_December 6th._
I am by no means certain that I should be a hero at the Equator, but I
am fully convinced that I should be an abject coward at the North Pole.
Three mornings ago I stood for two hours by the Ambulances de la Presse,
and my teeth have not ceased to chatter ever since. I pity the
unfortunate fellows who had to keep watch all night on the plateau of
Villiers more than those who were put out of their misery the day
before. When it is warm weather, one views with a comparative
resignation the Prussian batteries, and one has a sort of fanatical
belief that the bombs will not burst within striking distance; when the
thermometer is below zero, one imagines that every cannon within four
miles is pointed at one's head. I do not know how it may be with others,
but on me cold has a most unheroic effect. My legs become as wilful as
those of Mrs. Dombey's titled relative, and it is only by the strongest
effort of mind over matter that I can prevent them carrying me beyond
the reach of cannon-balls, bullets, and shells. I have a horrible vision
of myself lying all night with a broken leg in a ditch, gradually
freezing. On a warm summer's day I do not think very much of the courage
of those who fight well; on a cold winter's day, however, any man who
does not run away and take shelter by a fire deserves well of his
country.
We are by no means a very happy family. General Ducrot and General
Blanchard have "had words." The latter, in the course of the dispute,
said to the former, "If your sword were as long as your tongue, you
would be a wonderful warrior indeed." Ducrot and Trochu are the literary
Generals; Vinoy and Blanchard the fighting Generals. It is reported also
that General Favé is to be superseded, though why I cannot learn, as his
redoubt may be said to have saved the army from a greater disaster.
While, however, the military men differ among themselves, they are all
agreed in abusing the National Guards, whom they irreverently call "Les
Charcutiers"--the pork butchers. When La Gare aux Boeufs was carried by
Admiral Pothuan and his sailors, two battalions of these heroes followed
in the rear. The Admiral and the sailors were somewhat astonished to
find that in the order of the day hardly anything was said of those who
really did all the fighting, but that the "pork butchers" were lauded to
the skies. General Trochu on this wrote a letter to the Admiral,
informing him that it was necessary for political reasons to encourage
the National Guard. Whilst the battle was going on at Villiers and
Champigny, the marching battalions of the National Guard were drawn up
almost out of shot. An order came to form them into line. Their
commander, General Clément Thomas, replied that this would be
impossible, as they would imagine that they were about to be taken into
action. Notwithstanding this, General Trochu congratulates them upon the
"moral support" which they afforded him. It is not surprising that the
real soldiers should feel hurt at this system of humbug. They declare
that at the next sortie they will force the Parisians to fight by
putting them in front, and firing on them if they attempt to run away.
It must be remembered that these fighting battalions consist of young
unmarried men, and if Paris is to be defended, there is no reason why
they should not be exposed to danger. The inhabitants of this city seem
to consider themselves a sacred race; they clamour for sorties, vow to
die for their country, and then wish to do it by procuration. I am
utterly disgusted with the difference between their words and their
deeds. The Mobiles and the Line have as yet done all the righting, and
yet, to read the Paris newspapers, one would suppose that the National
Guards, who have kept well out of all danger, have "covered themselves
with glory." Since the siege commenced they have done nothing but
swagger about in uniforms, and go in turns on the ramparts. They have
learnt to knock a penny off a cork at a distance of ten yards, and they
have carried on a very successful campaign against the sparrows.
