_September 27th,_ 8 A.M.
I have sent you numerous letters, but I am not aware whether you have
received them. As very probably they are now either in the clouds or in
the moon, I write a short resume of what has passed since we have been
cut off from the outer world, as I believe that I have a very good
chance this morning to communicate with you.
When the town was first invested the greatest disorder existed. For a
few days officers, even generals, were shot at by regiments outside the
fortifications; the National Guards performed their service on the
ramparts very reluctantly, and, when possible, shirked it. The Mobiles
were little better than an armed mob of peasants. The troops of the line
were utterly demoralised. The streets were filled with troopers
staggering about half drunk, and groups of armed Mobiles wandering in
ignorance of the whereabouts of their quarters and of their regiments.
The Government was divided into two parties--one supported by the
Moderates, and anxious to make peace on reasonable terms; the other
supported by the Ultras, and determined to continue the contest at all
hazards. The Ministers were almost in despair at finding the utter
disorder in which everything had been left by their predecessors. Little
by little this condition of things has mended for the better. Since the
failure of the mission of M. Jules Favre, and the exorbitant demands
which were then put forward by Count Bismarck, both Moderates and Ultras
have supported the men who are in power. It is felt by all that if Paris
is to be defended with any prospect of success, there must be absolute
union among its defenders. The Deputies of Paris are not thought,
perhaps, to be endowed with any very great administrative ability, but
Mr. Lincoln's proverb respecting the difficulty of a person changing his
horse whilst he is crossing a stream is acted on, and so long as they
neither commit any signal act of folly, nor attempt to treat with
Prussia either for peace or a capitulation, I think that no effort will
be made to oust them. They are, I believe, doing their best to organise
the defence of this city, and if they waste a little time in altering
the names of the streets, and publishing manifestoes couched in grand
and bombastic phrases, it must be remembered that they have to govern
Frenchmen who are fond of this species of nonsense. With respect to the
military situation, the soldiers of all sorts are kept well together,
and appear to be under the command of their officers. The National
Guard, although it still grumbles a little, does its duty on the
ramparts. The soldiers of the line are kept outside the town. The
Mobiles have passed many hours in drill during the last ten days; they
are orderly and well conducted, and if not soldiers already, are a far
more formidable force than they were at the commencement of the siege.
Whether they will ever become available for operations in the open field
is, perhaps, questionable, for their regiments would probably be thrown
into confusion if called upon to act together. Within the line of the
forts, however, there is no reason to suppose that they will not fight
well. The forts are manned by sailors, who are excellent artillerists,
and the guns are formidable ones. On the Seine there is a flotilla of
gunboats. The city has food and ammunition for two months. Paris,
therefore, ought to be able to hold out for these two months. She has
her own population, a large portion of which consists of the working
men, who have never been backward in fighting. The provinces have been
drained of their best blood, which has been brought up to the capital.
All that remains of the French army is here. At the lowest average the
armed force in Paris amounts to 450,000 men, and there are about 500,000
more from which this force can recruit itself. If, then, the capital
does not hold out for two months, she will deserve the contempt of the
world--if she does hold out for this period, she will at least have
saved her honour, and, to a certain extent, the military reputation of
France.
The newspapers are still pursuing the very questionable policy of
exaggerating every little affair of the outposts into a victory, and
assuring those who read their lucubrations that powerful armies are on
the march to raise the siege. The only real military event of any
consequence which has taken place has resulted in a Prussian success.
The French were driven back from some half-finished redoubts at
Chatillon, and the Prussians now occupy the heights between Sèvres and
Meudon, from whence, if they establish batteries, they will be able to
shell a portion of the town. In the second affair which took place,
absurd stories have been repeated respecting the advantages gained by
the French; but they are, to say the least, extremely apocryphal, and
even were they true they are of small importance. For the last few days
the forts have fired upon any Prussian troops that either were or were
supposed to be within shot; and the gunboats have attempted to prevent
the erection of batteries on the Sèvres-Meudon plateau. In point of
fact, the siege has not really commenced; and until it is seen how this
vast population bears its hardships, how the forts resist the guns which
may be brought to bear upon them, and how the armed force conducts
itself under fire, it is impossible to speculate upon results.
