The Commune has seized the silver ornaments and other valuables of the Church of the Trinity. All the other churches of Paris will shortly be treated in a similar manner, and will then be closed.
All arrests and requisitions are being carried out by Flourens's corps of Avengers.
The demolition of the Expiatory Chapel was commenced to-day.
The gate at Point du Jour is destroyed.
Yesterday evening two battalions of troops carried the Ory Farm and Plichon House, near Fort Montrouge, at the point of the bayonet. The Federalists had about 400 killed and wounded, and lost 42 prisoners, including a Chief of Battalion. The troops also captured a flag, but subsequently evacuated the conquered positions, as they were too much exposed to the fire of the enemy. The loss of the Versailles troops was small.
THE VENDÔME COLUMN.
Foul is the bird that soils her own nest! As though they had not suffered enough of mortification and defeat at the hands of the enemy, the Parisians have succeeded in emptying the cup of disgrace to the dregs by dragging down the monument of their military glory, amid hoots and hisses, and toppling over the effigy of their greatest soldier-hero on to a bed of mire, at the same time publicly tearing the tricoloured national flag which has for so many years led their armies to victory. Upon the official announcement some days back that the Vendôme Column was to be sacrificed as an insult to the principles of fraternity, everybody laughed and thought it a good joke, never believing that the plan would be carried out, even in spite of the ominous scaffoldings and curtains which rose around its base. A few days later we were told that it had been sawn through, and that a solemn Festival would be held to commemorate this new display of liberty. We thought the party of Order would protest; that the veterans of the Invalides would make a movement; that the mass of the population would insist upon the abandonment of such a piece of folly. But we forgot the state of coma into which respectable Paris has fallen, and that those who had allowed themselves to be ground down by a tyrannical few would scarcely bestir themselves in defence of their public monuments. It became apparent that the column was really doomed, and the Rue de la Paix was crowded by an expectant multitude at about 3 o'clock on Monday afternoon; the balconies were filled with ladies; all the windows were pasted with paper to neutralize the expected concussion, while cake and newspaper vendors andmarchands de cocoplied a busy trade, and elbowed their way about among the people down below. Three ropes had been fastened round the top of the column beneath the statue, communicating with a crazy-looking windlass and anchor placed in the centre of the road at the entrance of the Rue Neuve des Capucines, and a long narrow dung heap filled with sand and branches had been spread in the square to deaden the shock of the falling mass. Public excitement was at its height, and the strangest surmises went from mouth to mouth as to how far the statue would be thrown, whether balconies would fall and slates be shuffled down, and whether the great weight would or would not crash through the vaulted arch into the sewers under the road. Still the crowd increased in numbers, when at about 4 o'clock a cordon of National Guards was formed, who pushed back the people as far as the Rue des Augustins, leaving an empty space along the Rue de la Paix, which was duly watered in true Parisian style, and became the arena for a display of equestrian prowess on the part of sundry officers and members of the Commune. They rattled backwards and forwards at full gallop, and made figures of eight, and turned and twisted in a marvellous manner, suggestive rather of a circus than a barrack-yard; but their evolutions served to amuse the crowd, who waited patiently until sunset, when it became evident that the affair would be put off until the morrow. It turned out that the members of the artistic federation who, with Courbet at their head, had decided on this piece of Vandalism, had been playing off a little practical joke upon the crowd, for their preparations were not complete, and workmen were still hacking at the stonework from behind their curtain screen until evening had settled into night. With the easy good nature of a Paris crowd, everybody quietly went home, a few disappointed at the failure of a promised excitement, but by far the greater number rejoicing in their hearts at the reprieve of the bronze pillar which they had been accustomed from childhood to regard with pride. Tuesday'sOfficielpositively announced the ceremony for that day at 2, and the concourse was greater than ever. The Rue de la Paix and the space behind, up to the steps of the New Opera, was a sea of heads, and theéliteof Communal aristocracy who held passes to the Square itself were forced to elbow their way and struggle through relays of guards long before the prescribed hour in order to be certain of getting there at all. So far all their arrangements were so bad as to suggest misgivings as to the result of the attempt. Three meagre ropes were to do the deed, while two beams, applied one on either side the column, were to give it the proper inclination as it fell. Now, every one knows that, from some fault in its construction, the Column has always leant a little towards the Ministère des Cultes, and people moved restlessly about, uncertain where to station themselves, lest the tottering mass, once set in motion, should fall in an entirely different direction from the one intended. The bed, too, which was to receive it seemed strangely small and narrow, and it appeared a matter of doubt whether the bronze Emperor might not force his way into one of the adjoining houses, and pay a visit as little desired as it was expected. Meanwhile, a party of workmen continued to drive wedges into the space which had been sawn, while others gave a finishing touch to the dung heaps and cleared away the curtains and scaffolding that had obscured their operations. At half-past 3 the Commune arrived on horseback, attended by their Staff, and placed themselves in front of the crowd in the Rue de la Paix—a mounted squadron of some 200 persons; while at a given signal a number of bands stationed at different points began to play a medley of patriotic airs, regardless of general effect. Trumpets brayed forth signals, and all strained their eyes into the dazzling sky, not without having first assured themselves of a safe retreat through some friendly doorway in case of a disaster, as the ropes were seen to tighten—"See! It moves!" "No, 'tis the effect of a passing cloud;" and, after a second's pause of intense anxiety one of the ropes snapped, knocking down in its whirl several men at the windlass. And now began a murmur and a shaking of heads, "Ah, I knew it could not succeed; they will be obliged to blow it up with gunpowder; shame on