_1870. DECEMBER. SIEGE CONTINUED_
The day after battle--Disaster--Next day--Paris “dead”--Benevolence
and clamour--Citizen soldiers--A possible significance--Spy
mania--A duel--Sortie on Le Bourget--A lady on the field--After
the battle--An Irishman in French Navy--Christmas--Public
opinion--First shell in Paris.
From early morning, and all next day,[302] ambulance equipages
and men patrolled the field of battle in the performance of their
merciful work, their search for wounded made difficult by the dense
fog prevailing. Hostilities had ceased for the time, to permit of
interment of the dead, and succour to the wounded. But unhappily the
truce was taken advantage of by stragglers of many kinds, some of
whom were bent on plunder. Everywhere on and near the scene of recent
combat there was devastation; houses burnt and otherwise dilapidated;
boundary walls reduced to fragments; trees broken and torn by shot; the
ground furrowed by shells. Bivouacking in the open, or in small groups
taking advantage of such shelter as remained against the bitterly cold
wind, were soldiers, who, after the fight of yesterday, so spent the
night where they had fought; more than half benumbed by cold, they
kept up camp fires by means of fragments of furniture, some of great
value, taken from neighbouring ruins. Their cooking utensils were
supplied for the occasion by _viande_ freshly cut from horses killed
by Prussian shells. The carriages were soon filled with wounded. They
were driven back to Paris, their loads appropriately disposed of;
after which a second trip was made to the field, the carriages again
filled, the wounded in them similarly distributed, the horses getting
over more than thirty-six miles in the double journey. Rumours spread
that in some few instances the rôle of the Red Cross had been departed
from; intrenching tools conveyed in carriages bearing that emblem;
information interchanged between contending forces, communication of
which was beyond its proper sphere. The rumours applied to the one side
as to the other.
Throughout the dreary night that followed, the French troops had to
remain in bivouac among the scenes and wreck of battle, their physical
strength, already lowered by privation, still further reduced by
fatigue and cold, for the weather was now bitterly cold; their _morale_
impaired by the scenes around them, added to the experiences of the
previous day. As subsequently learned, conditions of the German troops
were very different. All who had survived on the 30th were withdrawn
from the field of battle and positions near it, their places taken by
others who had not seen the carnage of that day, well fed, comfortably
sheltered, and thus, in physical condition as in _morale_, better
fitted than their opponents to renew the combat. At break of day on
December 2 a furious onslaught was made by them upon the French,
hundreds of whom were so benumbed by cold as to be unable to stand to
their arms. No wonder, therefore, that to them the day became one of
disaster. During all that day wounded in great numbers arrived from the
field in Paris, all available accommodation for them became crowded.
Eminent surgeons were busy in the performance of needful operations
among the five thousand six hundred so brought to them. As to the
dead, their probable numbers did not transpire; but at one point of
the extensive range over which the fight extended, eight hundred were
interred in one long trench. During the succeeding night the troops
recrossed the Marne and bivouacked in the Bois de Vincennes.
The most determined effort yet made to break the besieging circle
having failed, the fact was now apparent that unless aid came from the
provinces, all within the beleaguered city were about to enter upon
a condition of things more desperate than we had as yet experienced.
On the day immediately following what undoubtedly was a withdrawal
from the field of combat, the aspect of Paris and of its people was
that of sadness, mourning, and uncertainty. The day was cold, a thick
fog overhung the city, with occasional falls of snow. Along the great
thoroughfares the usual traffic was replaced to a great extent by
conveyances engaged in the transport of wounded; funeral processions,
more or less imposing in their surroundings, met with in different
parts of the city. The absence of sound of heavy guns in the early part
of the day seemed to add to the sombreness of our conditions. It was
in a manner a “relief,” as afternoon advanced, to hear the familiar
boom from outlying forts, as their guns opened fire upon the German
positions in front of them.
A week of sadness passed; Paris “dead”; its shroud a thick covering of
snow; not a wheeled carriage in the streets; scarcely a foot-passenger
to be seen. Winter more than usually severe was upon us; even the
more unsettled classes of the populace seemed to give a thought to
the seriousness of conditions present, and more particularly to those
of the near future. As time advanced, so did the prevailing miseries
among the besieged increase and assume different forms; in some
disease and death, in others starvation in respect to food and fuel,
insufficient clothing, want of necessary care and attendants among the
poorer classes, and so on. As a result of exhausted fuel supplies, the
streets were dimly lighted by oil or petroleum lamps; shops closed at
nightfall; in streets and boulevards pedestrians had to grope their
way along the distance that intervened between the flickering lamps.
Meanwhile, by day and night, with hardly an interruption, the sound of
heavy cannonading was heard with suggestive distinctness. An occasional
hope expressed that help from the provinces would soon arrive, only
to be destroyed by the receipt by pigeon post of news of defeat near
Orleans.[303] Riot and a spirit of upheaval became manifest; the places
where “demonstrations” by the dangerous classes were most pronounced,
the Halles Centrales, and others where food was issued. Within the
churches scenes of a different kind were enacted: some were nearly
filled with men, women, and youths engaged in private devotion; in
others were groups in the midst of which the Service for the Dead was
being performed over a more or less richly draped coffin, according to
the social position of him or her whose body it enclosed.
