still more difficult to describe it. We creep timidly about the streets,
haunted by the constant dread, either of being arrested as belonging to
the Commune, pressed into a _chaîne_, or struck by the fragment of some
chance shell, and oppressed ever by the scenes of destruction and
desolation that surround us; the whole forming a combination which
produces a sensation more nearly allied to nightmare than to any
psychological experience with which I am familiar, but yet requiring
some new word to define it. The angry ring of the volleys of execution;
the strings of men and women hurried off to their doom; the curses of an
infuriated populace; the brutal violence of an exasperated soldiery,
are sights and sounds calculated to produce a strange and powerful
effect on the mind. Yesterday afternoon I drove over as much of the city
already in the occupation of the Versaillists as was consistent with
safety. Following the Boulevard Clichy in order to avoid the _chaînes_
in the neighbourhood of the Madeleine, I passed the scenes of terrible
fighting. The Place Clichy was a mass of barricades and shattered
houses, the _façades_ marked with bullets as if pitted with the
smallpox, the windows smashed, and the evidences of a fearful struggle
visible everywhere. It seemed as if the ground had been disputed here
house by house; but from all I can learn of the resistance, the actual
defenders of the barricades, though resolute men, were few in number.
One of the most marked characteristics of this fighting has been the
cowardice of the many as compared with the courage and resolution of the
few; some of the barricades were abandoned by their defenders by
hundreds, only ten or a dozen remaining to the last, and holding their
ground until they were all killed or wounded. Passing up the Rue
Lafayette, I reached the Head Quarters of the Fifth Corps, where,
happening to know an officer, I was present at the examination of some
prisoners who were brought in, as every soldier who thinks he has good
ground for suspicion can arrest men or women, and drag them to the
divisional tribunal. They are captured in shoals. One lame man with a
villanous countenance, who was brought in while I was there, was accused
of being a _chef de barricade_, and having been taken in the act. He was
put through a short sharp fire of cross-examination, his pockets emptied
and his clothes felt, and he was then hurried off to take his place in
the ranks of the condemned ones that are forwarded to Versailles.
Instant execution is only ordered in the more extreme cases, excepting
where the fighting is actually going on, and then the troops give very
little quarter. The bitterness of the belligerents against each other is
of a far more intense and sanguinary kind than that which ordinarily
exists between combatants. The soldiery, looking at the pedestal on the
Place Vendôme and at the numerous public buildings which in some form or
other are associated with their military history, now all smoking ruins,
can scarcely contain their rage, and not unnaturally vent it with
ferocity on an enemy which deliberately planned the destruction of Paris
as the price of victory to the conquerors, and who are even yet
endeavouring to carry out their diabolical design of destroying the
houses still uninjured by secretly introducing petroleum balls and
fusées into the cellars. I saw a soldier suddenly seize a man as he was
apparently harmlessly walking along the street; his pockets were emptied
and found to contain cartridges and combustible balls of various sizes.
Another soldier and a sailor rushed to the spot; the latter drew his
revolver, and I expected would have shot the man then and there, but he
was satisfied on seeing his comrade prick him sharply with his bayonet.
The two soldiers then hurried the culprit off in front of them cuffing
him occasionally on the head, and accelerating his progress with the
points of their bayonets while they cursed him heartily. A small crowd
eagerly followed to see his fate, which they loudly hoped would be
instant execution; and, looking at the detestable nature of the contents
of his pockets and of his intentions, one could scarcely blame either
his captors or their sympathizers if they called for vengeance, and long
ere this, he has probably ceased to exist. One woman was caught with
these fire balls on two occasions, having succeeded once in escaping. As
a general rule, the hand-dog look of the prisoners is their most
striking characteristic. I passed one gang of about 50 yesterday, and
tried in vain, as I walked by their side, to catch a man's eye, or even
to see a face turned fairly up to the light of day. With heads bare, and
eyes steadily fixed on the ground, they passed between rows of people,
who howled and hooted at them, and it was not till I reached the head of
the short column that I observed a slender figure walking alone in the
costume of the National Guard, with long, fair hair floating over the
shoulders, a bright blue eye, and a handsome, bold, young face that
seemed to know neither shame nor fear. When the female spectators
detected at a glance that this seeming young National Guardsman was a
woman, their indignation found vent in strong language, for the torrent
of execration seems to flow more freely from feminine lips when the
object is a woman than if it be one of the opposite sex; but the only
response of the victim was to glare right and left with heightened
colour and flashing eyes, in marked contrast to the cowardly crew that
followed her. If the French nation were composed only of French women
what a terrible nation it would be!
