgetting, in
the fumes of wine, all self-respect and all
power of action. Sometimes it is the soldier-
citizens, whose only idea seems to be to search
out the canteens where they may spend the
272
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pay intended for their maintenance ; some¬
times it is the regular soldiers, who are
scarcely installed in their encampments in the
Banlieu of Paris before they break into the
wine cellars of houses that have been aban¬
doned, and become too drunk to shoulder their
arms or to recognize the patrols when they
approach."
Amongst the wretches who made a harvest
in robbing and stripping the dead on the field
of battle, the Droit of the 10th of November
mentions " a child of twelve years old." " When
any wounded man attempted to retain either
the money or the watch which he might
have about him, he was at once dispatched,"
or, as they called it, in their cynical slang,
" they made him cold," ils le refroidissent.
" The soldiers billeted on private houses,"
says Le Droit of January 5th, 1871, " fancy
themselves masters of all they see in the
houses in which they are received. They not
only dispose of everything as they please, but
they wantonly destroy. There are some who
do not destroy, but steal instead whatever
pleases them. One householder, when he
abandoned his house, had left in it a portion
SHUT UP IN PARIS. 273
of his furniture. Two men in one battalion
were interrupted in the act of loading this
furniture on a cart to take it to a store for
such goods, established in Paris. One of the
men, on being brought before the permanent
court-martial of the National Guard for that
section, declared naively enough his own
principles of economy and morals : ' It is
necessary to know how to make a fortune.
All means are good which enable one to do
that ; but for myself, I wish to make a large
fortune.' Occasionally a National Guard of
a war company calmly collects a quantity of
furniture belonging to some householder in
the Banlieu, and carts it away to his own
dwelling. Some members of the Garde Mobile
have openly offered for sale whole cases of
books found in a house which they said had
been abandoned — the only pretext they
offered. In the suburban districts the ciyil
portion of the community is not behind the
military in appropriating the goods of their
neighbours, always on the plea of not allow¬
ing them to fall into the hands of- the Prus¬
sians. The simple process is to carry the
furniture bodily out of the house where it has
T
274
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beon left into some other house. Some pro¬
prietors, even, have no scruple to furnish their
own places with the goods of their neighbours.
The intervention of municipal authority is
needed to convince those who have become
possessed of other people's goods that they
have no right to keep them ! "
The Droit of January 9 and 10, says, " Not
a day passes without prisoners being brought
before the tribuneaux correctionels for stealing
wood in whatever shape they could find it.
In houses in process of building, the beams
are taken away, flooring broken up, and
wooden partitions torn down. In houses that
have been abandoned, doors, window-frames,
panels, cupboards, floors, every morsel of
woodwork is sacked, broken, and carried off."
" In the latter end of the month of Decem¬
ber, raids upon the stores of timber merchants,
as well as on the woodwork of empty houses,
were particularly frequent. On one occasion
as many as 1,500 or 2,000 persons joined in
an attack on the timber-yard of a large con¬
tractor for public works. They demolished
the gates, and carried off all the wood stored
in the enclosure. Amongst those arrested in
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275
the act of aiding in this wholesale robbery
was a manufacturer in easy circumstances,
who gave, as his excuse, that he " only did
what everybody else was doing."
"Another time, a National Guard, reasonably
honest in other respects, hut who complained
that he had "too much sensibility," finding
himself "near a palisading, set the example to
a crowd of men, women, and children, who
were gathered together, by giving the first
blow to the planking with the butt end of his
rifle ; and then he helped* with the rifle still
on his shoulder, to finish breaking down the
enclosure and distributing the broken wood."
" Things did not always pass off so quietly;
but the proprietor always ran great personal
risk who ventured to offer any opposition to
the destruction of his property."
" On the banks of the Bievre, in the enceinte
of Paris, some hundred men, women, and chil¬
dren entered into private grounds of some
extent, with hatchets, scythes, and waggons ;
they broke down the palings, and took pos¬
session of 1,500 fine trees. The proprietor
was threatened and maltreated because he
remonstrated. Fortunately, a scholar from
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the " Ecole Polytechnic " and a detachment
of National Guards arrived in time to
rescue the proprietor, and save the property
thus audaciously threatened. The marauders
could not be made to understand why they
should be thus prohibited. One of them said,
"This tree is mine, because I cut it down."
" Curious," adds the journal, " to see how
tenacious is the idea of property. It no
sooner is destroyed under the form of "Yours,"
than it revives under that of " Mine ! "
The utter absencô of safety was not confined
to property. The Gazette de Trïbuneaux of
January 24th, 1871, gives an instance where
"a dealer in vegetables in the Banlieu, who
had come to Paris for refuge, found himself
arrested as a spy, after a domiciliary visit
from the concierge of the house where he
lived, who was also a National Guard, The too
zealous patriot, who had a grudge against the
poor man, could find nothing better to say in his
own defence than, ' This citizen was suspected
by me. The proprietor had accepted him
without consulting me. Subaltern officer as I
am, charged with the duty of defending the
country, as an auxiliary of justice I did not
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277
consider his conduct natural, and I used the
rights which the people had conferred in elect¬
ing me their Serjeant, to use my vigilance to
verify my suspicions."
Here is a specimen of contracts for the
army :—
"A merchant draper of Foix, who, besides
having furnished both capotes and shoes for
the Mobiles of Arrières, was also on the point
of sending a supply of mitrailleuses, when he
was brought before the Correctional Police.