A fresh order was issued yesterday, suppressing all passes until further
notice. I have a pass _en règle_ from General Vinoy; but even with this,
the last time I went out of the town I was turned back at two gates
before I got through at the third. A good deal of discussion has taken
place among the foreign correspondents respecting the fairness of going
out with an ambulance under guise of the Geneva flag. I see myself no
objection to it, provided the correspondent really does make himself
useful in picking up the wounded. In the Prussian camp a correspondent
has a recognised position; here it is different, and he must use all
legitimate means to obtain intelligence of what is passing. My pass, for
instance, does not describe me as a correspondent, but as an Englishman
accredited by the British Embassy. At the commencement of the siege I
begged Mr. Wodehouse to give me a letter of introduction to M. Jules
Ferry, one of the members of the Government. This I did not deliver, but
at General Vinoy's headquarters I showed it to prove that I was not a
Prussian spy, but that I was known by my natural guardian. An
aide-de-camp then gave me a pass, and, not knowing precisely what to
call me, described me as "accredited by the British Embassy." I move
about, therefore, as a mysterious being--perhaps an Ambassador, perhaps
an Ambassador's valet. A friend of mine, who is an authority with the
Ambulance de la Presse, and who owns a carriage, has promised to call
for me when next the ambulances are sent for; but, as I have already
said, all my energy oozes out of me when the thermometer is below zero;
and unless the next battle is fought on a warm day, I shall not witness
it. As a matter of fact, unless one is riding with the staff of the
general who commands, one cannot form an idea of what is going on by
hanging about, and it is a horrible sight to look with an opera-glass at
men and horses being massacred. When knights charged each other with
lances there was a certain chivalry in war; but there is nothing either
noble or inspiriting in watching a quantity of unfortunate Breton
peasants, who cannot even speak French, and an equal number of Berlin
grocers, who probably ask for nothing better than to be back in their
shops, destroying each other at a distance of two or three miles with
balls of lead and iron, many of them filled with explosive materials. I
confess that I pity the horses almost as much as the men. It seems a
monstrous thing that in order that the Alsacians should be forced into
becoming subjects of King William of Prussia, an omnibus horse, who has
honestly done his work in the streets of Paris, should be taken outside
the walls of the town to have his head blown off or to stump about on
three legs until he dies of cold and hunger. Horses have a way when they
are wounded of making desperate efforts to get up, and then letting
their heads fall with a bang on the soil which is very horrible to
witness.
Everybody in authority and out of it seems to have a different opinion
as to when the siege will end. I cannot think that when a town with two
million inhabitants is reduced to such expedients as this is now, it can
hold out very long. The rations, consisting alternately of horse and
salt fish, are still distributed, but they are hardly sufficient to keep
body and soul together. Unless we make up our minds to kill our
artillery horses, we shall soon come to the end of our supply. The
rumour to-day is that the Prussians have evacuated Versailles, and that
Frederick Charles has been beaten in a battle on the Loire, but I cannot
say that I attach great credit to either story. No pigeon has arrived
for the last three days, owing, it is supposed, to the cold; and until
we know for certain what d'Aurelles de Paladine is doing, we are unable
to form an accurate opinion of the chances of the siege being raised.
All that can be said is that, left to ourselves, we shall not be able to
break through the lines of investment, and that when we have eaten up
all our food, we shall have to capitulate.
_December 7th._
When this war commenced the Parisians believed in the bulletins which
their own Government issued, because they thought it only natural that
their arms should be successful, and they disbelieved in any foreign
newspaper which ventured to contest their victories. At present they are
incredulous alike of everything that comes from friend and foe.