them for the attempt!" "Why cannot they leave it alone?" said one man to his neighbour, "it has cost so much." "Yes, it has," replied the other; "it has cost us millions of human lives on the plains of Germany and in the Russian snows." The attempt had failed, and people were preparing to move away, when news arrived that the Commune were not going to be thus baffled, but had sent for more ropes and apparatus, and were determined to have their way at any price. Meanwhile, the great figure looked calmly down upon his persecutors, seemingly as secure as ever, while the bands continued to play, and the horsemen galloped about the square. It was half-past 4 before the two new ropes arrived, and fully 5 o'clock before they had been hoisted to their places, not being attached to the capstan like the others, but held, one on either side the road, by 50 sailors each. Brute force had failed, and so they had determined to try the effect of a series of swings. People laughed at these renewed preparations; and could scarcely be kept close under the houses out of immediate danger. The ropes slackened and tightened again for a final effort, and a cry burst from the assembled multitude in the horror of a coming danger which might be incalculable as the great giant swayed for a few seconds and finally tottered down with an awful crash, separating into rings in the air, upon the foul bed which had been prepared for him: a shapeless mass of shattered metal and stone lying in uneven coils like some mighty serpent. The wooden sentry-boxes in the square reeled round and fell, while a cloud of filth and dust obscured the fallen monster, and men looked awe-struck at one another like naughty children who had broken something which they ought not to have dared to touch. The moment of compunction was a short one, and a howling throng rushed with one accord into the noisome cloud, fighting and quarrelling for bits of bronze and stone, and a man near me drew back, half stifled for an instant, saying, with disgust, "See what a stench the Empire has!" The statue had fallen beyond the heap, and, having smashed the pavement into splinters, lay a wreck, with one arm broken and the head severed from the body, while women kicked and spat upon it, waving their arms wildly, and shouting, "Vive la République!" "Vive la Commune!" All the bands struck on theMarseillaisein different keys, a few people crowded on the remnants of the pedestal waving red flags and shrieking in their excitement, and a sergeant who endeavoured to unburden himself of an oration was speedily gagged and hustled down to make way for the great "Bergeretlui-même," who, in all the glory of a red scarf and tassels, waved his hat and struggled to be heard above the general hubbud of music, voices, and battering of bronze. "Citizens," he said, "the 26th of Floréal will be memorable in our history. Thus we triumph over military despotism, that bloody negation of the rights of man. The First Empire placed the collar of servitude about our necks—it began and ended in carnage—and left us a legacy of a Second Empire, which was finally to end in the disgrace of Sedan." Much more he said, but his voice was drowned in the continued hammering of metal, while our attention was distracted by peremptory orders to "move on." Such an order at such a moment was particularly exasperating, and led to many little tussles with citizens, who refused to consider this a pleasant opening to the era of liberty, an exasperation very considerably increased at the different exits from the square by an uncompromising search into the contents of pockets, and a consequent disgorging of trophies and remembrances. A fight was going on meantime in the Rue de la Paix between a company of Marines and the multitude of people gathered in the street, who struggled and fought with an energy worthy of a better cause in hopes of gaining a share in the spoils. As I emerged from the conflict into the comparative peace and coolness of the Boulevard, I was stopped by a procession—two battalions of National Guards returning much shorn of numbers, from the Bois de Boulogne, bringing with them in a furniture waggon a portion of their dead, among whom was their colonel, whose feet projected from under the flapping awning of the cart.
An order of the day of Marshal Mac-Mahon has been published in which he announces the demolition of the Vendôme Column. He says:—
"The foreigner respected it; the Commune of Paris has overthrown it. Men calling themselves Frenchmen have dared to destroy, under the eyes of the Germans, who saw the deed, this witness of the victories of our fathers against Europe in coalition. The Commune hopes thus to efface the memory of the military virtues of which the Column was the glorious symbol. Soldiers! if the recollections which the Column commemorated are no longer graven upon brass, they will remain in our hearts. Inspired by them, we know how to give France another proof of bravery, devotion, and patriotism."
M. ROCHEFORT.
Never have I witnessed a scene of greater excitement than the entry of Rochefort into Versailles as a prisoner to-day. He was brought in by the St. Germain road, and was seated in a family omnibus drawn by two horses. First came a squadron of gendarmes, then the omnibus, surrounded by Chasseurs D'Afrique, and lastly a squadron of the same corps. In the vehicle with Rochefort were his secretary, Mouriot, and four police agents dressed in plain clothes. Outside the omnibus were an officer of the gendarmerie in uniform and two or threesergents-de-villenot in uniform. Rochefort's moustache had disappeared. He had himself shaved closely before setting out from Paris in order to disguise himself, but there was no mistaking him. It was half-past 1 o'clock in the afternoon when thecortège, arriving at the end of the Boulevard du Roi, entered the Rue des Réservoirs. Every one ran into the street, and shouts of execration were raised on all sides. It was no mere demonstration of a mob. The citizens of all classes joined in it. One man ventured to cry "Vive Rochefort!" He was kicked by several persons who happened to be near him, and was saved from further violence only by arrest at the hands of thesergents-de-ville. Along the rue des Réservoirs, the Rue de la Pompe, the Place Hoche, the Rue de Hoche, and the Avenue St. Cloud Rochefort was greeted with incessant shouts of "À bas l'assassin; à pied le brigand; à mort!" The people wanted to have him out of the omnibus, and it was with difficulty the cavalry prevented them from dragging him out and inflicting summary execution. The cavalcade was obliged to go at a slow pace, but finally he was safely lodged in gaol. I believe that but for the precautions taken by the Government he would have been killed before he had got near it. The demand to have an example made of him, and the dissatisfaction at seeing him brought to prison in a carriage, were loud and general.
