CHAPTER XVII.

_January 7th._

The attempt of the "Ultras" to force Trochu to resign has been a

failure. On Friday bands issuing from the outer Faubourgs marched

through the streets shouting "No capitulation!" A manifesto was posted

on the walls, signed by the delegates of the 20 arrondissements, calling

on the people to rise. At the weekly meeting of the Mayors M.

Delescluze, the Mayor of the 19th arrondissement, proposed that Trochu

and Le Flô should be called upon to resign, and that a supreme council

should be established in which the "civil element should not be

subordinated to the military element." M. Gustave Flourens published a

letter from his prison suggesting that the people should choose as their

leader a young energetic Democrat--that is to say himself. M. Felix

Pyat, on the other hand, explained that generals are tyrants, and that

the best thing would be to carry on the operations of the siege without

one. The "bombardment" is, however, still the absorbing question of the

day; and all these incipient attempts at revolution have failed. Trochu

issued a proclamation, in which he said, "The Governor of Paris will

never capitulate." M. Delescluze has resigned, and several arrests have

been made. The Government, however, owes its triumph, not so much to its

own inherent merits, as to the demerits of those who wished to supplant

it. Everyone complains of Trochu's strange inaction, and distrusts his

colleagues, who seem to be playing fast-and-loose with the Commune, and

to be anxious by a little gentle violence to be restored to private

life. The cry still is, "We will not capitulate!" and the nearer the

moment approaches that the provisions must fail, the louder is it

shouted. Notwithstanding the bitter experience which the Parisians have

had of the vanity of mere words to conjure disaster, they still seem to

suppose that if they only cry out loud enough that the Prussians cannot,

will not, shall not, enter Paris, their men of war will be convinced

that the task is beyond their powers, and go home in despair. We are

like a tribe of Africans beating tom-toms and howling in order to avert

a threatening storm. Yesterday a great council of war was held, at which

not only the generals of division and admirals, but even generals of

brigade, were present. Although it is a military dictum that "councils

of war never fight," I think that in a few days we shall have a sortie,

as that anonymous general "public opinion" insists upon it.

We are still without news from the provinces. The _Gazette Officiale_

to-day publishes an extract from a German paper which hardly seems to

bear out the assertion of the Government that the Army of the North is

advancing to our succour. As evidence that our affairs are looking up in

the provinces _La France_ contains the following: "A foreigner who knows

exactly the situation of our departments said yesterday, 'These damned

French, in spite of their asinine qualities, are getting the better of

the Prussians.'" We are forced to live to-day upon this crumb of comfort

which has fallen from the lips of a great unknown. Hope is the last

feeling which dies out in the human breast, and rightly or wrongly nine

persons out of ten believe that Chanzy will shortly force the Prussians

to raise the siege. The bombardment is supposed to mask their having

been obliged to send heavy reinforcements to Frederick Charles, who

regularly every morning is either killed, wounded, or taken prisoner.

It is almost needless to say that the newspapers are filled with

wondrous tales respecting the bombardment; with denunciations against

the Prussians for their sacrilege in venturing upon it; and with

congratulations to the population on their heroism in supporting it. The

number of persons who have been all but hit by shells is enormous. I

went to the left bank of the Seine in order to see myself the state of

affairs. At Point-du-Jour there is a hot corner sparsely inhabited. The

Prussians are evidently here firing at the viaduct which crosses the

river. From there I followed the ramparts as close as I could as far as

Montrouge. I heard of many shells which had fallen, but except at

Point-du-Jour I did not myself either see any fall, or hear any whiz

through the air. I then went to the Observatory, where according to the

_Soir_ the shells were falling very freely. A citizen who was sweeping

before the gate told me that he knew nothing about them. In the Rue

d'Enfer, just behind, there was a house which had been struck during the

night, and close by there was a cantinière, on her way to be buried, who

had been killed by one. At the garden of the Luxembourg and at the

artesian well near the Invalides I heard of shells, but could not find

out where they had struck. As far as I can make out, the Prussians aim

at the bastions, and occasionally, but rarely, at some public building.

Probably about 50 shells have been sent with malice prepense inside the

town. Just behind a bastion it is a little dangerous; but in Grenelle,

Vaugirard, and Montrouge, the risk to each individual is not so great as

it would be to go over a crowded crossing in London. In these quarters I

saw a few people moving away with their goods and chattels; but the

population generally seemed rather pleased than otherwise with what was

going on. Except close in by the ramparts, there was no excitement.

Almost the whole of the portion of the town on the left bank of the

Seine is now under fire; but even should it be seriously bombarded, I

doubt if the effect will be at all commensurate with the expense of

powder and projectiles. When shells fall over a very large area, the

odds against each separate person being hit by them are so large that no

one thinks that--happen what may to others--he will be wounded.

_January 11th._

The spy mania, which raged with such intensity at the commencement of

the siege, has again broken out. Every day persons are arrested because

they are supposed, by lighted candles and other mysterious devices, to

be in communication with the enemy. Sergeant Hoff, who used to kill his

couple of brace of Germans every day, and who disappeared after

Champigny, it is now said was a spy; and instead of mourning over his

wife, who had been slain by the Prussians, kept a mistress in splendour,

like a fine gentleman. Foreigners are looked upon suspiciously in the

streets. Very black looks are cast upon the Americans who have

established and kept up the best ambulance there is in Paris at their

own cost. Even the French ambulances are suspected, since some of their

members, during a suspension of arms, broke bread with the Prussians;

for it is held that any one who does not hate a German must be in the

pay of Bismarck. But this is not all: the newspapers hint that there are

spies at headquarters. General Schmitz has a valet who has a wife, and

this wife is a German. What more clear than that General Schmitz

confides what passes at councils of war to his valet--generals usually

do; that the valet confides it to his wife, who, in some mysterious

manner, confides it to Bismarck. Then General Trochu has an

aide-de-camp, a Prince Bibesco. He is a Wallachian, and a son of an

ex-Hospodar--I never yet heard of a Wallachian who was not more or less.

Can a doubt exist in the mind of any reasonable being that this young

gentleman, a harmless lad, who had passed the greater part of his

existence dancing cotillons at Paris, is in direct communication with

the Prussians outside? A day or two ago two National Guards were

exchanging their strategical views in a café, when they observed a

stranger write down something. He was immediately arrested, as he

evidently intended to transmit the opinions of these two military sages

to General Moltke. I was myself down at Montrouge yesterday, when I was

requested by two National Guards to accompany them to the nearest

commissary. I asked why, and was told that a woman had heard me speak

German. I replied that I was English. "Zat ve saal soon zee," said one

of my captors. "I spek Anglish like an Anglishman, address to me the

vord in Anglish." I replied that the gentleman spoke English with so

perfect an accent that I thought he must be a fellow-countryman. The

worthy fellow was disarmed by the compliment, and told a crowd which had

collected round us to do prompt justice on the spy, that I not only was

an Englishman, but _un Cockné_; that is to say, he explained, an

inhabitant of London. He shook me by the hand; his friend shook me by

the hand; and several ladies and gentlemen also shook me by the hand;

and then we parted. Yesterday evening on the Boulevards there were

groups discussing "the traitors." Some said that General Schmitz had

been arrested; others that he ought to be arrested. A patriot observed

to me that all foreigners in Paris ought, as a precautionary measure, to

be extirpated. "Parbleu," I replied, and you may depend upon it I rolled

my eyes and shrugged my shoulders in true Gallic fashion. This morning

General Trochu has published a proclamation, denouncing all attacks upon

his staff, and making himself responsible for its members. It is an

honest, manly protest, and by far the best document which this prolific

writer has issued for some time. Another complaint is made against the

generals who damp the popular enthusiasm by throwing doubts upon

ultimate victory. In fact, we have got to such a condition that a

military man dares not venture to express his real opinion upon military

matters for fear of being denounced. We are, indeed, still in a most

unsurrendering mood. I was talking to-day to a banker--a friend who

would do anything for me except cash my bill. In business he is a

clear-headed, sensible man. I asked him what would occur if our

provisions gave out before the armies of the provinces arrived to our

succour. He replied that the Government would announce the fact, and

call upon all able-bodied men to make a dash at the Prussian lines; that

300,000 at least would respond to that call, and would either be killed

or force their way out. This will give you an idea of the present tone

of the population. Nine men out of ten believe that we have enough

provisions to last at least until the end of February. The only official

utterance respecting the provisions is contained in a paragraph in the

_Journal Officiel_ to-day, in which we are informed that there are

15,000 oxen and 40,000 sheep in Bordeaux waiting for marching orders to

Paris. This is much like telling a starving man in the Strand that figs

are plentiful in Palestine, and only waiting to be picked.