Nine-tenths of them are under the impression that Count Moltke, in
announcing the defeat of the Army of the Loire, is guilty of a
deliberate falsehood; the other tenth supposes that he has grossly
exaggerated a slight mishap, and that the occupation of Orleans only
proves that Orleans was not defended by a large body of troops. It takes
about three days for any information which is not in accordance with the
wishes of this extraordinary population to obtain credit, no matter what
amount of evidence there may be to prove its truth. If really the Army
of the Loire has been put _hors de combat_, sooner or later the fact
will be admitted; then, although we shall still pin our faith to Kératry
or Bourbaki, the disaster will no doubt tend to produce a certain
degree of discouragement, more particularly as it is coupled with the
retreat of Ducrot's forces from the south bank of the Marne. French
politicians will insist upon dressing up their facts in order to meet
the requirements of the moment, and they never seem to consider that so
soon as the real state of things comes out there must be an inevitable
reaction, which will be far more depressing than if the truth had been
fairly told at once. I hear that when Count Moltke's letter arrived, two
of the members of the Government of National Defence were inclined to
accept his offer to verify what had occurred on the Loire, but that
General Trochu stated that he intended to resist until the last, and
that consequently, whether Orleans had fallen, or not, was a matter of
no importance. If Trochu really thinks that a further resistance and a
further sacrifice of life will materially advance the interests of his
country, of course he is right to hold out; but if, disregarding facts,
he simply wishes to oblige the Prussians to continue the siege, for no
purpose except to prove his own tenacity, he cannot be regarded either
as a good patriot or a sensible man. When the vote on the Plebiscite was
taken, his majority consisted of "Ouis" which were given because it was
supposed that he was about to treat. Since then we have gone on from day
to day vaguely hoping that either the Neutral Powers or the armies of
the provinces would get us out of the mess in which we are, or, even if
these failed us, that by a sortie the town would be revictualled. At
present none believe in the intervention of the Neutrals; few in the
success of a sortie; but all still cling, as drowning men do to a straw,
to the armies of the provinces. To destroy this belief it will be
necessary for the Prussians to obtain a substantial advantage not only
at Orleans, but over the armies of Kératry and Bourbaki. When once we
find that we are entirely left to our own resources, and that it is
impossible for us to penetrate the lines of investment, I cannot help
thinking that we shall yield to the force of circumstances. At present
all the newspapers are for fighting on as long as we have a crust,
regardless of the consequences; but then, as a rule, a besieged town is
never so near surrendering as when it threatens to hang the first man
who speaks of surrender. The majority would even now take a practical
view of matters if they dared, but Trochu is their man, and Trochu, much
to their secret sorrow, refuses to hear of a capitulation.
Some German officers who are prisoners on parole have been insulted in a
restaurant, and for their own safety it has been found necessary to
confine them in La Roquette. I am not surprised at this. French officers
are, of course, incapable of this contemptible conduct, and it must be
owned that the majority of the Parisians have not, under the trying
circumstances in which they find themselves, lost that courtesy which is
one of the peculiar attributes of the nation. But there is a scum, who
lived from hand to mouth during the Empire, and which infests the
restaurants and the public places. Some of them wear the uniform of the
National Guard; others have attached themselves to the ambulances; and
all take very good care not to risk their precious lives. I was
peaceably dining last night in a restaurant; a friend with whom I had
been talking English had left me, and I found myself alone with four of
these worthies, who were dining at a table near me. For my especial
benefit they informed each other that all strangers here were outlaws
from their own country, and that the Americans and Italians who have
established ambulances were in all probability Prussian spies. As I took
no notice of these startling generalities, one of them turned to me and
said, "You may look at me, sir, but I assert before you that Dr. Evans,
the ex-dentist of the Emperor, was a spy." I quietly remarked, that not
having the honour to know Dr. Evans, and being myself an Englishman,
whilst the Doctor is an American, I was not responsible for him. "You
are a Greek," observed another; "I heard you talk Greek just now." I
mildly suggested that his knowledge of foreign tongues was, perhaps,
somewhat limited. "Well, if you are not a Greek," he said, "I saw you
the other morning near the Ambulance of the Press, to which I belong,
and so you must be a spy." "If you are an Englishman," cried his friend,
"why do you not go back to your own country, and fight Russia?" I
replied that the idea was an excellent one, but that it might, perhaps,
be difficult to pass through the Prussian lines. "The English Ambassador
is a friend of mine, and he will give you a pass at my request,"
answered the gentleman who had mistaken English for Greek. I thanked
him, and assured him that I should esteem it a favour if he would obtain
from his friend Lord Lyons this pass for me. He said he would do so, as
it would be well to rid Paris of such vermin as myself and my
countrymen. He has not yet, however, fulfilled his promise. Scenes such
as these are of frequent occurrence at restaurants; bully and coward are
generally synonymous terms; any scamp may insult a foreigner now with
perfect impunity, for if the foreigner replies he has only to denounce
him as a spy, when a crowd will assemble, and either set on him or bear
him off to prison. While, as I have already said, nothing can be more
courteous than the conduct of French officers, French gentlemen, and,
unless they are excited, the French poorer classes, nothing can be more
insolent than that of the third-class dandies who reserve their valour
for the interior of the town, or who, if ever they venture outside of
its fortifications, take care to skulk beneath the protection of the
cross of Geneva.
