Diary of the Besieged Resident in Paris Part 13

_December 25th._

Real Christmas weather--that is to say, the earth is as hard as a brickbat, and the wind freezes one to the very marrow. To the rich man, with a good coal fire in his grate, turkey, roast beef, plum pudding, and mince pies on his table, and his family gorging themselves on the solid eatables, a frost at Christmas is very pleasant. Poor people cowering in their rags before the door of a union, cold, hungry, and forlorn, or munching their dry bread in some cheerless garret, may not perhaps so fully appreciate its advantages; but then we all know that poor people never are contented, and seldom understand the fitness of things. Here in Paris, the numbed soldiers out in the open fields, and the women and children, who have no fires and hardly any food, bitterly complain of the "seasonable" weather. With plenty of money, with warm clothes, and a good house, a hard frost has its charms, without them it is not quite so agreeable. For my part I confess that I never have seen a paterfamilias with his coat tails raised, basking himself before his fire, and prating about the delights of winter, and the healthy glow which is caused by a sharp frost, without feeling an irresistible desire to transplant him stark naked to the highest peak of Mont Blanc, in order to teach by experience what winter means to thousands of his fellow-creatures. We are not having a "merry Christmas," and we are not likely to have a happy new year. Christmas is not here the great holiday of the year, as it is in England. Still, everyone in ordinary times tries to have a better dinner than usual, and usually where there are children in a family some attempt is made to amuse them. Among the bourgeoisie they are told to put their shoes in the grate on Christmas-eve, and the next morning some present is found in them, which is supposed to have been left during the night by the Infant Jesus.

Since the Empire introduced English ways here, plum-pudding and mincepies have been eaten, and even Christmas-trees have flourished.

This year these festive shrubs, as an invention of the detested foe, have been rigidly tabooed. Plum-puddings and mincepies, too, will appear on few tables. In order to comfort the children, the girls are to be given soup tickets to distribute to beggars, and the boys are to have their choice between French and German wooden soldiers. The former will be treasured up, the latter will be subjected to fearful tortures. Even the midnight ma.s.s, which is usually celebrated on Christmas-eve, took place in very few churches last night. We have, indeed, too much on our hands to attend either to fasts or festivals, although in the opinion of the _Univers_, the last sortie would have been far more successful had it taken place on the 7th of the month, the anniversary of the promulgation of the Immaculate Conception. Among fine people New Year's-day is more of a fete than Christmas. Its approach is regarded with dark misgivings by many, for every gentleman is expected to make a call upon all the ladies of his acquaintance, and to leave them a box of sugarplums. This is a heavy tax upon those who have more friends than money--300fr. is not considered an extraordinary sum to spend upon these bonbonnieres. A friend of mine, indeed, a.s.sured me that he yearly spent 1000fr., but then he was a notorious liar, so very possibly he was not telling the truth. "Thank Heaven," says the men, "at least we shall get off the sugarplum tax this year." But the ladies are not to be done out of their rights this way, and they throw out very strong hints that if sugarplums are out of season, anything solid is very much in season. A dandy who is known to have a stock of sausages, is overwhelmed with compliments by his fair friends. A good leg of mutton would, I am sure, win the heart of the proudest beauty, and by the gift of half-a-dozen potatoes you might make a friend for life. The English here are making feeble attempts to celebrate Christmas correctly. In an English restaurant two turkeys had been treasured up for the important occasion, but unfortunately a few days ago they antic.i.p.ated their fate, and most ill-naturedly insisted upon dying. One fortunate Briton has got ten pounds of camel, and has invited about twenty of his countrymen to aid him in devouring this singular subst.i.tute for turkey. Another gives himself airs because he has some potted turkey, which is solemnly to be consumed to-day spread on bread. I am myself going to dine with the correspondent of one of your contemporaries. On the same floor as himself lives a family who left Paris before the commencement of the siege. Necessity knows no law; so the other day he opened their door with a certain amount of gentle violence, and after a diligent search, discovered in the larder two onions, some potatoes, and a ham. These, with a fowl, which I believe has been procured honestly, are to const.i.tute our Christmas dinner.

It is very strange what opposite opinions one hears about the condition of the poor. Some persons say that there is no distress, others that it cannot be greater. The fact is, the men were never better off, the women and children never so badly off. Every man can have enough to eat and too much to drink by dawdling about with a gun. As his home is cold and cheerless, when he is not on duty he lives at a pothouse. He brings no money to his wife and children, who consequently only just keep body and soul together by going to the national cantines, where they get soup, and to the Mairies, where they occasionally get an order for bread.

Almost all their clothes are in p.a.w.n, so how it is they do not positively die of cold I cannot understand. As for fuel even the wealthy find it difficult to procure it. The Government talks of cutting down all the trees and of giving up all the clothes in p.a.w.n; but, with its usual procrastination, it puts off both these measures from day to day.

This morning all the firewood was requisitioned. At a meeting of the Mayors of Paris two days ago, it was stated that above 400,000 persons are in receipt of parish relief.

