M. Rossel is really very unfortunate! What is M. Rossel?[78] Why, the
provisional successor of Citizen Cluseret. It was not a bad idea to put
in the word _provisional_. The Commune had confided to him the care of
military matters, which he had accepted, but with an air of
condescension. This “Communeux” looks to me like an aristocrat. At any
rate he has not been fortunate. Scarcely had he taken upon himself the
safety of Paris, when the redoubt of Moulin-Saquet was surprised by the
Versaillais. This accident was not calculated to enhance the courage of
the Federals. The whole affair has been kept as dark as possible, but
the porter of the house where I live, who was there, has told me
strange things.
“Will you believe, Monsieur, that I had just finished a game of cards
with the captain, and was preparing to have a bit of sleep, for it was
near upon eleven o’clock, when I thought I heard something like the
noise of troops marching. I looked round to see if any one heard it
besides myself, but the men were already asleep, and a circular line of
boots was sticking out all round the tents. The captain said: ‘I
daresay it is the patrol from the Rue de Villejuif.’—‘Oh, yes,’ said I,
‘from the barricade,’ and I fell to sleep without a thought of danger.
In fact, there seemed nothing to fear, as the Moulin-Saquet overlooks
the whole of the plain which stretches from Vitry to Choisy-le-Roi, and
from Villejuif to the Seine. It was impossible for a man to approach
the redoubt without being seen by the sentinel. I had, therefore, been
asleep a few minutes when I was awoke by the following dialogue:—‘Stop!
who goes there?’—‘The patrol.’—‘Corporal, forward!’—Oh! said I to
myself, it is our comrades come to see us; there will be some healths
drunk before morning, and I got up to go and give them a welcome. The
captain was also astir. ‘The password!’ he cried. The chief of the
patrol came forward and answered—‘Vengeance!’ I remember wondering at
the moment why he spoke so loud in giving the pass-word, when suddenly
I saw three men rush forward, seize our captain, and throw him down. At
the same time two or three hundred men, dressed as National Guards,
threw themselves into the camp, rushed upon the sleeping artillery-men
with their bayonets, and then fired several volleys into the tents
where our poor comrades were asleep. What I had taken at first for
National Guards were only those devils of sergents-de-ville dressed up!
So, you see, as it was each man for himself, and the high road for
everybody, I just threw myself down on my face, and let myself drop
into the trenches. There was no fear of the noise of my fall being
heard in the riot. I managed to hide myself pretty well in a hole I
found there, and which had doubtless been made by a shell. I could not
see anything, but I heard all that was going on. Clic! clac! clic! went
the rifles, almost like the cracking of a whip, answered by the most
dismal cries from the wounded. I could hear also the grinding of
wheels, and made sure they were taking away our guns, the robbers! When
all was silent except the groans of the dying men, I crept out of my
hiding place. Would you believe it, Monsieur, I was the only one able
to stand up; the Versaillais had taken all those who had not run away
or were not wounded; I saw them, the pilfering thieves, making off
towards Vitry, as fast as their legs could carry them!”
“You have no idea, lieutenant,” I said to the porter, “how the
Versaillais got to know the pass-word?”—“No, only the captain, who is
an honest fellow enough, but rather too fond of the bottle, went in the
evening to the route d’Orléans where there are lots of wine-shops
...”—“And you think he got tipsy, and let the pass-word out to some spy
or other?”—“I would not swear he did not; but what I am more sure of,
is that we are betrayed!”
Alas! yes, unfortunates, you are betrayed, but not in the way you
think. You are being cheated by these madmen and criminals who are busy
publishing decrees at the Hôtel de Ville, while you are dying by scores
at Issy, Vanves, Montrouge, Neuilly, and the Moulin-Saquet; they betray
you when they talk of Royalists and Imperialists; they deceive you when
they tell you, that victory is certain, and that even defeat would be
glorious. I tell you, that victory is impossible, and that your defeat
will be without honour; for when you fell, crying, “Vive la Commune!”
“Vive la République!” the Commune is Félix Pyat, and the Republic,
Vermorel.