When the president of the tribunal asked,
' What had been the contract between govern¬
ment and himself. What conditions had been
imposed, and what samples had been sent for
his guidance ?' He replied, ' that no contract
or agreement had been signed; no sample
had been sent to him; it had been simply
and verbally agreed upon that he was to
supply so many pairs of shoes for a certain
sum.' Now, the soles of the shoes were
mostly of cardboard. Yet this fraud was set
down to score of uegligence and extreme
haste, and no punishment followed ! "
" The waste by the soldiery—by the National
Guards, by the Mobiles—by robbery, by pil-
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lage, were as nothing when compared with
the ever flowing tide of wasteful expenditure
caused by the creation of the national military
workshops. The measures taken on behalf of
the necessitous classes did not profit them ex¬
clusively, for many received the allowance of
a National Guard, 1 franc 50 centimes a day,
with 75 centimes for the wife of the said
National Guard, who had no claim whatever to
this daily premium upon idleness. This goes
far to explain how this premium has swelled
the budget of the siege of Paris by four
or even five hundred thousand francs a
day."
" The history of the regimental chests would
be curious. There was one notable military
chest, in which the commandant of a battalion
of the ' Garde Nationale Sédentaire ' had
been in the habit of dipping his hands, to
provide for his own personal expenses; he,
however, was brought before a council of
war, in company with the Adjutant-Major and
the Captain-Treasurer."
" Some officers in one battalion of the
National Guard wished to give a testimonial
to their commandant, for his care and skill
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279
in organizing his battalion. They accordingly
voted him 500 francs out of the military chest,
as a ' mark of their esteem and sympathy.'
The commander accepted the present, and
neither party seemed to see the least pecu¬
liarity in the proceeding."
This is only a fraction of the testimony
which could he gathered from Parisian sources
upon the demoralization of Paris during the
siege. But it is eminently French for these
newspapers to vent their indignation upon
the helpless poor.
I am bound to testify, as an eyewitness,
that the pilfering of timber and " pieces of
unfinished houses " was marvellously rare,
considering the necessities of the people and
the imbecility of their Government. The old
fence that surrounded the unfinished Academy
remained throughout untouched. So did
miles and miles of other useless fences, and
piles on piles of timber, which should have
been requisitioned and distributed. Then all
round the city there were acres and acres of
prostrate and gigantic trees, which might
have been cut up and brought in. In this
way employment might have been given to a
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few thousands of idle soldiers, and warmth to
a multitude of the perishing.
To say the truth, the administration of sub¬
sistence was conducted with such imbecility
that the poor were quite justified in carrying
away " houses in process of building," and
even in cutting down splendid trees on the
Champs Elysées. These so-called depredations
might have been regulated by the Government,
which could have saved the trees and given
away the old fences and new timber.
As for the peculation, chicanery, venality,
and robbery—highway and byeway—which
rouses the wrath of these newspapers, such
sins were not (and are not) confined to any
class in Paris, and, most assuredly, did not
originate with the lowest class.
However, this is not the place, and perhaps
this is not the time, for writing an elaborate
history of the Government of Paris during
the siege. It will be a narrative of the live¬
liest interest when it is written.
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281
" How long shall weary nations toil in blood,
How often roll the still returning stone
Up the sharp painful height—ere they will own
That on the base of individual good,
Of virtues, manners, and pure homes endued
With household graces—that on this alone
Shall social freedom stand ? Where these are gone
There is a nation doomed to servitude.
Oh, suffering, toiling France, thy toil is vain !
Where men are selfish, covetous of gloire,
Heady and fierce, unholy and impure,
Their toil is lost, and fruitless all their pain;
They cannot build a work which shall endure."
282
SHUT UP IN PARIS.
THE UNITED STATES LEGATION.
The relations of the United States Legation
to the Germans who were expelled from, and
to the Germans, the Americans, the English,
and even the French, who were shut up in,
Paris, have become an historical incident of
the late war.
But first of all, to prevent any misunder¬
standing, let me say, that what I shall say
has no reference, directly or indirectly, posi¬
tively or negatively, to the absence, during a
portion of the siege, of the British Embassy.
That is none of my business, and I have no
opinion upon it. But certainly the sequel
has abundantly proved that, as far as Lord
Lyons is personally concerned, he was more
useful to his Government and to the cause of
peace outside than he could possibly have
been inside of Paris. This suggests an opinion
which I hold firmly, and will express strongly.
The attitude of the British Government during
SHUT UP IN PARIS.
283
the war has been not only unexceptionable,
but glorious.
England did her utmost, which was far
more than the utmost of any other nation
could have been, to prevent the war, and her
failure to do so, as any fair-minded reader of
the official facts will concede, is one of the
strongest possible proofs that no human in¬
tervention could have kept the belligerents
apart.
England took the initiative, and led the
great Powers in the armistice which was pro¬
posed by Count Bismarck through M. Thiers
and rejected by the Favre Government ; and
England revictualled Paris in three days after
peace was declared.
This is an outline of facts which, when
given in detail, will reflect the highest
credit upon the statesmanship, the diplomacy,
and the humanity of the English Government
during the Franco-Prussian War.