The troops outside Paris are gradually being brought back inside. A trench has been dug almost continuously from Drancy to Aubervilliers, and an attempt has been made to approach Le Bourget by flying sap. The ground, is, however, so hard, that it is much like attempting to cut through a rock. To my mind the whole thing is merely undertaken in order to persuade the Parisians that something is being done. For the moment they are satisfied. "The Prussians," they say, "have besieged us; we are besieging the Prussians now." What they will say when they find that even these operations are suspended, I do not know. The troops have suffered terribly from the cold during these last few days. Twelve degrees of frost "centigrade" is no joke. I was talking to some officers of Zouaves who had been twenty hours at the outposts. They said that during all this time they had not ventured to light a fire, and that this morning their wine and bread were both frozen. In the tents there are small stoves, but they give out little warmth. Even inside the deserted houses it is almost as cold as outside. The windows and the doors have been converted into firewood, and the wind whistles through them. The ambulance waggons of the Press alone have brought in nearly 500 men frost-bitten, or taken suddenly ill. From the batteries at Bondy and Avron there has been some sharp firing, the object of which has been to oblige the Prussians to keep inside the Forest of Bondy, and to disquiet them whenever they take to digging anywhere outside it. The plain of Avron is a very important position as it commands the whole country round. The end of Le Bourget, towards Paris appears entirely deserted. An ambulance cart went up to a barricade this morning which crosses the main street, when a Prussian sentinel emerged and ordered it to go back immediately. Behind Le Bourget, a little to the right, is a heavy Prussian battery at Le Blanc Mesnel which entirely commands it.

The Line and the Mobiles bitterly complain that they, and not the marching battalions, are exposed to every danger. The soldiers, and particularly those of the Mobiles, say that if they are to go on fighting for Paris, the Parisians must take their fair share in the battles. As for the marching battalions, they are, as soldiers, worth absolutely nothing. The idea of their a.s.saulting, with any prospect of success, any positions held by artillery, is simply ludicrous. The system of dividing an army into different categories, is subjected to a different discipline, is fatal for any united offensive operations. It is to be hoped that Trochu will at last perceive this, and limit his efforts to keeping the Prussians out of Paris, and hara.s.sing them by frequent and partial sorties. I hear that General Ducrot wanted to attempt a second a.s.sault of Le Bourget, but this was overruled at a council of war which was held on Thursday.

_December 26th._

The _Journal Officiel_ announces that military operations are over for the present, owing to the cold, and that the army is to be brought inside Paris, leaving outside only those necessary for the defence. This is a wise measure, although somewhat tardily taken. The Parisians will no doubt be very indignant; for if they do not like fighting themselves, they insist that the Line and the Mobiles should have no repose.

M. Felix Pyat gives the following account of Christmas in England:--"Christmas is the great English fete--the Protestant Carnival--an Anglo-Saxon gala--a gross, pagan, monstrous orgie--a Roman feast, in which the vomitorium is not wanting. And the eaters of 'bif'

laugh at us for eating frogs! Singular nation! the most Biblical and the most material of Europe--the best Christians and the greatest gluttons.

They cannot celebrate a religious fete without eating. On Holy Friday they eat buns, and for this reason they call it Good Friday. Good, indeed, for them, if not for G.o.d. They p.r.o.nounce messe ma.s.s, and boudin pudding. Their pudding is made of suet, sugar, currants, and tea. The mess is boiled for fifteen days, sometimes for six months; then it is considered delicious. No pudding, no Christmas. The repast is sacred, and the English meditate over it for six months in advance--they are the only people who put money in a savings'-bank for a dinner. Poor families economise for months, and take a shilling to a publican every Sat.u.r.day of the year, in return for which on Christmas Day they gorge themselves, and are sick for a week after. This is their religion--thus they adore their G.o.d." M. Pyat goes on to describe the butchers' shops before Christmas; one of them, he says, is kept by a butcher clergyman, and over his door is a text.

The _Gaulois_ gives an extract of a letter of mine from a German paper, in which I venture to a.s.sert that the Parisians do not know that Champigny is within the range of the guns of their forts, and accompanies it with the following note:--"The journal which has fallen into our hands has been torn, and consequently we are unable to give the remainder of this letter. What we have given is sufficient to prove that our Government is tolerating within our walls correspondents who furnish the enemy with daily information. What they say is absurd, perhaps, but it ought not to be allowed." Does the _Gaulois_ really imagine that the German generals would have raised the siege in despair had they not learnt that, as a rule, the Parisians do not study the map of the environs of the city?

Old Vinoy has issued an order of the day denouncing the conduct of the soldiers and officers who ran away when the Prussians issued from the cellars at Villa Evrard. It requires a great deal of courage just now to praise the Line, and to find fault with the National Guard. But General Vinoy is a thorough soldier, and stands no nonsense. If anything happens to Trochu, and he a.s.sumes the command-in-chief, I suspect the waverers of the National Guard will have to choose between fighting and taking off their uniforms. The General is above seventy--a hale and hearty old man; sticks to his profession, and utterly ignores politics. He has a most unsurrendering face, but I do not think that he would either hold out vain hopes to the Parisians, or flatter their vanity. He would tell them the truth, and with perfect indifference as to the consequences. He is a favourite both with the soldiers and the officers, and hardly conceals his contempt for the military capacity of Trochu, or the military qualities of Trochu's civic heroes.