The aspect of the Boulevards is the strangest sight imaginable. I
followed them from the Porte St. Martin to the Rue de la Paix. There was
fighting at the Château d'Eau, and without either a pass or an ambulance
_brassard_ a nearer approach to the scene of action was undesirable;
indeed, until recently, the shells had been bursting here in every
direction, and their holes might be seen in the centre of those
pavements heretofore sacred to the _flâneurs_ of Paris. Strewn over the
streets were branches of trees; and fragments of masonry that had been
knocked from the houses, bricks and mortar, torn proclamations, shreds
of clothings half concealing bloodstains, were now the interesting and
leading features of that fashionable resort; foot passengers were few
and far between, the shops and _cafés_ hermetically sealed, excepting
where bullets had made air holes, and during my whole afternoon's
promenade I only met three other carriages besides my own. The Place de
l'Opéra was a camping ground of artillery, the Place Vendôme a confusion
of barricades, guarded by sentries and the Rue Royale a mass of
_débris_. Looked at from the Madeleine the desolation and ruin of that
handsome street were lamentable to behold. The Place de la Concorde was
a desert, and in the midst of it lay the statue of Lille with the head
off. The last time I had looked on that face it was covered with crape,
in mourning for the entry of the Prussians. Near the bridge were 24
corpses of Insurgents, laid out in a row, waiting to be buried under the
neighbouring paving stones. To the right the skeleton of the Tuileries
reared its gaunt shell, the framework of the lofty wing next the Seine
still standing; but the whole of the roof of the central building was
gone, and daylight visible through all the windows right into the Place
de Carrousel. General Mac-Mahon's head-quarters were at the Affaires
Etrangères, which were intact. After a visit there, I passed the Corps
Législatif, also uninjured by fire, but much marked by shot and shell,
and so along the Quais the whole way to the Mint, at which point General
Vinoy had established his head-quarters. At the corner of the Rue du Bac
the destruction was something appalling. The Rue du Bac is an impassable
mound of ruins, 15 or 20 feet high, completely across the street as far
as I could see. The Légion d'Honneur, the Cour des Comptes, and Conseil
d'Etat were still smoking, but there was nothing left of them but the
blackened shells of their noble _façades_ to show how handsome they had
once been. At this point, in whichever direction one looked, the same
awful devastation met the eye--to the left the smouldering Tuileries, to
the right, the long line of ruin where the fire had swept through the
magnificent palaces on the Quai, and overhead again to-day a cloud of
smoke, more black and abundant even than yesterday, incessantly rolling
its dense volumes from behind Notre-Dame, whose two towers were happily
standing uninjured. This fire issued from the Grenier d'Abondance and
other buildings in the neighbourhood of the Jardin des Plantes. In
another direction the Arsenal was also burning. One marked result of a
high state of civilization is, that it has furnished improved facilities
for incendiarism, which seem to have been developed even more completely
than the means of counteracting them. Along the Quais under the trees,
cavalry horses were picketed, and a force was about to leave General
Vinoy's head-quarters just as I reached it, to support an attack which
was even then being made upon the Place de la Bastille, where the
Insurgents were still holding out. On the opposite side of the river
were the smoking ruins of the Théâtre Châtelet and the Hôtel de Ville.
Passing through the Place du Carrousel into the Rue de Rivoli, I had a
more complete view of the entire destruction which has overtaken the
Tuileries and some of the adjoining buildings. The lower end of the Rue
de Rivoli towards the Faubourg St. Antoine was densely crowded with
troops, and passage in that direction was interdicted, while at the
other end, near the Place de la Concorde, there was a _chaîne_; so I
struck once more across to the Boulevards, past the Palais Royal, a
large part of which is burnt, wearied and sickened with the waste of
ruins through which I had passed, and meeting with only one incident,
when I found myself in the midst of a panic-stricken throng all running
away from a series of cracker-like explosions, which turned out to be
cartridges that from some unexplained cause had begun to go off
spontaneously under our feet. To-day the firing is more distant and less
audible. The insurgents are still holding the heights of Belleville and
Père-Lachaise. In the Jardin des Plantes the loss of the troops was
heavy, but up to this time they have won their ground with a less loss
than could have been anticipated, and the fearful mortality of Generals
which characterized the last "_Campagne Parisienne_" has happily not
been repeated upon this occasion. So far, no General has been either
killed or wounded.
The affair of Belleville is not yet concluded. There is fighting still.
A great fire is raging in the direction of the Buttes de Chaumont.
Loud reports have been heard within the walls of Mazas, and it is
supposed that the hostages have been massacred.
Courbet, Amouroux, Gambon, and Valles have been executed.
The night is quiet.
Shells have fallen on the Boulevard Ménilmontant. Great hopes are
entertained that the rains will check the conflagration. A few shells
have fallen in the Rue de la Paix. Constant arrests or executions are
being made of women who throw incendiary matter down the cellar
gratings. Many bodies have been exhumed from under shattered houses,
some with large sums of money on them. News reaches us that troops of
the Line have occupied Ménilmontant and the Cemetery of Père-Lachaise.
