_October 19th._
A despatch is published this morning from M. Gambetta, giving a very
hopeful account of things in the provinces. As, however, this gentleman
on his arrival at Tours issued a proclamation in which he announced that
there were one-third more guns in Paris than it is even pretended by the
Government that there are, I look with great suspicion upon his
utterances. The latest declaration of the Government differs essentially
from that which was made at the commencement of the siege. A friend of
mine pointed out to one of its members this discrepancy, when he replied
that the Government had purposely understated their resources at first.
This may be all very fair in war, but it prevents a reasonable person
placing the slightest confidence in anything official. Dr. Johnson did
not believe in the earthquake at Lisbon for one year after the news
reached London, and I shall not believe in the resources of the
provinces until they prove their existence by raising the siege. I am
very curious to discover what is thought of Paris by the world. There is
but one step from the sublime to the ridiculous. If really by holding
out for several months the situation can be altered for the better, the
Parisians are right to do so, but if the Government is only humbugging
them with false intelligence, if they are simply destroying their own
villages in the neighbourhood, and exhausting their resources within
the town, whilst a Prussian army is living at the cost of their country,
it seems to me that they are acting like silly schoolboys rather than
wise men, and that there really is something in the sneer of Bismarck
that the Deputies of Paris are determined, _coûte qui coûte_, to
preserve the power with which the hazards of a revolution invested them.
The newspapers this morning are full of articles lauding M. Jules
Favre's circular, and reviling the proposals of Bismarck. The following
extract from the _Liberté_ will serve as an example of their usual
tone:--"A word of gratitude to the great citizen, to Jules Favre. Let
him know that his honest, eloquent, and brave words give us strength,
dry our tears, and cure our wounds. Poor and dear France! Provinces
crushed and towns blockaded, populations ruined, and thou, O Paris, once
the city of the fairies, now become the city of the grave times of
antiquity, raise thy head, be confident, be strong. It is thy heart that
has spoken, it is thy soul unconquered, invincible, the soul of thy
country that has appealed to the world and told it the truth." The
_Liberté_, after this preliminary burst, goes on to say, that it knew
before that Bismarck was everything that was bad, but that it has now
discovered that, besides possessing every other vice, he is a liar, and
if there is one thing that France and the _Liberté_ cannot endure, it is
a man who does not tell the truth. If the Prussians are not driven out
of France by words, it certainly will be a proof that mere words have
very little effect in shaping the destinies of nations.
Each person now receives 100 grammes of meat per diem, the system of
distribution being that every one has to wait on an average two hours
before he receives his meat at the door of a butcher's shop. I dine
habitually at a bouillon; there horse-flesh is eaten in the place of
beef, and cat is called rabbit. Both, however, are excellent, and the
former is a little sweeter than beef, but in other respects much like
it; the latter something between rabbit and squirrel, with a flavour all
its own. It is delicious. I recommend those who have cats with
philoprogenitive proclivities, instead of drowning the kittens, to eat
them. Either smothered in onions or in a ragout they are excellent. When
I return to London I shall frequently treat myself to one of these
domestic animals, and ever feel grateful to Bismarck for having taught
me that cat served up for dinner is the right animal in the right place.
I went last night to the Theatre of the Porte St. Martin; it has become
the rendezvous of the optimists, and speeches were delivered to prove
that everything was for the best in the best of worlds, and poetry was
recited to prove that the Prussians must eventually be defeated. The
chair was taken by M. Coquerel, who with great truth said that Paris had
fallen so low that the siege might be considered almost a blessing, and
that the longer it lasted, the more likely was it to aid in the work of
regeneration, which alone can make this world a globe of honourable men
and honest women. It will, indeed, do the Parisians all the good in the
world to keep guard on the ramparts instead of doing nothing but gossip
till one or two in the morning at cafés.
General Trochu, that complete letter-writer, to-day replies to General
Ducrot, telling him that his proclamation respecting his evasion from
Pont-à-Mousson is most satisfactory.