There was a tremendous fire against the bastions this morning at 5 o'clock, and a strong fire has been maintained all day.
The fire of the Insurgents is much weaker than it was yesterday and the day before, except at Vaugirard, and from there to Montrouge, where mitrailleuses and musketry were brought into requisition.
Up to 5 o'clock this afternoon Auteuil still shelled.
From 3 o'clock I have observed a very large number of the Versailles troops under arms at a short distance from the Point du Jour, and a considerable body of the Insurgents watching them from near the Vaugirard Gate.
At 5 o'clock the white flag was displayed at the Porte d'Auteuil.
Orders have been given for the troops to march onward and occupy it.
M. Thiers has issued a circular, dated noon to-day, in which he says:—
"Several Prefects having demanded that news should be published, the following answer has been sent to them:—Those persons who are uneasy are greatly mistaken. Our troops are working at the approaches, and at the moment of writing the breaching batteries continue their fire upon the walls. Never have we been so near the end. The members of the Commune are busy making their escape."
The breaching batteries are still keeping up a very heavy fire against theenceinte.
M. Thiers has sent a despatch to the Prefects announcing that the gate of St. Cloud was forced down by the fire of the Versailles guns, and General Douai then rushed with his men into the interior. The troops under Generals Ladmirault and Glinchamps were at once set in motion to follow them.
The Versailles troops entered Paris at 4 o'clock this afternoon at two different points—namely, by the St. Cloud Gate at Point du Jour, and by the gate of Montrouge.
The ramparts were abandonned by the Insurgents.
THE CAPTURE OF PARIS.
The great event of yesterday came upon every one by surprise. It had been expected, but not for yesterday.
Even the Marshal Commanding-in-Chief looked onward to at least six more days of sapping and mounting of batteries and actual breaching before his army would be able to make the final movement.
A certain number of the troops were inside theenceintebefore any one but themselves knew of it, and Auteuil and the Point du Jour were shelled for nearly two hours after they had fallen into possession of the forces of Versailles.
One man, M. Clément, an officer of Engineers, played a prominent part in this historical affair. Soon after midday, proceeding cautiously in advance of a party of his men, who were lying in concealment between the nearest parallel and the Porte de St. Cloud, he crept up to the bastion and found it and the ramparts adjoining without a single sentinel. Keeping near the ground, he waved a white handkerchief; it was seen by the small party of Engineers who were lying outside the last parallel, and also by Lieutenant Trèves, of the French Navy. At first the signal was not understood; but M. Clément continued to wave the handkerchief violently, and beckon to those who saw him to come on immediately. It was with difficulty 100 men could be collected in the trenches, but about that number advanced and occupied the deserted position. In the meantime the word was passed from post to post in their rear, and a batallion was soon on its way after them. By half-past 3 o'clock dispositions had been effected for occupying both Auteuil and the Point du Jour with a sufficient force, and proceeding to the other gates both right and left. The gates and drawbridge of Auteuil had been demolished several days previously, but the Insurgents had substituted an enormous barricade, which shut off the iron bridge uniting the Railway Station with the Viaduct.
The Division of General Vergeé marched direct upon Auteuil. Scarcely had the first column arrived there, when volleys of musketry were opened by the Insurgents concealed in houses. A few of the troops were puthors de combatby this fire, but the artillery of the Division turned their pieces on the ramparts against the enemy, Mitrailleuses were also brought into requisition by the troops, and within an hour the Insurgents had fled to a distance.
The Division of General Douai entered by the gate of St. Cloud, which is at the Point du Jour, and occupied the salient between the ramparts and the viaduct. Here there was a second bastion of considerable solidity. The soldiers entered the half-ruined barracks and casemates, and made prisoners of a number of Insurgents whom they found concealed there.
Immediate preparations were then made for the advance right and left, but as the enemy was still keeping up a fire from 7-pounders and Mitrailleuses, along the bastions between Vaugirard and Montrouge, a regular assault of these positions by the division under General Cissey was determined upon. I have already announced that it has been successful.
The Division began to march in by the Gates of Vaugirard and Montrouge. At 2 o'clock this morning La Muette was occupied without serious resistance.
A Division subsequently advanced to Passy to join that which had taken La Muette.
Such was the suddenness with which the occupation of the Point du Jour had been effected that, as I have stated, the firing from the military batteries continued for a considerable time after the first of the troops were in it. It was not till 4 o'clock that the order to cease firing in that direction left the Head-Quarters. In the meantime, hundreds of people stood on the Avenue and Terrace of Meudon watching the cannonade, and believing that all the posts of the Insurgents were still occupied by the enemy. Even the officers and men in the batteries did not know why the order to cease firing had been sent round.
