We shall see no more of Cluseret! Cluseret is done for, Cluseret is in
prison![75] What has he done? Is he in disgrace on account of Fort
Issy? This would scarcely be just, considering that if the fort were
evacuated yesterday it was reoccupied this morning; by the bye, I
cannot explain satisfactorily to myself why the Versaillais should have
abandoned this position, which they seem to have considered of some
importance. If it is not on account of Fort Issy that Cluseret was
politely asked to go and keep Monseigneur Darboy company, why was it? I
remember hearing yesterday and the day before something about a letter
of General Fabrice, in which that amiable Prussian, it is reported,
begged General Cluseret to intercede with the Commune in behalf of the
imprisoned priests. Is it possible that the Communal delegate, at the
risk of passing for a Jesuit, could have made the required demand? Why,
M. Cluseret, that was quite enough for you to be put in prison, and
shot too into the bargain. However, you did not intercede for anybody,
for the very excellent reason that General Fabrice no more thought of
writing to you, than of giving back Alsace and Lorraine. So we must
search somewhere else for the motive of this sudden eclipse. Some say
there was a quarrel with Dombrowski, that the latter thought fit to
sign a truce without the authority of Cluseret—a truce, what an idea!
Has Dombrowski any scruples about slaughter?—that Cluseret flew into a
great rage; but that his rival got the best of it in the end. You see
if one is an American and the other a Pole, the Commune must have a
hard time of it between the two!
No, neither the evacuation of Fort Issy—in spite of what the _Journal
Officiel_ says—Monseigneur Darboy, nor the quarrel with Dombrowski are
the real causes of the fall of Cluseret. Cluseret’s destiny was to
fall; Cluseret has fallen because he did not like gold lace and
embroidery—“that is the question,” all the rest are pretexts.
So the noble delegate imagined he could quietly issue a proclamation
one morning commanding all the officers under his orders to rip off the
gold and silver bands which luxuriantly ornament their sleeves and
caps![76] He thought his staff would forego epaulets and other military
gewgaws. Why, the man must have been mad! What would Cora or Armentine
have said if they had seen their military heroes stalk into the Café de
Suède or the Café de Madrid, shorn of all their brilliant appendages,
which made them look so wonderfully like the monkey-general at the
Neuilly fair, in the good old times, when there were such things as
fairs, and before Neuilly was a ruin. Ask any soldier, Federal or
otherwise, if he will give up his pay, or his jingling sword, or even
his rank; he may perhaps consent, but ask him to rip off his
embroidery, and he will answer, never! How can you imagine a man of
sense consenting not to look like a mountebank?
Another of these absurd prescriptions has done much to lower Cluseret
in public estimation. One day he took it into his head to prevent his
officers from galloping in the streets and boulevards, under the
miserable pretext that the rapid evolutions of these horsemen had
occasioned several accidents. Well, and if they had, do you think a
gallant captain of horse is going to deprive himself of the pleasure of
curvetting within sight of his lady love, for the pitiful reason, that
he may perchance upset an old woman or two or three children? Citizen
Cluseret does not know what he is talking about! It is certain that if
this valiant general has such a very great horror of accidents, he
should begin by stopping the firing at Courbevoie, which is a great
deal more dangerous than the galloping of a horse on the Boulevard
Montmartre. As you may imagine, the officers went on galloping and
wearing their finery under the very nose of the general, while he
walked about stoically in plain clothes. However, although they did not
obey him, they owed him a grudge for the orders he had given.
Opposition was being hatched, and was ready to burst forth on the first
opportunity, which happened to be the evacuation of Fort Issy. Cluseret
has fallen a victim to his taste for simplicity, but he carries with
him the regrets of all the illused cab-horses which, in the absence of
thoroughbreds, have to suffice the gallant staff, and who, poor
creatures, were only too delighted not to gallop.