The military events of this week have been unimportant. The forts have
continued silent, and reconnaissances have been made here and there. The
faubourgs, too, have been quiet. Everything is being done to make the
siege weigh as little upon the population as possible. Thus, for
instance, few lamps are lit in the streets, but the shops and cafés are
still a blaze of light; they close, however, early. Here is rather a
good story; I can vouch for its truth. The Government recently visited
the Tuileries. They were received by the governor, whom they found
established in a suite of apartments. He showed them over the palace,
and then offered them luncheon. They then incidentally asked him who had
nominated him to the post he so ably filled. "Myself," he replied; "just
by the same authority as you nominated yourselves, and no less." There
was heavy firing all through the night in the direction of Vannes.
M. Mottu, the mayor of the 11th arrondissement, who had entered into a
campaign against crucifixes, has been removed. The Government were
"interviewed" last night by the chiefs of thirty battalions of Gardes
Nationales of the 11th arrondissement on the subject. The deputation was
assured that M. Mottu would be reinstated in his mairie if he would
promise to moderate his zeal.
_October 20th._
"The clients of M. Poiret are informed that they can only have one plate
of meat," was the terrible writing which stared me on the wall, when I
went to dine at my favourite bouillon--and, good heavens, what a portion
it was! Not enough for the dinner of a fine lady who has previously
gorged herself at a private luncheon. If meat is, as we are told, so
plentiful that it will last for five weeks more, the mode in which it is
distributed is radically bad. While at a large popular restaurant, where
hundreds of the middle classes dine, each person only gets enough cat or
horse to whet his appetite for more; in the expensive cafés on the
Boulevards, feasts worthy of Lucullus are still served to those who are
ready to part with their money with the proverbial readiness of fools.
Far more practical, my worthy Republicans, would it be to establish
"liberté, égalité, fraternité" in the cook shops, than to write the
words in letters of gold over your churches. In every great city there
always is much want and misery; here, although succour is supposed to be
afforded to all who require it, many I fear are starving owing to that
bureaucrat love of classification which is the curse of France. After my
meagre dinner, I was strolling along the quays near the river,
_l'estomac_ as _leger_ as M. Ollivier's heart, when I saw a woman
leaning over the parapet. She turned as I was passing her, and the lamp
from the opposite gate of the Tuileries shone on her face. It was honest
and homely, but so careworn, so utterly hopeless, that I stopped to ask
her if she was ill. "Only tired and hungry'" she replied; "I have been
walking all day, and I have not eaten since yesterday." I took her to a
café and gave her some bread and coffee, and then she told me her story.
She was a peasant girl from Franche Comté, and had come to Paris, where
she had gone into service. But she had soon tired of domestic servitude,
and for the last year she had supported herself by sewing waistcoats in
a great wholesale establishment. At the commencement of the siege she
had been discharged, and for some days she found employment in a
Government workshop, but for the last three weeks she had wandered here
and there, vainly asking for work. One by one she had sold every article
of dress she possessed, except the scanty garments she wore, and she had
lived upon bread and celery. The day before she had spent her last sou,
and when I saw her she had come down to the river, starving and
exhausted, to throw herself into it. "But the water looked so cold, I
did not dare," she said. Thus spoke the grisette of Paris, very
different from the gay, thoughtless being of French romance, who lives
in a garret, her window shrouded with flowers, is adored by a student,
and earns enough money in a few hours to pass the rest of the week
dancing, gossiping, and amusing herself. As I listened to her, I felt
ashamed of myself for repining because I had only had one plate of meat.
The hopeless, desolate condition of this poor girl is that of many of
her class to-day. But why should they complain? Is not King William the
instrument of Heaven, and is he not engaged in a holy cause? That Kings
should fight and that seamstresses should weep is in the natural order
of things. Frenchmen and Frenchwomen only deserve to be massacred or
starved if they are so lost to all sense of what is just as to venture
to struggle against the dismemberment of their country, and do not
understand how meet and right it is that their fellow-countrymen in
Alsace should be converted into German subjects.
General Vinoy, who was in the Crimea, and who takes a somewhat larger
view of things than the sententious Trochu, has been good enough to
furnish me with a pass, which allows me to wander unmolested anywhere
within the French outposts. "If you attempt to pass them," observes the
General, "you will be shot by the sentinels, in obedience to my orders."