Nor can I refrain from resenting with some
spirit the croak of those who see, in the ab¬
sence of an enormous and burdensome stand¬
ing army, the decline of a nation's prestige,
and the decay of its " military spirit."
284
SHUT UP IN PARIS.
My resentment comes of the fact that two
nations are subjected to this unmanly and
unpatriotic criticism.
A free people do not always plume them¬
selves on being " ready " for a stupendous
war, but they do not object to being considered
perfectly willing and able to get ready upon
the shortest possible notice.
Their normal condition and their general
preference is peace, nevertheless they have
succeeded, now and then, in adapting them¬
selves, with tolerable speed and success, to a
time of war. As the " time " for going to
war may be " ill-chosen " by " the greatest
military nation in the world," so the taunt of
the loss of military prestige may be ill-judged
when applied to a people who talk about every¬
thing except fighting, but who can fight about
everything worth talking about.
The man who whines over loss of prestige,
takes counsel of his own state of health rather
than that of his country.
To pass to the topic of which this is not, I
think, an inopportune introduction.
The United States Legation, during the
siege, was composed of—
SHUT UP IN PARIS.
285
Hon. E. B. Washburne, Minister Plenipo¬
tentiary.
Col. Wickbam Hoffman, Secretary of Lega¬
tion.
Albert Lee Ward, Esq., Private Secretary
to the Minister.
On the 15th of July, 1870, Count Solms,
Chargé d'Affaires of the North German Con¬
federation, asked Colonel Wickham Hoffman,
Chargé d'Affaires of the United States (the
Minister, Mr. Washburne, being ill at Carls¬
bad), if the United States Government would
take under its protection the subjects of the
Confederation.
Colonel Hoffman immediately obtained the
necessary consent from Washington by
telegraph, and in person from the ,French
Government on the 18th. On the 19th, Mr.
Washburne returned to his post, where he has
remained ever since.
On the 23rd, the subjects of Hesse Ducal,
and on the 26th those of Saxe-Coburg Gotha,
were taken under the protection of the United
States Minister.
The Olivier Government gave permission
for German subjects to remain in France " so
286
SHUT UP IN PARIS.
long as their conduct does not give any legiti¬
mate cause of complaint," and forbade the
departure of " Confederate Prussians " liable
to military duty.
The American Minister opposed this pro¬
hibition in an able and conclusive letter to
the Duke de Gramont, in the preparation of
which he had the benefit of the counsel of the
eminent international lawyer George Bemis,
Esq., of Boston, U.S.
The Palikao Government, " with a view of
both relieving itself from the presence, in the
heart of the capital, of some 40,000 Germans,
and at the same time protecting them from
the excited population of Paris," ordered the
Germans to "leave the country."
Mr. JWashburne and Mr. Kern (the Swiss
Minister) entreated M. Chevereau to modify
the order of expulsion, as it would involve
the Germans in great hardships, and the pro¬
tecting embassies in great embarrassments.
The French Minister replied that Prussia had
banished the French.
The statement was promptly called in ques¬
tion, and has never since been made good,
for I believe French subjects have remained
SHUT UP IN PABIS.
287
undisturbed in Germany throughout the
war.
Failing to obtain a revocation or any modi¬
fication of the order of expulsion, nothing
was left for Mr. Washburne but to carry it
out with all the humanity possible under such
circumstances. He declared to me that it
was the most painful duty he ever had to
perform, and that some of the scenes in his
apartments cut him to the heart. It was
indeed fortunate for these wretched exiles that
they had for protector a man who has not
been long enough in the petrifying atmosphere
of diplomatic circles to have his heart trans¬
formed into stone.
About 30,000 persons were sent away by
the American Minister, who was careful to
provide the most efficient superintendence for
the work.
Some of the incidents at the station and
the hotel of the Legation were peculiarly
distressing.
In the crowd were women in all stages of
pregnancy—literally all ; for one woman was
taken with labour pains on the steps, and
carried away in a cab.
SHUT UP IN PARIS.
So the company contained every age and
every condition, from babes just come into
this unfortunate country only to be driven
out of it for spies, to decrepid old people
staggering on the brink of the grave.
For the comfortable and expeditious transit
of this mass of helpless outcasts, much is due
to the United States Consuls of the towns
through which they passed. The Consuls
were obliged to appeal more than once to the
French Government for protection for the
Germans against the infuriate mob. And the
American Minister, in his official despatches,
describes their flocking to him for shelter
from the fraternal ferocity of Eepublican
Paris.
The exiles were met on the frontier by
German officers, and their wants were sup¬
plied by the society founded by the Queen of
Prussia for the assistance of refugees.
The women and children who were unable to
get away gradually increased from 200 to 2,300.
A large number were put under arrest, and kept
in comfortable concealment from the ferocious
spy hunters. Many were kindly cared for in
Catholic and Protestant asylums, where their
SHUT UP IN PARIS.
289
board—from one to three francs per day—
was paid by Mr. Washburne.
Those in prison and in the asylums were
periodically visited by a messenger from the
Legation, and provided with money, food, and
clothing. Still a great many were left out in
the cold (literally).
For these Mr. Washburne fitted up the
ground floor of the Legation apartments, and
there the poor creatures were fed with such
food as could be picked up during the famish¬
ing days of the siege. They were allowed
besides, one and a half francs a day. A credit
was opened with the Rothschilds, at first for
50,000 thalers, and subsequently for 50,000
francs.