The bombardment has diminished in intensity. The Government has put the

Prussian prisoners in the ambulances on the left bank of the Seine. It

appears to me that it would have been wiser to have moved the ambulances

to the right bank. By day few shells fall into the town beyond the

immediate vicinity of the ramparts. At night they are more plentiful,

and seem to be aimed promiscuously. I suppose about ten people are hit

every twenty-four hours. Now as above fifty people die every day in

Paris of bronchitis, there is far more danger from the latter than from

the batteries of the disciples of Geist outside. It is not worse to die

by a bomb than of a cold. Indeed I am by no means sure that of two evils

the latter is not the least; yet a person being suddenly struck down in

the streets of a capital by a piece of iron from a cannon will always

produce a more startling effect upon the mind than a rise in the bills

of mortality from natural causes. Those who are out of the reach of the

Prussian guns are becoming accustomed to the bombardment. "You naughty

child," I heard a woman who was walking before me say to her daughter,

"if you do not behave better I will not take you to see the

bombardment." "It is better than a vaudeville," said a girl near me on

the Trocadero, and she clapped her hands. A man at Point-du-Jour showed

me two great holes which had been made in his garden the night before by

two bombs close by his front door. He, his wife, and his children seemed

to be rather proud of them. I asked him why he did not move into the

interior of the town, and he said that he could not afford it. In a

German paper which recently found its way in, it was stated that the

bombardment of Paris would commence when the psychological moment had

arrived. We are intensely indignant at this term; we consider it so

cold-blooded. It is like a doctor standing by a man on the rack, and

feeling his pulse to see how many more turns of the screw he can bear.

All the forts outside are still holding their own against the Prussian

batteries. Issy has had as yet the greatest amount of attention paid to

it by the besiegers. There is a battery at Meudon which seems never to

tire of throwing shells into it. It is said, however, that the enemy is

endeavouring to establish breaching guns at a closer range, in order to

make his balls strike the ground and then bound into the fort--a mode of

firing which was very successful at Strasburg.

The sensation news of to-day is that Faidherbe has driven Manteuffel

across the Belgian frontier, and that Frederick Charles, who always

seems to come to life after being killed, has been recalled from Orleans

to Paris. The funds rose to-day one per cent. upon these rumours. Our

chief confidence, however, just now is in Bourbaki; we think that he has

joined Garibaldi, and that these two will force the Prussians to raise

the siege by throwing themselves on their communications. I only hope

they may.

Mr. Washburne has not been allowed to send out his weekly bag. I

presume, however, that this embargo will not be kept up. The Government

has not yet announced its intention with respect to M. Jules Favre

proceeding to London to represent France in the conferences on the

Eastern Question. Most of the newspapers seem to be of opinion that

until the Republic has been officially recognised, it is not consistent

with her dignity to take part in any European Conference. The

diplomatists, who have been a little thrown in the background of late,

by wars and generals, must be delighted to find their old friend, the

"Eastern Question," cropping up. The settlement of the Schleswig-Holstein

question was a heavy blow to them; but for many a year they will have an

opportunity to prose and protocol over Turkey. An Austrian wit--indeed

the only wit that Austria ever produced--used to say that Englishmen

could only talk about the weather, and that if by some dispensation of

Providence there ever should be no such thing as weather, the whole

English nation would become dumb. What the weather is to Englishmen the

Eastern Question is to diplomatists. For their sakes, let us hope that

it never will be satisfactorily settled. Diplomatists, like many other

apparently useless beings, must live.

_January 15th._

Yesterday we were made comparatively happy by a report that the Prussian

funds had fallen 3 per cent. at Berlin. To-day we are told that Bourbaki

has gained a great victory, raised the siege of Belfort, and is about

to enter Germany. German newspapers up to the 7th have been seized at

the advanced posts, but whatever in them tells against us we put down to

a general conspiracy on the part of Europe to deceive us. It is somewhat

curious to watch the transmutations of the names of English statesmen

after they have passed through a German and a French translation. Thus

the latest news from London is that Mr. Hackington is made Irish

Secretary, and that Mr. Floresko is Minister of Commerce.

The diplomatists and consuls still at Paris have sent a collective note

to Count Bismarck, complaining that the notice of the bombardment was

not given, and asking him to afford them the means to place the persons

and the property of their respective countrymen out of danger. The

minnows sign with the whales. Mr. Washburne's name is inserted between

that of the representative of Monaco and that of the Chargé d'Affaires

of Honduras.

The bombardment still continues. The cannon now make one continuous

noise. Each particular discharge cannot be distinguished. The shells

fall on the left bank to a distance of about a mile from the ramparts. A

return of the _Official Journal_ gives 138 wounded and 51 killed up to

the 13th. Among the killed are 18 children and 12 women; among the

wounded, 21 children and 45 women. Waggons and hand-carts packed with

household goods are streaming in from the left to the right bank. In the

bombarded quarters many shops are closed. Some householders have made a

sort of casemate reaching to the first story of their houses; others

sleep in their cellars. The streets are, however, full of people, even

in the most exposed districts; and all the heights from which a view is

to be had of the Prussian batteries are crowded with sightseers. Every

now and then one comes across some house through which a shell has

passed. The public buildings have, as yet, suffered very slightly. The

dome of the Panthéon, which we presume is used as a mark for the aim of

the Prussian artillerymen, has been hit once. The shell has made a round

hole in the roof, and it burst inside the church. In the Jardin des

Plantes all the glass of the conservatories has been shattered by the

concussion of the air, and the orchids and other tropical plants are

dying. Although war and its horrors are thus brought home to our very

doors, it is even still difficult to realise that great events are

passing around us which history will celebrate in its most solemn and

dignified style. Distance in battles lends grandeur to the view. Had the

charge of Balaclava taken place on Clapham Common, or had our gallant

swordsmen replaced the donkeys on Hampstead Heath, even Tennyson would

have been unable to poetise their exploits. When one sees stuck up in an

omnibus-office that omnibuses "will have to make a circuit from _cause

de bombardement_;" when shells burst in restaurants and maim the

waiters; when the trenches are in tea-gardens; and when one is invited

for a sou to look through a telescope at the enemy firing off their

guns, there is a homely domestic air about the whole thing which is

quite inconsistent with "the pomp and pride of glorious war."

On Friday night there was an abortive sortie at Clamart. Some of the

newspapers say that the troops engaged in it were kept too long waiting,

and that they warmed their feet by stamping, and made so much noise that

the Prussians caught wind of the gathering. Be this as it may, as soon

as they got into Clamart they were received with volleys of musketry,

and withdrew. I am told that the marching battalions of the National

Guard, now in the trenches, are doing their work better than was

expected. The generals in command are satisfied with them, but whether

they will be of any great use for offensive operations, is a question

yet to be solved. The clubs still keep up their outcry for "La Commune,"

which they imagine will prove a panacea for every evil. In the club of

the Rue Arras last night, a speaker went a step still further, and

demanded "the establishment of anarchy as the ruling power." Trochu is

still either attacked, or feebly defended, in the newspapers. The French

are so accustomed to the State doing everything for them, that their

ruler is made responsible for everything which goes wrong. The demand

for a sortie _en masse_ is not so strong. Every one is anxious not to

surrender, and no one precisely knows how a surrender is to be avoided.

Successes on paper have so long done duty for successes in the field,

that no one, even yet, can believe that this paper currency has been so

depreciated that bankruptcy must ensue. Is it possible, each man asks,

that 500,000 armed Frenchmen will have to surrender to half the number

of Germans? And as they reply that it is impossible, they come to the

conclusion that treason must be at work, and look round for the traitor.

Trochu, who is as honest and upright as a man as he is incompetent as a

general, will probably share the fate of the "Man of Sedan" and the "Man

of Metz," as they are called. "He is a Laocoon," says M. Felix Pyat in

his newspaper, with some confusion of metaphor, "who will strangle the

Republic."