A general order also permits anyone to go as far as the line of the
forts. Yesterday I chartered a cab and went to Boulogne, a village on
the Seine, close by the wood of the same name. We drove through a
portion of the Bois; it contained more soldiers than trees. Line and
artillerymen were camped everywhere, and every fifty yards a group was
engaged in skinning or cutting up a dead horse. The village of Boulogne
had been deserted by almost all the inhabitants. Across some of the
streets leading to the river there were barricades, others were open. In
most of the houses there were soldiers, and others were in rifle-pits
and trenches. A brisk exchange of shots was going on with the Prussians,
who were concealed in the opposite houses of St. Cloud. I cannot
congratulate the enemy upon the accuracy of their aim, for although
several evilly disposed Prussians took a shot at my cab, their bullets
whistled far above our heads, and after one preliminary kick, the old
cab-horse did not even condescend to notice them. As for the cabman, he
was slightly in liquor, and at one of the cross-streets leading to the
river he got off his box, and performed a war-dance to show his contempt
for the skill of the enemies of his nation. In the Grand Place there was
a long barricade, and behind it men, women, and children were crouching
watching the opposite houses, from which every now and then a puff of
smoke issued, followed by a sharp report. The soldiers were very orderly
and good-natured; as I had a glass, some of them took me up into the
garrets of a deserted house, from the windows of which we tried in vain
to espy our assailants. My friends fired into several of the houses from
which smoke issued, but with what effect I do not know. The amusement of
the place seemed to be to watch soldiers running along an open road
which was exposed to fire for about thirty yards. Two had been killed in
the morning, but this did not appear in any way to diminish the zest of
the sport. At least twenty soldiers ran the gauntlet whilst I was there,
but not one of them was wounded. As well as I could make out, the damage
done to St. Cloud by the bombs of Mont Valérien is very inconsiderable.
A portion of the Palace and a few houses were in ruins, but that was
all. There is a large barrack there, which the soldiers assured me is
lit up every night, and why this building has not been shelled, neither
they nor I could understand. The newspapers say that the Prussians have
guns on the unfinished redoubt of Brinborion; it was not above 1,000
yards from where I was standing, but with my glass I could not make out
that there were any there. Several officers with whom I spoke said that
it was very doubtful. On my return, my cabman, who had got over his
liquor, wanted double his fare. "For myself," he said, "I am a
Frenchman, and I should scorn to ask for money for running a risk of
being shot by a _canaille_ of a German, but think of my horse;" and then
he patted the faithful steed, whom I may possibly have the pleasure to
meet again, served up in a sauce piquante. The newspapers, almost
without exception, protest against the mediation of England and Russia,
which they imagine is offered by these Powers. "It is too late," says
the organ of M. Picard. "Can France accept a mediation which will snatch
from her the enemy at the moment when victory is certain?"
_October 25th._
Has General Trochu a plan?--if so, what is it? It appears to me, as Sir
Robert Peel would have said, that he has only three courses to pursue:
first, to do nothing, and to capitulate as soon as he is starved out;
this would, I reckon, bring the siege to an end in about two months:
secondly, to fight a battle with all his disposable forces, which might
be prolonged for several days, and thus risk all upon one great venture:
thirdly, to cut his way out of Paris with the line and the Mobiles. The
two united would form a force of about 150,000 men, and supported by 500
cannon, it may reasonably be expected that the Prussian lines would be
pierced. In this case a junction might be effected with any army which
exists in the provinces, and the combined force might throw itself upon
the enemy's line of communications. In the meantime Paris would be
defended by its forts and its ramparts. The former would be held by the
sailors and the mobilized National Guards of Paris, the latter by the
Sedentary Garde Nationale. Which of these courses will be adopted, it is
impossible to say; the latter, however, is the only one which seems to
present even a chance of ultimate success. With respect to the second, I
do not think that the Mobiles could stand for days or even for hours
against the artillery and musketry force of their opponents. They are
individually brave, but like all raw troops they become excited under
fire, shoot wildly, then rush forward in order to engage in a
hand-to-hand encounter, and break before they reach the Prussian lines.
