November 15th.
We have passed from the lowest depths of despair to the wildest confidence. Yesterday afternoon a pigeon arrived covered with blood, bearing on its tail a despatch from Gambetta, of the 11th, announcing that the Prussians had been driven out of Orleans after two days' fighting, that 1,000 prisoners, two cannon, and many munition waggons had been taken, and that the pursuit was still continuing. The despatch was read at the Mairies to large crowds, and in thecafésby enthusiasts, who got upon the tables. I was in a shop when a person came in with it. Shopkeeper, assistants, and customers immediately performed a war dance round a stove; one would have supposed that the war was over and that the veracity of Gambetta is unimpeachable. But as though this success were not enough in itself, all the newspapers this morning tell us that "Chartres has also been retaken," that the army of Kératry has effected a junction with that of the Loire, and that in the North Bourbaki has forced the Prussians to raise the siege of Amiens. Everyone is asking when "they" will be here. Edmond About, in theSoir, eats dirt for having a few days ago suggested an armistice.
At the Quartier-Général I do not think that very great importance is attached to Gambetta's despatch, except as an evidence that the provinces are not perfectly apathetic. It is considered that very possibly the Prussians may have concentrated their whole available force round Paris, in order to crush our grand sortie when it takes place. General Trochu himself takes the most despondent view of the situation, and bitterly complains of the "spirit" of the army, the Mobiles, and the Parisians. This extraordinary commander imagines that he will infuse a new courage in his troops by going about like a monk of La Trappe, saying to every one, "Brother, we must die."
Mr. Washburne received yesterday a despatch from his Government—the first which has reached him since the commencement of the siege—informing him that his conduct in remaining at Paris is approved of. With the despatch there came English newspapers up to the 3rd. Extracts from them will, I presume, be published to-morrow. I passed the afternoon greedily devouring the news at the American Legation. It was a curious sight—the Chancellerie was crowded with people engaged in the same occupation. There were several French journalists, opening their eyes very wide, under the impression that this would enable them to understand English. A Secretary of Legation was sitting at a table giving audiences to unnumbered ladies who wished to know how they could leave Paris; or, if this was impossible, how they could draw on their bankers in New York. Mr. Washburne walked about cheerily shaking everyone by the hand, and telling them to make themselves at home. How different American diplomatists are to the prim old women who represent us abroad, with a staff of half-a-dozen dandies helping each other to do nothing, who have been taught to regard all who are not of the craft as their natural enemies. At the English Embassy Colonel Claremont and a porter now represent the British nation. The former, in obedience to orders from the Foreign Office, is only waiting for a reply from Count Bismarck to his letter asking for a pass to leave us. Whether the numerous English who remain here are then to look to Mr. Washburne or to the porter for protection, I have been unable to discover.
M. Felix Pyat has been let out of prison. He says that he rather prefers being there than at liberty, for in his cell he can "forget that he is in a town inhabited by cowards," and devote himself to the works of M. Louis Blanc, which he calls the "Bibles of democracy."
Although Trochu is neither a great general nor a great statesman, he is a gentleman. I am therefore surprised that he allows obscene caricatures of the Empress to be publicly sold in the streets and exhibited in the kiosks. During the time that she occupied the throne in this most scandal-loving town, no scandal was ever whispered against her. She was fond, it is true, of dress, but she was a good mother and a good wife. Now that she and her friends are in exile, "lives of the woman Bonaparte" are hawked about, which in England would bring their authors under Lord Campbell's statute. In one caricature she is represented stark naked, with Prince Joinville sketching her. In another, called "the Spanish cow," she is made a sort of female Centaur. In another she is dancing the Can-can, and throwing her petticoats over her head, before King William, who is drinking champagne, seated on a sofa, while her husband is in a cage hung up to the wall. These scandalous caricatures have not even the merit of being funny, they are a reflection upon French chivalry, and on that of Trochu. What would he say if the Government which succeeds him were to allow his own wife to be insulted in this cowardly manner?
Anything more dreary than the Boulevards now in the evening it is difficult to imagine. Only one street lamp in three is lighted, and thecafés, which close at 10.30, are put on half-allowance of gas. To mend matters, everyone who likes is allowed to put up a shed on the side walk to sell his goods, or to collect a crowd by playing a dirge on a fiddle. The consequence is that the circulation is rendered almost impossible. I suggested to a high authority that the police ought at least to interfere to make these peripatetic musicians "move on," but he told me that, were they to do so, they would be accused of being "Corsicans and Reactionaries." These police are themselves most ludicrous objects; anyone coming here would suppose that they are members of some new sect of peripatetic philosophers; they walk about in pairs, arrayed in pea jackets with large hoods; and when it is wet they have umbrellas. Their business appears to be, never to interfere with the rights of their fellow-citizens to do what they please, and, so helpless do they look, that I believe if a child were to attack them, they would appeal to the passers-by for protection.