I have just returned, after having followed in the rear of General Vinoy's last column, going to take up positions in the neighbourhood of the Trocadéro. I have wandered all over the Point du Jour, visited Auteuil, and have walked along by the bastions between the Gate of St. Cloud at the Point du Jour and the Gate of Auteuil. Having watched the other side of the Sèvres Bridge, I was surprised on passing along the Sèvres road to observe that, very little damage had been done to the houses at the end of it near theenceinte. One or two bore the marks of shells, but the fact is that nearly all had escaped, and what I saw at theenceinteand within it, shows that the artillery practice of the Versailles side had been exceedingly good throughout the bombardment. The people on the Sèvres road had kept their shops open amid all the terrible firing. Only some two or three houses had been closed. They stood at a dangerous angle to the batteries at Meudon. On one of them was chalked "fermée pour cause du bombardement." Between the last of the houses and the ramparts, and at a distance of not more than 100 yards from the latter, were the newly-cut trenches which the troops had constructed. Good gabions protected them in front, and there was a plentiful supply of fascines lying all about. The doors of the Porte were no longer to be seen, except in little bits on the roadway. The drawbridge had succumbed bodily, and its place was supplied with some planks. The posthouse was in ruins, and the stone walls on either side between the gates and the parapet of the fortifications had been crumbled into rubbish; the glacis from the Point du Jour to Auteuil had been ploughed up in such a manner that not a yard of it was to be seen without a shell hole. To say that the parapet had been riddled would not be correct. It is smashed here and there, and at intervals everywhere, but in no place between the two Gates I am referring to is the earthwork inside the parapet laid bare, nor has a breach, properly so called, been anywhere made. The doors and gate walls of both gates are smashed through, but all along, despite serious disfigurement, the parapet is strong still.
To come back to the Point du Jour—that is as much a ruin as the town of St. Cloud. From the gate to the Railway Station there is not a single habitable house; not three have roofs, and not one has its windows and walls intact. Every lamppost has been scattered about the road in small pieces, and a stranger who had not heard of the bombardment might be pardoned for supposing that the streets had been macadamized with the fragments of shells. Strange to say, the staircase leading from the Booking Office of the Railway Station to the line over head is uninjured, or nearly so, and by its means I was enabled to ascend and walk through that Viaduct which I have been looking at from a distance as shells have been battering it for the last six weeks. It is much knocked about, and so is the bridge underneath it, which in a series of arches spans the river, but both will be serviceable still after some repair. Huge stones, displaced from their settings and broken into small pieces, lie scattered on the bridge and its approaches. From the Viaduct I could see an immense conflagration in the neighbourhood of the Champ de Mars, and a combat between the troops and the Insurgents was going on. In the Place de la Concorde and the Rue de Rivoli, all down to the Trocadéro, reserves were in waiting with their chassepots stacked on each side of the road, but there was no fighting along the Quays. General Vinoy had established himself in his new Head-Quarters, and the 70,000 or 80,000 men already in the heart of the city are believed to be quite sufficient to dispose of the last desperadoes of the Commune. The sounds of battle we heard from more than one point, and yet every one spoke of the Insurrection as in its last agonies. Men and women once more held up their heads and snapped their fingers at Delescluze, Dombrowski, and the Commune, but there was sad evidence all around us of what this rebellion had done. There in the little cemetery behind the ramparts lay the unburied and mangled remains of 32 National Guards who had been killed at the batteries just above. The whole place was a picture of ruin and desolation. Passing out of the Point du Jour by the opining where the Porte de St. Cloud had stood, whole and entire, even after the Prussian bombardment, but where there is not a vestige of it bigger than a splinter now, I walked along the glacis in the direction of Auteuil. I was surprised to find that, at a distance of less than an eighth of a mile from the latter place, the military had fixed their gabions, sapped right up the glacis, and to within four or five yards of the fosse. The trenches had been cut across the Bois de Boulogne. Nothing, however, like enough of the parapet and the earthwork above had been thrown down to fill up the fosse. Indeed, no effort whatever had been made in the way of filling up, except at either side of the two Portes, so that an assault at any other than these points would have been a very difficult undertaking. On the glacis I saw the dead and decomposed body of a man not in uniform. He lay on his side, with one hand under his head and the other raised in the air. A gentleman who lives close by stated that the deceased, with two or three other men, had come out to fire stray shots at the soldiers in the trenches. As he lay there to-day I perceived that he had been pierced by several rifle balls. The gates at Auteuil have disappeared as completely as those at Point du Jour, and at the Railway Station behind the iron railway bridge over the road all the habitations are, so to speak, in a heap. The French term "débris" best describes what is left of Auteuil and its surroundings. Stone, mortar, iron bridge metal, lamp posts, trees, are smashed, pounded, and scattered. No one who visited Auteuil in happier times would recognize even the spot on which it stood. As specimens of successful bombardment the Point du Jour and the three barracks behind theenceintethat lie between them may be cited among the most complete that even modern artillery has succeeded in producing.