When the war broke out there were in
Paris about 10,000 Germans liable to military
duty, and about 100,000 in France.
The English residents have joined the
Americans in testifying, in a marked way,
their gratitude for the services rendered by
the United States Legation. There was a
friendliness between the English and Ame¬
ricans during the siege which cannot be for¬
gotten by either party.
u
290
SHUT UP IN PARIS.
The services done the French by the Ame¬
rican Minister were far from inconsiderable.
All the official communications which passed
between the belligerents (those on the ex¬
change of prisoners being especially volu¬
minous) passed through his hands, and all
were carefully copied in the office. So were
the broadsides of "personals" in the Times,
which were sent to the Paris papers for pub¬
lication, much to the rejoicing of thousands,
who thus heard, for the first time for months,
from their relatives and friends. The grati¬
tude of many was expressed in money, that
of others in vituperation. While tears of
gratitude were falling in the Minister's apart¬
ments, his name was held up to execration in
the columns of La France.
I have the best reason for believing that
the Legation was at one time in danger of a
hostile " manifestation." At the same time
it was seriously debated in Belleville circles
whether the entire population of Anglo-Saxons
should not be ordered to quit the city. At
another time it was resolved to get rid of the
newspaper correspondents. But neither pro¬
ject came to a practical result, although much
SHUT UP IN PARIS.
291
nearer to it than was generally supposed.
There were scores of " denounced " English
and American names on the files of the
Prefect of Police.
All the letters from " out in the world,"
which were like angels' visits in more than
the proverbial sense, came through the
" American bag ; " and the most inspirating
tidings we could receive was, " The bag is in !
the bag is in!" We were indebted for an
occasional London newspaper, a fortnight old,
to the same channel.
The history of this " bag " itself would
furnish some curious and entertaining reading.
Several times it was. nearly strangled in
the military department at Versailles, where
it was looked upon with, perhaps, excusable
suspicion, which put the Legations in London
and Paris in possession of several copies of
the great Chancellor's autograph.
In London the duty of "making up" a bag
was performed, and well performed, by the
United States Chargé d'Affairs, Benjamin
Moran, Esq. What with distracted siege
widows of his own country, importunate
French refugees, and the watchful warriors
292
SHUT UP IN PARIS.
around Paris, Mr. Moran's position was one
of rare perplexity and peril.
The besieged Anglo-Saxons will not forget
the services of the urbane and obliging Secre¬
tary of Legation, Colonel Wickham Hoffman.
We had a most generous and indefatigable
friend also in the United States Consul-
General, John Meredith Read, who kept open
house and hand.
It will, I am sure, always be very pleasant
for the Anglo-Saxon community, in looking
back upon the siege, to remember that we
were shut up in Paris with the United States
Legation.
APPENDIX.
Deaths.
17th Sept. to 24th Sept.—First week of siege :—
Small-pox .... 158
Typhoid fever .... 45
Bronchitis . . . . 61
Pneumonia . . . . 62
Other causes .... 940
Total . . 1266
24th Sept. to 1st Oct.—Second week of siege
Small-pox . . . . 210
Typhoid fever .... 56
Bronchitis . . . . 36
Pneumonia .... 46
Other causes .... 854
Total . . .1202
294
APPENDIX.
1st Oct. to 8th Oot.—Third week of siege :—
Small-pox . . . . 212
Typhoid fever .... 50
Bronchitis .... 53
Pneumonia .... 60
Other causes .... 1008
Total . . 1383
8th Oct. to 15th Oct.—Fourth week of siege :—
Small-pox . . . . 311
Typhoid fever .... 51
Bronchitis .... 55
Pneumonia .... 64
Other causes .... 1129
Total . . 1610
15th Oct. to 22nd Oct.—Fifth week of siege :—
Small-pox .... 360
Typhoid fever .... 55
Bronchitis .... 70
Pneumonia .... 66
Other causes . . . . 1195
Total . .1746
22nd Oct. to 29th Oct.—Sixth week of siege :—
Small-pox .... 378
Typhoid fever .... 62
Bronchitis . . . . 77
Pneumonia .... 72
Other causes . . . . 1289
Total . . 1878
APPENDIX. 295
29th Oct. to 5th Nov.—Seventh week of siege :—
Small-pox .... 380
Typhoid fever . . . . 61
Bronchitis . . . . 72
Pneumonia . . . • 69
Other causes .... 1180
Total . .1762
5th Nov. to 12th Nov.—Eighth week of siege :—
Small-pox . . . . 419
Typhoid fever . . . . 62
Bronchitis .... 82
Pneumonia . . . . 79
Other causes . . . . 1213
Total . . 1855
12th Nov. to 19th Nov.—Ninth week of siege :<—
Small-pox .... 431
Typhoid fever .... 94
Bronchitis .... 92
Pneumonia .... 73
Other causes .... 1374
Total . . 2064
19th Nov. to 26th Nov.—Tenth week of siege :—
Small-pox . . . . 386
Typhoid fever . . . . '103
Bronchitis . . . . 89
Pneumonia . . . . 81
Other causes .... 1268
Total . . 1927
296
APPENDIX.