Now it was that noble efforts were made by individuals, municipalities,
and by the Assistance Publique to lessen, as far as that was possible,
some of the greatest straits prevailing among particular classes.
Large sums of money were presented to the Paris Administration for
that purpose by some wealthy residents, of whom Sir Richard Wallace
gave 80,000 francs. Places of distribution of such fuel as could be
procured, and of food to the poor, were arranged; nor was it long
before the discovery was made that the persons who obtained the lion’s
share in these respects were the most clamorous and dangerous, rather
than the most necessitous for whom those measures of philanthropy were
intended. But among all classes, notwithstanding everything possible
in the way of help, the difficulties and privations incidental to our
position increased apace.
In the ranks of the citizen “soldiers,” more especially those of
Belleville, disaffection and insubordination took various new
developments. They established among themselves a so-called Committee
of Administration, by which all orders were thenceforward to be
issued, and promotions made. They once more clamoured to be sent
to the front against the enemy; their demand was acceded to; their
conduct when face to face with their opponents so objectionable in more
respects than one that they were hastily recalled. The particular corps
most implicated were disbanded; a general reorganization, as far as
practicable, applied to the whole body of the Garde Nationale.
A possible significance in respect to other forces than those of
Paris under similar complications of circumstances attached to the
occurrences just mentioned; it was emphasized by conditions pertaining
to other classes of citizen soldiers whose reputation stood higher than
that alluded to. It was said of those enrolled under such titles as
_Amis de France_, _Francs Tireurs_, and so on, that so far from being
recognised by the Germans as soldiers, properly so called, when they
fell into the hands of the latter they were looked upon as brigands and
assassins; dealt with accordingly, that is, taken to the rear and shot.
It was said of them that “if the franc tireurs will indulge in Red
Indian warfare, they must take the consequences.”
The spy mania acquired renewed activity, experiences among us
foreigners becoming again unpleasant, though never to the extent
already mentioned. Such was the degree to which the new development
prevailed that certain aristocratic ladies who had taken upon
themselves the part of _vivandières_, in place of those to whom
allusion has already been made, were subjected to unpleasantness as a
result of suspicion that fell upon them. Houses in the windows of which
lights were detected in the course of the long nights of midwinter were
disagreeably overhauled by order of “the authorities”; those occupied
by Germans, or by French suspected of German proclivities, were in
some instances invaded by roughs, and that without interference by
the police, who were passive spectators of violence done to person or
property, or both. It was necessary for all who desired some measure of
individual safety to obtain at the office of the Governor a “_Laissez
passer_,” and to have the card so named viséd from time to time at the
same bureau.
Arising out of what seemed to us outsiders a very silly quarrel in
connection with the tittle-tattle and can-cans of a club a duel took
place, while the circumstances around us were as have just been
described. The principals and their “friends,” all French, every
endeavour made by the latter to prevent the encounter having failed,
the meeting took place in a garden within the city. The adversaries,
each with foil in hand, took their places as arranged by their
“friends,” the foils of the latter held so as to be under those of
their respective opponents, and so, ready to strike up the weapon
in case of “accident,” undue advantage, or other sufficient cause.
Stripped to the shirt, the combatants lunge, parry, and thrust at each
other in the grey mist of morning, while the sound of heavy firing
from outlying forts was borne through the air. From their persons
perspiration issues, to be converted by the cold of a December morning
into visible vapour; the shirt of one is pierced, his side grazed; the
fight lasts forty-five minutes; the bared arm of the other principal
is suddenly raised quivering in the air, blood trickles. “_Je suis
touché!_” he exclaims; the weapon falls; “honour” has been satisfied.
From forts and other positions around the city firing increases in
degree; it is continuous by day and throughout the night. Within,
there are large bodies of troops in motion to the sounds of drum and
bugle; orders issued that all gates of the fortifications shall be
closed alike to egress and ingress, these incidents being precursors of
another attempt against the enemy. Long before daybreak on December 21
the Rue Lafayette was crowded by troops and ambulance establishments
making their way to the Porte de Pantin. Soon thereafter a combined
force,[304] comprising this and other portions, took up position on
the open field, triangular in form, at the angles of which stand
respectively Aubervilliers, Le Bourget, and Drancy. On the left of
the French position the combat immediately became terrific in its
violence, the interchange of fire from guns and rifles on each side
amounting to a continuous roar and shower of missiles. Heaviest of all
was the bombardment of Bourget, then in possession of the Germans, from
the fort of Aubervilliers. After a time the marine battalion, led by
Admiral de la Roncière, made a rush, hatchets in hand, cheering as they
went, upon the village, with the result that out of six hundred men,
of whom their force consisted when their charge began, two hundred and
seventy-nine lay dead or wounded within a few minutes, the position
still retained by the enemy. At other places also the French attack
failed; a third defeat had been sustained. The intensity of cold was
the greatest hitherto experienced.
