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DIARY
OF
THE BESIEGED RESIDENT
IN PARIS.
DIARY
OF
THE BESIEGED RESIDENT
IN PARIS.
REPRINTED FROM "THE DAILY NEWS,"
WITH
SEVERAL NEW LETTERS AND PREFACE.
IN ONE VOLUME.
Second Edition, Revised.
LONDON: HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
1871.
_The Right of Translation is Reserved_.
LONDON: BRADBURY, EVANS, AND CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.
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|Transcriber's note: In this book there are inconsistencies in|
|accentation and capitalisation; these have been left as in |
|the original. This book contains two chapters labeled XVII. |
+-------------------------------------------------------------+
PREFACE.
The publishers of these letters have requested me to write a preface. In
vain I have told them, that if prefaces have not gone out of date, the
sooner they do, the better it will be for the public; in vain I have
despairingly suggested that there must be something which would serve
their purpose, kept in type at their printers, commencing, "At the
request of--perhaps too partial--friends, I have been induced, against
my own judgment, to publish, &c., &c., &c.;" they say that they have
advertised the book with a preface, and a preface from me they must and
will have. Unfortunately I have, from my earliest childhood, religiously
skipped all introductions, prefaces, and other such obstructions, so
that I really do not precisely know how one ought to be written; I can
only, therefore, say that--
These letters are published for the very excellent reason that a
confiding publisher has offered me a sum of money for them, which I was
not such a fool as to refuse. They were written in Paris to the _Daily
News_ during the siege. I was residing there when the war broke out;
after a short absence, I returned just before the capitulation of
Sedan--intending only to remain one night. The situation, however, was
so interesting that I stayed on from day to day, until I found the
German armies drawing their lines of investment round the city. Had I
supposed that I should have been their prisoner for nearly five months,
I confess I should have made an effort to escape, but I shared the
general illusion that--one way or the other--the siege would not last a
month.
Although I forwarded my letters by balloon, or sent them by messengers
who promised to "run the blockade," I had no notion, until the armistice
restored us to communications with the outer world, that one in twenty
had reached its destination. This mode of writing, as Dr. William
Russell wittily observed to me the other day at Versailles, was much
like smoking in the dark--and it must be my excuse for any inaccuracies
or repetitions.
Many of my letters have been lost _en route_--some of them, which
reached the _Daily News_ Office too late for insertion, are now
published for the first time. The reader will perceive that I pretend to
no technical knowledge of military matters; I have only sought to convey
a general notion of how the warlike operations round Paris appeared to a
civilian spectator, and to give a fair and impartial account of the
inner life of Paris, during its isolation from the rest of Europe. My
bias--if I had any--was in favour of the Parisians, and I should have
been heartily glad had they been successful in their resistance. There
is, however, no getting over facts, and I could not long close my eyes
to the most palpable fact--however I might wish it otherwise--that their
leaders were men of little energy and small resource, and that they
themselves seemed rather to depend for deliverance upon extraneous
succour, than upon their own exertions. The women and the children
undoubtedly suffered great hardships, which they bore with praiseworthy
resignation. The sailors, the soldiers of the line, and levies of
peasants which formed the Mobiles, fought with decent courage. But the
male population of Paris, although they boasted greatly of their
"sublimity," their "endurance," and their "valour," hardly appeared to
me to come up to their own estimation of themselves, while many of them
seemed to consider that heroism was a necessary consequence of the
enunciation of advanced political opinions. My object in writing was to
present a practical rather than a sentimental view of events, and to
recount things as they were, not as I wished them to be, or as the
Parisians, with perhaps excusable patriotism, wished them to appear.
For the sake of my publishers, I trust that the book will find favour
with the public. For the last three hours I have been correcting the
proofs of my prose, and it struck me that letters written to be
inserted in separate numbers of a daily paper, when published in a
collected form, are somewhat heavy reading. I feel, indeed, just at
present, much like a person who has obtained money under false
pretences, but whose remorse is not sufficiently strong to induce him to
return it.