Considering the utter stagnation in trade, the number of working men out
of employment, and the irritation caused by defeat, it must be admitted
that the Parisians of all classes are behaving themselves well. The rich
residents have fled, and left to their poorer neighbours the task of
defending their native city. There have been no tumults or disorders,
except those caused by the foolish mania of supposing every one who is
not known must necessarily be a spy. Political manifestations have taken
place before the Hôtel de Ville, but the conciliatory policy adopted by
the Government has prevented their degenerating into excesses. Public
opinion, too, has pronounced against them. From what I have heard and
observed, I am inclined to think that the majority of the bourgeoisie
are in favour of a capitulation, but that they do not venture to say so;
and that the majority of the working men are opposed to peace on any
terms. They do not precisely know themselves what would be the result of
holding out, but they vaguely trust to time, and to the chapter of
accidents. In the middle and upper classes there are also many who take
the same view of the situation. "Let us," they say, "hold out for two
months, and the condition of things will in all probability be altered,
and if so, as we cannot be worse off, any change must be to our
advantage."
Shut up with the Parisians in Paris, I cannot help feeling a good deal
of sympathy for them, notwithstanding their childish vanity, their
mendacity, and their frivolity. I sincerely trust, therefore, if they do
seriously resist their besiegers, that the assurances of the Government
that there are ample supplies of food and of ammunition, are not part of
the system of official lying which was pursued by their predecessors;
and I hope that the grandiloquent boasts and brave words that one hears
from morning to night will be followed by brave deeds.
This morning Messenger Johnson was sent off with despatches to England
from the British Embassy. He was provided with a safe-conduct, signed by
General Trochu, and a letter to the Commandant of the Fort of Vanves,
enjoining him to forward Mr. Johnson under a flag of truce to the
Prussian lines. At half-past nine Messenger Johnson, arrayed in a pair
of high boots with clanking spurs, the belongings, I presume, of a
Queen's messenger, stepped into his carriage, with that "I should like
to see any one touch me" air which is the badge of his tribe. His
coachman being already drunk, he was accompanied by a second man, who
undertook to drive until Jehu had got over the effect of his potations.
I myself have always regarded Queen's messengers as superior beings, to
be addressed with awe, and whose progress no one would venture to
arrest. Such, however, was not the opinion of the National Guards who
were on duty at the gate through which Messenger Johnson sought to leave
this beleagured town. In vain Messenger Johnson showed his pass; in vain
he stated that he was a free-born Briton and a Queen's messenger. These
suspicious patriots ignored the pass, and scoffed at the _Civis
Romanus_. In fact, I tremble as I write it, several of them said they
felt somewhat inclined to shoot any Briton, and more particularly a
Queen's Messenger, whilst others proposed to prod Messenger Johnson with
their bayonets in his tenderest parts. Exit under these circumstances
was impossible. For some time Messenger Johnson sat calm, dignified, and
imperturbable in the midst of this uproar, and then made a strategical
retreat to the Ministry of War. He was there given an officer to
accompany him; he again set forth, and this time he was more fortunate,
for he got through the gate, and vanished from our horizon. I called at
the Embassy this afternoon, and found our representative, Mr.
Wodehouse, confident that Messenger Johnson would arrive at his
destination. Mr. Wodehouse when I left him was engaged in pacifying a
lunatic, who had forced his way into the Embassy, and who insisted that
he was the British Ambassador. I was surprised to learn that there are
still at least 3000 of our countrymen and women in Paris. Most of them
are in a state of absolute destitution, some because they have no means,
others because they are unable to draw upon the funds in England. Mr.
Herbert has established a species of soup kitchen, so they will not
starve until we all do. Mr. Wallace, the heir of Lord Hertford, who had
already given the munificent donation of 12,000l. to the Ambulance fund,
has also provided funds for their most pressing wants.