I see in an English paper of the 3rd that it is believed at Versailles that we have only fresh meat for twelve days. We are not so badly off as that. How many oxen and cows there still are I do not know; a few days ago, however, I counted myself 1,500 in a large pen. The newspapers calculate that at the commencement of the siege there were 100,000 horses in Paris, and that there are now 70,000; 30,000 will be enough for the army, consequently 40,000 can be eaten. The amount of meat on each horse averages 500 lb., consequently we have twenty million pounds of fresh horse-flesh, a quantity which will last us for more than three months at the present rate of the meat consumption. These figures are, I think, very much exaggerated. I should say that there are not more than 40,000 horses now in Paris. ThePetites Voitures(Cab) Company has 8,000, and offered to sell them to the Government a few days ago, but that proposal was declined. As regards salt meat, the Government keep secret the amount. It cannot, however, be very great, because it is only derived from animals which have been killed since the siege commenced. The stock of flour, we are told, is practically unlimited, and as no attempt is made to prevent its waste in pasty and fancy cakes, the authorities are acting apparently on this assumption.
The health of Paris is far from satisfactory, and when the winter weather regularly sets in there will be much sickness. No one is absolutely starving, but many are without sufficient nourishment. The Government gives orders for 10c. worth of bread to all who are in want, and these orders are accepted as money by all the bakers. In each arrondissement there are also what are called cantines économiques, where a mess of soup made from vegetables and a small quantity of meat can be bought for five centimes. Very little, however, has been done to distribute warm clothing among the poor, and when it is considered that above 100,000 persons have come into Paris from the neighbouring villages, most of whom are dependent upon public or private charity, it is evident that, even if there is no absolute want, there must be much suffering. Count Bismarck was not far wrong when he said that, if the siege be prolonged until our stock of provisions is exhausted, many thousands in the succeeding weeks will die of starvation. I would recommend those charitable persons who are anxious to come to the aid of this unfortunate country to be ready to throw provisions into Paris as soon as communications with England are reopened, rather than to subscribe their money to ambulances. All things considered, the wounded are well tended. In the hotel in which I am residing the Société Internationale has established its headquarters. We have now 160 wounded here, and beds are prepared for 400. The ambulance occupies two stories, for which 500 francs a day are paid; and an arrangement has been made with the administration of the hotel to feed each convalescent for 2.50 francs per diem. As in all French institutions, there appear to me to be far too many officials; the corridors are pervaded with young healthy men, with the red cross on their arms, who are supposed to be making themselves useful in some mysterious manner, but whose main object in being here is, I imagine, to shirk military service. The ambulance which is considered the best is the American. The wounded are under canvas, the tents are not cold, and yet the ventilation is admirable. The American surgeons are far more skilful in the treatment of gun-shot wounds than their French colleagues. Instead of amputation they practise resection of the bone. It is the dream of every French soldier, if he is wounded, to be taken to this ambulance. They seem to be under the impression that, even if their legs are shot off, the skill of the Æsculapii of the United States will make them grow again. Be this as it may, a person might be worse off than stretched on a bed with a slight wound under the tents of the Far West.
The French have a notion that, go where you may, to the top of a pyramid or to the top of Mont Blanc, you are sure to meet an Englishman reading a newspaper; in my experience of the world, the American girl is far more inevitable than the Britisher; and, of course, under the Stars and Stripes which wave over the American tents she is to be found, tending the sick, and, when there is nothing more to be got for them, patiently reading to them or playing at cards with them. I have a great weakness for the American girl, she always puts her heart in what she is about. When she flirts she does it conscientiously, and when she nurses a most uninviting-looking Zouave, or Franc-tireur, she does it equally conscientiously; besides, as a rule, she is pretty, a gift of nature which I am very far from undervaluing.
November 16th.
It is reported in "official circles" that a second pigeon has arrived with intelligence from the French Consul at Bâle, that the Baden troops have been defeated, and that some of them have been obliged to seek refuge in Switzerland. The evident object of Trochu now is to get up the courage of our warriors to the sticking point for the grand sortie which is put off from day to day. The newspapers contain extracts from the English journals which came in the day before yesterday. By a process, in which we are adepts at believing everything which tells for us, and regarding everything which tells against us as a fabrication of perfidious Albion, we have consoled ourselves with the idea that "the situation is far better than we supposed." As for Bazaine, we cannot make up our minds whether we ought to call him a traitor or a hero. We therefore say as little about him as possible.
I have just come back from the southern outposts. The redoubts of Moulin Saqui and Hautes Bruyères were firing heavily, and the Prussians were replying from Chatillon. Their shrapnell, however, fell short, just within our advanced line. From the sound of the guns, it was supposed that they were only using field artillery. The sailors insist that the enemy has been unable to place his siege-guns in position, and that our fire knocks their earthworks to pieces. I am inclined to think that behind these earthworks there are masked batteries, for surely the Prussian Engineer Officers cannot be amusing themselves with making earthworks for the mere pleasure of seeing them knocked to pieces. Anyhow they are playing a deep game, for, as far as I can hear, they have not fired a single siege-gun yet, either against our redoubts or forts.
November 19th.
