Up in the kingdom of the air

He now the foremost rank may claim.

If poor Gambetta when up there,

Up in the kingdom of the air,

Does not find good cause to stare,

Why, Nadar will not be to blame.

Up in the kingdom of the air

He now the foremost rank may claim.

At Ferrières, above the park,

Behold him darting through the sky,

Soaring to heaven like a lark.

At Ferrières above the park;

Whilst William whispers to Bismarck--

'Silence, see Nadar there on high!'

At Ferrières above the park

Behold him darting through the sky.

Oh, thou more hairy than King Clodion,

Bearer on high of this report,

Thou yellower than a pure Cambodian,

And far more daring than King Clodion,

We'll cast thy statue in collodion

And mount it on a gas retort.

Oh, thou more hairy than King Clodion,

Bearer on high of this report!

Perhaps it may not be thought too pedantic on my part if I explain that

the King Clodion referred to in Millaud's last verse was the legendary

"Clodion the Hairy," a supposed fifth-century leader of the Franks,

reputed to be a forerunner of the founder of the, Merovingian dynasty.

Nadar's hair, however, was not long like that of _les rois chevelue_, for

it was simply a huge curly and somewhat reddish mop. As for his

complexion, Millaud's phrase, "yellow as a pure Cambodian," was a happy

thought.

These allusions to Millaud's sprightly verse remind me that throughout the

siege of Paris the so-called _mot pour rire_ was never once lost sight of.

At all times and in respect to everything there was a superabundance of

jests--jests on the Germans, the National and the Mobile Guard, the fallen

dynasty, and the new Republic, the fruitless sorties, the wretched

rations, the failing gas, and many other people and things. One of the

enemy's generals was said to have remarked one day: "I don't know how to

satisfy my men. They complain of hunger, and yet I lead them every morning

to the slaughterhouse." At another time a French colonel, of conservative

ideas, was said to have replaced the inscription "Liberty, Equality,

Fraternity," which he found painted on the walls of his barracks, by the

words, "Infantry, Cavalry, Artillery," declaring that the latter were far

more likely to free the country of the presence of the hated enemy. As for

the "treason" mania, which was very prevalent at this time, it was related

that a soldier remarked one day to a comrade: "I am sure that the captain

is a traitor!" "Indeed! How's that?" was the prompt rejoinder. "Well,"

said the suspicious private, "have you not noticed that every time he

orders us to march forward we invariably encounter the enemy?"

When Trochu issued a decree incorporating all National Guards, under

forty-five years of age, in the marching battalions for duty outside

the city, one of these Guards, on being asked how old he was, replied,

"six-and-forty." "How is that?" he was asked. "A few weeks ago, you told

everybody that you were only thirty-six." "Quite true," rejoined the

other, "but what with rampart-duty, demonstrating at the Hôtel-de-Ville,

short rations, and the cold weather, I feel quite ten years older than I

formerly did." When horseflesh became more or less our daily provender,

many Parisian _bourgeois_ found their health failing. "What is the matter,

my dearest?" Madame du Bois du Pont inquired of her husband, when he had

collapsed one evening after dinner. "Oh! it is nothing, _mon amie_" he

replied; "I dare say I shall soon feel well again, but I used to think

myself a better horseman!"

Directly our supply of gas began to fail, the wags insinuated that Henri

Rochefort was jubilant, and if you inquired the reason thereof, you were

told that owing to the scarcity of gas everybody would be obliged to buy

hundreds of "_Lanternes_." We had, of course, plenty of sensations in

those days, but if you wished to cap every one of them you merely had to

walk into a café and ask the waiter for--a railway time-table.

Once before I referred to the caricatures of the period, notably to those

libelling the Emperor Napoleon III and the Empress Eugénie, the latter

being currently personified as Messalina--or even as something worse, and

this, of course, without the faintest shadow of justification. But the

caricaturists were not merely concerned with the fallen dynasty. One of

the principal cartoonists of the _Charivari_ at that moment was "Cham,"

otherwise the Vicomte Amédée de Noé, an old friend of my family's.