In to-day's _Journal des Débats_ M. John Lemoinne points out to his
readers that M. Bismarck, in his remarks to M. Jules Favre, expressed
the opinion of Germany, and that the expression of his views respecting
the necessity of Germany annexing Alsace and Lorraine is not necessarily
an insult to France. The war, says M. Lemoinne, never was a war of
monarchs, but a war of nations. France as well as the Emperor is
responsible for it. It must continue to be, he continues, a war _à
outrance_ between two races. The terms of peace proposed by M. Bismarck
cannot be accepted by France. The moderate tone and dignified melancholy
of this article contrast favourably with that of almost all the leaders
in the other papers, and more particularly in those of the
ultra-Republican press. In _La France_, a moderate and well-conducted
journal, I find the following remarks:--"Paris is the capital of France
and of the world. Paris besieged is a beautiful, a surprising spectacle.
The sky is blue, the atmosphere is pure, this is a happy augury, fifteen
days of patience on the part of the Parisians, fifteen days to arm in
the provinces, and the German army will be irreparably compromised. It
will then be unable to cut its way out of the circle of fire which will
surround it." When journals of the standing of _La France_ deal in this
sort of nonsense it is not surprising that the ex-Imperialist organs,
which are endeavouring to curry favour with the mob, are still more
absurd. The _Figaro_ concludes two columns of bombast with the following
flight:--"But thou, O country, never diest. Bled in all thy veins by the
butchers of the North, thy divine head mutilated by the heels of brutes,
the Christ of nations, for two months nailed on the cross, never hast
thou appeared so great and so beautiful, Thou neededst this martyrdom, O
our mother, to know how we love thee. In order that Paris, in which
there is a genius which has given her the empire of the world, should
fall into the hands of the barbarians, there must cease to be a God in
heaven. As God she exists, and as God she is immortal. Paris will never
surrender." When it is remembered that this ignorant, vain, foolish
population has for nearly twenty years been fed with this sort of stuff,
it is not surprising that even to this hour it cannot realise the fact
that Paris is in any danger of being captured. The ultra-Republican
press is becoming every day more virulent. M. Blanqui, in his organ, _La
Patrie en Danger_, after praising the act of a person of the name of
Malet, who last February shot an officer who refused to shout "Vive la
République," thus continues:--"I was reminded of this when the other day
I saw defile on the boulevards a regiment of rustic peasants. I raised
my hat to salute these soldiers of liberty, but there was no response
from them. Malet would have raised the kepi of one of the captains with
a bullet, and he would have done well. Let us be without pity. Vive
Marat! We will do justice ourselves...." The ultra-Republicans, of the
stamp of M. Blanqui and M. Felix Pyat, seem to be under the impression
that it is far more important to establish a Republican form of
Government in France than to resist the Prussians. In the meetings which
they hold every evening they clamour for the election at once of a
municipality, because they hope to become themselves members of it, and
then to absorb all the power which is now wielded by the Provisional
Government. Beyond discrediting themselves by these attempts to disturb
the harmony within the walls, which is of such vital importance at the
present moment, I do not think that they will do much. I have talked to
many working men, and whatever may be their political opinions, they are
far too sensible to play the game of the Prussians by weakening the
existing Government. After the Prussians perhaps the deluge; but as long
as they are before Paris, and the Provisional Government does not
capitulate, I do not dread any political disorders. What we may come to,
are bread riots. There is already an immense deal of misery, and, as the
siege continues and provisions rise in price, it will of course
increase.