In this respect the troops of the line are not much better. The
Prussian tactics, indeed, have revolutionized the whole system of
warfare, and the French, until they have learnt them, will always go to
the wall.
Every day that this siege lasts, convinces me more and more that General
Trochu is not the right man in the right place. He writes long-winded
letters, utters Spartan aphorisms, and complains of his colleagues, his
generals, and his troops. The confidence which was felt in him is
rapidly diminishing. He is a good, respectable, honest man, without a
grain of genius, or of that fierce indomitable energy which sometimes
replaces it. He would make a good Minister of War in quiet times, but he
is about as fit to command in the present emergency as Mr. Cardwell
would be. His two principal military subordinates, Vinoy and Ducrot, are
excellent Generals of Division, but nothing more. As for his civilian
colleagues, they are one and all hardly more practical than Professor
Fawcett. Each has some crotchet of his own, each likes to dogmatize and
to speechify, and each considers the others to be idiots, and has a
small following of his own, which regards him as a species of divinity.
They are philosophers, orators, and legists, but they are neither
practical men nor statesmen. I understand that General Trochu says, that
the most sensible among them is Rochefort.
We want to know what has become of Sergeant Truffet. As the Prussians
are continually dinning it into Europe that the French fire on their
flags of truce, the following facts, for the truth of which I can vouch,
may, perhaps, account for it; if, indeed, it has ever occurred. A few
days ago, some French soldiers, behind a barricade a little in advance
of the Moulin Saqui, saw a Bavarian crawl towards them, waving a white
flag. When he stopped, the soldiers called to him to come forward, but
he remained, still waving his flag. Sergeant Truffet then got over the
barricade, and went towards him. Several Germans immediately rushed
forward, and sergeant, flag, and Germans, disappeared within the enemy's
lines. The next day, General Vinoy sent an officer to protest against
this gross violation of the laws of war, and to demand that the sergeant
should be restored. The officer went to Creteil, thence he was sent to
Choisy le Roi, where General Jemplin (if this is how he spells his name)
declined to produce the sergeant, who, he said, was a deserter, or to
give any explanation as to his whereabouts. Now Truffet, as his
companions can testify, had not the remotest intention to desert. He was
a good and steady soldier. He became a prisoner, through a most odious
stratagem, and a Prussian general, although the facts have been
officially brought before him, has refused to release him. The Germans
are exceedingly fond of trumping up charges against the French, but they
have no right to expect to be believed, until they restore to us our
Truffet, and punish the Bavarians who entrapped him by means of a false
flag of truce.
The subscription for the 1500 cannon hangs fire. The question, however,
whether both cannon and Chassepots can be made in Paris is solved, as
the private workshops are making daily deliveries of both to Government.
At the commencement of the siege it was feared that there would not be
enough projectiles; these, also, are now being manufactured. For the
last week, the forts have been firing at everything and anything. The
admirals in command say that the sailors bore themselves so, that they
are obliged to allow them to fire more frequently than is absolutely
necessary.
I have been endeavouring to form an estimate of the absolute cost in
money of the siege, per diem. The National Guard receive in pay
24,000l., rations to themselves and families amount to about 10,000l.,
the Mobiles do not cost less than 30,000l. Unproductive industries
connected with the war, about 15,000l. Rations to the destitute, 5000l.
When, in addition to these items, it is remembered that every
productive industry is at a standstill, it is no exaggeration to say
that Paris is eating its head off at the rate of 200,000l. per diem.
Flourens has been re-elected commander-in-chief of five battalions of
Belleville National Guards. The Government, however, declines to
recognize this cumulative command. The "Major" writes a letter to-day to
the _Combat_ denouncing the Government, and demanding that the Republic
"should decree victory," and shoot every unsuccessful general. Blanqui
says that he lost his election as commander of a battalion, through the
intrigues of the Jesuits. It was proposed on Saturday, at a club, to
make a demonstration before the Hôtel de Ville, in favour of M. Mottu,
the Mayor of the eleventh arrondissement, who was dismissed on account
of his crusade against crucifixes. An amendment, however, was carried,
putting it off until famine gives the friends of a revolution new
adherents. Crucifixes were denounced by an orator in the course of the
evening, as "impure nudities, which ought not to be suffered in public
places, on account of our daughters."