The _Journal Officiel_ contains a decree breaking up the battalion of
Belleville. These warriors, says their own Commander, ran away in the
presence of the enemy, refused the next day to go to the front, and
commenced fighting with their neighbours from La Villette. M. Gustave
Flourens, who is the hero of these men of war, and who, although
exercising no official rank in the battalion, insisted upon their
accepting him as their chief, is to be brought before a Council of War.
My next-door neighbour, Franchetti, died yesterday, and was buried
to-day. He was a fine, handsome young man, well off, happily married,
and, as the commander of the Eclaireurs of the Seine, has done good
service during the siege. As he was an Israelite, he was followed to the
grave by the Rothschilds and many other of his co-religionists.
_December 8th._
M. de Sarcey, in the _Temps_ of to-day, enters into a lengthy argument
to prove that the Parisians are heroic. "Heroism is positive and
negative," he says, "and we have, for the sake of our country, deprived
ourselves during several months of the power to make money, and during
this time we have existed without many of the comforts to which we are
accustomed." Now, I by no means wish to undervalue the sacrifices of the
Parisians, but heroism is not the word for them. So long as there are
enough provisions in the town to enable every one to live without
feeling the pangs of hunger, they have no opportunity to show negative
heroism. So long as the town is not assaulted, and they do not take part
in sorties, they cannot be said to be actively heroic. A blockade such
as the Prussians have instituted round Paris, is no doubt most
disagreeable to its inhabitants. In submitting to it, undoubtedly they
show their patriotism and their power of passive endurance. Heroism is,
however, something more than either patriotism or endurance--it is an
exceptional quality which is rarely found in this world. If the
Parisians possessed it, I should admire them; because they do not, no
one has a right to blame them.
The newspapers have now proved to their own complete satisfaction that
Count Moltke's assertion respecting the defeat of the Army of the Loire
can only refer to its rearguard, and although no news from without has
been received for several days, they insist that the greater portion of
this army has effected its junction with that of Bourbaki. A French
journalist, even when he is not obliged to do so, generally invents his
facts, and then reasons upon them with wonderful ingenuity. I do not
know whether the Paris journals get to you through the Prussian lines;
if they do not, you have little idea how much excellent advice you lose.
One would think that just at present a Parisian would do well to keep
his breath to cool his own porridge; such, however, is not his opinion.
He thinks that he has a mission to guide and instruct the world, and
this mission he manfully fulfils in defiance of Prussians and Prussian
cannon. It is true that he knows rather less of foreign countries than
an intelligent Japanese Daimio may be supposed to know of Tipperary, but
by some curious law of nature, the less he knows of a subject the more
strongly does he feel impelled to write about it. I read a very clever
article this morning, pointing out that, if we are not on our guard, our
empire in India will come to an end by a Russian fleet attacking it from
the Caspian Sea; and when one thinks how very easy it would have been
for the author not to write about the Caspian Sea, one is at once
surprised and grateful to him for having called our attention to the
danger which menaces us in that quarter of the globe.
M. Gustave Flourens has been arrested and is now in prison. The clubs of
the Ultras are very indignant at the Government having accused the
braves of Belleville of cowardice. They feel convinced that the "Jesuit"
Trochu must have introduced some _mouchards_ into the band of heroes,
who received orders to run away, in order to discredit the whole
battalion. I was in the "Club de la Délivrance" this evening. It holds
its sittings in the Salle Valentino--a species of Argyle Rooms in
normal times. I held up my hand in favour of a resolution to call upon
the Government to inscribe upon marble tablets the names of the National
Guards who have died in the defence of Paris. The resolution was carried
unanimously. No National Guard has, indeed, yet been good enough to die;
but of course this fact was regarded as irrelevant. The next resolution
was that the concubines of patriots should enjoy the same right to
rations as legitimate wives. As the Club prides itself upon the stern
severity of its morals, this resolution was not carried. An orator then
proposed that all strangers should be banished from France. He was so
exceedingly lengthy that I did not wait until the end of his speech; I
am, therefore, unable to say whether his proposal was carried. The Club
de la Délivrance is by far the most reputable public assembly in Paris.