I was talking this morning to a gentleman who used at one time to play a
very important part in public life, who is well acquainted with most of
the members of the Government, and who is a man of calm judgment. I was
anxious to obtain his opinion upon the situation, and this is a _résumé_
of what he told me. "When Jules Favre," he said, "went to Bismarck, he
was prepared to agree to the dismantlement of the fortresses of Alsace
and Lorraine, the cession of half the fleet, the payment of an indemnity
of eighty millions of pounds, and an agreement for a term of years not
to have a standing army of more than 200,000 men. A Constituent Assembly
would have ratified these terms. The cession of a portion of the fleet
is but tantamount to the payment of money. The conscription is so
unpopular that a majority of the nation would have been glad to know
that the standing army would henceforward be a small one. As for the
fortresses, they have not been taken, and yet they have not arrested the
Prussian advance on Paris; consequently their destruction would not
seriously weaken the defences of the country." I asked whether Paris
would now consent to these terms. "No," he said, "if the Government
offered them there would be a revolution. Paris, rightly or wrongly,
believes that she will be able to hold out for two months, and that
during this time there will be a _levée en masse_." "And do you share
this opinion?" I asked. "I am not of a very sanguine character" he
replied; "but I really am now inclined to believe that the Prussians
will never enter Paris unless they starve us into a surrender." "Then,"
I said, "I suppose they will starve us out." "I am an old man," he said,
"and I always remember Philip's saying, 'Time and I are two,' In two
months many things may happen. Winter is coming on. The Prussian army is
composed of men engaged in business at home and anxious to return; the
North does not love the South, and divisions may arise. The King of
Prussia is an old man, and he may die. Without absolutely counting upon
a French army raising the siege, there are _levées_ forming in Lyons and
elsewhere, and the Germans will find their communications seriously
menaced. Russia, too, and Austria may interfere, so I think that we are
wise to resist as long as we can." "But if you have to capitulate, what
will happen?" I asked. "If we do capitulate, our disaster will be
complete," he answered. "I do not anticipate disorders; the population
of Paris is an intelligent one, it wishes the Government to resist as
long as it can, but not to prolong an impossible situation. Paris must
do her part in defending the country, she can do no more." "Well," I
said, "supposing that the Prussians were to withdraw, and peace were to
be concluded on reasonable terms, what do you think would take place?"
"Gambetta, Jules Favre, and the majority of the Parisian Deputies would
call a Constituent Assembly as soon as possible, and resign power into
its hands. They are moderate Republicans, but between a Red Republic and
a Constitutional Monarchy they would prefer the latter. As practical
men, from what I know of them, I am inclined to think that they would be
in favour of the Orleanist family--either the Comte de Paris or the Duc
d'Aumale." "And would the majority of the Constituent Assembly go with
them?" I asked. "I think it would" he replied. "The Orleanist family
would mean peace. Of late years Frenchmen have cared very little for
military glory; their dream has been to save money. One advantage of our
disasters is that it has limited the number of pretenders to the Throne,
for after the capitulation of Sedan, neither the army nor the peasants
will support a Bonaparte. There will be two parties--the
ultra-Republicans, and the advocates of a Constitutional Monarchy under
a Prince of the House of Orleans. Unless the friends of the Orleans
Princes commit some great fault, they are masters of the situation."
I went down this morning to the Halles Centrales. There was very little
going on. _Bonnes_ were coming to market, but most of the booths were
untenanted, and the price of vegetables, eggs, and butter was
exorbitant. "Why do you complain of me?" said a dealer to a
customer--"is it my fault? Curse Badinguet and that wretch of a
Bismarck; they choose to fight, so you must pay double for these
carrots" The butchers yesterday published an appeal against the maximum;
they said that the cost of animals is so great that they positively are
losing upon every joint which they sell. A new proclamation of the Mayor
has just been issued, announcing that 500 oxen and 4,000 sheep will
daily be slaughtered and sold to the butchers at a price to enable them
to gain 20 per cent, by retailing meat at the official tariff. I find
that, come what may, we have coffee and sugar enough to last many
months, so that provided the bread does not fail, we shall take some
time to starve out.
This afternoon a dense column of smoke was seen rising in the air in the
direction of La Villette, and it gradually covered the town with a dark
cloud. The pessimists among the Boulevard quidnuncs insisted that the
town had been set on fire by the Prussians; the optimists were convinced
that the 10,000, who for some reason or other are supposed to be in a
wood, patiently waiting to be roasted, were being burnt. It turns out
that some petroleum in the Buttes de Chaumont caught fire. After burning
about two hours, the fire was put out by heaping dirt on it.
The Prussians still occupy the plateau of Meudon, and despatches from
the forts say that troops are supposed to be concentrating between
Meudon and Sèvres. We have come to the conclusion that as the Prussians
do not fire upon Grenello and Auteuil, they have neither Krupp nor siege
guns. I trust this may prove true. News has been received from Tours; it
was brought by an officer who ran the blockade. We are much elated to
learn that the result of M. Jules Favre's interview has been posted up
throughout France. We believe that the effect of this measure "will be
equal to an army." The Post Office informs the public that a regular
system of balloons has been organised, and that letters will be received
and forwarded to the provinces and abroad, provided they do not weigh
above four grammes. A deputation of English and American correspondents
waited to-day on M. Jules Favre, to ask him to give them facilities to
send their letters by the balloons. This he promised to do. He also half
promised to let all correspondents have a pass, on stating who they are.