Burke, in his work on the French Revolution, augured ill of the future of a country the greater number of whose legislators were lawyers. What would he have said of a Government composed almost exclusively of these objects of his political distrust? When history recounts the follies of the French Republic of 1870, I trust that it will not forget to mention that all the members of the Government, with the exception of one; six ministers; 13 under-secretaries of State; the Préfet of Police; 24 prefets and commissaries sent into the provinces; and 36 other high functionaries; belonged to the legal profession. The natural consequence of this is that we cannot get out of "Nisi prius." Our rulers are unable to take a large statesmanlike view of the situation. They live from hand to mouth, and never rise above the expedients and temporizing policy of advocates. They are perpetually engaged in appealing against the stern logic of facts to some imaginary tribunal, from which they hope to gain a verdict in favour of their clients. Like lawyers in England, they entered public life to "get on." This is still the first object of each one of them; and as they are deputies of Paris, they feel that, next to themselves, they owe allegiance to their electors. To secure the supremacy of Paris over the provinces, and of their own influence over Paris, is the Alpha and Omega of their political creed. With an eye to the future, each of them has his own journal; and when any decree is issued which is not popular, the public is given to understand in these semi-official organs, that every single member of the Government voted against it, although it passed by a majority.
It is somewhat strange that the military man who, by the force of circumstances, is the President of this Devil's own Government is by nature more of a lawyer than even if he had been bred up to the trade. His colleagues own in despair that he is their master in strength of lungs, and that when they split straws into two he splits them into four. In vain they fall back on their pens and indite letters and proclamations, their President out-letters and out-proclaims them. Trochu is indeed a sort of military Ollivier. He earned his spurs as a military critic, Ollivier as a civil critic. Both are clever, and eminently respectable in their private relations, and both are verbose, unpractical, and wanting in plain common sense. Ollivier had a plan, and so has Trochu. Ollivier complained when his plan failed, that it was the fault of every one except himself, and Trochu is already doing the same. Both protested against the system of rule adopted by their predecessors, and have followed in their steps. Both were advocates of publicity, and both audaciously suppressed and distorted facts to suit their convenience. Ollivier is probably now writing a book to prove that he was the wisest of ministers. Trochu, as soon as the siege is over, will write one to prove that he was the best of generals. Ollivier insisted that he could found a Liberal Government upon an Imperial basis, and miserably failed. Trochu declares that he, and he alone, can force the Prussians to raise the siege of Paris. When his plan has failed, as fail it in all probability will, he still, with that serene assurance which is the attribute of mediocrity, will insist that it ought to have succeeded. "Victrix causa Diis placuit, sed victa Catoni." Those who knew him in Brittany tell me that long before he became a personage, "le plan de Trochu" was a standing joke throughout that province. The General, it appears, is fond of piquet; whenever he sat down to play he said, "j'ai mon plan." When he got up after losing the game, as was usually the case, he went away muttering, "Cependant, mon plan était bon." He seemed to have this word "plan" on the brain, for no one who ever played with him could perceive in his mode of handling the cards the slightest trace of a plan. The mania was harmless as long as its exhibition was confined to a game in which a few francs were to be won or lost, but it becomes most serious in its consequences when the destinies of a country are subordinated to it. At the commencement of the siege, General Trochu announced that he not only had a "plan," but that he had inscribed it in his will, which was deposited with his notary. An ordinary man would have made use of the materials at his command, and, without pledging himself to success, would have endeavoured to give the provinces time to organize an army of succour by harassing the Prussians, and thus preventing them from detaching troops in all directions. Instead of this, with the exception of some two or three harmless sorties, they have been allowed slowly to inclose us in a net of circumvallations. Our provisions are each day growing more scarce, and nothing is done except to heap up defensive works to prevent the town being carried by an assault, which there is no probability that the besiegers mean to attempt. Chatillon and Meudon were ill guarded, but ditches were cut along the Avenue de l'Impératrice. The young unmarried men in Paris were not incorporated until the 50th day of the siege, but two or three times a week they were lectured on their duties as citizens by their leader. If there is really to be a sortie, everything is ready, but now the General hesitates—hints that he is not seconded, that the soldiers will not fight, and almost seems to regret at last his own theoretical presumption. "He trusted," said one of his generals to me, "first to the neutrals, then to the provinces, and now he is afraid to trust to himself." Next time a general is besieged in a town I should recommend him not to announce that he has a plan which must ensure victory, unless indeed it be a German town, where nothing which an official can do is considered ridiculous.
Benjamin Constant said of his countrymen that their heads could never contain more than one idea at once. A few days ago we were full of our victory at Orleans. Then came the question whether or not Bazaine was a traitor. To-day we have forgotten Bazaine and Orleans. The marching battalions of the National Guard are to have new coats, and we can talk or think of nothing else. The effect as yet of these marching battalions has been to disorganise the existing battalions. Every day some new decree has been issued altering their mode of formation. Perhaps the new coats will settle everything, and convert them into excellent soldiers. Let us hope it.
We are by no means satisfied with the news which has reached us through the English papers up to the 3rd. Thus theLiberté, after giving extracts from numbers of thePall Mall Gazette, theDaily News, theDaily Telegraph, theSun, theTimes, and theStandard, accompanies them with the following reflections:—"We feel bound to protest in favour of the English press against the assertions of those who would judge the opinions of a great liberal nation by the wretched specimens which are under our eyes. Heaven be praised. The civilized world is not so degenerate that the ignoble conduct of Prussia fails to elicit universal reprobation." We have had two more pigeons, but Gambetta either cannot or will not let us know anything of importance. These two messengers confirm the news of the "victory of Orleans," and inform us that public opinion is daily pronouncing in favour of France, and that the condition of affairs in the provinces is most satisfactory. Such is the universal distrust felt now for any intelligence which emanates from an official source, that if Gambetta were to send us in an account of a new victory to-morrow, and if all his colleagues here were to swear to its truth, we should be in a wild state of enthusiasm for a few hours, and then disbelieve the whole story.