It was he, by the way, who before the war insisted on my going to a

fencing-school, saying: "Look here, if you mean to live in France and be a

journalist, you must know how to hold a sword. Come with me to Ruzé's.

I taught your uncle Frank and his friend Gustave Doré how to fence many

years ago, and now I am going to have you taught." Well, in one of his

cartoons issued during the siege, Cham (disgusted, like most Frenchmen, at

the seeming indifference of Great Britain to the plight in which France

found herself) summed up the situation, as he conceived it, by depicting

the British Lion licking the boots of Bismarck, who was disguised as Davy

Crockett. When my father remonstrated with Cham on the subject, reminding

him of his own connexion with England, the indignant caricaturist replied:

"Don't speak of it. I have renounced England and all her works." He, like

other Frenchmen of the time, contended that we had placed ourselves under

great obligations to France at the period of the Crimean War.

Among the best caricatures of the siege-days was one by Daumier, which

showed Death appearing to Bismarck in his sleep, and murmuring softly,

"Thanks, many thanks." Another idea of the period found expression in a

cartoon representing a large mouse-trap, labelled "France," into which a

company of mice dressed up as German soldiers were eagerly marching, their

officer meanwhile pointing to a cheese fixed inside the trap, and

inscribed with the name of Paris. Below the design ran the legend: "Ah! if

we could only catch them all in it!" Many, indeed most, of the caricatures

of the time did not appear in the so-called humorous journals, but were

issued separately at a penny apiece, and were usually coloured by the

stencilling process. In one of them, I remember, Bismarck was seen wearing

seven-league boots and making ineffectual attempts to step from Versailles

to Paris. Another depicted the King of Prussia as Butcher William, knife

in hand and attired in the orthodox slaughter-house costume; whilst in yet

another design the same monarch was shown urging poor Death, who had

fallen exhausted in the snow, with his scythe lying broken beside him, to

continue on the march until the last of the French nation should be

exterminated. Of caricatures representing cooks in connexion with cats

there was no end, the _lapin de gouttière_ being in great demand for the

dinner-table; and, after Gambetta had left us, there were designs showing

the armies of succour (which were to be raised in the provinces)

endeavouring to pass ribs of beef, fat geese, legs of mutton, and strings

of sausages over several rows of German helmets, gathered round a bastion

labelled Paris, whence a famished National Guard, eager for the proffered

provisions, was trying to spring, but could not do so owing to the

restraining arm of General Trochu.

Before the investment began Paris was already afflicted with a spy mania.

Sala's adventure, which I recounted in an earlier chapter, was in a way

connected with this delusion, which originated with the cry "We are

betrayed!" immediately after the first French reverses. The instances of

so-called "spyophobia" were innumerable, and often curious and amusing.

There was a slight abatement of the mania when, shortly before the siege,

188,000 Germans were expelled from Paris, leaving behind them only some

700 old folk, invalids, and children, who were unable to obey the

Government's decree. But the disease soon revived, and we heard of

rag-pickers having their baskets ransacked by zealous National Guards,

who imagined that these receptacles might contain secret despatches or

contraband ammunition. On another occasion _Le Figaro_ wickedly suggested

that all the blind beggars in Paris were spies, with the result that

several poor infirm old creatures were abominably ill-treated. Again, a

fugitive sheet called _Les Nouvelles_ denounced all the English residents

as spies. Labouchere was one of those pounced upon by a Parisian mob in

consequence of that idiotic denunciation, but as he had the presence of

mind to invite those who assailed him to go with him to the nearest

police-station, he was speedily released. On two occasions my father and

myself were arrested and carried to guard-houses, and in the course of

those experiences we discovered that the beautifully engraved but

essentially ridiculous British passport, which recited all the honours and

dignities of the Secretary of State or the Ambassador delivering it, but

gave not the slightest information respecting the person to whom it had

been delivered (apart, that is, from his or her name), was of infinitely

less value in the eyes of a French officer than a receipt for rent or a

Parisian tradesman's bill. [That was forty-three years ago. The British

passport, however, remains to-day as unsatisfactory as it was then.]