The worst of a pass is, that it is no protection against arrest, for,
say your captors, "Prussian spies are so cunning that they would be
precisely the persons to have papers, either forged or stolen." Another
trouble is, that if you are arrested, you are generally shut up, with
half-a-dozen thieves and drunkards, for about twenty-four hours, before
a Commissary condescends to inquire into your case. No one as yet has
ever troubled me; but the spy mania certainly does not add to the charm
of the residence of a stranger in Paris just now. I would rather run the
chance of being hit during a bombardment, than affront the certainty of
twenty-four hours in a filthy police cell. Suspicion is, no doubt,
carried to a ridiculous excess; but it is equally true that
unquestionable spies are arrested every day under every sort of
disguise. Mr. Washburne told me yesterday that he saw a _soi-disant_
"Invalide" arrested, who turned out to be a regular "spectacled
Dutchman."
_September 28th._
Nothing new at the front. We suppose that the enemy are concentrating
troops on the Sèvres-Meudon plateau, and that they intend to attack on
that side. We are confident that the guns of Mont Valérien will prevent
the success of this attack. On the opposite side of Paris they are
endeavouring to erect batteries; but they are unable to do so on account
of the fire of Fort Nogent. It seems to me that we are shouting before
we are quite out of the wood; but we are already congratulating
ourselves upon having sustained a siege which throws those of Saragossa
and Richmond into the shade. If we have not yet been bombarded, we have
assumed "an heroic attitude of expectation;" and if the Prussians have
not yet stormed the walls, we have shown that we were ready to repel
them if they had. Deprived of our shepherd and our sheep-dogs, we civic
sheep have set up so loud a ba-ba, that we have terrified the wolves who
wished to devour us. In the impossible event of an ultimate capitulation
we shall hang our swords and our muskets over our fire-places, and say
to our grandchildren, "I, too, was one of the defenders of Paris." In
the meantime, soldiers who have run away when attacked are paraded
through the streets with a placard on their breasts, requesting all good
citizens to spit upon them. Two courts-martial have been established to
judge spies and marauders, and in each of the nine sections there is a
court-martial to sit upon peccant National Guards. "The sentence," says
the decree, "will at once be executed by the detachment on duty." We are
preparing for the worst; in the Place of the Panthéon, and other
squares, it is proposed to take up the paving stones, because they will,
if left, explode shells which may strike them. The windows of the Louvre
and other public edifices are being filled with sand bags. This morning
I was walking along the Rue Lafayette, when I heard a cry "A bas les
cigares!" and I found that if I continued to smoke, it was thought that
I should set light to some ammunition waggons which were passing.
Yesterday evening there was a report, which was almost universally
credited, that a revolution had broken out in London, because the
English Government had refused to aid Paris in driving back the
Prussians. The Parisians find it impossible to understand that the world
at large can see little distinction between a French army entering
Berlin and a Prussian army entering Paris. Their capital is to them a
holy city, and they imagine that the Christian world regards the
Prussian attack upon it much as the Mahometan world would regard a
bombardment of Mecca. No doubt it will be a shocking thing to bombard a
city such as this, filled with women and children; still, being an
Englishman, I cannot see that it would be worse than to bombard London.
The newspapers of this morning contain a _précis_ of a letter from "our
Fritz" to William "the mystic drunkard." Our Fritz writes to his papa to
say that he ought to have accepted peace when it was proffered by Jules
Favre. How the contents of the letter are known in Paris is not stated.