_December 28th._

The proverbial obstinacy of the donkey has been introduced into our systems, owing to the number of these long-eared quadrupeds which we have eaten. We "don't care" for anything. We don't care if the armies of the provinces have been beaten, we don't care if we have been forced to suspend offensive operations, we don't care if the Prussians bombard us, we don't care if eventually we have to capitulate. We have ceased to reason or to calculate. We are in the don't-care mood. How long this will last with so impulsive a people it is impossible to say. Our stomachs have become omnivorous; they digest anything now; and even if in the end they be invited to digest the leek, as we shall not be called upon to eat this vegetable either to-morrow or the next day, we don't care. The cold is terrible, and the absence of firewood causes great suffering. The Government is cutting down trees as fast as possible, and by the time it thaws there will be an abundance of fuel. In the meantime it denounces in the _Official Journal_ the bands of marauders who issue forth and cut down trees, park benches, and garden palings. I must say that I don't blame them. When the thermometer is as low as it is now, and when there is no fire in the grate, the sanct.i.ty of property as regards fuel becomes a mere abstraction. Yesterday the Prussians unmasked several batteries, and opened fire against the plateau of Avron and the eastern forts. They fired above 3000 sh.e.l.ls, but little damage was done. We had only thirty-eight killed and wounded. One sh.e.l.l fell into a house where eight people were dining and killed six of them. The firing is going on to-day, but not so heavily. The newspapers seem to be under the impression that we ought to rejoice greatly over this cannonade. Some say that it proves that the Prussians have given up in despair the idea of reducing us by famine; others that it is a clear evidence that Prince Frederick Charles has been beaten by General Chanzy. On Monday, Admiral La Ronciere received a letter from a general whose name could not be deciphered about an exchange of prisoners. In this letter there was an allusion to a defeat which our troops in the North had sustained. But this we consider a mere wile of our insidious foe.

The _Gaulois_ continues its crusade against the English Correspondents in Paris. They are all, it says, animated by a hostile feeling towards France. "We give them warning, and we hope that they will profit by it."

Now, we know pretty well what French journalists term a hostile feeling towards their country. We were told at the commencement of the war that the English press was sold to Prussia, because it declined to believe in the Imperial bulletins of victories. That a correspondent should simply tell the truth, without fear or favour, never enters into the mind of a Gaul. For my part, I confess that my sympathies are with France; and I am glad to hear, on so good authority, that these sympathies have not bia.s.sed my recital of events. Notwithstanding the denunciations of the _Gaulois_, I have not the remotest intention to describe the National Guards as a force of any real value for offensive operations. If, as the _Gaulois_ insists, they are more numerous and better armed than the Prussians, and if the French artillery is superior to the Prussians, they will be able to raise the siege; and then I will acknowledge that I have been wrong in my estimate of them. As yet they have only blown their own trumpets, as though this would cause the Prussian redoubts, like the walls of Jericho, to fall down. I make no imputation on their individual courage; but I say that this siege proves once more the truth of the fact, that unless citizen soldiers consent to merge for a time the citizen in the soldier, and to submit to discipline, as troops they are worthless. The _Gaulois_ wishes to antic.i.p.ate the historical romance which will, perhaps, be handed down to future generations. Posterity may, if it pleases, believe that the Parisians were Spartans, and that they fought with desperate valour outside their walls. I, who happen to see myself what goes on, know that all the fighting is done by the Line and the Mobiles, and that the Parisians are not Spartans. They are showing great tenacity, and suffering for the sake of the cause of their country many hardships. That General Trochu should pander to their vanity, by telling them that they are able to cope outside with the Prussians, is his affair. I do not blame him. He best knows how to deal with his fellow-countrymen. I am not, however, under the necessity of following his example.

The usual stalls which appear at this season of the year have been erected on the Boulevards. They are filled with toys and New Year's gifts. But a woolly sheep is a bitter mockery, and a "complete farmyard"

in green and blue wood only reminds one painfully of what one would prefer to see in the flesh. The customers are few and far between. I was looking to-day at a fine church in chalk, with real windows, price 6fr., and was thinking that one must be a Mark Tapley to buy it, and walk home with it under one's arm under present circ.u.mstances. Many of the stallkeepers have in despair deserted the toy business, and gone in for comforters, kepis, and list soles.

Until the weather set in so bitterly cold, elderly sportsmen, who did not care to stalk the human game outside, were to be seen from morning to night pursuing the exciting sport of gudgeon-fishing along the banks of the Seine. Each one was always surrounded by a crowd deeply interested in the chase. Whenever a fish was hooked, there was as much excitement as when a whale is harpooned in more northern lat.i.tudes. The fisherman would play it for some five minutes, and then, in the midst of the solemn silence of the lookers-on, the precious capture would be landed. Once safe on the bank, the happy possessor would be patted on the back, and there would be cries of "Bravo!" The times being out of joint for fishing in the Seine, the disciples of Isaac Walton have fallen back on the sewers. The _Paris Journal_ gives them the following directions how to pursue their new game:--"Take a long, strong line, and a large hook, bait with tallow, and gently agitate the rod. In a few minutes a rat will come and smell the savoury morsel. It will be some time before he decides to swallow it, for his nature is cunning. When he does, leave him five minutes to meditate over it; then pull strongly and steadily. He will make convulsive jumps; but be calm, and do not let his excitement gain on you, draw him up, _et voila votre diner_."