But let me pass to other instances. One day an unfortunate individual,

working in the Paris sewers, was espied by a zealous National Guard, who

at once gave the alarm, declaring that there was a German spy in the

aforesaid sewers, and that he was depositing bombs there with the

intention of blowing up the city. Three hundred Guards at once volunteered

their services, stalked the poor workman, and blew him to pieces the next

time he popped his head out of a sewer-trap. The mistake was afterwards

deplored, but people argued (wrote Mr. Thomas Gibson Bowles, who sent the

story to The Morning Post) that it was far better that a hundred innocent

Frenchmen should suffer than that a single Prussian should escape. Cham,

to whom I previously alluded, old Marshal Vaillant, Mr. O'Sullivan, an

American diplomatist, and Alexis Godillot, the French army contractor,

were among the many well-known people arrested as spies at one or another

moment. A certain Mme: de Beaulieu, who had joined a regiment of Mobiles

as a _cantiniere_, was denounced as a spy "because her hands were so

white." Another lady, who had installed an ambulance in her house, was

carried off to prison on an equally frivolous pretext; and I remember yet

another case in which a lady patron of the Societe de Secours aux Blesses

was ill-treated. Matters would, however, probably be far worse at the

present time, for Paris, with all her apaches and anarchists, now includes

in her population even more scum than was the case three-and-forty years

ago.

There were, however, a few authentic instances of spying, one case being

that of a young fellow whom Etienne Arago, the Mayor of Paris, engaged as

a secretary, on the recommendation of Henri Rochefort, but who turned out

to be of German extraction, and availed himself of his official position

to draw up reports which were forwarded by balloon post to an agent of the

German Government in London. I have forgotten the culprit's name, but it

will be found, with particulars of his case, in the Paris journals of the

siege days. There was, moreover, the Hardt affair, which resulted in the

prisoner, a former lieutenant in the Prussian army, being convicted of

espionage and shot in the courtyard of the Ecole Militaire.

Co-existent with "spyophobia" there was another craze, that of suspecting

any light seen at night-time in an attic or fifth-floor window to be a

signal intended for the enemy. Many ludicrous incidents occurred in

connexion with this panic. One night an elderly _bourgeois_, who had

recently married a charming young woman, was suddenly dragged from his bed

by a party of indignant National Guards, and consigned to the watch-house

until daybreak. This had been brought about by his wife's maid placing a

couple of lighted candles in her window as a signal to the wife's lover

that, "master being at home," he was not to come up to the flat that

night. On another occasion a poor old lady, who was patriotically

depriving herself of sleep in order to make lint for the ambulances, was

pounced upon and nearly strangled for exhibiting green and red signals

from her window. It turned out, however, that the signals in question were

merely the reflections of a harmless though charmingly variegated parrot

which was the zealous old dame's sole and faithful companion.

No matter what might be the quarter of Paris in which a presumed signal

was observed, the house whence it emanated was at once invaded by National

Guards, and perfectly innocent people were often carried off and subjected

to ill-treatment. To such proportions did the craze attain that some

papers even proposed that the Government should forbid any kind of light

whatever, after dark, in any room situated above the second floor, unless

the windows of that room were "hermetically sealed"! Most victims of the

mania submitted to the mob's invasion of their homes without raising any

particular protest; but a volunteer artilleryman, who wrote to the

authorities complaining that his rooms had been ransacked in his absence

and his aged mother frightened out of her wits, on the pretext that some

fusees had been fired from his windows, declared that if there should be

any repetition of such an intrusion whilst he was at home he would receive

the invaders bayonet and revolver in hand. From that moment similar

protests poured into the Hôtel-de-Ville, and Trochu ended by issuing a

proclamation in which he said: "Under the most frivolous pretexts,

numerous houses have been entered, and peaceful citizens have been

maltreated. The flags of friendly nations have been powerless to protect

the houses where they were displayed. I have ordered an inquiry on the

subject, and I now command that all persons guilty of these abusive

practices shall be arrested. A special service has been organized in order

to prevent the enemy from keeping up any communication with any of its

partisans in the city; and I remind everybody that excepting in such

instances as are foreseen by the law every citizen's residence is

inviolable."