Those who take part in its proceedings are intensely respectable, and as
intensely dull and prosy. The suppression of gas has been a heavy blow
to the clubs. The Parisians like gas as much as lazzaroni like sunshine.
The grandest bursts of patriotic eloquence find no response from an
audience who listen to them beneath half-a-dozen petroleum lamps. It is
somewhat singular, but it is not the less certain, that the effect of a
speech depends very much upon the amount of light in the room in which
it is delivered. I remember once I went down to assist a friend of mine
in an electioneering campaign in a small borough. His opponent was a
most worthy and estimable squire, who resided in the neighbourhood. It
was, of course, my business to prove that he was a despicable knave and
a drivelling idiot. This I was engaged in doing at a public meeting in
the town-hall. The Philippics of Demosthenes were milk and water in
comparison with my denunciations--when just at the critical moment--as I
was carrying conviction into the breasts of the stolid Britons who were
listening to me, the gas flickered and went out. Three candles were
brought in. I recommenced my thunder; but it was of no use. The candles
utterly destroyed its effect, and two days afterwards the squire became
an M.P., and still is a silent ornament of St. Stephen's.
I trust that England never will be invaded. But if it is, we shall do
well to profit by the experience of what is occurring here. There must
be no English force, half citizen half soldier. All who take part in the
national defence must submit to the strict discipline of soldiers. A
vast amount of money has been laid out in equipping the National Guard.
Their pay alone amounts to above 20,000fr. per diem, and, as far as the
defence of Paris is concerned, they might as well have remained quietly
by their own firesides. There are, no doubt, brave men among them, but
as their battalions insist upon being regarded as citizens even when
under arms, they have no discipline, and are little better than an armed
mob. The following extract from an article in the last number of the
_Revue des Deux Mondes_ gives some interesting details respecting their
habits when on duty behind that most useless of all works of defence,
the line of the Paris fortifications:--"On the arrival of a battalion,
the chief of the post arranges the hours during which each man is to be
on active duty. After this, the men occupy themselves as they please.
Some play at interminable games of _bouchon_; others, notwithstanding
orders to the contrary, turn their attention to écarté and piquet;
others gossip over the news of the day with the artillerymen, who are
keeping guard by the side of their cannon. Some go away on leave, or
disappear without leave; they make excursions beyond the ramparts, or
shut themselves up in the billiard-room of some café. Many make during
the course of the day frequent visits to the innumerable canteens, which
succeed each other almost without interruption along the Rue des
Ramparts. Here old women have lit a few sticks under a pot, and sell,
for a penny the glass, a horrible brew called 'petit noir,' composed of
sugar, eau de vie, and the grains of coffee, boiled up together. Behind
there is a line of cook shops, the proprietors of which announce that
they have been commissioned to provide food. These speculators offer for
sale greasy soup, slices of horse, and every species of alcoholic drink.
Each company has, too, its cantinière, and round her cart there is
always a crowd. It seldom happens that more than one-half of the men of
the battalion are sober. Fortunately, the cold of the night air sobers
them. Between eight and nine in the evening there is a gathering in the
tent. A circle is formed in it round a single candle, and whilst the
flasks go round tale succeeds to song, and song to tale, until at length
all fall asleep, and are only interrupted in their slumbers until
morning by the corporal, who, once every hour, enters and calls out the
names of those who are to go on the watch. The abuse of strong drink
makes shameful ravages in our ranks, and is productive of serious
disorder. Few nights pass without false alarms, without shots foolishly
fired upon imaginary enemies, and without lamentable accidents. Every
night there are disputes, which often degenerate into fights, and then
in the morning, when explanations take place, these very explanations
are an excuse for recommencing drinking. Rules, indeed, are not wanting
to abate all this, but the misfortune is that they are never executed.