We hear now that Government is undertaking an inquiry to discover

precisely how long our stock of provisions will last. Matters are

managed so carelessly, that I doubt whether the Minister of Commerce

himself knows to within ten days the precise date when we shall be

starved out. The rations of meat now amount to 1-27th of a pound per

diem for each adult. At the fashionable restaurants the supply is

unlimited, and the price as unlimited. Two cutlets of donkey cost 18

francs, and everything else in the way of animal food is in proportion.

The real vital question, however, is how long the bread will last. In

some arrondissements the supply fails after 8 o'clock in the morning;

at others, each resident receives 1 lb. upon production of a _carte de

subsistance_. The distribution has been thrown into disorder by the

people from the bombarded quarters flocking into the central ones, and

wanting to be fed. The bread itself is poor stuff. Only one kind is

allowed to be manufactured; it is dark in colour, heavy, pasty, and

gritty. There is as little corn in it as there is malt in London beer

when barley is dear. The misery among the poorer classes is every day on

the increase. Most of the men manage to get on with their 1fr. 50c. a

day. In the morning they go to exercise, and afterwards loll about until

night in cafés and pothouses, making up with liquids for the absence of

solids. As for doing regular work, they scoff at the idea. Master

tailors and others tell me that it is almost impossible to get hands to

do the few orders which are now given. They are warmly clad in uniforms

by the State, and except those belonging to the marching battalions

really doing duty outside, I do not pity them. With the women and

children the case is different. The latter, owing to bad nourishment and

exposure, are dying off like rotten sheep; the former have but just

enough food to keep body and soul together, and to obtain even this they

have to stand for hours before the doors of the butchers and bakers,

waiting for their turn to be served. And yet they make no complaints,

but patiently suffer, buoyed up, poor people, by the conviction that by

so doing they will prevent the Prussians from entering the town. If one

of them ventures to hint at a capitulation, she is set on by her

neighbours. Self-assertion, however, carries the day. Jules and Jaques

will hereafter quaff many a petit verre to their own heroism; and many a

story will they inflict upon their long-suffering friends redounding to

their own special glory. Their wives will be told that they ought to be

proud to have such men for husbands. But Jules and Jacques are in

reality but arrant humbugs. Whilst they boozed, their wives starved;

whilst they were warmly clad, their wives were in rags; whilst they were

drinking confusion to their enemies in some snug room, their wives were

freezing at the baker's door for their ration of bread. In Paris the

women--I speak of those of the poorer classes--are of more sterling

stuff than the men. They suffer far more, and they repine much less. I

admire the crowd of silent, patient women, huddling together for warmth

every morning, as they wait until their pittance is doled out to them,

far more than the martial heroes who foot it behind a drum and a trumpet

to crown a statue, to visit a tomb, and to take their turn on the

ramparts; or the heroes of the pen, who day after day, from some cosy

office, issue a manifesto announcing that victory is certain, because

they have made a pact with death.

_January 16th._

If I am to believe the Paris papers, the Fort of Issy is gradually

extinguishing the guns of the Prussian batteries which bear on it. If I

am to believe my eyes, the Fort of Issy is not replying at all to these

said guns; and if I am to believe competent military authorities, in

about eighteen days from now at the latest the Fort of Issy will cease

to be a fort. The batteries at Meudon appeared to-day to be of opinion

that its guns were effectually silenced; shells fell thick and fast on

the bastions at Point-du-Jour; and so well aimed were they, that between

the bastions a looker-on was in comparative safety. The noise, however,

of the duel between the bastions and the batteries was so deafening,

that it was literally impossible for two persons to hear each other

speak at a few feet distance; the shells, too, which were passing to the

right and left, seemed to give the whole air a tremulous motion. At the

bastions the artillerymen were working their guns, but the National

Guards on duty were under cover. The houses, on both sides of the

Seine, within the city, for about half a mile from the viaduct are

deserted; not above a dozen of them, I should imagine, are still

inhabited. Outside, in the villages of Vanvres and Issy, several fires

have broken out, but they have been promptly extinguished, and there has

been no general conflagration. The most dangerous spot in this direction

is a road which runs behind the Forts of Vanvres and Montrouge; as

troops are frequently marching along it the Prussians direct their guns

from Clamart and Chatillon on it. In the trenches the danger is not

great, and there are but few casualties; the shells pass over them. If

anyone, however, exposes himself, a ball about the size of an egg, from

a _canon de rampart_, whizzes by him, as a gentle reminder to keep under

cover. The area of the bombardment is slightly extending, and will, I

presume, very soon reach the right bank. More people are killed in the

daytime than at night, because they will stand in groups,

notwithstanding every warning, and stare at any house which has been

damaged.

The bill of mortality for the week ending January 13th, gives an

increase on the previous week of 302; the number of deaths registered is

3982. This is at the rate of above twenty per cent. per annum, and it

must be remembered that in this return those who die in the public

hospitals, or of the direct effect of the war, are not included.

Small-pox is about stationary, bronchitis and pneumonia largely on the

increase.

Bourbaki, we are told to-day, is at Freiburg, in the Grand Duchy of

Baden. The latest German papers announce that Mézières has fallen, and

it seems to occur to no one that Gambetta's last pigeon despatch

informed us that the siege of this place had been raised. _La Liberté_

thus sums up the situation:--"Nancy menaced; Belfort freed; Baden

invaded; Hamburg about to be bombarded. This is the reply of France to

the bombardment of Paris. The hour has arrived; the Prussians brought

to bay, hope to find refuge in Paris. This is their last hope; their

last resource."

In order to encourage us to put up with our short commons, we are now

perpetually being told that the Government has in reserve vast stores of

potted meats, cheese, butter, and other luxuries, of which we have

almost forgotten the very taste; and that when things come to the worst

we shall turn the corner, and enter into a period of universal

abundance. These stores seem to me much like the mirage which lures on

the traveller of the desert, and which perpetually recedes as he

advances. But the great difficulty of the moment is to procure fuel. I

am ready, as some one said, to eat the soles of my boots for the sake of

my country; but then they must be cooked. All the mills are on the

Marne, and cannot be approached. Steam mills have been put up, but they

work slowly; and whatever may be the amount of corn yet in store, it is

almost impossible to grind enough of it to meet the daily requirements.

A good deal of discussion is going on as to the time which it will take

to revictual Paris; it is thought that it can be done in seven days, but

I do not myself see how it is to be done in anything like this time. One

of the principal English bankers here has, I understand, sent an agent

by balloon to buy boats of small draught in England, in order to bring

provisions up the Seine. As a speculation, I should imagine that the

best plan would be to amass them on the Belgian or Luxemburg frontier.

About two-thirds of the population will be without means to buy food,

even if the food were at their doors. Trade and industry will not revive

for some time; they will consequently be entirely dependent upon the

State for their means of subsistence. Even if work is offered to them,

many of them not be able at once to reassume their habits of daily

industry; the Bohemian life which they have led for the last four

months, and which they are still leading, is against it. A siege is so

abnormal a condition of things, that the State has been obliged to pay

them for doing practically nothing, as otherwise they would have fallen

into the hands of the anarchists; but this pottering about from day to

day with a gun, doing nothing except play at billiards and drink, has

been very demoralising, and it will be long before its effect ceases to

be felt.

The newspapers are somewhat irreverent over the diplomatic protest

against the bombardment. They say that while Paris is deserted by the

Great European Powers, it is a source of pleasure to think that the

Principality of Monaco and the Republics of San Marino and Honduras

still stand by her. They suggest that M. Jules Favre should go to

Andorre to endeavour to induce that republic also to reason with the

Prussians upon the bombardment. I am told that the "proud young porter,"

who now the sheep is dead, represents alone the Majesty of England at

the British Embassy is indignant at not having been invited to add his

signature to the protest. He considers--and justly I think--that he is a

far more important personage than the Plenipotentiary of his Highness of

Monaco; a despot who exercises sway over about 20 acres of orange trees,

60 houses, and two roulette tables. The diplomatists are not, however,

alone in their protest. Everybody has protested, and is still

protesting. If it is a necessity of war to throw shells into a densely

populated town like this; it is--to say the least--a barbarous

necessity; but it seems to me that it is but waste of time and paper to

register protests against it; and if it be thought desirable to do so,

it would be far more reasonable to protest against human beings--women

and children--being exposed to its effects, than to indite plaintive

elegies about the possibility of the Venus de Milo being damaged, or the

orchids in the hot-houses being killed. I know that, for my part, I

would rather that every statue and every plant in the world were smashed

to atoms by shells, than that I were. This, in an æsthetical point of

view, is selfish; but it is none the less true. _Chacun pour soi._ The

Panthéon was struck yesterday. What desecration! everyone cries; and I

am very sorry for the Panthéon, but very glad that it was the Panthéon,

and not me. The world at large very likely would lose more by the

destruction of the Panthéon than of any particular individual; but each

particular individual prefers his own humble self to all the edifices

that architects have raised on the face of the globe.

