Diary of the Besieged Resident in Paris Part 14

The _Journal Officiel_ contains a long address to the Parisians. Beyond the statement that no news had been received since the 14th ult., this doc.u.ment contains nothing but empty words. Between the lines one may, perhaps, read a desire to bring before the population the terrible realities of the situation.

The deaths for the last week amount to 3,280, an increase on the previous week of 552. I am told that these bills of mortality do not include those who die in the public hospitals. Small-pox is on the increase--454 as against 388 the previous week.

Nothing new outside. The bombardment of the eastern forts still continues. It is, however, becoming more intermittent. Every now and then it almost ceases, then it breaks out with fresh fury. The Prussians are supposed to be at work at Chatillon. If they have heavy guns there, it will go hard with the Fort of Vanves. The rations are becoming in some of the arrondiss.e.m.e.nts smaller by degrees and beautifully less. In the 18th (Montmartre) the inhabitants only receive two sous worth of horse-flesh per diem. The rations are different in each arrondiss.e.m.e.nt, as the Mayor of each tries to get hold of all he can, and some are more successful than others. These differences cause great dissatisfaction.

The feeling to-day seems to be that if Trochu wishes to avoid riots, he must make a sortie very shortly.

The _Gaulois_ says:--

"How sad has been our New Year's-day! Among ourselves we may own it, although we have bravely supported it, like men of sense, determined to hold good against bad fortune, and to laugh in the face of misery. It is hard not to have had the baby brought to our bedside in the morning; not to have seen him clap his hands with pleasure on receiving some toy; not to have pressed the hands of those we love best, and not to have embraced them and been able to say--'The year which has pa.s.sed has had its joys and its sorrows, sun and shadow--but what matters it? We have shared them together. The year which is commencing cannot bring with it any sorrows that by remaining united we shall not be able to support?'

Most of us breakfasted this morning--the New Year's breakfast, usually so gay--alone and solitary; a few smoky logs our only companions. There are sorrows which no philosophy can console. On other days one may forget them, but on New Year's-day our isolation comes home to us, and, do what we may, we are sad and silent. Where are they now? What are they doing now? is the thought which rises in every breast. The father's thoughts are with his children; he dimly sees before him their rosy faces, and their mother who is dressing them. How weary, too, must the long days be for her, separated from her husband. Last year she had taught the baby to repeat a fable, and she brought him all trembling to recite it to the father. She, too, trembles like a child. She follows him with her looks, she whispers to him a word when he hesitates, but so low that he reads it on her lips, and the father hears nothing. Poor man! Sorry indeed he would have been to have had it supposed that he had perceived the mother's trick. He was himself trembling, too, lest the child should not know his lesson. What a disappointment it would have been to the mother! For a fortnight before she had taken baby every night on her knees and said, 'Now begin your fable.' She had taught it him verse by verse with the patience of an angel, and she had encouraged him to learn it with many a sugarplum. 'He is beginning to know his fable,' she said a hundred times to her husband. 'Really,' he answered, with an air of doubt. The honest fellow was as interested in it as his wife, and he only appeared to doubt it in order to make her triumph greater. He knew that baby would know the fable on New Year's morn. You Prussian beggars, you Prussian scoundrels, you bandits, and you Vandals, you have taken everything from us; you have ruined us; you are starving us; you are bombarding us; and we have a right to hate you with a royal hatred. Well, perhaps one day we might have forgiven you your rapine and your murders; our towns that you have sacked; your heavy yokes; your infamous treasons. The French race is so light of heart, so kindly, that we might perhaps in time have forgotten our resentments. What we never shall forget will be this New Year's Day, which we have been forced to pa.s.s without news from our families. You at least have had letters from your Gretchens, astounding letters, very likely, in which the melancholy blends with blue eyes, make a wonderful literary salad, composed of sour-krout, Berlin wool, forget-me-nots, pillage, bombardment, pure love, and transcendental philosophy. But you like all this just as you like jam with your mutton. You have what pleases you. Your ugly faces receive kisses by the post. But you kill our pigeons, you intercept our letters, you shoot at our balloons with your absurd _fusils de rempart_, and you burst out into a heavy German grin when you get hold of one of our bags, which are carrying to those we love our vows, our hopes, our remembrance, our regrets, and our hearts. It is a merry farce, is it not? Ah, if ever we can render you half the sufferings which we are enduring, you will see _des grises_. Perhaps you don't know what the word means, and, like one of Gavarni's children, you will say, 'What!