DIARY
OF THE
BESIEGED RESIDENT IN PARIS.
CHAPTER I.
PARIS, _September 18th._
No one walking on the Champs Elysées or on the Boulevards to-day would
suppose that 300,000 Prussians are within a few miles of the city, and
intend to besiege it. Happy, said Laurence Sterne, in his "Sentimental
Journey," the nation which can once a week forget its cares. The French
have not changed since then. To-day is a fête day, and as a fête day it
must be kept. Every one seems to have forgotten the existence of the
Prussians. The Cafés are crowded by a gay crowd. On the Boulevard,
Monsieur and Madame walk quietly along with their children. In the
Champs Elysées honest mechanics and bourgeois are basking in the sun,
and nurserymaids are flirting with soldiers. There is even a lull in the
universal drilling. The regiments of Nationaux and Mobiles carry large
branches of trees stuck into the ends of their muskets. Round the statue
of Strasburg there is the usual crowd, and speculators are driving a
brisk trade in portraits of General Uhrich. "Here, citizens," cries one,
"is the portrait of the heroic defender of Strasburg, only one sou--it
cost me two--I only wish that I were rich enough to give it away."
"Listen, citizens," cries another, "whilst I declaim the poem of a lady
who has escaped from Strasburg. To those who, after hearing it, may wish
to read it to their families, I will give it as a favour for two sous."
I only saw one disturbance. As I passed by the Rond Point, a very tall
woman was mobbed, because it was thought that she might be a Uhlan in
disguise. But it was regarded more as a joke than anything serious. So
bent on being happy was every one that I really believe that a Uhlan in
the midst of them would not have disturbed their equanimity. "Come what
may, to-day we will be merry," seemed to be the feeling; "let us leave
care to the morrow, and make the most of what may be our last fête day."
Mr. Malet, the English secretary, who returned yesterday from Meaux, had
no small difficulty in getting through the Prussian lines. He started on
Thursday evening for Creil in a train with a French officer. When they
got to Creil, they knocked up the Mayor, and begged him to procure them
a horse. He gave them an order for the only one in the town. Its
proprietor was in bed, and when they knocked at his door his wife cried
out from the window, "My husband is a coward and won't open." A voice
from within was heard saying, "I go out at night for no one." So they
laid hands on the horse and harnessed it to a gig. All night long they
drove in what they supposed was the direction of the Prussian outposts,
trumpeting occasionally like elephants in a jungle. In the morning they
found themselves in a desert, not a living soul to be seen, so they
turned back towards Paris, got close in to the forts, and started in
another direction. Occasionally they discerned a distant Uhlan, who rode
off when he saw them. On Friday night they slept among the
Francs-tireurs, and on the following morning they pushed forward again
with an escort. Soon they saw a Prussian outpost, and after waving for
some time a white flag, an officer came forward. After a parley Mr.
Malet and his friend were allowed to pass. At three o'clock they arrived
at Meaux. Count Bismarck was just driving into the town; he at once
recognised Mr. Malet, whom he had known in Germany, and begged him to
call upon him at nine o'clock. From Mr. Malet I know nothing more. I
tried to "interview" him with respect to his conversation with Count
Bismarck, but it takes two to make a bargain, and in this bargain he
declined to be the number two. About half an hour afterwards, however, I
met a foreign diplomatist of my acquaintance who had just come from the
British Embassy. He had heard Mr. Malet's story, which, of course, had
been communicated to the Corps Diplomatique, and being slightly
demoralised, without well thinking what he was doing, he confided it to
my sympathising ear.