The great meat question is left to every arrondissement to decide
according to its own lights. As a necessary consequence of this, while
in one part of Paris it takes six hours to get a beef-steak, in others,
where a better system of distribution prevails, each person can obtain
his ration of 100 grammes without any extraordinary delay. Butter now
costs 18fr. the pound. Milk is beginning to get scarce. The "committee
of alimentation" recommends mothers to nourish their babies from what
Mr. Dickens somewhere calls "nature's founts."
I had a conversation yesterday with one of the best writers on the
French press, and I asked him to tell me what were the views of the
sensible portion of the population respecting the situation. He replied,
"We always were opposed to the Empire; we knew what the consequences
eventually would be. The deluge has overtaken us, and we must accept the
consequences. In Paris, few who really are able to form a just estimate
of our resources, can expect that the siege can have any but a
disastrous termination. Everyone, however, has lost so much, that he is
indifferent to what remains. We feel that Paris would be disgraced if at
least by a respectable defence she does not show that she is ready to
sacrifice herself for France." "But," I said, "you are only putting off
the inevitable hour at a heavy cost to yourself." "Perhaps," he replied,
"we are not acting wisely, but you must take into consideration our
national weaknesses; it is all very well to say that we ought to treat
now, and endeavour to husband our resources, so as to take our revenge
in twenty years, but during that twenty years we should not venture to
show ourselves abroad, or hold up our heads at home." "In the end,
however, you must treat," I said. "Never," he replied. "Germany may
occupy Alsace and Lorraine, but we will never recognise the fact that
they are no longer French." "I hardly see," I said, "that this will
profit you." "Materially, perhaps not," he answered, "but at least we
shall save our honour." "And what, pray, will happen after the
capitulation of Paris?" "Practically," he replied, "there is no
Government in France, there will not be for about two years, and then,
probably, we shall have the Orleans princes." The opinions enunciated by
this gentleman are those of most of the _doctrinaires_. They appear to
be without hope, without a policy, and without any very definite idea
how France is to get out of the singularly false position in which the
loss of her army, and the difficulty of her people to accept the
inevitable consequences, have placed her. My own impression is, that the
provinces will in the end insist upon peace at any cost, as a
preliminary step towards some regular form of government, and the
withdrawal of the German troops, whose prolonged occupation of
department after department must exhaust the entire recuperative
resources of the country.
_October 27th._
At an early hour yesterday morning, about 100 English congregated at the
gate of Charenton _en route_ for London. There were with them about 60
Americans, and 20 Russians, who also were going to leave us. Imagine the
indignation of these "Cives Romani," when they were informed that, while
the Russians and the Americans would be allowed to pass the Prussian
outposts, owing to the list of the English wishing to go not having
reached Count Bismarck in time, they would have to put off their journey
to another day. The guard had literally to be turned out to prevent them
from endeavouring to force their way through the whole German army. I
spoke this morning to an English butler who had made one of the party.
This worthy man evidently was of opinion that the end of the world is
near at hand, when a butler, and a most respectable person, is treated
in this manner. "Pray, sir, may I ask," he said, with bitter scorn,
"whether her Majesty is still on the throne in England?" I replied, "I
believed that she was." "Then," he went on, "has this Count Bismarck, as
they call him, driven the British nobles out of the House of Lords?
Nothing which this feller does would surprise me now." Butler, Chargé
d'Affaires, and the other _cives_, are, I understand, to make another
start, as soon as the "feller" condescends to answer a letter which has
been forwarded to him, asking him to fix a day for their departure.
We are daily anticipating an attack on the Southern side of the city.