We nowadays hear a great deal about the claims of women, but although the

followers of Mrs. Pankhurst have carried on "a sort of a war" for a

considerable time past, I have not yet noticed any disposition on their

part to "join the colours." Men currently assert that women cannot serve

as soldiers. There are, however, many historical instances of women

distinguishing themselves in warfare, and modern conditions are even more

favourable than former ones for the employment of women as soldiers. There

is splendid material to be derived from the golf-girl, the hockey-girl,

the factory- and the laundry-girl--all of them active, and in innumerable

instances far stronger than many of the narrow-chested, cigarette-smoking

"boys" whom we now see in our regiments. Briefly, a day may well come when

we shall see many of our so-called superfluous women taking to the

"career of arms." However, the attempts made to establish a corps of

women-soldiers in Paris, during the German siege, were more amusing than

serious. Early in October some hundreds of women demonstrated outside the

Hôtel-de-Ville, demanding that all the male nurses attached to the

ambulances should be replaced by women. The authorities promised to grant

that application, and the women next claimed the right to share the

dangers of the field with their husbands and their brothers. This question

was repeatedly discussed at the public clubs, notably at one in the Rue

Pierre Levée, where Louise Michel, the schoolmistress who subsequently

participated in the Commune and was transported to New Caledonia,

officiated as high-priestess; and at another located at the Triat

Gymnasium in the Avenue Montaigne, where as a rule no men were allowed to

be present, that is, excepting a certain Citizen Jules Allix, an eccentric

elderly survivor of the Republic of '48, at which period he had devised a

system of telepathy effected by means of "sympathetic snails."

One Sunday afternoon in October the lady members of this club, being in

urgent need of funds, decided to admit men among their audience at the

small charge of twopence per head, and on hearing this, my father and

myself strolled round to witness the proceedings. They were remarkably

lively. Allix, while reading a report respecting the club's progress,

began to libel some of the Paris convents, whereupon a National Guard in

the audience flatly called him a liar. A terrific hubbub arose, all the

women gesticulating and protesting, whilst their _présidente_

energetically rang her bell, and the interrupter strode towards the

platform. He proved to be none other than the Duc de Fitz-James, a lineal

descendant of our last Stuart King by Marlborough's sister, Arabella

Churchill. He tried to speak, but the many loud screams prevented him from

doing so. Some of the women threatened him with violence, whilst a few

others thanked him for defending the Church. At last, however, he leapt on

the platform, and in doing so overturned both a long table covered with

green baize, and the members of the committee who were seated behind it.

Jules Allix thereupon sprang at the Duke's throat, they struggled and fell

together from the platform, and rolled in the dust below it. It was long

before order was restored, but this was finally effected by a good-looking

young woman who, addressing the male portion of the audience, exclaimed:

"Citizens! if you say another word we will fling what you have paid for

admission in your faces, and order you out of doors!"

Business then began, the discussion turning chiefly upon two points, the

first being that all women should be armed and do duty on the ramparts,

and the second that the women should defend their honour from the attacks

of the Germans by means of prussic acid. Allix remarked that it would be

very appropriate to employ prussic acid in killing Prussians, and

explained to us that this might be effected by means of little indiarubber

thimbles which the women would place on their fingers, each thimble being

tipped with a small pointed tube containing some of the acid in question.

If an amorous Prussian should venture too close to a fair Parisienne, the

latter would merely have to hold out her hand and prick him. In another

instant he would fall dead! "No matter how many of the enemy may assail

her," added Allix, enthusiastically, "she will simply have to prick them

one by one, and we shall see her standing still pure and holy in the midst

of a circle of corpses!" At these words many of the women in the audience

were moved to tears, but the men laughed hilariously.