Mr. Malet, at nine o'clock, found Count Bismarck seated before a table
with wine and cigars. He was in high spirits and very sociable. This I
can well believe, for I used to know him, and, to give the devil his
due, he is one of the few Prussians of a sociable disposition. The
interview lasted for more than two hours. Count Bismarck told Mr. Malet
that the Prussians meant to have Metz and Strasburg, and should remain
in France until they were obtained. The Prussians did not intend to
dismantle them, but to make them stronger than they at present are. "The
French," he said, "will hate us with an undying hate, and we must take
care to render this hate powerless." As for Paris, the German armies
would surround it, and with their several corps d'armée, and their
70,000 cavalry, would isolate it from the rest of the world, and leave
its inhabitants to "seethe in their own milk." If the Parisians
continued after this to hold out, Paris would be bombarded, and, if
necessary, burned. My own impression is that Count Bismarck was not such
a fool as to say precisely what he intended to do, and that he will
attack at once; but the event will prove. He added that Germany was not
in want of money, and therefore did not ask for a heavy pecuniary
indemnity. Speaking of the French, Count Bismarck observed that there
were 200,000 men round Metz, and he believed that Bazaine would have to
capitulate within a week. He rendered full justice to the courage with
which the army under Bazaine had fought, but he did not seem to have a
very high opinion of the French army of Sedan. He questioned Mr. Malet
about the state of Paris, and did not seem gratified to hear that there
had been no tumults. The declaration of the Republic and its peaceful
recognition by Paris and the whole of France appeared by no means to
please him. He admitted that if it proved to be a moderate and virtuous
Government, it might prove a source of danger to the monarchical
principle in Germany.
I do trust that Englishmen will well weigh these utterances. Surely they
will at last be of opinion that the English Government should use all
its moral influence to prevent a city containing nearly two million
inhabitants being burnt to the ground in order that one million
Frenchmen should against their will be converted into Germans. It is our
policy to make an effort to prevent the dismemberment of France, but the
question is not now so much one of policy as of common humanity. No one
asks England to go to war for France; all that is asked is that she
should recognise the _de facto_ Government of the country, and should
urge Prussia to make peace on terms which a French nation can honourably
accept.
General Vinoy, out reconnoitering with 15,000 men, came to-day upon a
Prussian force of 40,000 near Vincennes. After an artillery combat, he
withdrew within the lines of the forts. There have been unimportant
skirmishes with the enemy at several points. The American, the Belgian,
the Swiss, and the Danish Ministers are still here. Mr. Wodehouse has
remained to look after our interests. All the secretaries were anxious
to stay. I should be glad to know why Mr. Falconer Atlee, the British
Consul at Paris, is not like other consuls, at his post. He withdrew to
Dieppe about three weeks ago. His place is here. Neither a consul, nor a
soldier, should leave his post as soon as it becomes dangerous.
Victor Hugo has published an address to the nation. You may judge of its
essentially practical spirit by the following specimen:--"Rouen, draw
thy sword! Lille, take up thy musket! Bordeaux, take up thy gun!
Marseilles, sing thy song and be terrible!" I suspect Marseilles may
sing her song a long time before the effect of her vocal efforts will in
any way prevent the Prussians from carrying out their plans. "A child,"
say the evening papers, "deposited her doll this afternoon in the arms
of the statue of Strasburg. All who saw the youthful patriot perform
this touching act were deeply affected."
_September 19th._
I don't know whether my letter of yesterday went off or not. As my
messenger to the post-office could get no authentic intelligence about
what was passing, I went there myself. Everybody was in military
uniform, everybody was shrugging his shoulders, and everybody was in the
condition of a London policeman were he to see himself marched off to
the station by a street-sweeper. That the Prussian should have taken the
Emperor prisoner, and have vanquished the French armies, had, of course,
astonished these worthy bureaucrats, but that they should have ventured
to interfere with postmen had perfectly dumbfounded them. "Put your
letter in that box," said a venerable employé on a high stool. "Will it
ever be taken out?" I asked. "Qui sait?" he replied. "Shall you send off
a train to-morrow morning?" I asked. There was a chorus of "Qui sait?"
and the heads disappeared still further with the respective shoulders to
which they belonged. "What do you think of a man on horseback?" I
suggested. An indignant "Impossible" was the answer. "Why not?" I asked.