20th Nov. to 3rd Deo.—Eleventh week of siege :—
Small-pox
Typhoid fever
Bronchitis
Pneumonia
Other causes
370
155
183
124
1950
Total
2782
3rd Dec. to 10th Dec.—Twelfth week of siege :—
Small-pox
Typhoid fever
Bronchitis
Pneumonia
Other causes
Total
381
170
191
130
1812
2684
10th Dec. to 17th Dec.—Thirteenth week of siege :
Small-pox
Typhoid fever
Bronchitis
Pneumonia
Other causes
Total
391
173
190
131
1843
2728
17th Dec. to 24th Dec.—Fourteenth week of siege
Small-pox .... 338
Typhoid fever
Bronchitis
Pneumonia
Other causes
221
172
147
1800
; Total
2728
APPENDIX. 297
24th Dec. to 31st Dec.—Fifteenth week of siege :—
Small-pox .... 454
Typhoid fever .... 250
Bronchitis .... 258
Pneumonia . . . . 201
Other causes .... 2117
Total . . 3280
31st Dec. to 7th.Jan
Small-pox
Typhoid fever
Bronchitis
Pneumonia
Diarrhoea
Scarlatina
Measles .
Other causes
—Sixteenth week of siege :
329
251
343
262
151
13
31
2300
Total
3680
7th Jan. to 14th Jan.—Seventeenth week of siege
Small-pox .... 339
Typhoid fever .... 350
Bronchitis .... 457
Pneumonia .... 396
Diarrhoea .... 143
Scarlatina . . . . 15
Measles ..... 40
Other causes .... 2236
Total . . 3976
298
APPENDIX.
14th Jan. to 21st Jail.—Eighteenth week of siege
Small-pox .... 380
Typhoid fever .... 375
Bronchitis .... 598
Pneumonia .... 486
Diarrhoea .... 136
Dysentery .... 42
Croup 27
Measles ..... 44
Other causes .... 2356
Total . . 4444
21st Jan. to 28th Jan.—Nineteenth week of siege
Small-pox .... 327
Typhoid fever .... 313
Bronchitis .... 548
Pneumonia . . . . 478
Diarrhoea . . . . 134
Scarlatina .... 9
Measles ..... 39
Other causes .... 2538
Total . . 4386
Totals from 17th Sept. to 28th Jan. :—
Small-pox .... 6604
Typhoid fever .... 2897
Bronchitis .... 3627
Pneumonia .... 3027
Diarrhoea .... 564
Scarlatina . . . • 37
Measles . . . • • 154
Dysentery .... 42
Croup ..... 27
Other causes .... 30,402
Total
47,381
APPENDIX.
Killed in battle . . . 3000
Died in hospital . . . 10,000
Killed in émeutes . . . 15
Murders and assassinations . 6
Suicides . . . . . 10
Deaths by accident ... 40
Deaths from excitement . . 13
Spies and deserters shot . . 20
Persons who fell dead, apparently
from want of food ... 6
Infirm, aged, and sick persons,
whose death may be said to
have been hastened by want of
food or by bad food . . 1800
Deaths of infants from the same
cause ..... 3000
15,210
47,381
Total . . 62,591
Gastronomic.
Horses eaten . . . . 65,000
Donkeys ..... 1000
Mules ..... 2000
Dogs ..... 1200
Cats 5000
Rats ..... 300
Mice ..... 200
Elephants (three sold for 27,000
francs) ..... 3
Camel ..... 1
Ostriches ... 3
300
APPENDIX.
Poroupines
2
Bears
2
Kangaroos
3
Wild boars
1
Stags
2
Deer
... 5
Antelopes
6
Dromedaries
1
Tropical birds .
... 25
Prices.
Sept. to 24th Sept.-
—First week of siege :—
fr. o.
Butter .
4 00 the demi kil.
Fresh butter .
2 80
Codfish .
1 20
Salt mackerel .
0 75
Cabbage .
0 75
Cauliflower
0 75
Eggs
1 80 per doz.
French beans .
1 75 per pound.
White beans
1 25 per litre.
Ham
3 00 per pound.
Bacon
2 00 „
Sausage .
4 00 „ „
Fowl
6 00
Babbit
8 00
Cheese
2 00 per pound.
24th Sept. to 1st Oct.—Second week of siege :—
Sr. c.
Fresh pork . . 2 30 per kil.
Bacon . • . 2 50 per pound.
APPENDIX.
fr. o.
Potatoes .
2 75 per bushel.
Cauliflowers
1 00
Carrots .
1 20 per box.
Mushrooms
0 80 per pound.
French beans .
1 00 „ „
Ham
3 00 „ „
Sausages .
5 50 „ „
Salt beef .
2 25 „ „
Salt butter
5 00 „ „
Eggs
1 80 per doz.
Fowl
6 50
Goose
20 00
Small rabbit
7 00
1 ish
7 00
Small plate of fried fish
1 00
Fresh butter
4 00 per pound.
Lard
2 25 „ „
rr is requisitioned.
Oct. to 8th Oct.—Third week of siege :—
fr. «.
Mutton liver
1 00 per pound.
Mutton head
1 00 „ „
Mutton feet
2 00 per bundle.
Sausage of beef.
3 00 per pound.
Butter
6 00 „ „
Cabbage .
1 50
Cauliflowers
1 40
Carrots .
0 60 per box.
Small hen
6 00
Chicken .
12 00
Pike
10 00
Carp
12 00
Ass....
0 80 per pound.
302 APPENDIX.
8th Oot, to 15th Oct.—Fourth week of Biege :
fr. c.