Such disorderly scenes occurred at this women's club, that the landlord of

the Triat Gymnasium at last took possession of the premises again, and the

ejected members vainly endeavoured to find accommodation elsewhere.

Nevertheless, another scheme for organizing an armed force of women was

started, and one day, on observing on the walls of Paris a green placard

which announced the formation of a "Legion of Amazons of the Seine," I

repaired to the Rue Turbigo, where this Legion's enlistment office had

been opened. After making my way up a staircase crowded with recruits, who

were mostly muscular women from five-and-twenty to forty years of age, the

older ones sometimes being unduly stout, and not one of them, in my

youthful opinion, at all good-looking, I managed to squeeze my way into

the private office of the projector of the Legion, or, as he called

himself, its "Provisional Chef de Bataillon." He was a wiry little man,

with a grey moustache and a military bearing, and answered to the name of

Félix Belly. A year or two previously he had unjustly incurred a great

deal of ridicule in Paris, owing to his attempts to float a Panama Canal

scheme. Only five years after the war, however, the same idea was taken up

by Ferdinand de Lesseps, and French folk, who had laughed it to scorn in

Belly's time, proved only too ready to fling their hard-earned savings

into the bottomless gulf of Lesseps' enterprise.

I remember having a long chat with Belly, who was most enthusiastic

respecting his proposed Amazons. They were to defend the ramparts and

barricades of Paris, said he, being armed with light guns carrying some

200 yards; and their costume, a model of which was shown me, was to

consist of black trousers with orange-coloured stripes down the outer

seams, black blouses with capes, and black képis, also with orange

trimmings. Further, each woman was to carry a cartridge-box attached to a

shoulder-belt. It was hoped that the first battalion would muster quite

1200 women, divided into eight companies of 150 each. There was to be a

special medical service, and although the chief doctor would be a man, it

was hoped to secure several assistant doctors of the female sex. Little M.

Belly dwelt particularly on the fact that only women of unexceptionable

moral character would be allowed to join the force, all recruits having to

supply certificates from the Commissaries of Police of their districts, as

well as the consent of their nearest connexions, such as their fathers or

their husbands. "Now, listen to this," added M. Belly, enthusiastically,

as he went to a piano which I was surprised to find, standing in a

recruiting office; and seating himself at the instrument, he played for my

especial benefit the stirring strains of a new, specially-commissioned

battle-song, which, said he, "we intend to call the Marseillaise of the

Paris Amazons!"

Unfortunately for M. Belly, all his fine projects and preparations

collapsed a few days afterwards, owing to the intervention of the police,

who raided the premises in the Rue Turbigo, and carried off all the papers

they found there. They justified these summary proceedings on the ground

that General Trochu had forbidden the formation of any more free corps,

and that M. Belly had unduly taken fees from his recruits. I believe,

however, that the latter statement was incorrect. At all events, no

further proceedings were instituted. But the raid sufficed to kill M.

Belly's cherished scheme, which naturally supplied the caricaturists of

the time with more or less brilliant ideas. One cartoon represented the

German army surrendering _en masse_ to a mere battalion of the Beauties of

Paris.

VI

MORE ABOUT THE SIEGE DAYS

Reconnaissances and Sorties--Casimir-Perier at Bagneux--Some of the Paris

Clubs--Demonstrations at the Hôtel-de-Ville--The Cannon Craze--The Fall of

Metz foreshadowed--Le Bourget taken by the French--The Government's Policy

of Concealment--The Germans recapture Le Bourget--Thiers, the Armistice,

and Bazaine's Capitulation--The Rising of October 31--The Peril and the

Rescue of the Government--Armistice and Peace Conditions--The Great

Question of Rations--Personal Experiences respecting Food--My father, in

failing Health, decides to leave Paris.