experiences. Accordingly we did not follow the crowd back to the steps
overlooking the Place de la Concorde, but, like a good many other people,
we went off by way of the Place de Bourgogne. No damage had been done in
the Chamber itself, but as we quitted the building we noticed several
inscriptions scrawled upon the walls. In some instances the words were
merely "Vive la République!" and "Mort aux Prussiens!" At other times,
however, they were too disgusting to be set down here. In or near the Rue
de Bourgogne we found a fairly quiet wine-shop, where we rested and
refreshed ourselves with _cannettes_ of so-called Bière de Strasbourg.
We did not go at that moment to the Hôtel-de-Ville, whither a large part
of the crowd betook itself by way of the quays, and where the Republic
was again proclaimed; but returned to the Place de la Concorde, where some
thousands of people still remained. Everybody was looking very animated
and very pleased. Everybody imagined that, the Empire being overthrown,
France would soon drive back the German invader. All fears for the future
seemed, indeed, to have departed. Universal confidence prevailed, and
everybody congratulated everybody else. There was, in any case, one
good cause for congratulation: the Revolution had been absolutely
bloodless--the first and only phenomenon of the kind in all French
history.
Whilst we were strolling about the Place de la Concorde I noticed that the
chief gate of the Tuileries garden had been forced open and damaged. The
gilded eagles which had decorated it had been struck off and pounded to
pieces, this, it appeared, having been chiefly the work of an enterprising
Turco. A few days later Victorien Sardou wrote an interesting account of
how he and others obtained admittance, first to the reserved garden, and
then to the palace itself. On glancing towards it I observed that the flag
which had still waved over the principal pavilion that morning, had now
disappeared. It had been lowered after the departure of the Empress. Of
the last hours which she spent in the palace, before she quitted it with
Prince Metternich and Count Nigra to seek a momentary refuge at the
residence of her dentist, Dr. Evans, I have given a detailed account,
based on reliable narratives and documents, in my "Court of the
Tuileries."
Quitting, at last, the Place de la Concorde, we strolled slowly homeward.
Some tradespeople in the Rue Royale and the Faubourg St. Honoré, former
purveyors to the Emperor or the Empress, were already hastily removing the
imperial arms from above their shops. That same afternoon and during the
ensuing Monday and Tuesday every escutcheon, every initial N, every crown,
every eagle, every inscription that recalled the Empire, was removed or
obliterated in one or another manner. George Augustus Sala, whose recent
adventure confined him to his room at the Grand Hotel, spent most of his
time in watching the men who removed the eagles, crowns, and Ns from the
then unfinished Opera-house. Even the streets which recalled the imperial
_regime_ were hastily renamed. The Avenue de l'Impératrice at once became
the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne; and the Rue du Dix-Décembre (so called in
memory of Napoleon's assumption of the imperial dignity) was rechristened
Rue du Quatre Septembre--this being the "happy thought" of a Zouave, who,
mounted on a ladder, set the new name above the old one, whilst the plate
bearing the latter was struck off with a hammer by a young workman.
As we went home on the afternoon of that memorable Fourth, we noticed that
all the cafés and wine-shops were doing a brisk trade. Neither then nor
during the evening, however, did I perceive much actual drunkenness. It
was rather a universal jollity, as though some great victory had been
gained. Truth to tell, the increase of drunkenness in Paris was an effect
of the German Siege of the city, when drink was so plentiful and food so
scarce.
My father and I had reached the corner of our street when we witnessed an
incident which I have related in detail in the first pages of my book,
"Republican France." It was the arrival of Gambetta at the Ministry of the
Interior, by way of the Avenue de Marigny, with an escort of red-shirted
Francs-tireurs de la Presse. The future Dictator had seven companions with
him, all huddled inside or on the roof of a four-wheel cab, which was
drawn by two Breton nags. I can still picture him alighting from the
vehicle and, in the name of the Republic, ordering a chubby little
Linesman, who was mounting guard at the gate of the Ministry, to have the
said gate opened; and I can see the sleek and elderly _concierge_, who had
bowed to many an Imperial Minister, complying with the said injunction,
and respectfully doffing his tasselled smoking-cap and bending double
whilst he admitted his new master. Then the gate is closed, and from
behind the finely-wrought ornamental iron-work Gambetta briefly addresses
the little throng which has recognized him, saying that the Empire is
dead, but that France is wounded, and that her very wounds will inflame
her with fresh courage; promising, too, that the whole nation shall be
armed; and asking one and all to place confidence in the new Government,
even as the latter will place confidence in the people.