The indiscipline of the National Guard contrasts strangely with the
patriotism of their words. Most of the insubordination may be ascribed
to drunkenness, but the _mauvaise tenue_ which is so apparent in too
many battalions is due also to many other causes. The primary
organisation of the National Guard was ill-conceived and ill-executed,
and when the enrolments had been made, and the battalions formed, day
after day a fresh series of orders were promulgated, so diffuse, so
obscure, and so contradictory, that the officers, despairing to make
head or tail of them, gave up any attempt to enforce them."
The attempt at the last hour to form marching battalions out of these
citizen soldiers, by obliging each sedentary battalion to furnish 150
men, has not been a very successful one. The marching battalions, it is
true, have been formed, but they have not yet been engaged with the
enemy; and it certainly is the opinion of military men that it will be
advisable, for the credit of French arms, to "keep them in reserve"
during any future engagement which may take place. General Clément
Thomas has issued a series of general orders, from the tenor of which it
would appear that the system of substitutes has been largely practised
in these battalions. I have myself no doubt of the fact. The fault,
however, lies with the Government. When these battalions were formed,
the respective categories of unmarried and married men between 25 and
35, and between 35 and 45, were only to be drawn upon in case a
sufficient number of volunteers were not forthcoming. It became,
consequently, the interest of the men in these categories to encourage
volunteering, and this was done on a large and liberal scale. The
Government, if it wanted men, should have called to arms all between 25
and 35, and have allowed no exemptions. These new levies should have
been subjected to the same discipline as the Line and the Mobiles. It
must now accept the consequences of not having ventured to take this
step. For all operations beyond the enceinte General Trochu's force
consists of the Line and the Mobiles. All that he can expect from the
Parisians is a "moral support."
_December 9th._
Nothing new. If the Government has received any news from without, it
carefully conceals it. A peasant, the newspapers say, has made his way
through the Prussian lines, and has brought the information that the
armies of the Loire and of Bourbaki are close to Fontainebleau. The cry
is still that we will resist to the last, and for the moment every one
seems to have forgotten that in a few weeks our provisions will all have
been consumed. If we wait to treat until our last crust has been eaten,
the pinch will come after the capitulation; for with the railroads and
the high roads broken up, and the surrounding country devastated, a
fortnight at least must elapse before supplies, in any quantity, can be
thrown into the town.
I hear that the Prussian officers who were (says the _Journal Officiel_)
insulted in a café, have been exchanged. A friend of mine, an ex-French
diplomatist, was present when the scene occurred, and he tells me that
the officers, who were all young men, were, to say the least of it,
exceedingly indiscreet. Instead of eating their dinner quietly, they
indulged in a good deal of loud, and by no means wise conversation, and
their remarks were calculated to offend those Frenchmen who heard them.
_December 15th._
Still no news from the outer world. I trust that M. Jansen, who was
dispatched the other day in a balloon to witness the eclipse of the sun,
will be more fortunate in his endeavours to discover what is going on in
that luminary, than we are in ours to learn what is happening within
twenty miles of us. Search has been made to find the peasant who
announced that he had seen a French army at Corbeil, but this remarkable
agriculturist is not forthcoming. Persons at the outposts say that they
heard cannon in the direction of Fontainebleau, when they put their ears
to the ground, but none believe them. Four officers, who were taken
prisoners on the 12th of the month near Orleans, have been sent in, as
an exchange for the Prussian officers who were insulted at a restaurant,
but they are so stupid that it has been impossible to glean anything
from them except that their division was fighting when they were taken
prisoners. A dead, apathetic torpor has settled over the town. Even the
clubs are deserted. There are no groups of gossips in the streets. No
one clamours for a sortie, and no one either blames or praises Trochu.
The newspapers still every morning announce that victory is not far off.