_December 29th._

So we have withdrawn from the plateau of Avron. Our artillery, says the _Journal Officiel_, could not cope with the Krupp cannons, and, therefore, it was thought wise to withdraw them. The fire which the Prussians have rained for the last two days upon this position has not been very destructive of human life. It is calculated that every man killed has cost the Prussians 24,000lbs. of iron. We are still speculating upon the reasons which induced the Prussians at last to become the a.s.sailants. That they wished to drive us from this plateau, which overlooks many of their positions, is far too simple an explanation to meet with favour. The _Verite_ of this morning contains an announcement that a Christmas Session of the House of Commons has turned out Mr. Gladstone by a hostile vote, and that he has been succeeded by a "War Minister." We are inclined to think that the Prussians, being aware of this, have been attempting to terrify us, in order that we may surrender before Sir Disraeli and Milord Pakington come to our rescue. The Parisians, intelligent and clever as they are, are absolutely wanting in plain common sense. I am convinced that if 500 of them were boiled down, it would be impossible to extract from the stew as much of this homely, but useful quality, as there is in the skull of the dullest tallow-chandler's apprentice in London.

The vital question of food is now rarely alluded to in the journals. The Government is, however, called to task for not showing greater energy, and the feeling against the unfortunate Trochu is growing stronger. He is held responsible for everything--the frost, the dearth of food, the ill-success of our sorties, and the defeats of the armies of succour. I am sorry for him, for he is a well-meaning man, although unfitted for such troubled waters. But to a great extent he has himself to thank for what is occurring. He has risked his all upon the success of his plan, and he has encouraged the notion that he could force the Prussians to raise the siege. In the meantime no one broaches the question as to what is to be done when our provisions fail. The members of the Government still keep up the theory that a capitulation is an impossible contingency. The nearer the fatal moment approaches the less anyone speaks of it, just as a man, when he is growing old, avoids the subject of death. Frenchmen have far more physical than civic courage. They prefer to shut their eyes to what is unpleasant than to grapple with it.

How long our stores of flour will last it is difficult to say, but if our rulers wait to treat until they are exhausted, they will perforce be obliged to accept any terms; and, for no satisfactory object, they will be the cause that many will starve before the town can be revictualled.

They call this, here, sublime. I call it folly. Its sublimity is beyond me. As is the case with a sick man given over by the physicians, the quacks are ready with their nostrums. The Ultra journals recommend that the Government should be handed over to a commune. The Ultra clubs demand that all generals and colonels should be cashiered, and others elected in their place. One club has subscribed 1,600frs. for Greek fire; another club suggests blowing up the Hotel de Ville; another sending a deputation clothed in white to offer the King of Prussia the presidency of the Universal Republic; another--and this comes home to me--pa.s.sed a vote yesterday evening demanding the immediate arrest of all English correspondents.

I am looking forward with horrible misgivings to the moment when I shall have no more money, so that perhaps I shall be thankful for being lodged and fed at the public expense. My banker has withdrawn from Paris, and his representative declines to look at my bill, although I offer ruinous interest. As for friends, they are all in a like condition, for no one expected the siege to last so long. At my hotel, need I observe that I do not pay my bill, but in hotels the guests may ring in vain now for food. I sleep on credit in a gorgeous bed, a pauper. The room is large.

I wish it were smaller, for the firewood comes from trees just cut down, and it takes an hour to get the logs to light, and then they only smoulder, and emit no heat. The thermometer in my grand room, with its silken curtains, is usually at freezing point. Then my clothes--I am seedy, very seedy. When I call upon a friend, the porter eyes me distrustfully. In the streets the beggars never ask me for alms; on the contrary, they eye me suspiciously when I approach them, as a possible compet.i.tor. The other day I had some newspapers in my hand, an old gentleman took one from me and paid me for it. I had read it, so I pocketed the halfpence. My wardrobe is scanty, like the sage _omnia mea mec.u.m porto_. I had been absent from Paris before the siege, and I returned with a small bag. It is difficult to find a tailor who will work, and even if he did I could not send him my one suit to mend, for what should I wear in the meantime? Decency forbids it. My pea jacket is torn and threadbare, my trousers are frayed at the bottom, and of many colours--like Joseph's coat. As for my linen, I will only say that the washerwomen have struck work, as they have no fuel. I believe my shirt was once white, but I am not sure. I invested a few weeks ago in a pair of cheap boots. They are my torment. They have split in various places, and I wear a pair of gaiters--purple, like those of a respectable ecclesiastic, to cover the rents. I bought them on the Boulevard, and at the same stall I bought a bright blue handkerchief which was going cheap; this I wear round my neck. My upper man resembles that of a dog-stealer, my lower man that of a bishop. My b.u.t.tons are turning my hair grey. When I had more than one change of raiment these appendages remained in their places, now they drop off as though I were a moulting fowl. I have to pin myself together elaborately, and whenever I want to get anything out of my pocket I have cautiously to unpin myself, with the dread of falling to pieces before my eyes. For my food, I allowance myself, in order to eke out as long as possible my resources. I dine and breakfast at a second-cla.s.s restaurant. Cat, dog, rat, and horse are very well as novelties, but taken habitually, they do not a.s.similate with my inner man. Horse, doctors say, is heating; I only wish it would heat me. I give this description of my existence, as it is that of many others. Those who have means, and those who have none, unless these means are in Paris, row in the same boat.