The Prussians are close into the forts on their line from Meudon to
Choisy-le-Roi. Two days ago it was supposed that they were dragging
their siege guns to batteries which they had prepared for them,
notwithstanding our fire, which until now we proudly imagined had
rendered it impossible for them to put a spade to the ground. Our
generals believe, I know not with what truth, that the Prussians have
only got twenty-six siege guns. If they are on the plateau of Meudon,
and if they carry, as is asserted, nine kilometres, a large portion of
the city on the left bank of the Seine will be under fire. On our side
we have approached so close to the villages along the Prussian line in
this direction that one side or the other must in self-defence soon make
an attack. The newspapers of yesterday morning having asserted that
Choisy-le-Roi was no longer occupied by the enemy, I went out in the
afternoon to inspect matters. I got to the end of the village of Vitry,
where the advanced posts, to whom I showed my pass, asked me where I
wanted to go. I replied, to Choisy-le-Roi. A corporal pointed to a house
at some distance beyond where we were standing. "The Prussians are in
that house," he said. "If you like, you can go forward and look at them;
they are not firing." So forward I went. I was within a hundred yards of
the house when some Francs-tireurs, hid in the field to the right of
the road, commenced firing, and the Fort d'Ivry from behind opened fire.
The Prussians on their side replied with their needle-guns. I got behind
a tree, feeling that my last hour was come. There I remained about half
an hour, for whenever I moved a bullet came whizzing near me. At last a
thought, a happy thought, occurred to me. I rolled myself into a ditch,
which ran alongside the road, and down this ditch I crept until I got
close to the barricade, over which I climbed with more haste than
dignity. The soldiers were greatly amazed at my having really believed a
statement which I had read in the newspapers, and their observations
respecting the Parisians and their "organs" were far from complimentary.
On my way back by Montrouge, I stopped to gossip with some Breton
Mobiles. They, too, spoke with the utmost scorn of the patriots within
the walls. "We are kept here," they said, "to defend these men, all of
whom have arms like us; they live comfortably inside the ramparts,
whilst the provinces are being ravaged." These Breton Mobiles are the
idols of the hour. They are to the Republic what the Zouaves were to the
Empire. They are very far, however, from reciprocating the admiration
which the Republicans entertain for them. They are brave, devout,
credulous peasants, care far more for Brittany than they do for Paris,
and regard the individuals who rule by the grace of Paris with feelings
the reverse of friendly. The army and the Mobiles, indeed, like being
cooped up here less and less every day, and they cannot understand why
the 300,000 National Guards who march and drill in safety inside the
capital do not come outside and rough it like them. While I was talking
to these Bretons one of them blew his nose with his handkerchief. His
companions apologised to me for this piece of affectation. "He is from
Finisterre," they said. In Finisterre, it appears, luxury is enervating
the population, and they blow their noses with handkerchiefs; in other
parts of Brittany, where the hardy habits of a former age still prevail,
a more simple method is adopted.
The volunteering from the National Guard for active service has been a
failure. 40,000 men were required; not 7,000 have sent in their names.
The Ultras say that it is a scheme to get rid of them; the bourgeoisie
say nothing, but volunteer all the less. The fact is, the siege as far
as regards the Parisians has been as yet like hunting--all the pleasure
of war, with one per cent. of the danger; and so long as they can help
it they have no intention to increase that per-centage. As for the 1,500
cannon, they have not yet been made; but many of them have already been
named. One is to be called the "Jules Favre," one the "Populace," "We
already hear them thunder, and see the Prussians decimated," says the
_Temps_, and its editor is not the first person who has counted his
chickens before they are hatched.
All yesterday afternoon and evening the Fort of Issy, and the battery of
the Bois de Boulogne, fired heavily on Brinborion and Meudon, with what
result no one knows. Yesterday morning the _Combat_ announced that
Marshal Bazaine was treating for the surrender of Metz in the name of
Napoleon. The Government was interviewed, and denied the fact. In the
evening the _Combat_ was burnt on the Boulevards. The chief of General
Ducrot's staff has published a letter protesting against the assertions
of certain journals that the fight at Malmaison produced no results. On
the contrary, he says it gained us sixty square kilometres of ground in
the plain of Genevilliers.