But their influence is gone. The belief that the evil day cannot be far
off is gradually gaining ground, and those who are in a position to know
more accurately the precise state of affairs, take a still more hopeless
view of them than the masses. The programme of the Government seems to
be this--to make a sortie in a few days, then to fall back beneath the
forts; after this to hold out until the provisions are eaten up, and
then, after having made a final sortie, to capitulate. Trochu is
entirely in the hands of Ducrot, who, with the most enterprising of the
officers, insists that the military honour of the French arms demands
that there should be more fighting, even though success be not only
improbable but impossible. The other day, in a council of war, Trochu
began to speak of the armies of the provinces. "I do not care for your
armies of the provinces," replied Ducrot. Poor Trochu, like many weak
men, must rely upon some one. First it was the neutrals, then it was the
armies of the provinces, and now it is Ducrot. As for his famous plan,
that has entirely fallen through. It was based, I understand, upon some
impossible manoeuvres to the north of the Marne. The members of the
Government of National Defence meddle little with the direction of
affairs. M. Picard is openly in favour of treating at once. M. Jules
Favre is very downcast; he too wishes to treat, but he cannot bring
himself to consent to a cession of territory. Another member of the
Government was talking yesterday to a friend of mine. He seemed to fear
that when the people learn that the stock of provisions is drawing to a
close, there will be riots. The Government dares not tell them the
truth. Several members of the Government, I hear, intend to leave
shortly in balloons, and Trochu, as military Governor of Paris, will be
left to his own devices. He himself says that he never will sign a
capitulation, and it is suggested that when there is no more food, the
Prussians shall be allowed to enter without opposition, without any
terms having been previously agreed to. The Parisians are now contending
for their supremacy over the provinces, and they seem to think that if
they only hold out until famine obliges them to give in, that supremacy
will not hereafter be disputed.
It is impossible to give precise data respecting the store of provisions
now in Paris, nor even were I able would it be fair to do so. As a
matter of private opinion, however, I do not think that it will be
possible to prolong the resistance beyond the first week in January at
the latest. Last Sunday there were incipient bread-riots. By one o'clock
all the bakers had closed their shops in the outer faubourg. There had
been a run upon them, because a decree had been issued in the morning
forbidding flour to be sold, and requisitioning all the biscuits in
stock. Government immediately placarded a declaration that bread was not
going to be requisitioned, and the explanation of the morning's decree
is that flour and not corn has run short, but that new steam-mills are
being erected to meet the difficulty. _La Vérité_, a newspaper usually
well informed, says that for some days past the flour which had been
stored in the town by M. Clément Duvernois has been exhausted, and that
we are now living on the corn and meal which was introduced at the last
moment from the neighbouring departments. It gives the following
calculation of our resources--flour three weeks, corn three months, salt
meat fifteen days, horse two months. The mistake of all these
calculations seems to be that they do not take into account the fact
that more bread or more corn will be eaten when they become the sole
means of providing for the population. Thus the daily return of flour
sold in Paris is about one-third above the average. The reason is
simple, and yet it seems to occur to no one. French people, more
particularly the poorer classes, can exist upon much less than
Englishmen; but the prospect for any one blessed with a good appetite is
by no means reassuring. In the Rue Blanche there is a butcher who sells
dogs, cats, and rats. He has many customers, but it is amusing to see
them sneak into the shop after carefully looking round to make sure that
none of their acquaintances are near. A prejudice has arisen against
rats, because the doctors say that their flesh is full of trichinæ. I
own for my part I have a guilty feeling when I eat dog, the friend of
man. I had a slice of a spaniel the other day, it was by no means bad,
something like lamb, but I felt like a cannibal. Epicures in dog flesh
tell me that poodle is by far the best, and recommend me to avoid bull
dog, which is coarse and tasteless. I really think that dogs have some
means of communicating with each other, and have discovered that their
old friends want to devour them. The humblest of street curs growls when
anyone looks at him. _Figaro_ has a story that a man was followed for a
mile by a party of dogs barking fiercely at his heels. He could not
understand to what their attentions were due, until he remembered that
he had eaten a rat for his breakfast. The friend of another journalist,
who ate a dog called Fox, says that whenever anyone calls out "Fox" he
feels an irresistible impulse which forces him to jump up. As every
Christmas a number of books are published containing stories about dogs
as remarkable as they are stale, I recommend to their authors these two
veracious tales. Their veracity is guaranteed by Parisian journalists.
Can better evidence be required?