I have been endeavouring to discover, whether in the councils of our

rulers, the question as to what is to be done in the possible

contingency of a capitulation becoming necessary, has been raised. As

far as I can hear, the contingency is not yet officially recognised as

within the realms of possibility, and it has never been alluded to.

General Trochu has officially announced "that the Governor of Paris will

never capitulate." His colleagues have periodically said much the same

thing. The most practical of them, M. Ernest Picard, has, I believe,

once or twice endeavoured to lead up to the subject, but he has failed

in the attempt. Newspaper articles and Government proclamations tell the

population every day that they only have to persevere in order

ultimately to triumph. If the end must come, it is difficult to see how

it will come. I have asked many intelligent persons what they think will

happen, but no one seems to have a very distinct notion respecting it.

Some think the Government will issue some day a notice to say that there

are only provisions for a week longer; and that at the end of this time

the gates of the city will be opened, and the Prussians told that, if

they insist upon entering, there will be nothing to prevent them. Others

think that the Government will resign their power into the hands of the

mayors, as the direct representatives of Paris. Trochu rides about a

good deal outside, and says to the soldiers, "Courage, my children, the

moment is coming." But to what moment he alludes no one is aware. No

word is more abused in the French language than "sublime." To call a

folly a sublime folly is considered a justification of any species of

absurdity. We call this refusal to anticipate a contingency which

certainly is possible, if not probable, sublime. We are proud of it, and

sleep on in our fool's paradise as though it were to last for ever.

CHAPTER XVII.

_January 17th._

The papers publish reports of the meetings of the clubs. The following

is from the _Débats_ of to-day:--

"At the extremity of the Rue Faubourg St. Antoine is a dark passage, and

in a room which opens into this passage is the Club de la Revendication.

The audience is small, and consists mainly of women, who come there to

keep warm. The club is peaceable--hardly revolutionary--for Rome is Rome

no more, and the Faubourg St. Antoine, formerly so turbulent, has

resigned in favour of Belleville and La Villette. Yesterday evening the

Club de la Revendication was occupied, as usual, in discussing the

misery of the situation, and the necessity of electing a Commune. An

orator, whose patriotic enthusiasm attained almost to frenzy, declared

that as for himself he scorned hams and sausages in plenty, and that he

preferred to live on the air of liberty. (The women sigh.) Another

speaker is of opinion that if there were a Commune there would also be

hams and sausages in plenty. We still pay, he says, the budget of the

clergy, as though Bonaparte were still on the throne, instead of having

rationed the large appetites and forced every one to live on 1fr. 50c. a

day. In order to make his meaning clear the orator uses the following

comparison. Suppose, he says, that I am a peasant, and that I have

fattened a chicken. (Excitement.) Were I obliged to give the wings to

the clergy, the legs to the military, and the carcass to civil

functionaries, there would be nothing of my chicken left for me. Well,

this is our case. We fatten chickens; others eat them. It would be far

wiser for us to keep them for ourselves. (Yes, yes.) A Pole, the Citizen

Strassnowski, undertakes to defend the Government. He obtains a hearing,

but not without difficulty. You complain that the Government, he says,

has not cast more cannon. Where were the artillerymen? (Ourselves.) But

three months ago you were citizens, you were not soldiers. In making you

march and counter-march in the streets and on the ramparts you have been

converted into soldiers. The Government was right therefore to wait.

(Murmurs.) The orator is not angry with the German nation; he is angry

only with the potentates who force the people to kill each other; and he

hopes that the day will come when the European nations will shake hands

over the Pyrenées, the Alps, the Balkan, and the mountains of Carpathia.

(Feeble applause and murmurs.) A citizen begs the audience to have

patience with the Citizen Strassnowski, who is a worthy man and a

volunteer; but the citizen then reproaches the worthy man for having

attempted to defend a Government whose incapacity is a matter of

notoriety. Come now, Citizen Strassnowski, he says, what has the

Government done to merit your praise? It has armed us and exercised us;

but why? To deliver us over with our guns and our cannons to the

Prussians after we have all caught cold on the ramparts. Has it tried to

utilise us? No, it has passively looked on whilst the Prussians

surrounded Paris with a triple circle of citadels. We are told every day

that the armies of the provinces will deliver us. We do not see them. We

are not even secure in Paris. Every kind of story is afloat. Yesterday

it was reported that General Schmitz had betrayed us; to-day it is an

actress who has arrested a spy whose cook was on intimate terms with a

cook of the member of the Government. Why these reports? Because the

Government has no moral support, and no one feels confidence in it. In

the meantime the food gets less and less, and this morning at eight

o'clock all the bakers in this arrondissement had closed their shops.

(True, true; we waited five hours at the closed doors.) When we get the

bread, it is more like plaster than bread. In the third arrondissement,

on the other hand, it is good and plentiful. So much for the organising

spirit of the Government. We have to wait hours for bread, hours for

wood, and hours for meat; and frequently we do not get either bread,

meat, or wood. Things cannot last long like this, my worthy

Strassnowski. The speaker concludes by urging the people to take the

direction of their affairs into their own hands. (Cries of "Vive la

Commune.") The President urges his hearers to subscribe towards a

society, the object of which is civic instruction. The club breaks up,

the President is applauded."