Small-pox is on the increase. The deaths last week from this disease amounted to 419; the general mortality to 1885—a number far above the average. The medical men complain of the amount of raw spirits which is drunk—particularly at the ramparts, and ascribe much of the ill health to this cause.
By the bye, the question of the treason of Bazaine turns with us upon what your correspondent at Saarbruck meant by the word "stores," which he says were discovered in Metz. If munitions of war, we say that Bazaine was a hero; if food, that he was a traitor.
If sieges were likely to occur frequently, the whole system of ambulances, as against military hospitals, would have to be ventilated. There are in Paris two hundred and forty-three ambulances, and when the siege commenced, such was the anxiety to obtain ablessé, that when a sortie took place, those who brought them in were offered bribes to take them to some house over which the flag of Geneva waved. A man with a broken leg or arm was worth thirty francs to his kind preservers. The largest ambulance is the International. Its headquarters are at the Grand Hotel. It seems to me over-manned, for the number of the healthy who receive pay and rations from its funds exceeds the number of the wounded. Many, too, of the former are young unmarried men, who ought to be serving either in the ranks of the army, or at least of the Garde Nationale. The following story I take from an organ of public opinion of to-day's date:—A lady went to her Mairie to ask to be given a wounded soldier to look after. She was offered a swarthy Zouave. "No," she said, "I wish for a blonde, being a brunette myself"—nothing like a contrast.
November 29th.
From morning to evening cannon were rolling and troops were marching through the streets. Since Saturday night the gates of the town had been rigidly closed to all civilians, and even those provided with passes from headquarters were refused egress. It was known that the grand effort which is to make or mar us was to be made the next morning, and it was hoped that the Prussians would be taken unawares. The plan, in its main details, was confided to me by half a dozen persons, and, therefore, I very much question whether it is a secret to the enemy. Most of those who take an interest in the war have, I presume, a map of Paris. If they consult it, they will see that the Marne from the east, and the Seine from the south, unite about a mile from the south-eastern corner of the enceinte. Two miles before the junction of the two rivers the Marne makes a loop to the south, in this way running parallel with the Seine for about three miles. On the north of the Marne towards Paris lies the wood of Vincennes, and beyond the loop there are the villages of Joinville, Nogent, and Brie. The line is defended by the forts of Vincennes and Nogent and the redoubt of La Faisanderie. To the south, between the loop and the Seine, is the fort of Charenton; a little farther on the village of Creteil; beyond it, just outside the loop, is Montmesly, where the Prussians have heavy batteries. On the north side of the loop is the village of Champigny, which is situated on a plateau that extends from there to Brie. On the south of Paris, between the Seine and Meudon, are first a line of forts, then a line of redoubts, except where Chatillon cuts in close by the Fort of Vanves. Beyond this line of redoubts is a plain, that slopes down towards the villages of L'Hay, Chevilly, Thiais, and Choisy-le-Roi, which is situated on the Seine about five miles from Paris. By Monday evening about 100,000 men and 400 cannon were massed under General Ducrot in the Bois de Vincennes and in the adjacent villages. About 15,000 men, under General Vinoy, were behind the southern line of redoubts close by the village of Villejuif. Troops were also placed near St. Denis and in the peninsula of Genevilliers to distract the attention of the enemy. It was arranged that early in the morning General Vinoy should push forward in the direction of L'Hay and Choisy, and then, when the Prussian reserves had been attracted to the south by this demonstration, Ducrot should throw bridges over the Marne and endeavour to force his way through the lines of investment by the old high road of Bâle. At one in the morning a tremendous cannonade from all the forts and redoubts round Paris commenced. It was so loud that I imagined that the Prussians were attempting an assault, and I went off to the southern ramparts to see what was happening. The sight there was a striking one. The heavy booming of the great guns, the bright flash each time they fired, and the shells with their lighted fusees rushing through the air, and bursting over the Prussian lines, realised what the French call a "feu d'enfer." At about three o'clock the firing slackened, and I went home, but at four it recommenced. At six o'clock General Vinoy's troops advanced in two columns, one against L'Hay, and the other against La Gare aux Bœufs, a fortified enclosure, about a mile above Choisy-le-Roi. The latter was speedily occupied, a body of sailors rushing into it, and carrying all before them, the Prussians falling back on Choisy. At L'Hay the attacking column met with a strenuous resistance. As soon as it had passed the barricade at the entrance of the village, a heavy fire was poured into it from the houses at both sides of the main street. A hand-to-hand encounter then took place with the Prussian Guard, which had been brought up as a reinforcement. While the fight was progressing an order arrived from General Trochu to retreat. The same order was sent to the Gare aux Bœufs, and by ten o'clock the troops to the south of Paris had fallen back to the positions they occupied the previous evening. General Vinoy, during the engagement, was with his staff on the bridge which crosses the Seine near Charenton. A battalion of National Guards were drawn up near him. A chance shell took off the legs of one of these heroes, his comrades fled in dismay—they were rallied and brought back with difficulty. A little later they were engaged in cooking their food, when some tin pans fell against each other. Thinking it was a bomb, they again scattered, and the General was obliged to ride along the line shouting "Courage, courage; it is the soup, my children." In the meantime a terrible mishap had occurred on the north of the Marne. On Monday evening, General Trochu and General Ducrot slept at Vincennes. The latter had issued an address, in which he informed his troops that he meant either to conquer or die. During the night an exchange of shots had taken place across the river between the French and Prussian sharp-shooters. Towards morning the latter had withdrawn. At break of day the troops were drawn up ready to cross the river as soon as the engagement on the southern lines had diverted the attention of the enemy. The bridges were there ready to be thrown across, when it was discovered that the Marne had overflown its bed, and could not be crossed. Whether it be true or not that the Prussians had cut a dam, or whether, as sometimes occurs with literary generals, the pontoons were too few in number, is not yet clear. Whatever the cause, the effect was to render it impossible to carry out to-day the plan which was to take General