But here we know everything. We know that at a council of war held two
days ago at Versailles a majority declared that it was impossible to
take Paris. We know that the German soldiers are dying of starvation and
clothed in rags. We know that they are forced by their officers, against
their will, to attack their French brothers. Did not yesterday a
National Guard himself take five Prussian prisoners? They were starving,
and thankfully accepted a piece of bread. They had a wounded companion
in a wheelbarrow, who continually shook his fist in the direction of the
"mystic drunkard," and plaintively moaned forth the only French word he
knew, "Misérable, misérable!" Did not another National Guard go into a
house recently occupied by "Bavarians," and find the following words
written on a shutter--"Poor Frenchmen, we love you: they force us to
fight against you?" I believe all this, and many other strange facts,
because I see them in print in the newspapers. Can it possibly be that I
am over-credulous? Am I wrong, too, in believing that France is rising
_en masse_, that Moltke did not understand his business in advancing on
Paris, and that he will be crushed by the armies of the Loire and a
dozen other places--if, indeed, our gallant heroes congregated in Paris
give their brethren outside time to share in the triumph of defeating
him? _En attendant_, we eat, drink, and are reasonably merry; our
defenders mount guard, and drill when they are off guard. Our wary
Mobiles outside not only refuse to allow Prussians to pass, but such is
their vigilance, they generally arrest officers of any regiment except
their own who come within their ken. These worthy fellows will, I
believe, fight with bravery. The working men, too, are engaged in
heaping up barricades, and are ready to allow themselves to be killed
and their landlords' houses to be blown up rather than surrender. The
sailors in the forts are prepared to hold them like ships against all
comers. The "infantry of the marine" is commanded by an old tar who
stands no nonsense. A few days ago he published an order complaining
that the marines "undulated under fire." Some of his officers went to
him as a deputation to protest against this slur on them and their men;
but he cut their remonstrances short by immediately cashiering the
spokesman. To-day he announces that if his men are supplied with drink
within the limits of his command he will burn down all the pothouses. It
is greatly to be deplored that the determined spirit of this Admiral
does not animate all his brother commanders; they are perpetually
engaged in discussing with those who are under their orders, and appear
to be afraid to put down insubordination with a high hand. If ever they
venture upon any act of rigour, they are called upon by the Ultra press
to justify it, and they generally do so in a lengthy letter.
I have been, as the Americans say, much exercised of late respecting
certain persons whom I have seen strolling about the streets, avoiding
as much as possible their species. Whenever anyone looked at them they
sneaked away with deprecating glances. They are dressed in a sort of
pea-jacket, with hoods, black trousers, and black caps, and their
general appearance was a cross between a sailor and a monk. I have at
length discovered with surprise that these retiring innocents are the
new sergents-de-ville of M. Kératry, who are daily denounced by the
Ultras as ferocious wolves eager to rend and devour all honest citizens.
If this be true, I can only say that they are well disguised in sheep's
clothing.
Letters from Paris, if ever they do get to London, must necessarily be
so dull, that they can hardly repay the trouble of reading them. Life
here is about as lively as life on board a ship. The two main subjects
of conversation, the military preparations within the town, and the
amount of food, are in honour tabooed to correspondents. With respect to
the former I will only say, that if the Prussians do carry the forts and
the enceinte, they will not have taken Paris; with regard to the latter,
I can state that we shall not be starved out for some time. Besides the
cattle which have been accumulated, we have 90,000 horses; and although
a cab horse may not taste as good as Southdown mutton, I have no doubt
that Parisian cooking will make it a very palatable dish for hungry men;
there are, too, a great many dogs, and the rats have not yet left the
sinking ship. As for coffee and sugar we have enough to last for six
months; and, unless the statistics of the Government are utterly
worthless, come what may we shall not lack bread for many a day.
The Rump of the Corps Diplomatique has held a second meeting, and a
messenger has been sent to Bismarck to know--1st, whether he means to
bombard the city; 2nd, whether, if he does, he intends to give the usual
twenty-four hours' notice. Diplomates are little better than old women
when they have to act on an emergency. Were it not for Mr. Washburne,
who was brought up in the rough-and-ready life of the Far West, instead
of serving an apprenticeship in Courts and Government offices, those who
are still here would be perfectly helpless. They come to him at all
moments, and although he cannot speak French, for all practical purposes
he is worth more than all his colleagues put together. Lord Lyons would,
I believe, have remained, had he not been over persuaded by timid
colleagues, who were ordered to do as he did. It is a great pity that he
did not act according to his own judgment; but Republics, we know, are
not in good odour with courtiers. As for that poor creature Metternich,
he was utterly demoralized. He was more of a Chamberlain of Badinguet
than an Ambassador, and, of course, when his friend disappeared, he
took the earliest opportunity to follow his example.