Here is another description of a club meeting from the same journal:--

"The laurels of Belleville prevented La Villette from sleeping. La

Villette, therefore, determined to have, like her rival, a central

democratic and social club, and yesterday she inaugurated in the Salle

Marseillaise an opposition to the "Club Favié." In some respects the

Marseillaise club is even more democratic than her parent. The Salle is

a sort of barn, and the _sans culottes_ themselves, notwithstanding

their horror of all luxury, hardly found its comforts sufficient for

them. The Club Favié, with its paintings on the walls and its lustres,

has a most aristocratic air in comparison with this new hall of

democracy. To judge by its first séance, the Club Marseillaise promises

well. Last night enough treasons were unveiled to make the fortune of

most other clubs for a week at least. From the commencement of the war

we have been in the meshes of a vast network of treason; and these

meshes can only be broken through by the Commune and the Republic. The

conspiracy was hatched long ago between the Emperors and the Kings, and

the other enemies of the people. The war had been arranged amongst them,

and it is an error to suppose that we were beaten at Rhichshofen or

Sedan. "No," cried an orator, with conviction, "we have never been

defeated; but we have been betrayed." ("True." Applause. "We are still

betrayed.") The men of the Hôtel de Ville imitate Bonaparte, and, like

him, they have an understanding with the Prussians, to enslave the

people, after having betrayed the country. To whom then must we turn to

save the country? To the Legitimists? To the Orleanists?" (No, no.) The

orator does not hesitate to avow that he would turn to them if they

could save France. (Impossible.) Yes, it is impossible for them. The

orator admits it; and all the more because Legitimists and Orleanists

are enrolled in the conspiracy against the nation. The people can be the

only saviours of the people, by the establishment of the commune; and

this is why the men of the Hôtel de Ville and the Reactionists are

opposed to its establishment. A second speaker abandons the question of

the Commune and of the conspiracy, in order to call attention to the

resignation of Citizen Delescluze, late mayor of the nineteenth

arrondissement. While this orator thinks that it would be unjust to

accuse the patriot Delescluze of treason, he ought not the less to be

blamed for having abandoned a post to which he had been called by his

fellow citizens. The people elected him, and he had no right to put his

resignation in the hands of the men of the Hôtel de Ville in the

critical circumstances in which we find ourselves--at a moment when the

tide of misery is mounting--when the mayors have a great mission to

fulfil. What has been the consequence of this act of weakness? The men

of the Hôtel de Ville have named a commission to administer the

nineteenth arrondissement exactly as was done under Bonaparte. This is

what we citizens of Belleville have gained by the desertion of

Delescluze. (Applause.) A citizen pushes his way to the tribune to

justify the mayor. He admits that at first sight it is difficult to

approve of a magistrate who has been elected by the people resigning his

office at the very moment when the people have the greatest need of him,

but--and again we get into the dark mystery of the conspiracy--if he

gave in his resignation, it was because he would not be an accomplice of

treason. In a meeting presided over by Jules Favre, what do you suppose

the mayors were asked to do? (Here the orator pauses a moment to take

breath. The curiosity of the audience is intense.) They were asked to

take part in the capitulation. (Violent murmurs--Infamous.) Well

yes--Delescluze would have nothing to do with this infamy, and he

withdrew. Besides, there was another reason. In the division of the

succour afforded to necessitous citizens the nineteenth arrondissement

was only supposed to have 4000 indigent persons, whilst in reality the

number is 50,000, and by this means it was hoped that the popularity of

this pure Republican would suffer, and perhaps riots break out which

would be put down--(the divulgation of this plot against the mayor of

the nineteenth arrondissement is received in different ways. A person

near us observes--"All the same, he ought not to have resigned.") This

incident over, the discussion goes back to the treasons of the Hôtel de

Ville. It is well known, says a speaker, that a sortie had been

determined on in a Council composed of four generals, presided over by

Trochu, and that the next morning the Prussians were informed of it. Who

told them, who betrayed us. Was it Schmitz, or another general. (A

voice: "It was the man who eats pheasants." Indignation.) In any case,

Trochu is responsible, even if he was not the traitor himself. ("Yes,

yes; it was Trochu!") Another citizen, not personally known to the

audience, but who announces that he lives in the Rue Chasson, says that

he has received by accident a confidential communication which, perhaps,

may throw some light on the affair. This citizen has some friends who

are the friends of Ledru Rollin and of the citizen Tibaldi; and one of

these friends heard a friend say that either Ledru Rollin or Tibaldi had

heard Trochu say that it was impossible to save Paris; but that he would

have 30,000 men killed, and then capitulate. (Murmurs of indignation.)

The citizen of the Rue Chasson has received a second confidential

communication, which corroborates the first. He has been told by one of

his neighbours that everything is ready for a capitulation, and he

thinks that he will soon be enabled to communicate something still more

important on this subject; but in the meanwhile he entreats the

energetic citizens of Belleville--(indignation "This is not

Belleville")--pardon, of La Villette and of the other Republican

faubourgs, to keep their eyes on the Government. They must have no

confidence in the _quartiers_ inside the town. The Rue Chasson, in which

he lives, is utterly demoralised. La Villette, with Belleville and

Montmartre, must save Paris. (Applause.) Another citizen says that he

has of late frequently heard the odious word capitulation. How can it be

otherwise? Everything is being done to make it necessary. We, the

National Guard, who receive 1fr. 50c. a-day, are called the indigent.

What do the robbers and the beggars who thus insult us do? They indulge

in orgies in the fashionable restaurants. The Zoological Gardens have

been shut. Why? Because the elephants, the tigers, and other rare

animals have been sold in order to enable wretches who laugh at the

public misery to gorge themselves. What can we, the indigent, as they

call us, do with 30 sous, when a few potatoes cost 30fr., and a piece of

celery 2fr. And they talk now of capitulating, because they have grown

rich on the war. Every one knows that it was made in order that

speculators should make fortunes. As long as they had goods to sell at

ten times their value they were for resistance to the death. Now that

they have nothing more to sell, they talk of capitulating. Ah! when one

thinks of these scandals one is almost inclined to blow one's brains

out. (Laughter and applause.) A fourth citizen takes up the same theme

with the same energy and conviction. He knows, he says, a restaurant

which is frequented by bank clerks, and where last week there were eaten

two cows and a calf, whilst the ambulance opposite was without fresh

meat. (Violent murmurs.) This is a part of the system, of Trochu and his

colleagues. They starve us and they betray us. Trochu, it is true, has

said that he would not capitulate, but we know what that means. When we

are worn out and demoralised he will demand a fresh plebiscite on the

question of a capitulation, and then he will say that the people, and

not he, capitulated. ("True, he is a Jesuit.") We must make an end of

these speculators and traitors. ("Yes, yes, it is time,") We must have

the Commune. We have not more than eighteen days of provisions, and we

want fifteen of them, to revictual. If the Commune is not proclaimed in

three days we are lost ("True. La Commune! La Commune!") The orator

explains how the Commune will save Paris. It will establish domiciliary

visits not only among the shopkeepers, but among private persons who

have stores of provisions. Besides, he adds, when all the dogs are eaten

we will eat the traitors. (Laughter and applause.) The Commune will

organise at the same time a sortie _en masse_, the success of which is

infallible. From statistics furnished by Gambetta it results that at

this moment there are not above 75,000 Prussians round Paris. And shall

our army of 500,000 men remain stationary before this handful of

Germans? Absurd. The Commune will burst through this pretended circle of

iron. It will put an end to treason. It will place two commissaries by

the side of each general. (The evening before, at the club in the Rue

Blanche, one commissary with a revolver had been proposed. At the

Marseillaise two were thought requisite. This evening, probably at the

Club Favié, in order to beat La Villette, three will be the number. The

position of a general of the Commune will not be an easy one.) These

commissaries, continues the orator, will watch all the movements of the

general. At the first sign he gives of yielding, they will blow his

brains out. Inexorably placed between victory and death, he will choose

the former. (General approbation.) The hour is getting late, but before

concluding the sitting, the President announces that the moment is

approaching when Republicans must stand shoulder to shoulder. Patriots

are invited to give in their names and addresses, in order to be found

when they are wanted. This proposal is adopted by acclamation. A certain

number of citizens register their names, and then the meeting breaks up

with a shout of "Vive la Commune de Paris!"

_January 19th._

All yesterday artillery was rolling and troops were marching through

Paris on their way to the Porte de Neuilly. The soldiers of the line

were worn and ragged; the marching battalions of the National Guards,

spick and span in their new uniforms. All seemed in good spirits, the

soldiers, after the wont of their countrymen, were making jokes with

each other, and with everyone else--the National Guards were singing

songs. In some instances they were accompanied by their wives and

sweethearts, who carried their muskets or clung to their arms. Most of

them looked strong, well-built men, and I have no doubt that in three or

four months, under a good general, they would make excellent soldiers.

In the Champs Elysées, there were large crowds to see them pass.

"Pauvres garçons," I heard many girls say, "who knows how many will

return!" And it was indeed a sad sight, these honest bourgeois, who

ought to be in their shops or at their counters, ill-drilled, unused to

war, marching forth with stout hearts, but with little hope of success,

to do battle for their native city, against the iron legions which are

beleaguering it. They went along the Avenue de la Grande Armée, crossed

the bridge of Neuilly over the Seine, and bivouacked for the night in

what is called the "Peninsula of Genevilliers." This peninsula is formed

by a loop in the Seine. Maps of the environs of Paris must be plentiful

in London, and a glance at one will make the topography of to-day's

proceedings far clearer than any description. The opening of the loop is

hilly, and the hills run along the St. Cloud side of the loop as far as

Mont Valérien, and on the other side as far as Rueil. About half a mile

from Mont Valérien following the river is St. Cloud; and between St.