The look of contempt with which the clerks gazed on me was expressive.
It meant, "Do you really imagine that a functionary--a postman--is going
to forward your letters in an irregular manner?" At this moment a sort
of young French Jefferson Brick came in. Evidently he was a Republican
recently set in authority. To him I turned. "Citizen, I want my letter
to go to London. It is a press letter. These bureaucrats say that they
dare not send it by a horse express; I appeal to you, as I am sure you
are a man of expedients." "These people," he replied, scowling at the
clerks, "are demoralised. They are the ancient valets of a corrupt
Court; give me your letter; if possible it shall go, 'foi de citoyen.'"
I handed my letter to Jefferson, but whether it is on its way to
England, or still in his patriotic hands, I do not know. As I passed out
through the courtyard I saw postmen seated on the boxes of carts, with
no horses before them. It was their hour to carry out the letters, and
thus mechanically they fulfilled their duty. English Government
officials have before now been jeered at as men of routine, but the most
ancient clerk in Somerset House is a man of wild impulse and boundless
expedient compared with the average of functionaries great and small
here. The want of "shiftiness" is a national characteristic. The French
are like a flock of sheep without shepherds or sheep-dogs. Soldiers and
civilians have no idea of anything except doing what they are ordered to
do by some functionary. Let one wheel in an administration get out of
order, and everything goes wrong. After my visit to the post-office I
went to the central telegraph office, and sent you a telegram. The clerk
was very surly at first, but he said that he thought a press telegram
would pass the wires. When I paid him he became friendly. My own
impression is that my twelve francs, whoever they may benefit, will not
benefit the British public.
From the telegraph-office I directed my steps to a club where I was
engaged to dine. I found half-a-dozen whist tables in full swing. The
conversation about the war soon, however, became general. "This is our
situation," said, as he dealt a hand, a knowing old man of the world, a
sort of French James Clay: "generally if one has no trumps in one's
hand, one has at least some good court cards in the other suits; we've
got neither trumps nor court cards." "Et le General Trochu?" some one
suggested. "My opinion of General Trochu," said a General, who was
sitting reading a newspaper, "is that he is a man of theory, but
unpractical. I know him well; he has utterly failed to organise the
forces which he has under his command." The general opinion about Trochu
seemed to be that he is a kind of M'Clellan. "Will the Garde Nationale
fight?" some one asked. A Garde National replied, "Of course there are
brave men amongst us, but the mass will give in rather than see Paris
destroyed. They have their families and their shops." "And the Mobiles?"
"The Mobiles are the stuff out of which soldiers are made, but they are
still peasants, and not soldiers yet." On the whole, I found the tone in
"fashionable circles" desponding. "Can any one tell me where Jules Favre
has gone?" I asked. Nobody could, though everybody seemed to think that
he had gone to the Prussian headquarters. After playing a few rubbers, I
went home to bed at about one o'clock. The streets were absolutely
deserted. All the cafés were shut.
Nothing in the papers this morning. In the _Figaro_ an article from that
old humbug Villemessant. He calls upon his fellow-citizens in Paris to
resist to the death.
"One thing Frenchmen never forgive," he says,--"cowardice."
The _Gaulois_ contains the most news. It represents the Prussians to be
all round Paris. At Versailles they have converted the Palais into a
barrack. Their camp fires were seen last night in the forest of Bondy.