Mutton kidney
0
50
Beef kidney .
2
50
Mutton feet .
2
50
the bundle.
Ham
8
00
per pound.
Sausages
10
00
»
Bacon .
10
00
Butter .
12
00
1»
Eggs .
2
40
per dozen.
Potatoes.
4
00
per bushel.
Carrots .
2
20
per box.
Cabbage
2
00
Peas
8
00
per litre.
Onions .
0
75
1>
Fowl
12
00
Rabbit .
9
00
Fish
12
00
A golden pheasant was
sold for
40
00
15th Oct. to 22nd Oct.—Fifth week of siege:—
fr. c.
Ass
3 00 per pound.
Fillet of horse
5 00
Eggs .
3 20 per dozen.
Cabbage
2 00
Cauliflower
1 50
French beans .
2 00 per pound.
Artichokes
0 75
Beef dripping .
2 50 per pound.
Ham
4 00
Bacon .
6 00
Potatoes
4 00 per bushel.
APPENDIX.
303
fr. c.
Mutton kidney
0 60
Sausages
6 00 per pound.
Fowl
10 00
Goose
15 00
Mutton sold privately
5 00 per pound.
22nd Oct. to 29th Oct.—Sixth week of siege :—
fr. c.
Eggs .
2 40 per dozen.
Butter .
12 00 per pound.
Ass
4 00
Mule
4 00
Fillet of beef .
8 00
Ham
5 00
Bacon
5 00
Beef dripping .
2 50
Fowl
10 00
Small goose
15 00
Sausage of beef or
pork 3 00 per pound.
Cabbage
2 50
Vegetables are very scarce. The merchants are begin¬
ning to sell preserved fruits.
29th Oct. to 5th Nov.-
Eggs .
Fresh eggs
Milk
Potatoes
Eice
Fowls
Eabbit
Salsify
-Seventh week of siege :—
fr. c.
0 60 each.
1 00 „
1 00 per litre.
4 00 per bushel.
0 80 per pound.
18 00
15 00
0 15 per head.
2 00
304
APPENDIX.
Cauliflower
Cabbage
Carrots .
Butter .
Olive oil has disappeared
fr. o.
3 00 per head.
4 00
2 50 per box.
18 00 per pound.
5th Nov. to 12th Nov.—Eighth week of siege :—
fr. o.
Eggs . . . 1 00 each.
Butter .
A ham .
Small fowl
Cabbage
25 00 per pound.
215 00
20 00
5 00
It is said that bread will be requisitioned.
12th Nov. to 19th Nov.—Ninth week of siege :—
fr. c.
Celery .
Potatoes
Babbit .
An old hen
A pigeon
Butter .
A goose .
Bear
Lard—very scarce
A few cauliflowers at
A few cabbages at
Dog, cat, and rat, are sold more or less openly.
The markets are deserted.
0 50
10 00 per bushel.
25 00
18 00
6 00
25 00 per pound.
70 00 .
10 00 per pound.
5 00
4 00
5 00
19th Nov. to 26th Nov.—Tenth week of siege:—
fr. c.
Butter . . . 20 00 per pound.
Babbit . . . 18 00
APPENDIX.
m
Fowl
Cabbage
Cauliflowers
Salsify .
Fat of fowls
fr. c.
18 00
3 00
3 50
1 80 per box.
4 00 per box.
The potatoes (are requisitioned at seven francs per
bushel. This causes great excitement".
The merchants have an abundance of provisions of all
sorts at very high prices.
26th Nov. to 3rd Dec.—Eleventh week of siege :—
Butter .
Babbit .
Fowl
Fresh eggs
Fillet of horse
A turkey
A pigeon
Ham sold by stealth
Salad
Carrots .
fr. c.
25 00 per pound.
30 00
25 00
2 00 each.
10 00 per pound.
90 00
6 00
15 00 per pound.
0 40 per head.
7 00 per box.
There is an abundance of conserves.
3rd Dec. to 10th Dec.—Twelfth week of siege
Butter .
A fowl .
A goose .
A turkey
A pigeon
A rabbit
Fillet of horse
Small cauliflower
fr. c.
28 00 per pound.
25 00
70 00
80 00
8 00
30 00
14 00 per pound.
3 50
X
306
APPENDIX.
Corn salad
Fish
Olive oil
Coals
Wood .
/r. c.
2 50 per pound.
10 00
7 00
1 50 per bushel.
70 00 per 1000 kiloR.
Two peaoooks have been sold for 110 francs.
The English butchers sell deer and antelope at eight
francs per pound.
10th Dec. to 17th Dec.—Thirteenth week of siege :—
fr. o.
Dog
1 00 per pound.
Cat .
6 00
Rat
0 50
Fillet of horse .
16 00 per pound.
Wild boar
. 15 00 „ „
Butter
• 30 00 „ „
Rabbit
. 30 00
Fowl
25 00
A pigeon .
7 00
Codfish .
5 00 per pound.
A lark
2 00
Eggs
1 50 each.
A goose .
75 00
A turkey
95 00
17 th Dec. to 24th Dec.-
Butter
Fowl
Goose
Duck
Turkey
Pigeon
-Fourteenth week of siege
fr. e.
35 00 per pound.
26 00
80 00
36 00
100 0
8 00
APPENDIX.