_September 29th._
We still are cut off from the outer world, but neither "the world
forgetting," nor, we imagine, "by the world forgot." The inhabitants of
the "Mecca of civilization" are still, like Sister Anne, looking out for
some one to come to their assistance. I am utterly sick and tired of the
eternal brag and bombast around me. Let the Parisians gain some success,
and then celebrate it as loudly as they please: but why, in the name of
common sense, will they rejoice over victories yet to come? "We are
preserving," they say, "a dignified expectative attitude." Mr. Micawber
put the thing in more simple vernacular when, he said that he was
waiting for something to turn up. "First catch your hare" is a piece of
advice which our patriots here would scoff at. They have not yet caught
the Prussians, but they have already, by a flight of imagination, cooked
and eaten them. Count Moltke may as well--if I am to believe one quarter
of what I hear--like the American coon, come down. In a question of
military strategy between the grocers of Paris and the Prussian generals
I should have thought that the odds were considerably in favour of the
latter, but I am told that this is not so, and that in laying siege to
Paris they are committing a mistake for which a schoolboy would be
deservedly whipped. If you eliminate the working-class element, which
has not been corrupted by the Imperial system, the population of this
town is much what I imagine that of Constantinople to have been when it
was taken by the Turks. They are Greeks of the lower empire. Monsieur
sticks his kepi on one side of his head, and struts and swaggers along
the Boulevard as though he were a bantam cock. We have lost the _petits
crevés_ who formed so agreeable an element in society, but they have
been replaced by the military dandy, a being, if possible, still more
offensive. This creature mounts some sorry screw and parades the
Boulevard and the Champs Elysées, frowning dismally upon the world in
general, and twirling his moustache with the one hand, whilst he holds
on to the saddle with the other. His sword is of the longest, his waist
is of the tightest, and his boots are of the brightest. His like is only
to be seen in England when the _Battle of Waterloo_ is played at
Astley's, but his seat is not as good as that of the equestrian warriors
of that establishment. As he slowly paces along he gazes slyly to see
how many people are looking at him, and it must be owned that those who
do see him, vastly admire him. What manner of beings these admirers are
may be imagined from their idol. No contrast can be greater than that
which exists between the Parisian Bobadils and the Provincial Mobiles.
The latter are quiet and orderly, eager to drill and without a vestige
of bluster--these poor peasants are of a very different stuff from the
emasculated, conceited scum which has palmed itself off on Europe as
representative Frenchmen. The families with whom they lodge speak with
wonder of their sobriety, their decency, and their simple ways, and in
their hearts almost despise them because they do not ravish their
daughters or pillage their cellars; and neither swear every half-hour to
die for their country, nor yell the "Marseillaise." If Paris be saved,
it will be thanks to them and to the working men of the capital. But it
will be the old _sic vos non vobis_ story; their brave deeds and
undemonstrative heroism will be forgotten, and Jules and Alphonse, the
dandies and braggarts of the Boulevard, will swear to their own heroism.
I trust that the Prussians will fail to take Paris, because I think that
the French are right to fight on rather than submit to the dismemberment
of their country; and because I prefer a Republic to a Monarchy where a
King reigns by right divine. But when I read the bombastic articles in
the newspapers--when I see the insane conceit and the utter ignorance of
those with whom I am thrown--when I find them really believing that they
are heroes because they are going, they say, to win battles, it is
difficult to entertain any great sympathy for them. How utterly must
poor old Badinguet, before whom they cringed for years--who used them,
bought them, and made his market out of their vanity, their ignorance,
and their love of theatrical claptrap, despise them, as he dreams again
through life's dream in the gardens of his German prison. They call him
now a "sinister scoundrel" and a "lugubrious stage player." But he was
their master for many a long year, and they owe their emancipation from
his yoke to Prussian arms and not to themselves.
A committee of "subsistence" has been established. The feud between the
butchers and the public still continues, and most of the meat stalls are
closed. The grocers, too, are charging absurd prices for their goods.