The society at my second-cla.s.s restaurant is varied. Many are regular customers, and we all know each other. There are officers who come there whenever they get leave from outside--hardy, well-set fellows, who take matters philosophically and professionally. They make the most of their holiday, and enjoy themselves without much thought of the morrow. Then there are tradesmen who wear kepis, as they belong to the National Guard. They are not in such good spirits. Their fortunes are ebbing away, and in their hearts I think they would, although their cry is still "no surrender," be glad if all were over. They talk in low tones, and pocket a lump of the sugar which they are given with their coffee.

Occasionally an ex-dandy comes in. I see him look anxiously around to make sure that no other dandy sees him in so unfashionable a resort. The dandy keeps to himself, and eyes us haughtily, for we are too common folk for the like of him. Traviatas, too, are not wanting in the second-cla.s.s restaurant. Sitting by me yesterday was a girl who in times gone by I had often seen driving in a splendid carriage in the Bois.

Her silks and satins, her jewellery and her carriage, had vanished.

There are no more Russian Princes, no more Boyards, no more Milords to minister to her extravagances. She was eating her horse as though she had been "poor but honest" all her life; and as I watched her washing the n.o.ble steed down with a pint of vin ordinaire, I realized the alteration which this siege was effecting in the condition of all cla.s.ses. But the strangest _habitues_ of the restaurant are certain stalwart, middle-aged men, who seem to consider that their function in life is to grieve over their country, and to do nothing else for it.

They walk in as though they were the soldiers of Leonidas on the high road to Thermopylae--they sit down as though their stools were curule chairs--they scowl at anyone who ventures to smile, as though he were guilty of a crime--and they talk to each other in accents of gloomy resolve. When anyone ventures to hint at a capitulation, they bound in their seats, and cry, _On verra_. Sorrow does not seem to have disturbed their appet.i.tes, and, as far as I can discover, they have managed to escape all military duty. No human being can be so unhappy, however, as they look. They remind me of the heir at the funeral of a rich relative.

Speaking of funerals reminds me that the newspapers propose that the undertakers, like the butchers, should be tariffed. They are making too good a thing out of the siege. They have raised their prices so exorbitantly that the poor complain that it is becoming impossible for them even to die.

A letter found, or supposed to be found, in the pocket of a dead German from his Gretchen is published to-day. "If you should happen to pillage a jeweller's shop," says this practical young lady, "don't forget me, but get me a pretty pair of earrings." The family of this warrior appears to be inclined to look after the main chance; for the letter goes on to say that his mother had knitted him a jacket, but having done so, has worn it herself ever since instead of sending it to him.

Gretchen will never get her earrings, and the mother may wear her jacket now without feeling that she is depriving her son of it, for the poor fellow lies under three feet of soil near Le Bourget.

_December 30th._

I hear that a story respecting a council which was held a few days ago, at which Trochu was requested to resign, is perfectly true. Picard and Jules Favre said that if he did resign they should do so also, and the discussion was closed by the General himself saying, "I feel myself equal to the situation, and I shall remain." Yesterday evening there were groups everywhere, discussing the withdrawal of the troops from Avron. It was so bitterly cold, however, that they soon broke up. This morning the newspapers, one and all, abuse Trochu. Somehow or other, they say, he always fails in everything he undertakes. I hear from military men that the feeling in the army is very strong against him.

While the bombardment was going on at Avron he exposed himself freely to the fire, but instead of superintending the operations he att.i.tudinized and made speeches. General Ducrot, who was there, and between whom and Trochu a certain coldness has sprung up, declared that he had always been opposed to any attempt to retain this position. The behaviour of Vinoy was that of a soldier. He was everywhere encouraging his men. What I cannot understand is why, if Avron was to be held, it was not fortified. It must have been known that the Prussians could, if they pleased, bring a heavy concentric fire from large siege guns to bear upon it. Casemates and strong earthworks might have been made--but nothing was done. I was up there the other day, and I then asked an engineer officer why due precautions were not being taken; but he only shrugged his shoulders in reply. General Vinoy, who was in the Crimea, says that all that the French, English, and Russians did there was child's play in comparison with the Prussian artillery. From the size of the unburst sh.e.l.ls which have been picked up, their cannon must be enormous. The question now is, whether the forts will be able to hold out against them. The following account of what has taken place from the _Verite_ is by far the best which has been published:--