Uhlans have made their appearance at St. Cloud. "Fritz" has taken up his
quarters at Ferrières, the château of Baron Rothschild. "William"--we
are very familiar when we speak of the Prussian Royal family--is still
at Meaux. "No thunderbolt," adds the correspondent, "has yet fallen on
him." The Prussian outposts are at the distance of three kilometres from
St. Denis. Near Vitry shots have been heard. In the environs of
Vincennes there has been fighting. It appears General Ambert was
arrested yesterday. He was reviewing some regiments of Nationaux, and
when they cried, "Vive la République" he told them that the Republic did
not exist. The men immediately surrounded him, and carried him to the
Ministry of the Interior, where I presume he still is. The _Rappel_
finds faults with Jules Favre's circular. Its tone, it says, is too
humble. The _Rappel_ gives a list of "valets of Bonaparte, _ce coquin
sinistre_," who still occupy official positions, and demands that they
shall at once be relieved from their functions. The _Rappel_ also
informs its readers that letters have been discovered (where?) proving
that Queen Victoria had promised before the war to do her best to aid
Germany.
Butler of a friend of mine, whose house is close by the fortifications,
and who has left it in his charge, has just been to see me. The house is
a "poste" of the National Guard. Butler says the men do not sleep on the
ramparts, but in the neighbouring houses. They are changed every
twenty-four hours. He had rather a hard time of it last night with a
company from the Faubourg St. Antoine. As a rule, however, he says they
are decent, orderly men. They complain very much that their business is
going to rack and ruin; when they are away from their shops, they say,
impecunious patriots come in to purchase goods of their wives, and
promise to call another day to pay for them. On Saturday night the
butler reports 300 National Guards were drawn up before his master's
house, and twenty-five volunteers were demanded for a service of danger.
After some time the twenty-five stepped forward, but having heard for
what they were wanted, eighteen declined to go.
A British coachman just turned up offers to carry letters through--seems
a sharp plucky fellow. I shall employ him as soon as the Post-office is
definitely closed. British coachman does not think much of the citizen
soldiers in Paris. "Lor' bless you, sir, I'd rather have 10,000
Englishmen than the lot of them. In my stable I make my men obey me, but
these chaps they don't seem to care what their officers says to them. I
seed them drill this morning; a pretty green lot they was. Why, sir,
giving them fellow Chassepots is much like giving watches to naked
savages."
The Breton Mobiles are making pilgrimages to the churches. I hope it may
do them good. I hear the curés of Paris have divided the ramparts
between them, and are on the fortifications--bravo! curés. By-the-bye,
that fire-eater, Paul de Cassagnac, has not followed the example of his
brother Imperial journalists. He enlisted as a Zouave, fought well, and
was taken prisoner at Sedan. He is now employed by his captors in making
bread. I hope his bread will be better than his articles.
1.30 P.M.
Been sitting with a friend who commands a company of National Guards.
The company is now outside the fortifications. Friend tells me that the
men in his company are mostly small shopkeepers. At first it was
difficult to get them to come to drill, but within the last few days
they have been drilling hard, and he is convinced that they will fight
well. Friend tells me that a large number of National Guards have run
away from Paris, and that those who remain are very indignant with them.
He requests me to beg my countrymen, if they see a sturdy Monsieur
swelling it down Regent Street, to kick him, as he ought to be defending
his country. I fulfil his request with the greatest pleasure and endorse
it. I have just seen a Prussian spy taken to prison. I was seated before
a café on the Boulevard des Capucines. Suddenly there was a shout of "un
Prussien;" every one rushed towards the Place de l'Opéra, and from the
Boulevard Haussmann came a crowd with a soldier, dressed as an
artilleryman, on a horse. He was preceded and followed by about one
hundred Mobiles. By his side rode a woman. No one touched them. Whether
he and his "lady friend" were Germans I do not know; but they certainly
looked Germans, and extremely uncomfortable.
3 P.M.
Been to Embassy. Messenger Johnson arrived this morning at 12 o'clock.
He had driven to Rouen. At each post station he was arrested. He drove
up to the Embassy, followed by a howling mob. As he wore an unknown
uniform they took him for a Prussian. Messenger Johnson, being an old
soldier, was belligerently inclined. "The first man who approaches," &c.