Ducrot and his troops down to Orleans, and at the present moment he and they are still at Vincennes, waiting for the river to go down. At twelve o'clock I managed to get through the gate of Vanves. Outside the walls everything was quiet. Troops were massed in all sheltered places to resist any attack which might be made from the plateau of Chatillon. None of the officers seemed to know what had occurred. Some thought that Choisy had been taken, others that Ducrot had got clear away. I was walking along the outposts in advance of Vanves, when a cantankerous officer, one of those beings overflowing with ill-regulated zeal, asked me what I was doing. I showed my pass. My zealous friend insisted that I had come in from the Prussian lines, and that I probably was a spy. I said I had left Paris an hour ago. He replied that this was impossible, as no civilian was allowed to pass through the gate. Things began to look uncomfortable. The zealot talked of shooting me, as a simple and expeditious mode of solving the question. To this I objected, and so at length it was agreed that I should be marched off to the fort of Vanves. We found the Commandant seated before his fort with a big stick in his hand, like a farmer before his farm yard. In vain the zealot endeavoured to excite his ire against me. The Commandant and I got into conversation and became excellent friends. He, too, knew nothing of what had occurred. He had been bombarding Chatillon, he said, and he supposed he should soon receive orders to recommence. What seemed to surprise him was that the Prussians during the whole night had not replied either from Chatillon, Sèvres, or Meudon to the French guns. From Vanves I went to Villejuif, where a temporary ambulance had been erected, and the surgeons were busy with the wounded. As soon as their wounds were dressed, they were taken in ambulance carts inside the town. The officers and soldiers, who had not yet learnt that General Ducrot had failed to cross the Marne, were in a very bad humour at having been ordered to withdraw at the very moment when they were carrying everything before them. They represented the Prussians as having fought like devils, and declared that they appeared to take a fiendish pleasure in killing even the wounded. Within the town the excitement to know what had passed is intense. The Government has posted up a notice saying that everything is happening as General Trochu wished it. Not a word is said about Ducrot's failure. TheLiberté, which gives a guarded account of what really took place, has been torn to pieces on the Boulevards. I have just been talking with an officer on the headquarters staff. He tells me that Trochu is still outside, very much cast down, but determined to make a desperate effort to retrieve matters to-morrow.
We have received to-day some English newspapers, and you may imagine how far behind the age we are from the fact that we learn for the first time that Prince Gortschakoff has put his finger into the pie. Good heavens! I have invested my savings in Turkish Five per cents., and it gives me a cold shiver to think at what figure I shall find these Oriental securities quoted on the Stock Exchange when I emerge from my enforced seclusion and again find myself in communication with the outer world.[1]
December 2nd.
For the last three days the public within the walls of Paris has been kept in profound ignorance of what has been passing outside. General Trochu has once or twice each day published a despatch saying that everything is happening as he anticipated, and the majority of those who read these oracular utterances religiously believe in them as though they had never been deceived. On the Boulevards there are crowds who question any soldier who is seen passing. "Tout va bien" is the only answer which they get; but they seem to be under the impression that the siege is already over, and that the Prussian lines have been forced. Along the road inside the ramparts, and at the gates, there are dense masses listening to the cannon, and on every mound from which a distant view of the smoke can be obtained men, women, and children are congregated. I have managed to get every day into the horse-shoe at the mouth of which the fighting was going on, and yesterday afternoon, when there was a semi-suspension of arms to bury the dead, I went with the ambulances on the debateable land between the two armies. The whole horse-shoe is full of artillery. The bombs and shells from the forts and batteries pass over the French, and explode within the Prussian lines. A little behind, every house is filled with wounded, who are taken, as soon as their wounds are dressed, inside the town. One or two batteries occasionally open fire, and occasionally those of the Prussians respond. Trochu and Ducrot ride about, and, as far as I can see, the latter commands, while the former makes speeches. Yesterday afternoon we had slightly gained ground, beyond however an occasional discharge from our forts and batteries, there was no fighting. Before our lines a very large number of Prussian dead were lying. There were burying parties out on both sides, but they were getting on very slowly with their work, and were perpetually fired on. At 4 A.M. this morning the Prussians made a rush at our lines from Champigny to Brie, and the Mobiles and line, taken by surprise, hastily fell back. One or two regiments of Mobiles were literally charged by squadrons of gendarmerie, to force them back. Reinforcements came up, and by nine o'clock the positions had been regained—the Prussians being unable to withstand the fire of our forts, redoubts, and siege-guns. The battle then went on till about three o'clock, when it died out. Towards Villiers, I should say we had gained about three-quarters of a mile, and at Champigny we had lost about a third of the village. At about five o'clock I got back to my hotel, which is the headquarters of the Ambulance Internationale. Until eleven o'clock wounded were being brought in. It is quite full now. About 460 French, and 30 Germans—almost all Saxons. Many died during the night. In the room, next to mine, Franchetti, the commander of the Eclaireurs of the Seine, is lying—a portion of his hip has been blown away by a shell, and the doctor has just told me that he fears that he will not recover, as the wound is too high up for an operation. In the room beyond him is a young lieutenant of Mobiles, who has had his leg amputated, and his right arm cut open to extract a portion of the bone, and who still has a ball in his shoulder. Most of the soldiers in here are wounded either in the leg or in the arm. There is a great dearth of doctors, and many wounded who were brought here last night had to wait until this morning before their turn came to be examined. The American Ambulance and several others are also, I hear, full. I go in occasionally to see the Germans, as I can talk their language, and it cheers them to hear it. I see in the newspapers that wounded Bavarians and Saxons are perpetually crying "Vive la France!" I can only say that those here do nothing of the kind. They do not seem to be particularly downcast at finding themselves in the hands of their enemies. They are treated precisely as the French are, and they are grateful for this.