"Notwithstanding that the fire of the enemy slackened on the 26th, the Prussians were not losing their time. Thanks to the hardness of the soil, and to the fog, they had got their guns into position in all their batteries from Villenomble to Montfermeil. The injury done to the park of Drancy by the precision of the aim of our artillery at Fort Nogent was repaired; cannon were brought to the trenches which the day before we had occupied at Ville Evrart; and, as well as it was possible, twelve new batteries, armed with cannon of long range, were unmasked. All through the 28th the fire continued; sh.e.l.ls fell thickly on our batteries, and in the village of Rosny. The roof of the station was knocked in, and several Mobiles were killed in the main street. The evacuation of the church, which had been converted into an ambulance, was thought advisable. All this, however, was nothing in comparison with the fire which was poured in during the night. The plateau of Avron was literally inundated with sh.e.l.ls, many of them of far larger size than had previously been fired. The range of the guns was too great, and it was evident that the Prussians had rectified their aim. Their projectiles no longer fell wide in the field; they almost all burst close to the trenches. Two guns in battery No. 2 were struck; the same thing soon occurred in battery No. 3. Every moment the wheels of some ammunition waggon were struck, or one of the horses killed. Several men were wounded in the trenches, which were so shallow as to afford little protection. Two sh.e.l.ls bursting at the same moment killed a naval officer and three men at one of the guns. All who were so imprudent as to venture to attempt to cross the plateau were struck down. It was a sad and terrible spectacle to see these sailors coolly endeavouring to point their guns, undisturbed by the rain of fire; while their officers, who were encouraging them, were falling every moment, covering those round them with their blood. The infantry and the Mobiles were, too, without shelter; for the Krupp guns swept the portion of the plateau on which they were drawn up within supporting distance. Most of them made the best of it, and laughed when they heard the sh.e.l.ls whistling above their heads and bursting near them. Many, however, were so terrified, that they fell back, and spread abroad in their rear disquieting reports, which the terrified air of the narrators rendered still more alarming. The National Guard were drawn up on the heights in advance of the village of Rosny; a few sh.e.l.ls reached their ranks. An officer and a soldier of the 114th were slightly wounded; but they remained firm.

Every hour the Prussian cannonade became heavier. On our side our fire slackened; then ceased entirely. An _estafette_ came with an order to evacuate the plateau, and to save the artillery. No time was lost.

Fortunately, at this moment the enemy's fire also slackened; and the preparations for a retreat were hurriedly made. The guns were taken from their carriages, the baggage was laden on the carts, and the munition on the waggons. The soldiers strapped on their knapsacks, struck their tents, and harnessed the horses. All this was not accomplished without difficulty, for it had to be done noiselessly and in the dark, for all the fires had been put out. General Trochu, seated on a horse, issued his directions, and every moment received information of what was taking place. Notwithstanding the expostulations of his staff, the General refused to withdraw from this exposed point. 'No, gentlemen,' he said, 'I shall not withdraw from here until the cannon are in safety.' At two in the morning all was ready; the long train began to move; the cannon of 7 and the mitrailleuses of Commandant Pothier took the lead. Then followed the heavy naval guns, then the munition and baggage waggons; the troops of the Line, the Marines, and the National Guard were ordered to cover the retreat. It was no easy matter to descend from the plateau to Rosny. The frost had made the road a literal ice-hill. The drivers walked by the side of their animals, holding the reins and pulling them up when they stumbled. Until four o'clock, however, everything went well. The march slowly continued, and the Prussian batteries were comparatively calm. Their sh.e.l.ls fell still occasionally where our guns had been. The noise of the wheels, however, and the absence of all cannonade on our parts, at length awakened the suspicions of the enemy.

Their fire was now directed on the fort of Rosny, and the road from the plateau leading to it. At this moment the line of guns and waggons was pa.s.sing through the village, and only carts with baggage were still on the plateau. At first the sh.e.l.ls fell wide; then they killed some horses; some of the drivers were hit; a certain confusion took place.

That portion of our line of march which was in Rosny was in imminent danger. Fortunately, our chiefs did not lose their heads. The guns whose horses were untouched pa.s.sed those which were obliged to stop. Some of them took to the fields; the men pushed the wheels, and, thanks to their efforts, our artillery was saved. As soon as the guns had been dragged up the hill opposite the plateau, the horses started off at a gallop, and did not stop until they were out of the range of the enemy's fire.