A great explosion, followed by a conflagration, occurred at half-past 12 at the Staff Quarters near the Esplanade of the Invalides.
Paris is now completely surrounded.
It is asserted that Dombrowski is hemmed in at Ouen.
The Insurgents have established a battery upon the terrace of the Garden of the Tuileries, the fire of which sweeps over the Champs Elysées; but this position has been turned by General Clinchamp, and there is reason to hope that the resistance will not be of long duration.
The Versailles troops have already captured from 8,000 to 10,000 prisoners.
Fighting has been going on all this morning, the cannonade and musketry fire being incessant.
There is a large fire in the neighbourhood of the St. Lazare Railway Station, and a dense cloud of smoke hangs over the heights of Montmartre. Not only have the Germans completely isolated Paris, but all communication between Versailles and St. Denis is also cut off. Trains arriving from the North no longer enter Paris, but stop at St. Denis.
It is rumoured that the Prussians occupy Fort Vincennes.
The strictest orders have been given to the German outposts to drive back all Insurgents, and the advanced corps have been doubled tonight to prevent any from breaking through the circle of investment north of Paris.
A wounded Insurgent General attempted to pass the Prussian outposts, but was forced to retrace his steps.
It may be desirable that I should add some particulars to the account I have already given of the way in which the troops moved from theenceinteto the different positions they occupied in Paris last night. The first column, proceeding between the railway and the Fortifications, made its way from Auteuil to La Muette; the second, starting from Auteuil, threw down a barricade which had been erected behind the railway arch, and, taking the Rue Raynouard and the Rue Franklin, proceeded by the high ground to the Trocadéro. This march was not a rapid one, because at every step precautions had to be taken against snares that might have been laid by the Insurgents. The Artillerymen and the Engineers entered the houses on the terraces and examined the powder stores in the Rue Beethoven in order to ensure the column against an explosion. The third column, setting out from the Point du Jour, marched along the quays to the Bridge of Jéna. At this point there was a junction of the three columns, and a line of occupation from Passy to the river side at that bridge was established. The fourth column crossed the river at the Point du Jour, and marched along the quay of Grenelle. Upon entering the Champs de Mars they found that the Insurgents were encamped in considerable force there. Skirmishers were thrown out, and, opening fire, they drove out the enemy without any serious difficulty, although the latter had a park of artillery. The Insurgents showed fight for some time, and a struggle was maintained on the right of the Champs de Mars, where the temporary wooden barracks have been erected. The Insurgents formed in a sort of hollow square at the four sides of the portion of the ground which for some time has been covered with artillerycaissons, and responded to the attack upon them by a vigorous fire, but being opposed on two sides by an overwhelming force, they gave way, without any very great loss on either side. The tricolour was planted on the Pavilion d'École.
From the Arc de Triomphe there was no fighting down the Champs Élysées, but there was a struggle at the Palais de l'Industrie before the troops obtained possession of that building. Under the orders of certain members of the Commune, the Insurgents resisted with a musketry fire.
Montmartre kept firing in the direction of the Trocadéro throughout the day. Its fire did not kill or wound many men, but it retarded the advance of the troops towards the heart of the city.
The fire which I mentioned yesterday as having been seen by me from the Viaduct of the Point du Jour was caused by the blowing up of the riding school of the École d'Etat Major, which was filled with cartridges.
Dombrowski has not been taken. He escaped from La Muette when the troops entered, leaving behind him the silver service which was in the room where he had been about to sit down to dinner.
Assy, was taken on the Quai de Billy.
Montmartre has been carried after a rather sharp struggle. The tricolour now waves over the Buttes.
For some hours I witnessed the fighting to day. I found that early this morning all the important positions of Montmartre had been taken by the two Corps d'Armée of Generals Douai and Ladmirault. The latter General had occupied the station of St. Ouen and the Place of Clichy, and he had advanced to Montmartre by an external movement, keeping for some distance outside the ramparts. At the same time General Douai made a direct movement from inside the city by the Parc de Monceaux. In this manner Montmartre had been almost entirely surrounded. There was a hard contest, but the troops succeeded in entering the Buttes. A large number of the Insurgents were killed in the action, and about 4,000 were made prisoners. The number of cannon and mitrailleuses taken was very considerable, amounting to some hundreds. Belleville is still in the hands of the Insurgents, as are also the Hôtel de Ville and the Tuileries. The Red flag was floating on them at half-past 5 o'clock. Severe fighting was going on across the Place de la Concorde between the Insurgents occupying the mansion of the Ministry of Marine, at the corner of the Rue Royale, and the troops on the other side of the river in the Palace of the Corps Législatif. A gunboat which the Insurgents had under the Pont Royal, close to the Tuileries, was firing constantly. The Insurgents in the Rue de Rivoli and the garden of the Tuileries were using mitrailleuses and rifles, and the troops along the Boulevard at the edge of the Place des Invalides, close to the river, were attacking them with four-pounder guns. Fort Vanves was firing on the Insurgent positions in the neighbourhood of Montrouge and the Faubourg St. Germain, and the Federalists were shelling Vanves from Forts Montrouge and Bicêtre. There was musketry skirmishing at various points in the Faubourg St. Germain. The Insurgents occupy houses, from which they keep up a rapid fire to impede the march of General Cissey's troops. Among the prisoners taken to-day many have been recognized as old Reds who were actively engaged in the insurrection of June, 1848. A movement has been ordered which will result in completely shutting in the Insurgents within a circle formed by the whole Army of Paris. The Madeleine is in the hands of the military. Several fires have broken out in the city. Colonel Piquemalle, Chief of the Staff of General Vergé, was killed to-day.