In the evening I strolled with my father to the Place de l'Hôtel de Ville,
where many people were congregated, A fairly large body of National Guards
was posted in front of the building, most of whose windows were lighted
up. The members of the New Government of National Defence were
deliberating there. Trochu had become its President, and Jules Favre its
Vice-President and Minister for Foreign Affairs. Henri Rochefort, released
that afternoon by his admirers from the prison of Sainte Pélagie, was
included in the administration, this being in the main composed of the
deputies for Paris. Only one of the latter, the cautious Thiers, refused
to join it. He presided, however, that same evening over a gathering of
some two hundred members of the moribund Legislative Body, which then made
a forlorn attempt to retain some measure of authority, by coming to some
agreement with the new Government. But Jules Favre and Jules Simon, who
attended the meeting on the latter's behalf, would not entertain the
suggestion. It was politely signified to the deputies that their support
in Paris was not required, and that if they desired to serve their country
in any way, they had better betake themselves to their former
constituencies in the provinces. So far as the Legislative Body and the
Senate, [Note] also, were concerned, everything ended in a
delightful bit of comedy. Not only were the doors of their respective
meeting halls looked, but they were "secured" with strips of tape and
seals of red wax. The awe with which red sealing-wax inspires Frenchmen is
distinctly a trait of the national character. Had there been, however, a
real Bonaparte in Paris at that time, he would probably have cut off the
aforesaid seals with his sword.
[Note: The Senate, over which Rouher presided, dispensed quietly on
hearing of the invasion of the Chamber. The proposal that it should
adjourn till more fortunate times emanated from Rouher himself. A few
cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" were raised as the assembly dispersed.
Almost immediately afterwards, however, most of the Senators, including
Rouher, who knew that he was very obnoxious to the Parisians, quitted the
city and even France.]
On the morning of September 5, the _Charivari_--otherwise the daily
Parisian _Punch_--came out with a cartoon designed to sum up the whole
period covered by the imperial rule. It depicted France bound hand and
foot and placed between the mouths of two cannons, one inscribed "Paris,
1851," and the other "Sedan, 1870"--those names and dates representing the
Alpha and Omega of the Second Empire.
IV
FROM REVOLUTION TO SIEGE
The Government of National Defence--The Army of Paris--The Return
of Victor Hugo--The German advance on Paris--The National Guard
reviewed--Hospitable Preparations for the Germans--They draw nearer
still--Departure of Lord Lyons--Our Last Day of Liberty--On the
Fortifications--The Bois de Boulogne and our Live Stock--Mass before
the Statue of Strasbourg--Devout Breton Mobiles--Evening on the
Boulevards and in the Clubs--Trochu and Ducrot--The Fight and Panic
of Chatillon--The Siege begins.
As I shall have occasion in these pages to mention a good many members
of the self-constituted Government which succeeded the Empire, it may be
as well for me to set down here their names and the offices they held.
I have already mentioned that Trochu was President, and Jules Favre
Vice-President, of the new administration. The former also retained his
office as Governor of Paris, and at the same time became Generalissimo.
Favre, for his part, took the Ministry for Foreign Affairs. With him and
Trochu were Gambetta, Minister of the Interior; Jules Simon, Minister of
Public Instruction; Adolphe Crémieux, Minister of Justice; Ernest Picard,
Minister of Finance; Jules Ferry, Secretary-General to the Government, and
later Mayor of Paris; and Henri Rochefort, President of the Committee of
Barricades. Four of their colleagues, Emmanuel Arago, Garnier-Pagès,
Eugène Pelletan, and Glais-Bizoin, did not take charge of any particular
administrative departments, the remainder of these being allotted to men
whose co-operation was secured. For instance, old General Le Flô became
Minister of War--under Trochu, however, and not over him. Vice-Admiral
Fourichon was appointed Minister of Marine; Magnin, an iron-master,
became Minister of Commerce and Agriculture; Frédéric Dorian, another
iron-master, took the department of Public Works; Count Emile de Kératry
acted as Prefect of Police, and Etienne Arago, in the earlier days, as
Mayor of Paris.