The guns were soon in safety at Vincennes and Montreuil. The troops held good, the men lying down on their stomachs, the officers standing up and smoking their cigars until the last waggon had pa.s.sed. Day had broken when they received orders to withdraw. The National Guard went back into Paris, and the Line, after a short halt at Montreuil, camped in the barracks of St. Maur. At eight o'clock, the evacuation of the plateau was complete; but the Prussian sh.e.l.ls still fell upon the deserted houses and some of the gun-carriages which had been abandoned. The enemy then turned their attention to the forts of Rosny and Noisy. It hailed shot on these two forts, and had they not been solidly built they would not have withstood it. The noise of this cannonade was so loud that it could be heard in the centre of Paris. Around the Fort of Noisy the projectiles sank into the frozen ground to a depth of two and a half metres, and raised blocks of earth weighing 30lbs. Sh.e.l.ls fell as far as Romainville. In the Rue de Pantin a drummer had his head carried off; his comrades buried him on the spot. In the court of Fort Noisy three men, hearing the hissing of a sh.e.l.l, threw themselves on the ground. It was a bad inspiration; the sh.e.l.l fell on the one in the middle, and killed all three. These were the only casualties in the fort, and at ten o'clock the enemy's batteries ceased firing on it. All their efforts were then directed against the Fort of Rosny. The sh.e.l.ls swept the open court, broke in the roof of the barracks, and tore down the peach-trees whose fruit is so dear to the Parisians. From eleven o'clock, it was impossible to pa.s.s along the road to Montreuil in safety. In that village, the few persons who are still left sought shelter in their cellars. At three o'clock the sun came out, and I pa.s.sed along the strategical road to Noisy. I met several regiments--Zouaves, Infantry, and Marines--coming from Noisy and Bondy. I could distinctly see the enemy's batteries. Their centre is in Rancy, and the guns seem to be in the houses. The destruction in Bondy commenced by the French artillery has been completed by the Prussians. From three batteries in the park of Rancy they have destroyed the wall of the cemetery, behind which one battery was posted and an earthwork. What remained of the church has been literally reduced to dust. Except sentinels hid in the interior of the houses, all our troops had been withdrawn. Some few persons, out of curiosity, had adjourned to the Grande Place; their curiosity nearly cost them dear, and they had to creep away. At three o'clock the enemy's fire had redoubled; some of our Mobiles, in relieving guard, were killed; and from that hour no one ventured into the streets. 9 P.M. The moon has risen, and shines brightly--the ground is covered with snow, and it is almost like daylight. The Prussian positions can distinctly be seen. The cannon cannot be distinguished, but all along the line between Villenomble and Gagny tongues of fire appear, followed by long columns of smoke. The fire on Rosny is increasing in violence; the village of Noisy is being bombarded."

CHAPTER XVI.

PARIS, _January 1st, 1871._

Our forts still, like breakwaters before a coast, keep back the storm which the Prussians are directing against us. I went out yesterday by the Vincennes gate to see how matters were looking. In the Bois de Vincennes there were troops of every description, and a large number of guns. The usual scenes of camp life were going on, although, owing to the cold, everyone seemed gloomy and depressed. I confess that if I were called upon to camp out in this weather under a _tente d'abri_, and only given some very smoky green wood to keep me warm, I should not be quite so valorous as I should wish to be. Pa.s.sing through the Bois, which is rapidly becoming a treeless waste, I went forward in the direction of Fontenay. As the Prussian bombs, however, were falling thickly into the village, I executed a strategical movement to the left, and fell back by a cross road into Montreuil. In this village several regiments were installed. It is just behind Fort Rosny, and on the upper portion, towards the fort, the Prussian sh.e.l.ls fell. It is very singular what little real danger there is to life and limb from a bombardment. Sh.e.l.ls make a hissing noise as they come through the air. Directly this warning hiss is heard, down everyone throws himself on the ground. The sh.e.l.l pa.s.ses over and falls somewhere near, it sinks about two feet into the hard ground, and then bursts, throwing up great clouds of earth, like a small mine. The Prussians are unmasking fresh batteries every day, and approaching nearer and nearer to the forts. Their fire now extends from behind Le Bourget to the Marne, and at some points reaches to within a mile of the ramparts. Bondy is little more than a heap of ruins. As for the forts, we are told that, with the exception of their barracks having been made untenable, no harm has been done. Standing behind and looking at the sh.e.l.ls falling into them, they certainly do not give one the idea of places in which anyone would wish to be, unless he were obliged; and they seemed yesterday to be replying but feebly to the fire of the enemy. I suppose that the Prussians know their own business, and that they really intend wholly to destroy Fort Rosny. Before you get this letter the duel between earth and iron will be decided, so it is useless my speculating on the result. If Rosny or Nogent fall, there will be nothing to protect Belleville from a bombardment. Many military sages imagine that this bombardment is only a prelude to an attack upon Mont Valerien. About 3,500 metres from that fort there is a very awkward plateau called La Bergerie. It is somewhat higher than the hill on which Valerien stands. The Prussians are known to have guns on it in position, and as Valerien is of granite, if bombarded, the value of granite as a material for fortifications will be tested.

Since the Prussians have opened fire, there have been numerous councils of war, and still more numerous proclamations. General Trochu has issued an appeal to the city to be calm, and not to believe that differences of opinion exist among the members of the Government. General Clement Thomas has issued an address to the National Guards, telling them that the country is going to demand great sacrifices of them. In fact, after the manner of the Gauls, everybody is addressing everybody. _Toujours des proclamations et rien que cela_, say the people, who are at last getting tired of this nonsense. Yesterday there was a great council of all the generals and commanders. General Trochu, it is said, was in favour of an attempt to pierce the Prussian lines; the majority being in favour of a number of small sorties. What will happen no one seems to know, and I doubt even if our rulers have themselves any very definite notion. The Ultra journals clamour for a sortie _en ma.s.se_, which of course would result in a stampede _en ma.s.se_. One and all the newspapers either abuse Trochu, or d.a.m.n him with faint praise. It is so very much a matter of chance whether a man goes down to posterity as a sage or a fool, that it is by no means easy to form an opinion as to what will be the verdict of history on Trochu. If he simply wished to keep the Prussians out of Paris, and to keep order inside until the provisions were exhausted, he has succeeded. If he wished to force them to raise the siege he has failed. His military critics complain that, admitting he could not do the latter, he ought, by frequent sorties, to have endeavoured to prevent them sending troops to their covering armies. One thing is certain, that all his sorties have failed not only in the result, but in the conception. As a consequence of this, the French soldiers, who more than any other troops in the world require, in order to fight well, to have faith in their leader, have lost all confidence in him.