The following circular despatch was yesterday forwarded to the Prefects of the several Departments.
"The tricolour flag waves over the Buttes-Montmartre and the Northern Railway station. These decisive points were carried by the troops of Generals Ladmirault and Clinchant, who captured between 2,000 and 3,000 prisoners. General Douai has taken the Church of the Trinity, and is marching upon the Mairie in the Rue Drouot.
"Generals Cissey and Vinoy are advancing towards the Hôtel-de-Ville and the Tuileries.
"The Generals, desiring to treat the city with lenity, withheld any attack upon public monuments in which the insurgents had taken up positions. This morning they carried the Place de la Concorde. The Ministry of Finances, the Hôtel of the Conseil d'Etat, the Palace of the Légion of Honour, and the Palace of the Tuileries were burnt by the insurgents. When the troops gained possession of the Tuileries, it was but a mass of smouldering ashes. The Louvre will be saved. The Hôtel de Ville is in flames. I am convinced that the insurrection will be completely conquered by this evening at the latest. No one could have prevented the crime of these wicked wretches. They have made use of petroleum for their incendiary purposes, and have sent petroleum bombs against the soldiers. What remedy can be applied? The best of the Generals of the army have shown an amount of talent and valour which has excited the admiration of foreigners.
I have just returned from witnessing one of the saddest sights that has occurred in the world's history.
I announced that the insurgents had set fire to several of the public buildings of Paris, the Royal and historical Tuileries included. Flames and bombshells are fast reducing the magnificent city to a huge and shapeless ruin. Its architectural glories are rapidly passing away in smoke and flame, such as have never been witnessed since the burning of Moscow, and amid a roar of cannon, a screaming of mitrailleuses, a bursting of projectiles, and a horrid rattle of musketry from different quarters which are appalling. A more lovely day it would be impossible to imagine, a sky of unusual brightness, blue as the clearest ever seen, a sun of surpassing brilliancy even for Paris, scarcely a breath of wind to ruffle the Seine. Such of the great buildings as the spreading conflagration has not reached stand in the clearest relief as they are seen for probably the last time; but in a dozen spots, at both sides of the bridges, sheets of flame and awful volumes of smoke rise to the sky and positively obscure the light of the sun. I am making these notes on the Trocadéro. Close and immediately opposite to me is the Invalides, with its gilded dome shining brightly as ever. The wide esplanade of the École Militaire, almost immediately underneath it, is nearly covered with armed men, cannon, and horses. Shells from the positions of General Cissey, at Montrouge, are every minute falling close to the lofty dome of the Panthéon. It and the fine building of Val de Grace, near it, seem certain to be destroyed by missiles before the incendiary fire reaches them. There is a dense smoke close to St. Sulpice, and now flame rises amid the smoke, and the two towers of the church are illuminated as no electric light could illuminate them. Some large building is on fire there. Every one asks which it is; but no one can approach that Quarter to put the matter beyond doubt. Burnt leaves of books are flying towards us, and the prevailing opinion is that the Sorbonne and its Library are being consumed. There are a dozen other fires between that and the river. No one doubts that the Palais de Justice is sharing the fate of the Tuileries and the Louvres. The Château of the Tuileries has all but disappeared. The centre cupola has fallen in, and so has the roof along the entire length of the building. Some of the lower stories yet burn, for fire and smoke are rushing fiercely from the openings where up to this morning there were window-frames and windows.
The Louvre is not yet wholly gone, and perhaps the fire will not reach all its Courts. As well as we can make out through the flame and smoke rushing across the gardens of the Tuileries, the fire has reached the Palais Royal. Every one is now crying out, "The Palais Royal burns!" and we ascertain that it does. We cannot see Notre Dame or the Hôtel Dieu. It is probable that both are fast becoming ashes. Not an instant passes without an explosion. Stones and timber and iron are flying high into the air, and falling to the earth with horrible crashes. The very trees are on fire. They are crackling, and their leaves and branches are like tinder. The buildings in the Place de la Concorde reflect the flames, and every stone in them is like bright gold. Montmartre is still outside the circle of the flames; but the little wind that is blowing carries the smoke up to it, and in the clear heavens it rises black as Milton's Pandemonium. The New Opera House is as yet uninjured; but the smoke encircles it, and it will be next to a miracle if it escapes. We see clearly now that the Palais de Justice, the Ste. Chapelle, the Prefecture of Police, and the Hôtel de Ville are all blazing without a possibility existing of any portion of any one of them being saved from the general wreck and ruin.
The military are as far as the Pont Neuf on the left bank of the river, and just beyond the Hôtel de Ville on the right. Now, at 6 o'clock, it is all but certain that when this fire is extinguished scarcely one of the great monuments of Paris will have escaped entire destruction.