Cloud and the Park of the same name is Montretout, a redoubt which was

commenced by the French, but which, since the siege began, has been held

by the Prussians. The enemy's line extends across the loop from

Montretout through Garches to La Malmaison. The latter lies just below

Rueil, which is a species of neutral village. The troops passed the

night in the upper part of the loop. In numbers they were about 90,000,

as far as I can ascertain, and they had with them a formidable field

artillery. The object of the sortie was a vague idea to push forward, if

possible, to Versailles. Most of the generals were opposed to it, and

thought that it would be wiser to make frequent sudden attacks on the

enemy's lines; but General Public Opinion insisted upon a grand

operation; and this anonymous but all powerful General, as usual,

carried the day. The plan appears to have been this: one half the army

was under General Vinoy, the other half under General Ducrot. The former

was to attack Montretout and Garches, the latter was to push forward

through Rueil and La Malmaison, carry the heights of La Jonchère, and

then unite with Vinoy at Garches. General Trochu, from an observatory in

Mont Valérien, commanded the whole movement. At 7 o'clock troops were

pushed forward against Montretout. This redoubt was held by about 200

Poles from Posen; and they made so determined a resistance that the

place was not taken until 9.30. No guns were found in the redoubt. At

the same time General Bellemare, who commands one of Vinoy's divisions,

advanced on Garches, and occupied the wood and park of Buzenval, driving

in the Prussian outposts. Here several battalions of the National Guards

were engaged. Although their further advance was arrested by a stone

wall, from behind which the Prussians fired, they maintained themselves

in the wood and the park. The Prussians now opened a heavy fire along

the line. At Montretout it was impossible to get a single gun into

position. This went on until a little after three o'clock. By this time

reinforcements had come up from Versailles, and were pushed forward

against the centre of the French line. At the same time shells fell upon

the reserves, which consisted of National Guards, and which were drawn

up upon the incline of the heights looking towards Paris. They were

young troops, and for young troops nothing is so trying as being shelled

without being allowed to move. They broke and fell back. Their

companions who were in advance, and who held the crest of the heights,

saw themselves deserted, and at the same time saw the attacking column

coming forward, and they too fell back. The centre of the position was

thus lost. A hurried consultation was held, and Montretout and Buzenval

were evacuated. As night closed the French troops were falling back to

their bivouacs of the previous night, and the Prussians were recrossing

the trench which formed their advanced posts in the morning. The day was

misty, the mud was so deep that walking was difficult, and I could not

follow very clearly the movements of the troops from the house in which

I had ensconced myself. What became of General Ducrot no one seemed to

know. I have since learnt that he advanced with little resistance

through Rueil and La Malmaison, and that he then fought during the day

at La Jonchère, detaching a body of troops towards the Park of Buzenval.

He appears, however, to have failed in taking La Celle St. Cloud, and

from thence flanking La Bergerie, and marching on Garches. Everything is

consequently very much where it was this morning before the engagement

took place. It has been the old story. The Prussians did not defend

their first line, but fell back on their fixed batteries, there keeping

up a heavy fire until reinforcements had had time to be brought up. More

troops are ordered out for to-morrow; so I presume that the battle is to

be renewed. If it ends in a defeat, the consequences will be serious,

for the artillery can only be brought back to Paris by one bridge. The

wounded are numerous. In the American ambulance, which is close by in

the Champs Elysées, there are about seventy. In the Grand Hotel they are

arriving every moment. The National Guard at Buzenval behaved very

fairly under fire. Many of them had not been above a few days in

uniform. Their officers were in many cases as inexperienced as the men.

During the fight entire companies were wandering about looking for their

battalions, and men for their companies. As citizen soldiers they did

their best, and individually they were made of good stuff; but the moral

is--do not employ citizen soldiers for offensive operations. When I

returned into the town at about 5 o'clock this afternoon, the peninsula

of Gennevilliers resembled the course at Epsom on a wet Derby Day. To my

civilian eyes, cavalry, artillery, and infantry, seemed to be in

inextricable confusion.

This morning the bread was rationed all over the city. No one is to have

more than 300 grammes per diem; children only 150. I recommend anyone

who has lived too high to try this regime for a week. It will do him

good. No costermonger's donkey is so overloaded as the stomachs of most

rich people. The Government on December 12 solemnly announced that the

bread never would be rationed. This measure, therefore, looks to me very

much like the beginning of the end. A perquisition is also being made in

search of provisions in the apartments of all those who have quitted

Paris. Another sign of the end. But it is impossible to know on how

little a Frenchman can live until the question has been tested. I went

yesterday into the house of a friend of mine, in the Avenue de

l'Impératrice, which is left in charge of a servant, and found three

families, driven out of their homes by the bombardment, installed in

it--one family, consisting of a father, a mother, and three children,

were boiling a piece of horse meat, about four inches square, in a

bucket full of water. This exceedingly thin soup was to last them for

three days. The day before they had each had a carrot. The bread is

scarce because the supply ceases before the demand in most quarters, so

that those who come last get none. My friend's servant was giving a

dinner to the English coachman. The sole dish was a cat with mice round

it. I tasted one of the latter, crunching the bones as if it had been a

lark. I can recommend mice, when nothing more substantial is to be

obtained.

I hear that a pigeon has arrived this evening. Its despatch has not yet

been published. The "traitor-mania" still rages. Last night at the

Belleville Club an orator announced an awful discovery--the bread was

being poisoned by traitors. The Correspondent of one of your

contemporaries, having heard that he had been accused of being a

Prussian spy, went to-day to the Prefect of the Police. This august

being told him that he did not suspect him, and then showed him a file

of papers duly docketed relating to each London paper which is

represented here. For my part, although I have not failed to blame what

I thought blameable, and although I have not gone into ecstacies over

the bombastic nonsense which is the legacy of the vile despotism to

which the French were foolish enough to submit for twenty years, and

which has vitiated the national character, I have endeavoured in my

correspondence to be, as far as was consistent with truth, "to all their

virtues very kind, to all their faults a little blind."

_January 20th._

This morning several fresh regiments of National Guards were ordered to

march out to the Peninsula of Gennevilliers. I accompanied one of them;

but when we got into Neuilly a counter-order came, and they were marched

back. Every house in Neuilly and Courbevoie was full of troops, and

regiments were camping out in the fields, where they had passed the

night without tents. Many of the men had been so tired that they had

thrown themselves down in the mud, which was almost knee-deep, and thus

fallen asleep with their muskets by their sides. Bitter were the

complaints of the commissariat. Bread and _eau de vie_ were at a high

premium. Many of the men had thrown away their knapsacks, with their

loaves strapped to them, during the action, and these were now the

property of the Prussians. It is impossible to imagine a more forlorn

and dreary scene. Some of the regiments--chiefly those which had not

been in the action--kept well together; but there were a vast number of

stragglers wandering about looking for their battalions and their

companies. At about twelve o'clock it became known that the troops were

to re-enter Paris, and that the battle was not to be renewed; and at

about one the march through the gate of Neuilly commenced, colours

flying and music playing, as though a victory had been won. I remained

there some time watching the crowd that had congregated at each side of

the road. Most of the lookers on appeared to be in a condition of blank

despair. They had believed so fully that the grand sortie must end in a

grand victory, that they could hardly believe their eyes when they saw

their heroes returning into Paris, instead of being already at

Versailles. There were many women anxiously scanning the lines of

soldiers as they passed by, and asking every moment whether some

relative had been killed. As I came home down the Champs Elysées it was

full of knots of three and four soldiers, who seemed to consider that it

was a waste of time and energy to keep up with their regiments.

In the evening papers the despatch announcing the defeat of Chanzy has

been published, and a request from Trochu to General Schmitz to apply at

once for an armistice of two days to bury the dead. "The fog," he adds,

"is very dense," and certainly this fog appears to have got into the

worthy man's brain. Almost all the wounded have already been picked up

by the French and the Prussian ambulances. Nearly all the dead are in

what are now the Prussian lines, and will no doubt be buried by them. In

the afternoon, as a suspension of arms for two hours was agreed to, our

ambulances pushed forward, and brought back a few wounded, but not many.