We have had no pigeon for the last eighteen days, and the anxiety to obtain news from without is very strong. A few days ago a messenger was reported to have got through the Prussian lines with news of a French victory. The next day a Saxon officer was said, with his last breath, to have confided to his doctor that Frederick Charles had been defeated.

Yesterday Jules Favre told the mayor that there was a report that Chanzy had gained a victory. Everything now depends upon what Chanzy is doing, and, for all we know, he may have ceased to exist for the last week.

A census which has just been made of the population within the lines, makes the number, exclusive of the Line, Mobiles, and sailors, 2,000,500. No attempt has yet been made to ration the bread, but it is to be mixed with oats and rice. The mayor of this quarter says that in this arrondiss.e.m.e.nt--the richest in Paris--he is certain that there is food for two months. Should very good news come from the provinces, and it appear that by holding out for two months more the necessity for a capitulation would be avoided, I think that we should hold on until the end of February, if we have to eat the soles of our boots. If bad news comes, we shall not take to this food; but we shall give in when everything except bread fails, and we shall then consider that our honour is saved if nothing else is. M. Louis Blanc to-day publishes a letter to Victor Hugo, in which he tells the Parisians that if they do capitulate they will gain nothing by it, for the Prussians will neither allow them to quit Paris, nor, if the war continues, allow food to enter it.

As yet there are no signs of a real outbreak; and if a successful one does occur, it will be owing to the weakness of the Government, which has ample means to repress it. The Parisian press is always adjuring the working men not to cut either each others' or their neighbours' throats, and congratulating them on their n.o.ble conduct in not having done so.

This sort of praise seems to me little better than an insult. I see no reason why the working men should be considered to be less patriotic than others. That they are not satisfied with Trochu, and that they entertain different political and social opinions to those of the bourgeoisie, is very possible. Opinions, however, are free, and they have shown as yet that they are willing to subordinate the expression of theirs to the exigencies of the national defence. I go a good deal among them, and while many of them wish for a general system of rationing, because they think that it will make the provisions last longer, they have no desire to pillage or to provoke a conflict with the Government. I regard them myself, in every quality which makes a good citizen, as infinitely superior to the journalists who lecture them, and who would do far better to shoulder a musket and to fall into the ranks, than to waste paper in reviling the Prussians and bragging of their own heroism. As soldiers, the fault of the working men is that they will not submit to discipline; but this is more the fault of the Government than of them. As citizens, no one can complain of them. To talk with one of them after reading the leading article of a newspaper is a relief. A French journalist robes himself in his toga, gets upon a pedestal, and talks unmeaning, unpractical claptrap. A French workman is, perhaps, too much inclined to regard every one except himself, and some particular idol which he has set up, as a fool; but he is by no means wanting in the power to take a plain practical view, both of his own interests, and those of his country. Since the commencement of the siege, forty-nine new journals have appeared. Many of them have already ceased to exist, but counting old and new newspapers, there must at least be sixty published every day. How they manage to find paper is to me a mystery.

Some of them are printed upon sheets intended for books, others upon sheets which are so thick that I imagine they were designed to wrap up sugar and other groceries. Those which were the strongest in favour of the Empire, are now the strongest in favour of the Republic. Editors and writers whose dream it was a few months ago to obtain an invitation at the Tuileries or to the Palais Royal, or to merit by the basest of flatteries the Legion of Honour, now have become perfect Catos, and denounce courts and courtiers, Bonapartists and Orleanists. War they regard as the most wicked of crimes, and they appear entirely to have forgotten that they welcomed with shouts of ecstacy in July last the commencement of the triumphal march to Berlin.

_January 2nd._

Yesterday evening, notwithstanding the cold, there were groups on the Boulevards shouting "_a bas Trochu_." It is understood that henceforward no military operation is to take place before it has been discussed by a Council of War, consisting of generals and admirals. As the moment approaches when we shall, unless relieved, be obliged to capitulate, everyone is attempting to shift from himself all responsibility. This is the consequence of the scapegoat system which has so long prevailed in France. Addresses are published from the commanders outside congratulating the National Guard who have been under their orders. The _Verite_, in alluding to them, asks the following questions:--"Why are battalions which are accused by General Thomas, their direct superior, of chronic drunkenness, thus placed upon a pinnacle by real military men? Why do distinguished generals, unless forced by circ.u.mstances, declare the mere act of pa.s.sing four or five cold nights in the trenches heroic? Why is so great a publicity given to such contradictory orders of the day?"