The new Government was fully installed by Tuesday, September 6. It had
already issued several more or less stirring proclamations, which were
followed by a despatch which Jules Favre addressed to the French
diplomatic representatives abroad. As a set-off to the arrival of a number
of dejected travel-stained fugitives from MacMahon's army, whose
appearance was by no means of a nature to exhilarate the Parisians, the
defence was reinforced by a large number of Gardes Mobiles, who poured
into the city, particularly from Brittany, Trochu's native province, and
by a considerable force of regulars, infantry, cavalry, and artillery,
commanded by the veteran General Vinoy (then seventy years of age), who
had originally been despatched to assist MacMahon, but, having failed to
reach him before the disaster of Sedan, retreated in good order on the
capital. At the time when the Siege actually commenced there were in Paris
about 90,000 regulars (including all arms and categories), 110,000 Mobile
Guards, and a naval contingent of 13,500 men, that is a force of 213,000,
in addition to the National Guards, who were about 280,000 in number.
Thus, altogether, nearly half a million armed men were assembled in Paris
for the purpose of defending it. As all authorities afterwards admitted,
this was a very great blunder, as fully 100,000 regulars and mobiles might
have been spared to advantage for service in the provinces. Of course the
National Guards themselves could not be sent away from the city, though
they were often an encumbrance rather than a help, and could not possibly
have carried on the work of defence had they been left to their own
resources.
Besides troops, so long as the railway trains continued running,
additional military stores and supplies of food, flour, rice, biscuits,
preserved meats, rolled day by day into Paris. At the same time, several
illustrious exiles returned to the capital. Louis Blanc and Edgar Quinet
arrived there, after years of absence, in the most unostentatious fashion,
though they soon succumbed to the prevailing mania of inditing manifestoes
and exhortations for the benefit of their fellow-countrymen. Victor Hugo's
return was more theatrical. In those famous "Châtiments" in which he had
so severely flagellated the Third Napoleon (after, in earlier years,
exalting the First to the dignity of a demi-god), he had vowed to keep out
of France and to protest against the Empire so long as it lasted, penning,
in this connection, the famous line:
"Et s'il n'en reste qu'un, je serai celui-là!"
But now the Empire had fallen, and so Hugo returned in triumph to Paris.
When he alighted from the train which brought him, he said to those who
had assembled to give him a fitting greeting, that he had come to do his
duty in the hour of danger, that duty being to save Paris, which meant
more than saving France, for it implied saving the world itself--Paris
being the capital of civilization, the centre of mankind. Naturally
enough, those fine sentiments were fervently applauded by the great poet's
admirers, and when he had installed himself with his companions in an open
carriage, two or three thousand people escorted him processionally along
the Boulevards. It was night-time, and the cafés were crowded and the
footways covered with promenaders as the _cortége_ went by, the escort
singing now the "Marseillaise" and now the "Chant du Départ," whilst on
every side shouts of "Vive Victor Hugo!" rang out as enthusiastically as
if the appointed "Saviour of Paris" were indeed actually passing. More
than once I saw the illustrious poet stand up, uncover, and wave his hat
in response to the acclamations, and I then particularly noticed the
loftiness of his forehead, and the splendid crop of white hair with which
it was crowned. Hugo, at that time sixty-eight years old, still looked
vigorous, but it was beyond the power of any such man as himself to save
the city from what was impending. All he could do was to indite perfervid
manifestoes, and subsequently, in "L'Année terrible," commemorate the
doings and sufferings of the time. For the rest, he certainly enrolled
himself as a National Guard, and I more than once caught sight of him
wearing _képi_ and _vareuse_. I am not sure, however, whether he ever did
a "sentry-go."
It must have been on the day following Victor Hugo's arrival that I
momentarily quitted Paris for reasons in which my youthful but precocious
heart was deeply concerned. I was absent for four days or so, and on
returning to the capital I was accompanied by my stepmother, who, knowing
that my father intended to remain in the city during the impending siege,
wished to be with him for a while before the investment began. I recollect
that she even desired to remain with us, though that was impossible, as
she had young children, whom she had left at Saint Servan; and, besides,
as I one day jocularly remarked to her, she would, by staying in Paris,
have added to the "useless mouths," whose numbers the Republican, like the
Imperial, Government was, with very indifferent success, striving to
diminish. However, she only quitted us at the last extremity, departing on
the evening of September 17, by the Western line, which, on the morrow,
the enemy out at Conflans, some fourteen miles from Paris.