The porter of the Embassy, however, dragged him inside, and explained to
the mob who he was. He had great difficulty in calming them. One man
sensibly observed that in these times no one should drive through Paris
in a foreign uniform, as the mass of the people knew nothing of Queen's
messengers and their uniforms. Messenger Johnson having by this time got
within the Embassy gates, the mob turned on his postilion and led him
off. What his fate has been no one has had time to ask.
When I went upstairs I found Wodehouse sitting like patience on a stool,
with a number of Britons round him, who wanted to get off out of Paris.
Wodehouse very justly told them that Lord Lyons had given them due
notice to leave, and that they had chosen at their own risk to remain.
The Britons seemed to imagine that their Embassy was bound to find them
a road by which they might safely withdraw from the town. One very
important Briton was most indignant--"I am a man of wealth and position.
I am not accustomed to be treated in this manner. What is the use of
you, sir, if you cannot ensure my safe passage to England? If I am
killed the world shall ring with it. I shall myself make a formal
complaint to Lord Granville," said this incoherent and pompous donkey.
Exit man of position fuming; enter unprotected female. Of course she was
a widow, of course she had lost half-a-dozen sons, of course she kept
lodgings, and of course she wanted her "hambassader" generally to take
her under his wing. I left Wodehouse explaining to her that if she went
out of Paris even with a pass, she might or might not be shot according
to circumstances. I will say for him that I should not be as patient as
he is, were I worried and badgered by the hour by a crowd of shrieking
women and silly men.
4 P.M.
Fighting is going on all round Paris. There are crowds on the Boulevard;
every one is asking his neighbour for news. I went to one of the Mairies
to hear the bulletins read. The street was almost impassable. At last I
got near enough to hear an official read out a despatch--nothing
important. The commanders at Montrouge and Vincennes announce that the
Prussians are being driven back. "Et Clamart?" some one cries. "A bas
les alarmistes," is the reply. Every one is despondent. Soldiers have
come back from Meudon demoralised. We have lost a position, it is
whispered. I find a friend, upon whose testimony I can rely, who was
near Meudon until twelve o'clock. He tells me that the troops of the
line behaved badly. They threw away their muskets without firing a shot,
and there was a regular _sauve qui peut_. The Mobiles, on the other
hand, fought splendidly, and were holding the position when he left. I
am writing this in a café. It is full of Gardes Nationaux. They are
saying that if the troops of the line are not trustworthy, resistance is
hopeless. A Garde National gives the following explanation of the
demoralisation of the army. He says that the Imperial Government only
troubled itself about the corps d'élite; that the object in the line
regiments was to get substitutes as cheaply as possible; consequently,
they are filled with men physically and morally the scum of the nation.
Semaphore telegraphs have been put up on all the high public buildings.
There are also semaphores on the forts. I see that one opposite me is
exchanging signals. The crowd watch them as though by looking they would
discover what they mean. "A first success," says a National next to me,
"was absolutely necessary for us, in order to give us confidence." "But
this success we do not seem likely to have," says another. The attempt
to burn down the forests seems only partially to have succeeded. The
Prussians appear to be using them, and the French to the last carrying
on war without scouts.
6 P.M.
Evening papers just out. Not a word about Clamart. The _Liberté_ says
the Minister of the Interior refers journalists to General Trochu, who
claims the right to suppress what he pleases. When will French
Governments understand that it is far more productive of demoralisation
to allow no official news to be published than to publish the worst?
Rochefort has been appointed President of a Committee of Barricades, to
organise a second line of defence within the ramparts.
7 P.M.
The cannon can be distinctly heard. The reports come from different
quarters. Jules Favre, I hear from a sure source, is at the Prussian
headquarters.
7.30 P.M.
I live _au quatrième_ with a balcony before my room. I can see the
flashes of cannon in the direction of Vincennes. There appears to be a
great fire somewhere.