The Federals had declared Père-Lachaise to be their last stronghold,
and that they were prepared to defend it tomb by tomb. The National
Guard will be dissolved to-morrow. Upwards of 1,000 prisoners were
marched up the Boulevard this morning, escorted by mounted Hussars.
Delescluze has been taken at Villiers le Bel. General Eudes and Ranvier
have also been taken. The public buildings destroyed up to the present
time are the Tuileries, the Palais Royal, the Ministry of Finance, the
Cour des Comptes, the Prefecture of Police, the Palace of the Légion of
Honour, the Caisse des Dépôts, Graineterie, and the Garde Meuble. The
Panthéon was saved by a rush of Marines, who cut a slow match before it
reached the powder barrels in the crypt. The Châtelet, Lyrique, and
Porte St. Martin Théâtres have been burnt, also the great barracks of
the Rue des Célestins. Part of the roof of St. Eustache has fallen in.
The fighting still continues round the Château d'Eau. There will be no
difficulty, however, in disarming the National Guard. Valles fought for
his life, and received a sabre cut across the face and several bullets
before he finally fell close to the Tour St. Jacques. Rows of bodies
line the quays awaiting burial where they fell. The individuals arrested
will be tried by Court-Martial at Versailles. The Court-Martial will
commence its sittings on Monday. Many women and children have been
executed around the Luxembourg, having been convicted of firing on
soldiers. Fort Bicêtre is still in Federal hands, but the garrison is
said to have exhausted its ammunition. Bergeret gave the order for
burning the Tuileries. General Douai, by promptness of action, prevented
the fire spreading to the Louvre. Humour has it that Delescluze and
Pyat, disguised as beggars, were recognized in the Rue du Petit Carreau,
and shot. Thirteen women have just been executed after being publicly
disgraced in the Place Vendôme. They were caught in the act of spreading
petroleum. Such papers as have appeared announce the execution of the
Archbishop of Paris and the curé of the Madeleine.
The Column Vendôme is to be rebuilt.
With an English friend I this morning made my way along the line of
Boulevards running east of the Madeleine. A marvellous change had come
over them since yesterday; they were crowded with troops of the Line and
civilians fraternizing with them, and wandering about to look for the
traces of the recent conflict without danger of being shot from windows
or being pressed into the service of the Communists to build or fight
behind a barricade. It was our plan to make for the Hôtel de Ville, and
we took the Bourse in our way. Everything was so quiet that we half
hoped the fighting in that part of Paris at any rate was over, and we
were in consequence greatly astonished to hear near us the furious
beating of the _rappel_, as regulars were all about. We thought for a
moment a hot conflict was at hand, but we had forgotten, not
unnaturally, considering how long it is since we had seen or heard of
them, the Party of Order. It was they who were rallying valiantly at the
Bourse round the new tricolour banner and a few gentlemen who wore
tricolour _brassards_ or pretty bunches of tricolour riband, and whose
general tidiness and freshness contrasted strikingly with the grimy,
business-like look of the real soldiers close by. These were streaming
into the Place des Victoires, close by, receiving cheers and
congratulations from the people about in the square or at the windows,
who seemed delighted to see them. The men were in capital spirits, and
told us they were carrying everything before them, that the Insurgents
fought often well enough so far as mere pluck went, but were everywhere
outmanoeuvred, and at nearly every barricade found themselves taken at
once in front, flank, and rear. This exactly tallied with what we had
already heard and seen. An officer told his men to keep a sharp look out
on the windows of the houses about, lest they should be surprised by a
fusillade. "No fear of that," said a _bourgeois_; "not a gun will be
fired at you in this Quarter." This looked peaceful enough, and we were
considerably astonished therefore as we went up a street a little
further on, the Rue d'Aboukir, I think, to find ourselves facing a
barricade about 150 yards off, manned, and with a flag floating over it
that looked very red. We stared hard and long, but the flag was
unmistakably red, and therefore, supposing any Regulars to advance, we
were directly between two fires. We accordingly turned into a side
street and waited patiently, as it seemed impossible that Regulars and
Reds so near each other should escape collision. The Regulars were sure
to come on; the only question was whether the Reds would run. As I
looked up another parallel street, the Rue de Cléry, I think, I found
the question answered in an odd way. There, within thirty yards, were
two officers of Reds lounging leisurely about and stopping now and then
to talk to people at doors. I suppose they were told of the near
approach of the Regulars, for they turned back in the direction of their
barricade. But meantime the Regulars had advanced, and, therefore, the
enemies were at one moment within 40 paces of each other, though, being
in different streets, they were unconscious of each other's near
vicinity. Both parties seemed, as they well might, thoroughly at home,
the people, whatever might be their secret sympathies, showing a decent
appearance, at least, of impartiality to all men with arms in their
hands, and yet in a few minutes or seconds--for there was now no doubt
that they were about to fight--everybody was on the _qui vive_, getting
ready to escape if necessary. The extraordinary feature of these Paris
street fights is that many of them go on with a crowd of non-combatants,
men, women, and children, as close to them on both sides as if the whole
affair were a theatrical representation of a sensational melodramatic
kind, where a good deal of powder and blue lights would be burnt, but no
bullets or lives would be spent. In streets in which fighting actually
occurs no one of course shows except combatants, and these show as
little as possible, lying down or sheltering behind extempore
barricades and windows. The people indoors, as may be supposed, do not
keep near them, as the bullets fired down the sides of the streets under
cover of doorways or corner houses glance and ricochet about in the
wildest way. Scarcely a window escapes if the fight lasts long, but
adjoining streets running at right angles to the fighting ground are for
the moment comparatively safe, and the people crowd about the doorways
in these, the more venturesome getting close to street corners, and
every now and then cautiously craning their necks round to see, if
possible, whether shots tell.