Day by day the Parisians had received news of the gradual approach of
the German forces. On the 8th they heard that the Crown Prince of
Prussia's army was advancing from Montmirail to Coulommiers--whereupon the
city became very restless; whilst on the 9th there came word that the
black and white pennons of the ubiquitous Uhlans had been seen at La
Ferté-sous-Jouarre. That same day Thiers quitted Paris on a mission which
he had undertaken for the new Government, that of pleading the cause of
France at the Courts of London, St. Petersburg, Vienna, and Rome. Then, on
the 11th, there were tidings that Laon had capitulated, though not without
its defenders blowing up a powder-magazine and thereby injuring some
German officers of exalted rank--for which reason the deed was
enthusiastically commended by the Parisian Press, though it would seem to
have been a somewhat treacherous one, contrary to the ordinary usages of
war. On the 12th some German scouts reached Meaux, and a larger force
leisurely occupied Melun. The French, on their part, were busy after a
fashion. They offered no armed resistance to the German advance, but they
tried to impede it in sundry ways. With the idea of depriving the enemy of
"cover," various attempts were made to fire some of the woods in the
vicinity of Paris, whilst in order to cheat him of supplies, stacks and
standing crops were here and there destroyed. Then, too, several railway
and other bridges were blown up, including the railway bridge at Creil, so
that direct communication with Boulogne and Calais ceased on September 12.
The 13th was a great day for the National Guards, who were then reviewed
by General Trochu. With my father and my young stepmother, I went to see
the sight, which was in many respects an interesting one. A hundred and
thirty-six battalions, or approximately 180,000 men, of the so-called
"citizen soldiery" were under arms; their lines extending, first, along
the Boulevards from the Bastille to the Madeleine, then down the Rue
Royale, across the Place de la Concorde and up the Champs Elysées as far
as the Rond Point. In addition, 100,000 men of the Garde Mobile were
assembled along the quays of the Seine and up the Champs Elysées from the
Rond Point to the Arc de Triomphe. I have never since set eyes on so large
a force of armed men. They were of all sorts. Some of the Mobiles, notably
the Breton ones, who afterwards gave a good account of themselves, looked
really soldierly; but the National Guards were a strangely mixed lot. They
all wore _képis_, but quite half of them as yet had no uniforms, and were
attired in blouses and trousers of various hues. Only here and there could
one see a man of military bearing; most of them struck happy-go-lucky
attitudes, and were quite unable to keep step in marching. A particular
feature of the display was the number of flowers and sprigs of evergreen
with which the men had decorated the muzzles of the _fusils-à-tabatière_
which they mostly carried. Here and there, moreover, one and another
fellow displayed on his bayonet-point some coloured caricature of the
ex-Emperor or the ex-Empress. What things they were, those innumerable
caricatures of the months which followed the Revolution! Now and again
there appeared one which was really clever, which embodied a smart,
a witty idea; but how many of them were simply the outcome of a depraved,
a lewd, a bestial imagination! The most offensive caricatures of
Marie-Antoinette were as nothing beside those levelled at that unfortunate
woman, the Empress Eugénie.
Our last days of liberty were now slipping by. Some of the poorest folk of
the environs of Paris were at last coming into the city, bringing their
chattels with them. Strange ideas, however, had taken hold of some of the
more simple-minded suburban bourgeois. Departing hastily into the
provinces, so as to place their skins out of harm's reach, they had not
troubled to store their household goods in the city; but had left them in
their coquettish villas and pavilions, the doors of which were barely
looked. The German soldiers would very likely occupy the houses, but
assuredly they would do no harm to them. "Perhaps, however, it might be as
well to propitiate the foreign soldiers. Let us leave something for them,"
said worthy Monsieur Durand to Madame Durand, his wife; "they will be
hungry when they get here, and if they find something ready for them they
will be grateful and do no damage." So, although the honest Durands
carefully barred--at times even walled-up--their cellars of choice wines,
they arranged that plenty of bottles, at times even a cask, of _vin
ordinaire_ should be within easy access; and ham, cheese, sardines,
_saucissons de Lyon_, and _patés de foie gras_ were deposited in the
pantry cupboards, which were considerately left unlocked in order that the
good, mild-mannered, honest Germans (who, according to a proclamation
issued by "Unser Fritz" at an earlier stage of the hostilities, "made war
on the Emperor Napoleon and not on the French nation") might regale
themselves without let or hindrance. Moreover, the nights were "drawing
in," the evenings becoming chilly; so why not lay the fires, and place
matches and candles in convenient places for the benefit of the unbidden
guests who would so soon arrive? All those things being done, M. and Mme.