We are already discussing who will be sent to Germany. We suppose that
the army and the Mobiles, and perhaps the officers of the National
Guard will have to make the journey. One thing, I do hope that the
Prussians will convey across the Rhine all the Parisian journalists, and
keep them there until they are able to pass an elementary examination in
the literature, the politics, the geography, and the domestic economy of
Germany. A little foreign travel would do these blind leaders of the
blind a world of good, and on their return they would perhaps have
cleared their minds of their favourite delusion that civilization is
co-terminous with the frontiers of France.
How M. Picard provides for the financial requirements of his colleagues
is a mystery. The cost of the siege amounts in hard cash to about
£20,000,000. To meet the daily draw on the exchequer no public loan has
been negotiated, and nothing is raised by taxation. The monthly
instalments which have been paid on the September loan cannot altogether
amount to very much, consequently the greater portion of this large sum
can only have been obtained by a loan from the bank and by _bons de
trésor_ (exchequer bills). What the proportion between the bank loan and
the _bons de trésor_ in circulation is I am unable to ascertain. M.
Picard, like all finance ministers, groans daily over the cost of the
prolongation of the siege, and it certainly appears a very doubtful
question whether France will really benefit by Paris living at its
expense for another month.
Military matters remain _in statu quo_. The army is camped in the wood
of Vincennes. The forts occasionally fire. The Prussians seem to be of
opinion that our next sortie will be in the plain of Genevilliers, as
they are working hard on their fortifications along their lines between
St. Denis and St. Cloud, and they have replaced the levies of the
smaller States by what we call here "real" Prussians. Our engineer
officers consider that the Prussians have three lines of investment, the
first comparatively weak, the second composed of strategical lines, by
which a force of 40,000 men can be brought on any point within two
hours; the third consisting of redoubts, which would prevent artillery
getting by them. To invest a large town, say our officers, is not so
difficult a task as it would appear at first sight. Artillery can only
move along roads, and consequently all that is necessary is to occupy
the roads solidly. General Blanchard has been removed from his command,
and is to be employed in the Third Army under Vinoy. His dispute with
Ducrot arose from a remark which the latter made respecting officers who
did not remain with their men after a battle; and as Blanchard had been
in Paris the day before, he took this general stricture to himself.
Personalities of a very strong nature were exchanged between the two
warriors, and it was thought well that henceforward they should, as much
as possible, be kept apart. General Favé also, who commanded the redoubt
near Joinville, which arrested the advance of the Prussians on the
second battle of Villiers, has "had words." It appears that he declined
to obey an order which was forwarded to him, on the ground of its
absurdity, saying that he was responsible to his conscience.
Indiscipline has been the curse of the French army since the
commencement of the war, and it will continue to be so to the end.
During the siege there have been many individual traits of heroism, but
the armed force has been little better than a mob, and Trochu has not
had the moral courage to enforce his will on his generals. Ducrot says
that he is determined to take the war battalions of the National Guards
under fire at the next sortie, but whether he will succeed remains to be
seen. In these marching battalions there are undoubtedly many brave men,
but both officers and soldiers are inexperienced, and when they see men
falling before them, struck down by an invisible enemy, they lose all
presence of mind.
I do not think, as far as regards the Parisians, Count Bismarck is right
in his opinion that the French will for many years to come attempt to
reverse the verdict of the present war. The Parisian bourgeois is fond
of saving money. As long as war meant a military promenade of the army
across the Rhine, followed by a triumphal entry into Paris, he was by no
means averse to it, for he considered that a French victory reflected
itself on him, and made him a hero in the eyes of the world. Now,
however, that he has discovered that there is a reverse to this picture,
and that it may very possibly mean ruin to himself, he will be very
cautious before he again risks the hazard of the die. Should the
disasters of France result in the emancipation of the provinces from the
rule of Paris, they will be a positive benefit to the nation. If the
thirty-eight million Frenchmen outside Paris are such fools as to allow
themselves to be ruled by the two million amiable, ignorant, bragging
humbugs who are within it, France will most deservedly cease to be a
power of Europe. If this country is to recover from the ruin in which it
is overwhelmed it is absolutely essential that Paris should cease to be
its political capital, and that the Parisians should not have a greater
share in moulding its future policy than they are numerically entitled
to.