12 P.M.
Have driven to the Barrière de l'Enfer. Nothing there. On the Champ de
Mars I found troops returned from Clamart. They complain that they never
saw their officers during the engagement, that there were no scouts in
the Bois de Clamart, and that the Prussians succeeded by their old game
of sticking to the cover. At first they fell back--the French troops
pressed on, when they were exposed to a concentric fire. From the Champs
Elysées I drove to the Buttes de Montmartre. Thousands of people
clustered everywhere except where they were kept off by the Nationaux,
who were guarding the batteries. The northern sky was bright from the
reflection of a conflagration--as the forest of St. Germain was burning.
It was almost light. We could see every shot and shell fired from the
forts round St. Denis. At ten o'clock I got back to the Boulevard des
Italiens. Every café was closed. It appears that at about nine o'clock
the Café Riche was full of Gardes Mobiles, officers, and _lorettes_.
They made so much noise that the public outside became indignant, and
insisted on their giving up their orgie. The National Guard joined in
this protest, and an order was sent at once to close every café. Before
the Maison Dorée I saw a few _viveurs_, gazing at its closed windows as
though the end of the world had come. This café has been opened day and
night for the last twenty years. From my balcony I can no longer hear
the cannon; the sky, however, is even brighter from the conflagration
than it was.
_September 20th._
The firing has recommenced. We can hear it distinctly. General Ambert
has been cashiered. _Figaro_ announces that Villemessant has returned.
We are given a dozen paragraphs about this humbug of humbugs, his
uniform, &c., &c. I do not think that he will be either killed or
wounded. The latest telegram from the outer world announces that "Sir
Campbell"--médecin Anglais--has arrived at Dieppe with despatches to the
Ministers of Foreign Affairs and of Marine.
11 A.M.
Paris very quiet and very despondent. Few soldiers about. The Line is
reviled, the Mobile extolled. From all accounts the latter seem to have
behaved well--a little excited at first, but full of pluck. Let the
siege only last a week and they will be capital soldiers, and then we
shall no longer be called upon, to believe the assertions of military
men, that it takes years of drill and idling in a barrack to make a
soldier.
My own impression always has been that Malet brought back a written
answer from Bismarck offering to see Jules Favre. Can it be that, after
all, the Parisians, at the mere sound of cannon, are going to cave in,
and give up Alsace and Lorraine? If they do, I give them up. If my
friends in Belleville descend into the streets to prevent this ignominy,
I descend with them.
4 P.M.
I got, about an hour ago, some way on the road to Charenton, when I was
turned back, and a couple of soldiers took possession of me, and did not
leave me until I was within the city gate. I could see no traces of any
Prussians or of any fighting. Two English correspondents got as far as
St. Denis this morning. After having been arrested half-a-dozen times
and then released, they were impressed, and obliged to carry stones to
make a barricade. They saw no Prussians. I hear that a general of
artillery was arrested last night by his men. There is a report, also,
that the Government mean to decimate the cowards who ran away yesterday,
_pour encourager les autres_. The guns of the Prussians which they have
posted on the heights they took yesterday it is said will carry as far
as the Arc de Triomphe.
There have been two deputations to the Hôtel de Ville to interview the
Government with respect to the armistice. One consisted of about 100
officers of the National Guard, most of them from the Faubourgs of St.
Antoine and the Temple. They were of course accompanied by a large
crowd. Having been admitted into the Salle du Trône, they were received
by the Mayor of Paris and M. Jules Ferry. The reply of the latter is not
very clear. He certainly said that no shameful peace should be
concluded; but whether, as some assert, he assured the officers that no
portion of French soil should be ceded is not equally certain. Shortly
after this deputation had left, another arrived from the Republican
clubs. It is stated that M. Jules Ferry's answer was considered
satisfactory. The walls have been placarded with a proclamation of
Trochu to the armed force. He tells them that some regiments behaved
badly at Clamart; but the assertion that they had no cartridges is
false. He recommends all citizens to arrest soldiers who are drunk or
who propagate false news, and threatens them with the vigorous
application of the Articles of War. Another proclamation from Kératry
warns every one against treating soldiers or selling them liquor when
they already have had too much. I went to dine this evening in an
estaminet in the Faubourg St. Antoine. It was full of men of the
people, and from the tone of their observations I am certain that if M.