Perhaps the strangest thing about a Paris street fight is that up to the
very last moment one sees people running quietly along, utterly
unconscious of danger, right between two lines of fire, with loaded
mitrailleuses within a hundred yards of them. One minute before the
fight I am describing began this morning, an old lady, with a large
market basket on her arm, was leisurely walking down the Rue d'Aboukir
between the barricades and soldiers mustering quietly at the corner of
the Rue Montmartre. She was probably making way to the Halles Centrales
close by to get something for breakfast, in happy ignorance of the fact
that at that very moment soldiers were firing, as far as we could see,
right into it. I found afterwards that the Reds were then in occupation
of it, and had loop-holed the Church of St. Eustache, which they held in
great force. Shouts of warning from the crowd standing near me at the
corner of the Rue Montmartre made her at last quicken her pace, though I
doubt whether she quite understood them or knew her danger. I scarcely
know whether Paris combatants at this period are considerate enough to
wait till the ground is clear of non-combatants, or whether out of
politeness each side was waiting for the other to fire first. In any
case the regulars did not wait long. A colonel of the Staff, with cane
in one hand and in the other a map of Paris, studying, stood at the
corner of a side street, gave his men the order to commence instantly. A
soldier on each side took a step forward, and exposing himself as little
as possible fired up at the barricade. After he had fired he fell back
to reload, and another all ready took his place, so that, though there
were at first very few men--not more than 20 perhaps--firing was pretty
hot. Quick came back the response of the Reds, and whizzing went their
bullets down the street, or crashing against projecting corners of the
houses, so near one's ears that it was at first hard to keep from
dodging, despite one's convictions that only Irish guns shoot round
corners. Ricochet balls were not only not more dangerous, but probably
were less dangerous, at the corner than farther off. Some stood as near
as they could to the soldiers. It would be impossible to do this with
the Reds, as they would insist one's taking up a rifle and shooting or
being shot; but the Regulars, so far from forcing, would not even allow
an amateur to indulge in fancy shooting. But taking hurried shots round
a corner at men crouched hundreds of yards off behind well-built
barricades is too slow work to be satisfactory, and the officials came
and began to show signs of impatience. The leader, from a safe post of
observation, was able to take a cool searching view of the situation,
and ordered some of his men, whose numbers were gradually increasing as
they hurried up the street below, ducking heads and hugging walls, to
mount some of the corner houses, while others extemporized a barricade
in the street. To mount the houses was easy enough, though the door of
one had to be broken in, and presently we heard glass tumbling down as
muzzles of rifles were poked through the upper panes, and soon sharp
cracks and thick puffs of smoke leaping out showed that the men had
settled down to their work. The barricade was a more difficult matter,
as it had to be made full in front of the enemy's fire; but it was
contrived with wonderful coolness and rapidity, the civilians about
eagerly bringing stones. Two or three barrels appeared as if by magic.
By pushing the barricade cautiously across the street, by lying down
under cover of one bit as they built another, the Regulars soon had
cover enough to fire comparatively at ease straight up at the barricade,
while their comrades at the windows took it from above in flank. I was
sometimes within a few feet of them, and was much struck by their
coolness and military common sense, if I may use the expression. They
did the work before them in a quiet, business-like way, in what, during
the late war, was considered by some the best feature of Prussian
fighting, not shirking risk when it was necessary, but, on the other
hand, not needlessly exposing themselves for the sake of swagger,
especially of the officers. This morning, the officers not being wanted,
had the sense to keep quietly out of harm's way and smoke their
cigarettes like unconcerned civilians when not giving orders to their
men. The Reds, on the other hand, fought capitally, keeping up a brisk
and well-directed fire. Yet, strange to say, nobody was wounded; I mean
on our side.
MAY 28th.