Durand departed to seek the quietude of Fouilly-les-Oies, never dreaming
that on their return to Montfermeil, Palaiseau, or Sartrouville, they
would find their _salon_ converted into a pigstye, their furniture
smashed, and their clocks and chimney-ornaments abstracted. Of course the
M. Durand of to-day knows what happened to his respected parents; he knows
what to think of the good, honest, considerate German soldiery; and, if he
can help it, he will not in any similar case leave so much as a wooden
spoon to be carried off to the Fatherland, and added as yet another trophy
to the hundred thousand French clocks and the million French nick-nacks
which are still preserved there as mementoes of the "grosse Zeit."
On September 15, we heard of some petty skirmishes between Uhlans and
Francs-tireurs in the vicinity of Montereau and Melun; on the morrow the
enemy captured a train at Senlis, and fired on another near Chantilly,
fortunately without wounding any of the passengers; whilst on the same day
his presence was signalled at Villeneuve-Saint-Georges, only ten miles
south of Paris. That evening, moreover, he attempted to ford the Seine at
Juvisy. On the 16th some of his forces appeared between Créteil and
Neuilly-sur-Marne, on the eastern side of the city, and only some five
miles from the fort of Vincennes. Then we again heard of him on the
south--of his presence at Brunoy, Ablon, and Athis, and of the pontoons by
which he was crossing the Seine at Villeneuve and Choisy-le-Roi.
Thus the advance steadily continued, quite unchecked by force of arms,
save for just a few trifling skirmishes initiated by sundry
Francs-tireurs. Not a road, not a barricade, was defended by the
authorities; not once was the passage of a river contested. Here and there
the Germans found obstructions: poplars had been felled and laid across a
highway, bridges and railway tunnels had occasionally been blown up; but
all such impediments to their advance were speedily overcome by the enemy,
who marched on quietly, feeling alternately puzzled and astonished at
never being confronted by any French forces. As the invaders drew nearer
to Paris they found an abundance of vegetables and fruit at their
disposal, but most of the peasantry had fled, taking their live stock with
them, and, as a German officer told me in after years, eggs, cheese,
butter, and milk could seldom be procured.
On the 17th the French began to recover from the stupor which seemed to
have fallen on them. Old General Vinoy crossed the Marne at Charenton with
some of his forces, and a rather sharp skirmish ensued in front of the
village of Mesly. That same day Lord Lyons, the British Ambassador, took
his departure from Paris, proceeding by devious ways to Tours, whither, a
couple of days previously, three delegates of the National Defence--two
septuagenarians and one sexagenarian, Crémieux, Glais-Bizoin, and
Fourichon--had repaired in order to take over the general government of
France. Lord Lyons had previously told Jules Favre that he intended to
remain in the capital, but I believe that his decision was modified by
instructions from London. With him went most of the Embassy staff, British
interests in Paris remaining in the hands of the second secretary, Mr.
Wodehouse, and the vice-consul. The consul himself had very prudently
quitted Paris, in order "to drink the waters," some time previously.
Colonel Claremont, the military attaché, still remained with us, but by
degrees, as the siege went on, the Embassy staff dwindled down to the
concierge and two--or was it four?--sheep browsing on the lawn. Mr.
Wodehouse went off (my father and myself being among those who accompanied
him, as I shall relate in a future chapter) towards the middle of
November; and before the bombardment began Colonel Claremont likewise
executed a strategical retreat. Nevertheless--or should I say for that
very reason?--he was subsequently made a general officer.