While the fight was at its hottest a lady bearing the Red Cross
brassard came upon the scene, her precise object and purpose not
apparent. Wounded men were being brought to and attended by members of
ambulance societies under circumstances to which most of us had become
accustomed. Not so the lady, to whom the scene around and its general
accompaniments proved altogether “too much”; her demeanour and style of
action showed how unsuited she was to the position into which, no one
knew how or why, she had come. She was taken in charge by a courteous
surgeon, and guided with gentle firmness to the rear, after which
ambulance work proceeded with regularity and system, as usual.
On the day following the scene presented by the battlefield was one
that fancy could have hardly pictured. The village of Drancy a mass of
ruin; fire and smoke everywhere rising therefrom; the church destroyed,
but in the midst of ruin the figure of the Madonna and Child erect upon
its pedestal and untouched. Parties of troops who had bivouacked during
the night sheltered themselves as best they could, some by pieces of
_tentes abri_, others by pieces of doors and furniture; camp fires kept
up by means of fragments of cabinets, costly furniture, and pianos.
Among the men some had possessed themselves with sheep-skins, blankets,
rugs, or carpets, with pieces of which their heads and bodies were
protected, giving to them a strange and wild appearance. Everywhere the
deeply frozen ground was torn by shells, or had in it pits formed by
the explosion of those missiles.
Accompanied by a Staff officer I visited two of the largest barracks
within the city, meeting in both of them from the soldiers through
whose rooms I passed such a display of civility and hospitality as I
had heretofore been unaccustomed to. In the Caserne de Papinière, in
accepting the cup of wine proffered by a soldier, I drank “Success
to the French army,” feeling as I did so how little likely was that
sentiment to be realized. From the further end of the room came the
inquiry, expressed in the English tongue, “How do you like our wine,
sir?” A brief talk with the speaker followed. In the course of it he
said he was by birth an Irishman; had left his wife in Dublin; had
served twenty years in the French navy; was well satisfied with that
service, in which there were a good many of his countrymen; that his
period for pension was very nearly complete; but in all that time he
had never been so near “losing his number” as “there at Bourget.”
Christmas is upon us. Weather bitterly cold; many of the troops in
bivouac suffer from frost-bite; the Seine thickly covered with ice;
fuel expended; pumping machinery, like other kinds, at a standstill,
hence water supply materially interfered with, personal ablution and
laundry work all but impossible. Marauding parties break down and rob
wood wherever they can; trees newly cut down are placed on the hearth;
they refuse to burn, but yield smoke in abundance, which irritates
and inflames the eyes. Food difficulties have increased in urgency;
the daily ration insufficient in quantity to maintain strength and
animal warmth. In the hospitals upwards of 20,000 sick and wounded;
mortality in those establishments greater than on the field of battle;
_pourriture_ among the wounded prevailing to an alarming extent.[305]
The health of besieged had become impaired by semi-starvation;
hands, feet, and ears were chapped and painful. These were among the
conditions in which our great festival was celebrated; affectionate
thoughts wafted towards those from whom no communication had reached us
since the unhappy day of Chatillon.
Public opinion manifested itself in ways opposed to religion, law,
and order. Classes of people belonging to, or of similar type to
those of Belleville and Vilette, broke into ribaldry of expression
that seemed to approach in profanity that of 1792; in that also they
were joined by some of the daily papers, the position assumed by the
Communists so violent as to menace the existence of the Provisional
Government. Meantime there was increased activity in the batteries of
the besiegers, indicating that the circle of “fire and steel” beyond
the city had narrowed; yet, with all this, the dangers, present and
prospective, were looked upon as at least equal in gravity from enemies
within as from those beyond the walls.
On the 27th of December newly unmasked batteries opened heavy fire on
Avron and other places in its vicinity; shells began to fall within the
_enceinte_ of the city, and so the long-expected bombardment began. So
heavy was the volume of fire on that position that during three days
of its continuance it was estimated that 7,000 missiles--all of large
size--fell upon it. Manfully for a time did the defenders stand their
ground; very great their losses in killed and wounded when at last they
were forced to abandon their forts on the north-eastern side, their
wounded serving to still further crowd the overcrowded ambulances. The
ultimate issue of the siege, never very doubtful to us foreigners,
had now become less so than before. Men asked each other, “How is it
that 600,000 Frenchmen permitted themselves to be blockaded by 200,000
Germans?” The mystery seemed to be solved by a writer[306] of that day,
somewhat according to this manner: “It is confessed that the Governor
(Trochu) has shown unfortunate hesitations; but to do good work the
tools must be good, and in these respects he is deficient. To fight
the Prussians we should have old soldiers, well disciplined and inured
to war, reliable and instructed officers; not young soldiers of three
months, poorly fed and sickly, and officers who have been too recently
promoted to properly understand their duties.” In gloom and sadness to
us the year 1870 ended.