_La Liberté_ suggests that their clients should do themselves justice,
and one of these mornings, unless these gentry abate their prices, some
grocer will be found hanging before his door. Although provisions are
plentiful, the misery is very great. Beggars increase in number every
day--they are like one of the plagues of Egypt. I was taking a cup of
coffee this morning before a café, and I counted twenty-three beggars
who asked me for money whilst I was sitting there. We still derive much
comfort from caricaturing Badinguet, William, and Bismarck. The latest
effort represents Badinguet and William as Robert Macaire and Bertrand.
Another represents Badinguet eating an eagle. "Coquin," says William,
"what are you doing with your eagle?" "Eating it," replies Badinguet;
"what else can I do with it?" Little statuettes, too, of the "two
friends," Badinguet and William, are in great request. William, with an
immense moustache, scowls at Badinguet, who humbly kneels before him.
M. Jules Favre, in reply to the English press deputation, sent last
night to say that each correspondent must make a personal application to
General Trochu. I know what that means already. All I ask is that my
letters should be put up in a balloon. As for passes, I have one
already, and it has not been of the slightest service to me. _Les
Nouvelles_ heads an article "English Spies," and proposes that to
simplify the question of whether they are spies or not, all English in
Paris should at once be shot. I cannot say that I personally have found
any ill-feeling to exist against me because I am an Englishman.
Yesterday afternoon I was in a crowd, and some one suggested that I was
a spy; I immediately mounted on a chair and explained that I was a
"journaliste Anglais," and pointed out to my friends that they ought to
be obliged to me for remaining here. "If any one doubts me," I added,
"let us go to the nearest commissary." No one did doubt me, and fifty
patriots immediately shook hands with me. The French people are apt to
form hasty judgments sometimes, and to act on them still more hastily,
but if one can get them to listen for a moment, they are reasonable, and
soon their natural good nature asserts itself. The zealous but
well-intended Mobiles are the most dangerous, for they shoot you first
and then apologise to your corpse. An order is placarded to-day of
Governor Trochu's, announcing that anyone trying to pass the lines will
be sent before the Courts Martial, or if he or she runs away when
ordered to stop, will be shot on the spot. This latter clause allows a
very great latitude for zeal, more particularly as the "lines" just now
are little more than a geographical expression. Their Emperor is a
prisoner, the enemy is thundering at their gates, they are shut up here
like rats in a hole; they have been vanquished in the only engagement
they have had with their besiegers, and yet the Parisians believe that,
compared with them, the Germans are an inferior race, and, like the
slave before Marius, will shrink abashed before the majesty of Paris.
"If we," say their newspapers, "the wisest, the best, the noblest of
human beings, have to succumb to this horde of barbarians that environ
us, we shall cease to believe in the existence of a Providence."
The movement on the part of the "Ultras" to elect at once a municipality
is gaining strength. Yesterday several chiefs of the faubourg battalions
of the National Guard interviewed Jules Ferry on the subject. Ledru
Rollin has declared himself in favour of it, and this morning there are
evidences that the Government is inclined to give way to the pressure,
for a decree is published in the _Journal Officiel_ ordering a
registration of voters. The worst of Frenchmen is that, no matter how
patriotic each one may be, he is convinced that the interests of his
country require that he should be one of its rulers. The men of '48 who
have returned from exile are surprised that they are almost forgotten by
the present generation, which regards them as interesting historical
relics, and puts its faith in new gods. At the clubs every evening the
Government is denounced for refusing to admit into its ranks this or
that patriot, or adjourning the municipal elections, and for not sending
revolutionary agents into the provinces. A newspaper this morning makes
the excellent suggestion that M. Blanqui, M.F. Pyat, and their principal
adherents should be invited to proceed at once to the provinces in a
balloon, invested with the rank of Government agents. "They cannot," it
adds, "do so much harm there as they are doing here; and then, too, the
balloon may burst." Personally, I should be glad to see a moderate
Republic established here, for I regard a Court as a waste of public
money; but it seems to me that Republicans should remember that it is
for the nation, and not for them, to decide what shall henceforward be
the form of government.