It is said this evening that the troops will be withdrawn and return to the Bois de Vincennes. Some say that we have left 20,000 men at Villiers and Champigny; but I take it that our loss does not exceed 6,000 men. The general idea seems to be, that to-morrow we are to try to get out in another direction, either by Chatillon or Malmaison. A pigeon came in this morning from Bourbaki, with a despatch dated Nov. 30, stating that he is advancing, and among the soldiers this despatch has already become an official notice that he is at Meaux. All I know for certain is that the ambulances are ordered out for eight o'clock to-morrow morning, and that I am now going to bed, so as to be ready to start with them. I hear that there has been fighting both yesterday and to-day near Bondy; but not being able to be in two places at once, I cannot tell what really occurred. To my civilian judgment it appears that as our object was to force the line of heights on the south-east of Paris, which constitute the Prussian lines of investment in that direction, and as we have not done so, we can hardly be said to be in a better position than we were last Monday. At a heavy cost of life we have purchased the knowledge that our new artillery is better than was expected, and that Line and Mobiles will stand under fire with tolerable steadiness until their officers are bowled over, when they break. The National Guards were not engaged. General Trochu and General Pisani tried to get some of their battalions over the Marne, but found it impossible. After a long speech from Trochu, Pisani shouted, "Vive la France!" To this they responded; but when he added, "Vive Trochu!" they remained silent, and their commanders declared that this involved political considerations with regard to which they and their men "make certain reservations." They are, however, very proud of having been within two miles of a battle field, and Trochu congratulates them, in an order of the day, upon giving a "moral support" to the army. This is precisely what every one is willing to do. Moral support will not, however, get the Prussians away from Paris.
Food is becoming more scarce every day. Yesterday all our sausages were requisitioned. We have still got the cows to fall back on, but they are kept to the last for the sake of their milk. They are fed on oats, as hay is scarce. So you see the mother of a calf has many advantages over its uncle. All the animals in the Zoological Gardens have been killed except the monkeys; these are kept alive from a vague and Darwinian notion that they are our relatives, or at least the relatives of some of the members of the Government, to whom in the matter of beauty nature has not been bountiful. In the cellar of the English Embassy there are three sheep. Never did the rich man lust more after the poor man's ewe lamb than I lust after these sheep. I go and look at them frequently, much as a London Arab goes to have a smell at a cookshop. They console me for the absence of my ambassador. Some one has discovered that an excellent jelly can be made out of old bones, and we are called upon by the mayors to give up all our bones, in order that they may be submitted to the process. Mr. Powell is, I believe, a contractor in London. I do not know him; but yesterday I dined with a friend who produced from a tin some Australian mutton, which he had bought of Mr. Powell before the commencement of the siege. Better I never tasted, and out of gratitude I give the worthy Powell the benefit of a gratis advertisement. If we only had a stock of his meat here, we could defy the Prussians. As it is, I am very much afraid that in a very few weeks William will date his telegrams to Augusta from the Tuileries.
December 3rd.