307
Kabbit
Carrots
Onions
Eggs
Olive oil
Sugar
A sheep sold for
Potatoes .
fr. c.
40 00
2 80 per pound.
37 00 per litre.
2 00 each,
9 00
0 90
1164 00
15 00 per bushel.
The fruit
deserted.
stalls are empty, and the markets are
24th Dec. to 31st Dec.—Fifteenth week of siege :
fr. c.
3 00 per pound.
40 00
180 00
175 00
28 00 per bushel.
15 00 per pound.
15 00 „ „
15 00 „ „
40 00
30 00 per pound.
40 00 „ „
3 00 each.
Corn salad
Rabbit
A turkey
A leg of mutton
Potatoes .
Bear
Goat
Elephant .
The elephant's trunk
Cheese
Butter
Eggs
31st Dec. to 7th Jan.-
Butter
Eggs
A turkey
Fowl
Rabbit
-Sixteenth week of siege
fr. e.
35 00 per pound.
3 50 each.
180 00
35 00
40 00
APPENDIX.
A lark
Cat
fr. o.
3 50
12 00
Potatoes
Onions
Dog
Eat
35 00 per bushel.
7 00 per litre.
3 00 per pound.
0 75
The English butchers are selling elephant, ass, and
bear, from 8 to 20 francs per pound.
7th Jan. to 14th Jan.—Seventeenth week of siege : —
The bread is very poor.
It is almost impossible to get chocolate.
Sugar has been taxed at 1 franc the pound. This
causes a loss of two millions and a half to the grocers,
who negotiated at 1 fr. 40 e., and even at 1 fr. 70 c.
14th Jan. to 21st Jan.—Eighteenth week of siege : —
Butter
Elephant .
Bear
Onions
Potatoes, very scarce
Salad
fr. c.
35 00 per pound.
15 00 „ „
15 00 „ „
7 00
25 00 per bushel.
5 00 per pound.
fr. c.
Ham
Crane
Butter
A hen
25 00 per pound.
18 00
25 00 per pound.
Turkey
Goose
Onions
A rabbit
40 00
55 00
180 00
140 00
1 00 each.
APPENDIX.
309
fr. c.
Fish . . 10 00 per pound.
Dog . . • . 3 00 „ „
Cat ... 12 00
Coals . . . 3 00 per bushel.
Wood . . .15 00 per hundred kil.
Bread is rationed at 300 grammes for an adult, and at
150 grammes for a child under five years of age.
Potatoes are requisitioned at 25 fr. the bushel.
21st Jan. to 28th Jan.—Nineteenth week of siege :—
Prices remained the same until Friday of this week,
when they suddenly fell.
fr. c.
Potatoes .
12 00 per bushel.
Carrots .
3 00 per pound.
Salad
3 00
Onions
5 00 per litre.
Butter
25 00 per pound.
Cheese
18 00 „ „
Salt butter
12 00, „ „
Small quantities of
rice at .
1 20 „ „
A chemist has analyzed the bread which we were
reduced to when we were " conquered by famine." Its
constituent parts were as follows : One-eighth wheat,
4-8 melange of potatoes, beans, peas, oats, and rye,
2-8 water, and 1-8 straw and the hulls of grain, and
the skins of vegetables. •
310
APPENDIX.
THE BOURSE DURING THE SIEGE.
Saturday, 24th Sept.—First week of siege :—
3%: 52-50 ; 4£%; 80-25. — Banque, 2055. — Société
générale, 445. — Crédit foncier, 985. — Crédit mobilier,
93-75.—Orléans, 820.—Nord, 990.—Est, 428-75.—Lyon,
832-50.—Midi, 550.—Ouest, 535.—Suez, 250.
Saturday, 1st Oct.—Second week of siege :—
3%: 53-60; 4£%: 79.—Banque, 2275.—Crédit foncier,
935 • 40.—Crédit mobilier, 95.—Société générale, 449 • 35.—
Est, 440.—Lyon, 855-50.—Midi, 550.—Nord, 975.—Or¬
léans, 810.—Ouest, 480.—Suez, 245.
Saturday, -8th Oct.—Third week of siege :—
3%: 51-90; 4£%: 77-50. — Banque, 2,300. — Société
générale, 437-50.—Est, 420.—Lyon, 835.—Midi, 530.—
Nord, 780.—Orléans, 795.—Ouest, 475.—Suez, 245.
•
Saturday, 15th Oct.—Fourth week of siege :—
3%: 52-90; 4*%: 77 -50. — Banque, 2,270. — Crédit
fonder, 895.—Crédit mobilier, 95.—Est, 405.—Lyon, 835.
—Midi, 315.—Nord, 980.—Orléans, 881-50.—Ouest, 478.
—Suez, 245.
Saturday, 22nd Oct.—Fifth week of siege :—
3%: 52-80; 4$% : 79-50.—Emprunt, 53-90.—Banque,
2,376.—Société générale, 436.—Crédit fonder, 861.—Crédit
mobilier, 120.— Orléans, 776.—Nord, 965.—Est, 401.—
Lyon, 845.—Midi, 521.—Ouest, 460.
APPENDIX.
311
Saturday, 29th Oct.—Sixth week of siege :—
3%: 52*74; Ai% : 79. — Emprunt, 53-85. — Banque,
2,375. — Société générale, 436. — Crédit foncier, 860. —
Crédit mobilier, 102.—Orléans, 775.—Nord, 965.—Est,
400.—Lyon, 845.—Midi, 520.—Ouest, 460.—Suez, 242.