Most of those who had fallen in the Prussian lines had already been

moved, their officers said, to St. Germain and St. Cloud, where they

would be cared for. At three P.M. Jules Favre summoned the Mayors to a

consultation, and General Trochu also came in to the Ministry of Foreign

Affairs for half an hour, and then returned to Valérien. The feeling

against him is very strong. It is said that he has offered to resign;

and I think it very probable that he will be the Jonah thrown out to

the whale. But will this sacrifice save the ship? All the Generals are

roundly abused. Indeed, in France there is no medium between the Capitol

and the Tarpeian Rock. A man who is not a victor must be a traitor. That

undisciplined National Guards fresh from their shops, should be unable

to carry by assault batteries held by German troops, is a thing which

never can be admitted. If they fail to do this, it is the fault of their

leaders. Among those who were killed yesterday is M. Regnault, the

painter who obtained at the last salon, the gold medal for his picture

of "Salome." He went into action with a card on his breast, on which he

had written his name and the address of the young lady to whom he was

engaged to be married. When the brancardiers picked him up, he had just

strength to point to this address. Before they could carry him there he

was dead. But the most painful scene during the battle was the sight of

a French soldier who fell by French balls. He was a private in the 119th

Battalion, and refused to advance. His commander remonstrated. The

private shot him. General Bellemare, who was near, ordered the man to be

killed at once. A file was drawn up and fired on him; he fell, and was

supposed to be dead. Some brancardiers soon afterwards passing by, and

thinking that he had been wounded in the battle, placed him on a

stretcher. It was then discovered that he was still alive. A soldier

went up to him to finish him off, but his gun missed fire. He was then

handed another, when he blew out the wretched man's brains. From all I

can learn from the people connected with the different ambulances, our

loss yesterday does not amount to above 2000 killed and wounded. Most of

the newspapers estimate it far higher. At Buzenval, where the only

really sharp fighting took place, an officer who was in command tells me

that there were about 300 killed. For the sake of humanity, it is to be

hoped that we shall have no more of these blind sorties. The French get

through the first Prussian lines; they are then arrested by the fire of

the batteries from the second line; reinforcements are brought up by the

enemy; and the well-known movement to the rear commences. "Our losses,"

say the official reports the next morning, "are great; those of the

enemy enormous. Our troops fought with distinguished valour, but----"

_January 21st._

It was so wet last night that there were but few groups of people on the

Boulevards. At the clubs Trochu was universally denounced. Almost every

one is now in despair. Of what use, they say, are the victories of

Bourbaki; he cannot be here in time. We had pinned our faith on Chanzy,

and the news of his defeat, coupled with our own, has almost

extinguished every ray of hope in the breasts even of the most hopeful.

The Government, it is thought, is preparing the public mind for a

capitulation. _La Liberté_, until now its strongest supporter, bitterly

complains that it should publish the truth! Chandordy's despatch went

first to Jules Favre. He stood over the man who was deciphering it. When

he read the opening sentence, "Un grand malheur," he refused to read

more, and sent it undeciphered to Trochu. When it reached the Governor,

no one on his staff could decipher it, so it had to be returned to the

Foreign-office. The moment for the quacks is at hand. A "General" offers

to raise the siege if he be given 50,000 men. A magician offers a shell

which will destroy the Prussians root and branch. M. Felix Pyat, in his

organ, observes that Sparta never was taken, and that the Spartans used

to eat in common. He proposes, therefore, as a means to free Paris, that

a series of public suppers should be inaugurated. I can only say that I

hope that they may be, for I certainly shall attend. Even Spartan broth

would be acceptable. The bread is all but uneatable. If you put it in

water, straw and bits of hay float about. A man, who ought to know,

solemnly assured me this morning that we had only food for six days; but

then men who ought to know are precisely those who know nothing. I do

not think that we are so badly off as this; but the end is a question no

longer of months, but of days, and very soon it will be of hours. Those

who desire a speedy capitulation are called _les capitulards_, and they

are in a majority of nine to one. There are still many who clamour for a

grand sortie, but most of those who do so, are persons who, by no

possibility, can themselves share in the operation. The street orators

are still at poor Jonah Trochu, and their hearers seem to agree with

them. These sages, however, do not explain who is to replace him. Some

of the members of the Government, I hear, suggest an admiral; but what

admiral would accept this _damnosa hæreditas_? Among the generals, each

has his partisans, and each seems to be of opinion that he himself is a

mighty man of war, and all the others fools. Both Vinoy and Ducrot

declined to attend the Council of War which sat before the late sortie.

They were generals of division, they said, and they would obey orders,

but they would accept no further responsibilities. Ducrot, who was the

_fidus Achates_ of Trochu, is no longer in his good graces. The _Réveil_

of this afternoon, which is usually well-informed on all matters which

concern our Mayors, gives the following account of the meeting of

yesterday: "At three o'clock the meeting took place in the presence of

all the members of the Government. M. Trochu declared formally that he

would fight no more. M. Favre said that the Government was

'disappearing.' M. Favre proposed that the Government should give up its

power to the Mayors. The Mayors refused. The discussion was very

violent. Several propositions, one more absurd than another, were

brought forward by some of the members of the Government. They were not

discussed. As usual, the meeting broke up without any result." The best

man they have is Vinoy; he is honest, disinterested, and determined. It

is to be hoped that if Trochu resigns, he will take his place.

_January 22nd._

So poor Jonah has gone over, and been swallowed up by the whale. He

still remains the head of the civil government, but it only is as a

figure-head. He is an upright man; but as a military chief he has proved

himself a complete failure. He was a man of plans, and never could alter

the details of these plans to suit a change of circumstances. What his

grand plan was, by which Paris was to be saved, no one now, I presume,

ever will know. The plans of his sorties were always elaborately drawn

up; each divisional commander was told in the minutest details what he

was to do. Unfortunately, General Moltke usually interfered with the

proper development of these details--a proceeding which always surprised

poor Trochu--and in the account the next day of his operations, he would

dwell upon the fact as a reason for his want of success. That batteries

should be opened upon his troops, and that reinforcements should be

brought up against them, were trifles--probable as they might seem to

most persons--which filled him with an indignant astonishment. At the

last sortie Ducrot excuses himself for being late at La Malmaison

because he found the road by which he had been ordered to advance

occupied by a long line of artillery, also there by Trochu's orders.

General Vinoy, who has replaced him, is a hale old soldier about seventy

years old. He has risen from the ranks, and in the Crimea was a very

intimate friend of Lord Clyde. When the latter came, a few years before

his death, to Paris, the English Ambassador had prepared a grand

breakfast for him, and had gone to the station to meet him. On the

platform was also Vinoy, who also had prepared breakfast for his old

comrade in arms; and this breakfast, very much to the disgust of the

diplomatist, Lord Clyde accepted. General Vinoy has to-day issued a

proclamation to the troops, which in its plain, simple, modest language

contrasts very favourably with the inflated bombast in which his

predecessor was so great an adept.

The newspapers are already commencing to prove to their own satisfaction

that the battle of last Thursday was not a defeat, but an "incomplete

victory." As for the National Guard, one would suppose that every one of

them had been in the action, and that they were only prevented from

carrying everything before them by the timidity of their generals. The

wonderful feats which many of these heroes have told me they performed

would lead one to suppose that Napoleon's old Guard was but a flock of

sheep in comparison with them. I cannot help thinking that by a certain

indistinctness of recollection they attribute to themselves every

exploit, not only that they saw, but that their fertile imaginations

have ever dreamt to be possible. In all this nonsense they are supported

by the newspapers, who think more of their circulation than of truth. To

read the accounts of this battle one would suppose that neither the Line

nor the Mobiles had been in it. A caricature now very popular represents

a lion in the uniform of a National Guard held back by two donkeys in

the uniforms of generals, and vainly endeavouring to rush upon a crowd

of terrified Germans. As a matter of fact--about 5,000 National Guards

were in the thick of it--the men behaved tolerably well, and many of the

officers very well. The great majority of the marching battalions which

were in the peninsula "did not give," to use the French phrase; and some

of them, notwithstanding the efforts of their officers, were unable to

remain steady as soon as the Prussian bombs reached them. This _sic vos

non vobis_ which, is meted out to the Mobiles and the Line makes me

indignant. As for the sailors, they are splendid fellows--and how we

always manage to beat them afloat increases my admiration of the British

tars. They are kept under the strictest discipline by their captains

and admirals, one of whom once said to me when I asked him whether his

men fraternized with the soldiers, "If I saw one of them associating

with such _canaille_, I would put him under arrest for twenty-four

hours." In the forts they are perfectly cool under the heaviest fire,

and both at Le Bourget and at Chatillon they fought like heroes. "Ten

thousand of them," observed a general to me the other day, "are worth

more than the whole National Guards."

The bombardment still continues. Bombs fall into the southern part of

the town; but habit in this world is everything, and no one troubles

himself much about them. At night the Trocadero has become a fashionable

lounge for the _cocottes_, who still honour us with their presence. The

line of the Prussian batteries and the flash of their guns can be seen.