The barricade of the Insurgents at the end of the Rue Royale was taken last night by a movement in which the troops made their way from house to house, starting from the Rue Boissy d'Anglas, to the Rue Faubourg St. Honoré. The fighting in the Rue Faubourg St. Honoré and the Avenue Marigny was very severe. Six shells fell and exploded in the grounds of the British Embassy. The two houses which formed the angles at the corners of the Rue Royale and the Rue Faubourg St. Honoré were burnt to the ground. The Place Vendôme was taken by the troops. In the Faubourg St. Germain during the whole night an energetic combat was raging between the Insurgents and the men of General Cissey's division.
The Versailles batteries are firing furiously against the Quarters which still hold out. By the aid of the telescope the horrible fact is disclosed of numerous dead and wounded left lying about the streets without any succour whatever.
I have been over a large portion of the city to-day and I am happy to say that, though large fires are still raging, the conflagration is not spreading to the extent that had been apprehended. The destruction done by the street fighting and the desolation which prevails in the principal Boulevards and other leading thoroughfares exceed all I could have imagined from a more distant view.
I went to the Porte de la Muette, and, getting round to the left, approached the Arc de Triomphe from the Avenue de L'Impératrice. All along I found trees, lamp-posts, and the façades of houses smashed by shells. Turning off by the Rue de Morny, I worked my way round to the Boulevard Haussmann. It was impossible to proceed along by the pavement, as on either side at intervals of a few feet felled trees and thick branches had been laid down by the insurgents to obstruct the passage of the troops. On Monday last the Federals had occupied the houses, and fired from the corridors. All the fronts of the houses were disfigured by rifle balls, the corridors were broken, and the handsome stone cornices very much battered. The beautiful columns of the Madeleine are sadly injured, the fluted edges having been in many places shot away. The two houses in the Rue Royale, at the corner of the Rue Faubourg St. Honoré, were blazing still, and the smoke and ashes that flew from them were stifling the pompiers, who were working energetically there and at other points; some of their corps were shot. It had been discovered that they, instead of throwing water on the fires they were called upon to extinguish, were actually pumping petroleum into the flames, and so adding to their fury. When this was detected the guilty firemen were surrounded by a body of cavalry, conducted into the Parc de Monceaux, and there shot. I could count the number of people I met along the Boulevards, so few were those who ventured to walk about. The fears of petroleum and explosions are universal. The inhabitants had either stopped up, or were engaged in stopping up, every chink through which petroleum might be thrown into their houses. Their cellar lights, their ventilators, and their gratings were being made impervious by sand, mortar, and other materials. This precaution was taken because women and children partisans of the Commune, have in numerous instances been detected throwing petroleum into houses. Not a shop was entirely open, and those that opened only doors were inferior restaurants and wine houses. Around the railing in the Place Vendôme troopers' horses were tied. The bronze figure of the Emperor was on its back, the shattered and prostrate Column lay about in fragments. On visiting the neighbourhood of Montmartre, and ascending an Observatory there I found there was a cannon and musketry fire going on in the district of Belleville and the Buttes de Chaumont. The Insurgents had not been dislodged, and as the troops have undergone much fatigue since Monday a regular attack on Belleville will not be made till to-morrow morning. General Clinchant will bring his forces against it in the rear, and General Vinoy's soldiers will advance upon it from the Boulevards. On coming round by the quay to the Place de la Concorde I found that all the statues of the French cities are injured, and some very considerably. Of several the arms and heads are off. The splendid fountains in the centre of the Place are dreadfully smashed. The stone balustrade is badly broken in a hundred places. The lamp posts are all down, and this once charming spot presents a most melancholy appearance. I found a crowd looking over the wall of the wharf beside the bridge. I looked over and found a number of labourers digging a huge square grave in which to bury some 25 Insurgents, who lay mangled and dead along the wall.
The Hôtel de Ville is still smoking. So are the ashes of the Tuileries. Happily not very much of the Louvre is destroyed, and at the Palais Royal the fire was extinguished when only a portion of that building had been consumed. The Prefecture of Police is consumed, but the Palais de Justice is not, and the Sainte Chapelle has suffered but little injury. The greatest conflagration of to-day was that at the Grenier d'Abondance. The flames and smoke from it rose high over the city. There were other fires, but, happily, not in the centre of the city. I could not learn in what particular buildings they were rising, but I believe that a frightful fire is raging at the Entrepot des Vins, on the Quai St. Bernard.
M. Thiers has addressed the following Circular to the Departements:—
"We are masters of Paris, with the exception of a very small portion, which will be occupied this morning. The Tuileries are in ashes, the Louvre is saved. A portion of the Ministry of Finance along the Rue de Rivoli, the Palais d'Orsay, where the Council of State holds its sittings, and the Court of Accounts have been burnt. Such is the condition in which Paris is delivered to us by the wretches who oppressed it. We have already in our hands 12,000 prisoners, and shall certainly have from 18,000 to 20,000. The soil of Paris is strewn with corpses of the Insurgents. The frightful spectacle will, it is hoped, serve as a lesson to those insensate men who dared to declare themselves partisans of the Commune. Justice will soon be satisfied. The human conscience is indignant at the monstrous acts which France and the world have now witnessed. The Army has behaved admirably. We are happy in the midst of our misfortune to be able to announce that, thanks to the wisdom of our Generals, it has suffered very small losses."