I wrote to you in a great hurry last night in order to catch a balloon which was to have gone this morning, but whose departure has been deferred as the wind was not favourable. I am now able to give some more accurate details respecting the affair of Friday, as I have had an opportunity of talking with several of the officers who were on the staffs of the different generals engaged. After the Prussians at 4 A.M. had surprised the whole of the French line from Brie to Champigny, they pushed forward a heavy column between, the latter place and the Marne, thus outflanking their opponents. The column advanced about half-way up the horse-shoe formed by the bend in the river, and would have got as far as the bridges at Joinville, had not General Favé opened fire upon it from a small redoubt which he had built in advance of Joinville, with forty field guns which he rapidly placed in position. Reinforcements were then brought up under General Blanchard, and the column was at length forced back, fighting hard to Champigny. To-day most of the troops in the horse-shoe crossed over the river, and are now either in the wood of Vincennes or in other portions of the line between the forts and the enceinte. General Trochu has returned to the Louvre, and General Ducrot, I hear, yesterday evening expressed his regret that he had published that foolish manifesto, in which he declared that if he did not conquer he would die; for, not having done either, he felt the awkwardness of re-entering the city. Both Ducrot and Trochu freely exposed themselves; the latter received a slight wound in the back of the head from a piece of a shell which struck him. All the officers were obliged to keep well in advance of their soldiers in order to encourage them. The brunt of the fighting fell to the Line; the Mobiles, as a rule, only behaved tolerably well; the Vendeans, of whom much was expected, badly. The only battalion of the National Guards engaged was that from Belleville, and it very speedily fell back. I have always had my doubts about the valour of the Parisians. I found it difficult to believe in men who hunt for pretexts to avoid military service—who are so very fond of marching behind drums and vivandières inside a town, and who, in some way or other, manage either to avoid going out of it, or when forced out, avoid all danger.
The population is in profound ignorance of the real state of affairs outside. It still believes that the Prussian lines have been forced, and that the siege will be over in a few days. I presume that Trochu will make a second sortie in force. Unless, however, his operations are powerfully aided by the armies of the provinces, it is difficult to believe that the result will be anything beyond a useless sacrifice of life. On Friday, it is estimated that our loss amounted to 4,500 wounded, and 600 killed. That of the Prussians must have been very heavy, to judge from the number of dead bodies that were lying about in the fields and woods.
The ambulances were ordered out this morning, and at seven o'clock some 300 victims rendezvoused with the carriages on the Quai, near the Place de la Concorde. After freezing there for about two hours, it was suggested that a messenger should be sent to General Trochu, to ask him whether we were really wanted. The reply was that no attack would be made to-day, and consequently we went off home to thaw. If wars really must be made, I do hope that we shall fall back upon the old system of carrying on military operations in summer. When the thermometer is below zero, I feel like Bob Acres—all my valour oozing out at my fingers' ends. The doctors tell me that many slight wounds have gangrened owing to the cold. When a battle lasts until evening the mass of the wounded cannot be picked up until the next morning, and their sufferings during the night must be terrible. I saw several poor fellows picked up who appeared literally frozen.
TheJournal Officielof to-day contains a letter from Monseigneur Bauer, protesting against the Prussians having shot at him when he went forward with a flag of truce and a trompette. The fact is vouched for by, among others, a journalist who remained during the night of Friday outside the walls. I can easily believe it, for the Prussians are not a chivalrous enemy. They are perpetually firing on ambulances: and, when it suits their own purposes, raising the white flag. If, indeed, one-tenth part of the stories which I hear of their treacheries be true, they ought to be exterminated like wolves. This Monseigneur Bauer is a character. He began life as a German Jew, and he is now a Frenchman and a Christian Bishop. During the Empire he was chaplain to the court, and confessor of the Empress. He is now chaplain of the Ambulances de la Presse, and has under his orders 800 "Frères Chrétiens," who dress as priests, but are not in holy orders. Both he and they display the greatest courage. The Frères Chrétiens are the foremost in picking up the wounded; going forward long before the firing is over. The Bishop prances about on his horse, dressed in a soutane and long boots, the Grand Cross of the Legion of Honour on his breast, a golden crucifix hanging from his neck, and a huge episcopal ring on his finger, outside his gloves. Sometimes he appears in a red cloak, which, I presume, is a part of his sacerdotal gear. I am told, by those who know him, that "Monseigneur" is a consummate humbug, but he is very popular with the soldiers, as he talks to them in their own language, and there certainly is no humbug about his pluck. He is as steady under fire as if he were in a pulpit. He was by the side of Ducrot when the general's horse was killed under him.
The events of the past week prove that General Trochu's sole available force for resisting the enemy consists of the Line and the Mobiles. As for the population of Paris, they are more than useless. They eat up the provisions; they are endowed with a mixture of obstinacy and conceit, which will very probably enable them to endure considerable hardships rather than surrender; fight, however, they will not, although I am convinced that, to the end of their lives, they will boast of their heroic valour, and in the legend which will pass muster as history of the siege of Paris, our grandchildren will be taught that in 1870, when the French troops were all prisoners of war, the citizens of the French capital "covered themselves with honour," and for nearly three months held their town against the furious onslaughts of the victorious German armies. The poor soldiers and the Mobiles, who do all the real fighting, will experience the eternal truth of Virgil'sSic vos non vobis. But there is no use being angry at what will happen in one hundred years, for what does it signify to any who are now alive either in Paris or out of Paris?
December 5th.