Saturday, 5th Nov.—Seventh week of siege :—
3%: 51-30; 4£%: 77.— Emprunt, 52-50. — Banque,
2370. — Crédit fonder, 955.—Est, 415. — Lyon, 860.—
Nord, 990.—Orleans, 772.—Ouest, 505.—Suez, 242.
Saturday, 12th Nov.—Eighth week of siege :—
4% : 51 • 20 ; 4J% : 77. — Emprunt, 52 ■ 25. — Banque,
2369.—Crédit fonder, 954.—Est, 415.—Lyon, 859.—
Midi, 515.— Nord, 989.—Orleans, 771.—Ouest, 506.—
Suez, 241.
Saturday, 19th Nov.—Ninth week of siege :—
3%: 53*85; 4i%: 79.—Emprunt, 55.—Crédit fonder,
970.—Crédit mobilier, 132.—Société générale, 485.—Est,
415.—Lyon, 862.—Nord, 985. — Orléans, 802-50.—Ouest,"
505.—Suez, 240.
Saturday, 26th Nov.—Tenth week of siege :—
3% : 53- 50 ; 4if : 80.—Banque, 2700.—Société générale,
480.— Crédit foncier, 950.—Crédit mobilier, 128.—Est,
415. —Lyon, 860. —Nord, 995. —Orléans, 800.—Ouest,
505.—Suez, 236.
Saturday, 3rd Dec.—Eleventh week of siege :—
3% : 53*80 ; 4à% : 80.—Emprunt, 55.—Banque, 2695.—
Crédit mobilier, 130.—Crédit fonder, 950.—Société géné¬
rale, 380.—Est, 420. —Lyon, 850,—Midi, 575.—Nord,
977.—Orléans, 800.—Ouest, 500.—Suez, 237 • 50.
312
APPENDIX.
Saturday, 10th Dec.—Twelfth week of siege :—
3%: 53'65; 4£% : 80.—Banque, 2689.—Crédit fonder,
955.—Crédit mobilier, 125.—Société générale, 472-50.—
Lyon, 845.—Midi, 585.—Nord, 985.—Orléans, 797.—
Ouest, 520.—Suez, 225.
Saturday, 17th Dec.—Thirteenth week of siege :—
3%: 52'45; 4£% : 81.—Emprunt, 54' 40. — Banque,
2395.— Société générale, 470.— Crédit foncier, 940.—Crédit
mobilier, 127'50.—Est, 415.—Lyon, 830.—Midi, 580.—
Nord, 980.—Orléans, 11b.—Ouest, 491.—Suez, 227*50.
Saturday, 24th Dec.—Fourteenth week of siege :—
3% : 52 • 75 ; 4*% : 79 * 75.— Banque, 2395. — Société
générale, 470 ■ 50.—Crédit foncier, 937 • 50.—Lyon, 822 • 50.
—Nord, 980.—Orléans, 762*56.—Ouest, 490.—Suez, 230.
Saturday, 31st Dec.—Fifteenth week of siege :—
3% : 51 * 80 ; 4£% : 81. — Emprunt, 52 * 80. — Banque,
2396.—Société générale, 470*50.—Crédit mobilier, 120.—
Crédit foncier, 890.—Est, 380.—Lyon, 780.—Midi, 550.
.—Nord, 950.—Orléans, 737*50.—Ouest, 480.—Suez, 220.
Saturday, 7th Jan.—Sixteenth week of siege :—
3%: 51*80; 4fi°/a : 76 * 50.—Emprunt, 52*60.—Banque,
2399.—Société générale, 450.—Crédit foncier, 860.—Crédit
mobilier, 112*50.—Est, 395.—Lyon, 747*50.—Midi, 515.
—Nord, 900.—Orléans, 715.—Ouest, 465.—Suez, 230.—
Cette bourse est significative après quatre jours de bombarde¬
ment; toutes les valeurs, moins le Crédit mobilier, sont en
hausse.
Saturday, 14th Jan.—Seventeenth week of siege :—
3% : 51 * 50 ; 4£% : 76.—Banque, 2325.—Société générale,
450. — Emprunt, 52*62. — Crédit foncier, 850. — Crédit
mobilier, 115.—Est, 337*50.—Lyon, 742*50.—Midi, 510.
—Nord, 882.—Orléans, 717.—Ouest, 480.—Suez, 227.
APPENDIX.
313
Saturday, 21st Jan.—Eighteenth week of siege :—
3% : 50 • 75 ; 4£% : 78. — Emprunt, 51 • 70. — Banque,
2325.—Société générale, 450.—Crédit foncier, 862'50.—
Crédit mobilier, 105.—Est, 390.—Lyon, 763.—Midi, 535.
—Nord, 880.—Orléans, 720.—Ouest, 480.—Suez, 227.
Saturday, 28th Jan.—Nineteenth week of siege :—
3%: 52-50; 4£%: 77-75.—Emprunt, 58-80.— Société
générale, 500.—Est, 430.—Lyon, 832-50.—Midi, 590.—
Nord, 952 ■ 50.—Orléans, 840.—Ouest, 500.—Suez, 227 • 50.
T
LONDON:
PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS,
STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.
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