The troops have captured the Hôtel de Ville, and have occupied Fort Montrouge.
The military operations are being actively and energetically carried on by the three Corps which are now in Paris. It is hoped that they will be in possession of the whole of the capital by this evening.
It is asserted that General Vinoy has been appointed Governor of Paris.
The newspapers state that Delescluze, Cluseret, Félix Pyat, and Ranvier have been made prisoners, but the news is not officially confirmed.
Firemen have been summoned by telegraph from all the districts around Paris.
Fort Bicêtre has been occupied by the troops.
It is stated that Raoul Rigault was shot this morning.
A dense cloud of smoke still hangs over Paris, which gives rise to fears of fresh conflagrations.
Since noon to-day a south-easterly wind has arisen, causing the conflagration to extend in the direction of the Bastille, and threatening the city with destruction.
The Versailles batteries are firing vigorously upon Belleville.
The fires are apparently slackening. The wind fortunately veered round to the west at 5 o'clock this evening, and this change was followed by a calm, which has since continued. The sky is still lurid from the reflection of the flames, and thedébrisfrom the burning buildings fall at distances of 20 kilomètres.
It is said that the Mazas prison is burnt to ashes, and fears are entertained for the safety of the Archbishop, who was incarcerated there.
It is reported that considerable bodies of Insurgents attempted to escape from Paris in the direction of Aubervilliers and Romainville, but they were driven back.
The cannonading from the Versailles batteries at Montmartre against Belleville and Chaumont continues.
The attack on Belleville was made this morning soon after daybreak. General Clinchant approached it from the ramparts, and General Bruat's Division marched on it in front from the direction of the Rue de Paris. The troops had to attack seven barricades successively. When they had made a partial progress the Insurgents, seeing defeat inevitable, offered to surrender on condition that their lives should be spared. This was refused, and the struggle continued till the military succeeded. A large number of the Insurgents were shot. Many cannon and 22 red flags were captured.
Last night a large group of the Insurgents imprisoned in the docks of Satory, attempted a rising. The battalion in charge fired, and a number of the prisoners were shot dead. The portion of the Palais Royal consumed by the fire on Wednesday is the block of buildings in which Prince Napoleon resided. The library of the Louvre has been destroyed. The fire was arrested at the portion of the building occupied by the Gendarmerie. Between the Louvre and the Hôtel de Ville several shops and private houses have been reduced to ashes. The Théâtre Lyrique is burnt down. Of the Hôtel de Ville nothing remains but some walls. The Hotel of the Ministry of Finance and that of the Cour des Comptes are both destroyed. One of the towers of the Conciergerie, the Prefecture of Police, and a portion of the Palais de Justice are burnt. The Grenier d'Abonbance has disappeared, after being in flames for many hours yesterday. A shell charged with petroleum struck and set on fire the turret of the Church of St. Eustache. This part of the building crumbled away; but the church itself was saved. In the Rue Royale eight houses have been entirely, and two partially, consumed by the fire which broke out at the corners of the Rue Faubourg St. Honoré. In the latter street four houses have been consumed. The upper story of the British Embassy has been much injured by shells. Several women have been arrested while in the act of firing on the troops, and it is said that onecantinièrecaused the death of ten soldiers by putting poison in their wine. Some of the women whom I have seen marched from Paris as prisoners are dressed in the uniform of National Guards. Not a few of the female prisoners are very furious-looking. Several attempts at escape and assassination have been made by prisoners. They are marched between a double line of Cavalry, each of the latter holding a revolver in his hand, with his finger on the trigger. Women found throwing petroleum into houses have been shot on the spot. Since Monday there has been a very large number of summary executions in the streets of Paris. At No. 27, Rue Oudinot, where Les Ambulances de la Presse have their Head-Quarters, the bodies of 52 persons thus despatched are now deposited. On one, which is dressed in the uniform of a National Guard, bank notes to the amount of 150,000f. were found.
Viard, a member of the Commune, was arrested in the Rue de l'Université yesterday. Gustave Courbet, an artist of celebrity, and also a member of the Commune, has died at Satory of poison, supposed to have been administered by himself. He expired in great agony. He it was who promoted the idea of destroying the Column in the Place Vendôme. Raoul Rigault, Procureur de la Commune, has been shot. Napoléon Gaillard, Director of the Barricades, was insubordinate at Satory, and was shot by the side of the fosse there. It is reported that Cluseret, Amouroux, and Clément, all members of the Commune, have been arrested.
Fort d'Ivry has been evacuated by the Insurgents. They blew it up on leaving, and the troops have taken possession of it. Six thousand insurgents surrendered at discretion this morning at the Barrière d'Italie.
The affair of Belleville is not yet concluded. There is fighting still. A great fire is raging in the direction Buttes de Chaumont.
If it is difficult to realize the present condition of Paris, it is 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 achaîne, 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 thechaînesin the neighbourhood of the Madeleine, I passed the scenes of terrible fighting. The Place Clichy was a mass of barricades and shattered houses, thefaçadesmarked 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 achef 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 ambulancebrassarda 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 theflâneursof 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 andcaféshermetically 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 ofdébris. 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 noblefaçadesto 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 achaîne; 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 therappel, 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 tricolourbrassardsor 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 outmanœuvred, 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 abourgeois; "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 thequi 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.