Jules Favre concludes an armistice involving any cession of territory,
there will be a rising at once. The cafés are closed now at 10 o'clock.
At about 11 I walked home. One would have supposed oneself in some dull
great provincial town at 3 in the morning. Everything was closed. No
one, except here and there a citizen on his way home, or a patrol of the
National Guard, was to be seen.
_September 21st._
I suppose that you in England know a good deal more of what is passing
at the Prussian headquarters than we do here. M. Jules Favre's departure
was kept so close a secret, that it did not ooze out until yesterday.
The "ultras" in the Government were, I understand on good authority,
opposed to it, but M. Jules Favre was supported by Picard, Gambetta, and
Kératry, who, as everything is comparative, represent the moderate
section of our rulers. We are as belligerent and cheery to-day as we
were despondent on Monday evening. When any disaster occurs it takes a
Frenchman about twenty-four hours to accustom himself to it. During this
time he is capable of any act of folly or despair. Then follows the
reaction, and he becomes again a brave man. When it was heard that the
heights at Meudon had been taken, we immediately entered into a phase of
despair. It is over now, and we crow as lustily as ever. We shall have
another phase of despondency when the first fort is taken, and another
when the first shells fall into the town; but if we get through them, I
really have hopes that Paris will not disgrace herself. Nothing of any
importance appears to have taken place at the front yesterday. The
commanders of several forts sent to Trochu to say that they have fired
on the Prussians, and that there have been small outpost engagements.
During the day the bridges of St. Cloud, Sèvres, and Billancourt were
blown up. I attempted this morning to obtain a pass from General Trochu.
Announcing myself as a "Journaliste Anglais," I got, after some
difficulty, into a room in which several of his staff were seated. But
there my progress was stopped. I was told that aides-de-camp had been
fired on, and that General Trochu had himself been arrested, and had
been within an inch of being shot because he had had the impudence to
say that he was the Governor of Paris. I suggested that he might take me
with him the next time he went out, and pointed out that correspondents
rode with the Prussian staffs, but it was of no use. From Trochu I went
to make a few calls. I found every one engaged in measuring the distance
from the Prussian batteries to his particular house. One friend I found
seated in a cellar with a quantity of mattresses over it, to make it
bomb-proof. He emerged from his subterraneous Patmos to talk to me,
ordered his servant to pile on a few more mattresses, and then
retreated. Anything so dull as existence here it is difficult to
imagine. Before the day is out one gets sick and tired of the one single
topic of conversation. We are like the people at Cremorne waiting for
the fireworks to begin; and I really do believe that if this continues
much longer, the most cowardly will welcome the bombs as a relief from
the oppressive ennui. Few regiments are seen now during the day marching
through the streets--they are most of them either on the ramparts or
outside them. From 8 to 9 in the morning there is a military movement,
as regiments come and go, on and off duty. In the courtyard of the
Louvre several regiments of Mobiles are kept under arms all night, ready
to march to any point which may be seriously attacked. A good many
troops went at an early hour this morning in the direction of St. Cloud.
The weather is beautiful--a lovely autumn morning. They say that
Rochefort and his friends are busily employed at Grenelle.
1.30 _o'clock_.
The cannonade has been audible for the last half-hour. It is getting
every moment louder. The people are saying that Mont Valérien _donne_. I
am going up to the Avenue de l'Impératrice, where I shall be able to see
what is going on.
2.30 _o'clock_.
Come back; heavy firing--but I could not make out whether it came from
Mont Valérien. Jules Favre has returned. They say the Prussians will
only treat in Paris. Just seen an American who tried to get with a
letter to General Sheridan. He got into the Prussian lines, but could
not reach headquarters. On his return he was nearly murdered by the
Mobiles; passed last night in a cell with two drunkards, and has just
been let out, as all his papers were found _en règle_.