A proclamation has been issued by the Government, announcing that the troops have retired across the Marne, as the enemy has had time to collect such a force in front of Villiers and Champigny, that further efforts in this direction would be sterile. "The loss of the enemy during the glorious days of the 29th and 30th November, and December 2nd, has been so great that, struck down in its pride of power, it has allowed an army which it attacked the day before, to cross a river under its eyes, and in the light of day," continues this manifesto. Now, considering that the crossing took place at Joinville, and that the river at that point is under the fire of three forts and two redoubts, it appears to me that General Trochu might as well take credit to himself for crossing the Seine opposite the Place de la Concorde. I will say for the Government of to-day, that in any attempt to beat its predecessor in mendacity it had a hard task, but it has worked with a will, and completely succeeded. The military attachés who are still here, consider that the French loss during the three days cannot be less than 10,000 in killed and wounded. It is very unlikely that the Government will admit a loss of above 2,000 or 3,000. That of the Prussians is, we are told, far larger than ours. Without accepting this assertion as gospel, it must have been very heavy. A friend of mine himself counted 500 dead bodies in one wood. We have a certain number of prisoners. With respect to the wounded Germans in our hands, I find that there are about 30 in my hotel, as against above 400 French. In the American ambulance, out of 130 only two are Germans. Colonel Claremont, who had put off his departure, witnessed the fight in the redoubt which General Favé had built opposite Joinville. He was nearly killed several times by bombs from La Faisanderie, which was behind him, bursting short.
The Parisians are somewhat taken aback at the victory resulting in a retreat. They appear, however, to be as ignorant of the environs of their own capital as they are of foreign countries, and they never condescend to consult a map. While some of them shake their heads in despair of success, the majority are under the impression that Villiers and Champigny are far beyond the range of the guns of our forts, and that as the ground near them is still occupied by our troops, something which will lead to the speedy retreat of the Prussians has been done. We are two millions, they say; we will all die rather than surrender: and they appear to be under the impression that if they only say this often enough, Paris never will be taken. The Ultra-Democrats in the clubs have a new theory to account for their refusal to fight. "We are," observed an orator, a few nights ago, "the children of Paris, she has need of us; can we leave her at such a moment?" Some of these heroes, indeed, assert that the best plan would be to allow the Prussians to enter and then convert them to the doctrines of Republicanism. I think it was St. Augustine who did not despair of the devil eventually turning over a new leaf; in the same way I heard an ardent patriot express the hope of being able to convert "William" himself to the creed of the Universal Republic. At the club where these fraternal sentiments were expressed there is a lady who sits on the platform. When anyone makes what she considers a good speech she embraces him on both cheeks. She is by no means ugly, and I had serious thoughts of making a few observations myself in view of the reward. That bashfulness, however, which has been my bane through life, prevented me. The lady occasionally speaks herself, and is fond of giving her own experiences. "I was on my way to this club," she said, "the other evening, when I observed a man following me. 'What dost thou want?' I asked, sternly eyeing him. 'I love you,' replied the vile aristocrat. 'I am the wife of a citizen,' I answered, 'and the mother of the Gracchi.' The wretch sneaked away, abashed to seek other prey. If he addresses himself to some princess or duchess he will probably find a victim." The loudest applause greeted this "experience," and several very unclean-looking patriots rushed forward to embrace the mother of the Gracchi, in order to show her how highly they appreciated her noble conduct.
The newspapers are already beginning to dread that possibly some doubts may be cast upon the heroism of everyone during the last week. TheFigarocontains the following:—"No matter what certain correspondents—better known than they suppose—may say, and although they are preparing to infect foreign countries with their correspondence, our Bretons did not run away on Thursday. It is true that when they saw the Saxons emerging from their holes and shouting hurrah, our Bretons were a little troubled by this abrupt and savage joke, but"—then follows the statement of several of the heroes themselves that they fought like lions. The fact is, as I have already stated in my letter of yesterday, the Mobiles fought only tolerably well, and some of their battalions rather the reverse of well. The Line, for young troops, behaved very fairly; and the reckless courage of the officers, both of the Line and Mobile, was above all praise. It is, however, a military axiom that when an undue proportion of officers are killed in a battle their troops have hung back. Good soldiers cannot be made in two months, and it is absurd to expect that raw lads, who were taken from the plough a few weeks ago, would fight as well as trained and hardened warriors. This however, we are called upon, in defiance of facts, to believe, because "the soil of France produces soldiers."
It is difficult to guess what will happen now. The generals must be aware that unless one of the armies of the provinces takes the Prussians in the rear, a fresh sortie will only result in a fresh butchery; but then, on the other hand, the Parisians will not be satisfied until all the Line and the Mobiles outside the walls have been killed, in order that it may be said that the resistance of Paris was heroic. If I were Trochu, I should organize a sortie exclusively of National Guards, in order to show these gentry what a very different thing real fighting is to parading about the streets of the capital and wearing a uniform.
The following is a list of the prices of "luxuries:"—Terrines of chicken, 16f; of rabbit, 13f; a fowl, 26f; a rabbit, 18f; a turkey, 60f; a goose, 45f; one cauliflower, 3f; one cabbage, 4f; dog is 2f. a lb.; a cat skinned costs 5f.; a rat, 1f., if fat from the drains, 1f. 50c. Almost all the animals in the Jardin d'Acclimatation have been eaten. They have averaged about 7f. a lb. Kangaroo, however, has been sold for 12f. the lb. Yesterday I dined with the correspondent of a London paper. He had managed to get a large piece of mufflon, an animal which is, I believe, only found in Corsica. I can only describe it by saying that it tasted of mufflon, and nothing else. Without being absolutely bad, I do not think that I shall take up my residence in Corsica, in order habitually to feed upon it.