The hissing, too, of the bombs can be heard, when the _cocottes_ crouch

by their swains in affected dread. It is like Cremorne, with its ladies

and its fireworks. Since yesterday morning, too, St. Denis has been

bombarded. Most of its inhabitants have taken refuge in Paris, but it

will be a pity if the cathedral, with the tombs of all the old French

Kings, is damaged. St. Denis is itself a species of fort. Its guns are

not, a friend tells me who has just come from there, replying with

vigour. The Prussians are firing on it from six separate batteries, and

it is feared that it will fall. Our attention to-day has been diverted

from the Prussians outside by a little domestic quarrel at home, and we

have been shooting each other, as though the Prussian missiles were not

enough for our warlike stomachs, and death were not raging around our

prison.

Between twelve and one this morning a band of armed patriots appeared

before the prison of Mazas, and demanded the release of Flourens and the

political prisoners who were shut up there. The director, instead of

keeping the gate shut, allowed a deputation to enter. As soon as the

gate was opened, not only the deputation, but the patriots rushed in,

and bore off Flourens and his friends in triumph. With the Mayor at

their head, they then went to the Mairie of the 20th Arrondissement, and

pillaged it of all the rations and bread and wine which they found

stored up there. Then they separated, having passed a resolution to go

at twelve o'clock to the Hôtel de Ville, to assist their "brothers" in

turning out the Government. I got myself to the Place of the Hôtel de

Ville at about two o'clock. There were then about 5000 persons there.

The gates were shut. Inside the rails before them were a few officers;

and soldiers could be seen at all the windows. Some few of the 5000 were

armed, but most of them were unarmed. Close in by the Hôtel de Ville

there seemed to be some sort of military order in the positions occupied

by the rioters. I took up my stand at the corner of the Rue de Rivoli.

Every moment the crowd increased. It was composed partly of sightseers,

for on Sunday every one is out of doors; partly of sympathisers. These

sympathisers were not, as on October 31, working men, but mainly what

Count Bismarck would call the populace. Their political creed may be

summed up by the word "loot;" their personal appearance by the word

"hangdog." I found myself in the midst of a group of hangdogs, who were

abusing everyone and everything. On one side of me was a lady of

expansive figure, whose breath showed that she had partaken lately of

ardent spirits, and whose conversation showed that if she was a "matron

of Cornelia's mien," her morals were better than her conversation. "The

people are slaves," she perpetually yelled, "they will no longer submit

to traitors; I say it to you, I, the mother of four children." The

maternal vantage ground which she assumed evidently gave her opinions

weight, for her neighbours replied, "Oui, elle a raison, la mère." A

lean, bilious-looking fellow, who looked as though through life he had

not done an honest day's work, and whose personal charms were not

heightened by a grizzled beard and a cap of cat-skin, close by the

matron, was bawling out, "The Hôtel de Ville belongs to us, I am a

taxpayer;" whilst a youth about fifteen years old, hard by, explained in

a shrill treble the military errors which Trochu and the generals had

committed. At a little after three o'clock, a fresh band, all armed,

with a drum, beating the charge, appeared, and as they neared the chief

entrance of the Hôtel de Ville, just one shot, and then a number of

shots were fired. Everybody who had a gun then shot it off with an eager

but general idea of doing something, as he fled, like a Parthian bowman.

The stampede soon became general; numbers of persons threw themselves on

the ground. I saw the mother of four children sprawling in the mire, and

the bilious taxpayer fall over her, and then I followed the youthful

strategist into an open door. Inside were about twenty people. The door

was shut to, and for about twenty minutes we heard muskets going off.

Then, as the fight seemed over, the door was opened and we emerged. The

Place had been evacuated by the mob, and was held by the troops. Fresh

regiments were marching on it along the quay and the Rue de Rivoli.

Wounded people were lying about or crawling towards the houses. Soon

some _brancardiers_ arrived and picked up the wounded. One boy I saw

evidently dying--the blood was streaming out of two wounds. The windows

of the Hôtel de Ville were broken, and the façade bore traces of balls,

as did some of the houses round the Place. I remained until dusk. Even

when I left the streets were full of citizens. Each man who had rolled

in the mire, and whose clothes showed traces of it, was the centre of a

group of sympathisers and non-sympathisers, to whom he was explaining

how the Breton brigands had fired on him, a poor innocent lamb, who had

done no harm. The non-sympathisers, however, were in the majority, and

"served him right" seemed to be the general verdict on those who had

been shot, or who had spoilt their clothes. Every now and then some

window would slam or a cart would rumble by, when there would be a

general scamper for a few yards. After dinner I again returned to the

Hôtel de Ville. The crowd had dispersed, and the Place was militarily

occupied; so we may suppose that this little domestic episode is over.

_January 23rd, morning._

The clubs are closed, and the _Réveil_ and the _Combat_ suppressed.

Numbers of people are coming in from St. Denis, where the bombardment is

getting very hot. Bombs last night fell in one of the islands on the

Seine; so the flood is mounting, and our dry ground is every day

diminishing. I see in an extract from a German paper, that it has been

telegraphed to England that the village of Issy has been entirely

destroyed by the Prussian fire. This is not the case. I was there the

other day, and the village is still there. It is not precisely the spot

where one would wish one's property to be situated, but most of the

houses are, as yet, intact.

CHAPTER XVIII.

_January 27th._

I write this, as I hear that the last balloon is to start to-night. How

lucky for the English public that, just when the siege of Paris ceases,

the conscript fathers of the nation will furnish them with reading at

their breakfast tables. The light, airy wit of Professor Fawcett, and

the pleasant fancy of Mr. Newdegate, will be served up for them with

their hot rolls every morning instead of the bulletins of Count

Moltke--lucky public!

Most of us here are much like heirs at a rich man's funeral. We have

long faces, we sigh and we groan, but we are not quite so unhappy as we

look. The _Journal Officiel_ of this morning announces that Paris will

not be occupied, and that the National Guard will not go to Germany.

This is, we say, very different from a capitulation--it is a political

incident; in a few days I expect to hear it called a victory. The editor

of the _Liberté_--why is this gentleman still alive? for the last three

months he has been making pacts with death--explains that Paris never

would have and never will capitulate, but that an armistice is a very

different sort of thing. Last night, notwithstanding the cold which has

again set in, the Boulevard was blocked up with groups of patriots and

wiseacres discussing the state of things, and explaining what Paris

would agree to and what she would not agree to. Occasionally some

"pure"--a "pure" is an Ultra--threw out that the Parisians themselves

were only reaping what they had sown; but the pure, I need hardly say,

was soon silenced, and it seemed to be generally agreed that Paris has

been sublime and heroic, but that if she has been neither, it has been

the fault of the traitors to whom she has confided her destinies. Some

said that the admirals had stated that they would blow up their forts

rather than surrender them; but if the worthies who vouched for this had

been informed by the admirals of their intentions, I can only say that

these honest tars had chosen strange confidants.

Paris, as I have already said more than once, has been fighting as much

for her own supremacy over the provinces as for victory over the

Prussians. The news--whether true or false I know not--that Gambetta,

who is regarded as the representative of Paris, has been replaced by a

sort of Council of Regency, and that this Council of Regency is

treating, has filled everyone here with indignation. Far better,

everyone seems to think, that Alsace should be lost to France, than that

France should be lost to Paris. The victories of Prussia have been

bitter to Frenchmen, because they had each of them individually assumed

a vicarious glory in the victories of the First Empire; but the real

patriotism of the Parisians does not extend farther than the walls of

their own town. If the result of this war is to cause France to

undertake the conduct of its own affairs, and not to allow the

population of Paris and the journalists of Paris to ride roughshod over

her, the country will have gained more than she has lost by her defeats,

no matter what may be the indemnity she be called upon to pay. The

martial spirit of the National Guard has of course been lauded to the

skies by those newspapers which depend for their circulation on these

braves. The question what they have done may, however, be reduced to

figures. They number above 300,000. According to their own statements

they have been fighting for nearly five months, and I venture to say

that during the whole campaign they have not lost 500 men. They have

occasionally done duty in the trenches, but this duty has been a very

brief one, and they have had very long intervals of repose. I do not

question that in the National Guard there are many brave men, but one

can only judge of the fighting qualities of an army by comparison, and

if the losses of the National Guard be statistically compared with those

of the Line, of the Mobiles, and of the sailors, it will be shown

that--to use an Americanism--their record is a bad one. The soldiers and

the sailors have fought, and the women have suffered during the siege.

The male population of Paris has done little more than bluster and drink

and brag.