_des grises?_' You will, I trust, one of these days learn what is the signification of the term at your own cost. One of your absurd pretensions is to be the only people in the world who understand how to love, or who care for domestic ties. You will see, by the hatred which we shall ever bear to you, that we too know how to love--our time will come some day, be a.s.sured. This January 1 of the year 1871 inaugurates a terrible era of b.l.o.o.d.y revenge. Poor philosophers of universal peace, you see now the value of your grand phrases and of your humanitarian dreams! Vainly you imagined that the world was entering into a period of everlasting peace and progress. A wonderful progress, indeed, has 1870 brought us! You never calculated on the existence of these Huns. We are back again now in the midst of all the miseries of the 13th and 14th centuries. The memory of to-day will be written on the hearts of our children. 'It was the year,' they will say, 'when we received no presents, when we did not kiss our father, because of the Prussians.

They shall pay for it!' Let us hope that the payment will commence this very day. But if we are still to be vanquished, we will leave to our children the memory of our wrongs, and the care to avenge them."

The following article is from the _Verite_:--

"What troubles would not have been spared to our unhappy country if only it had been told the truth. If only anyone had been courageous enough to tell us what were our resources when Grammont made his famous declaration from the tribune, the war would not have taken place. On the 4th of September, many members of the new Government were under no delusions, but as it was necessary to say that we were strong, in order to be popular, they did not hesitate to proclaim that the Republic would save France. To-day the situation has not changed. On the faith of the a.s.sertions of their rulers, the population of Paris imagines that ultimate victory is certain, and that our provisions can never be exhausted. They have no idea that if we are not succoured we must eventually succ.u.mb. What a surprise--and perhaps what a catastrophe--it will be when they learn that there is no more bread, and no chance of victory. The people will complain that they have been deceived, and they will be right. They will shout 'treason,' and seek for vengeance. Will they be entirely in the wrong? If the Government defends itself, what future awaits us! If it does not defend itself, through what scenes shall we pa.s.s before falling into the hands of the Prussians! The Republic, like the Empire, has made mendacity the great system of government. The Press has chosen to follow the same course. Great efforts are being made to destroy the reciprocal sentiments of union and confidence, to which we owe it that Paris still resists, after 100 days of siege. The enemy, despairing to deliver over Paris to Germany, as it had solemnly promised, on Christmas, adds now the bombardment of our advanced posts and our forts to the other means of intimidation by which it has endeavoured to enervate the defence. Use is being made, before public opinion, of the deceptions which an extraordinary winter and infinite sufferings and fatigues are causing us. It is said, indeed, that the members of the Government are divided in their views respecting the great interests the direction of which has been confided to them.

The army has suffered great trials, and it required a short repose, which the enemy endeavours to dispute by a bombardment more violent than any troops were ever exposed to. The army is preparing for action with the aid of the National Guards, and all together we shall do our duty. I declare that there are no differences in the councils of the Government, and that we are all closely united in the presence of the agonies and the perils of the country, and in the thought and the hope of its deliverance."

_La Patrie_, of Jan. 2, says:--

"Perhaps Bourbaki has gone to meet General von Werder. If he is victorious, the road to Paris by the valley of the Seine will be open to him, or the road to Southern Germany by Besancon and Belfort, and the bridge of Bale, the neutrality of which we are not obliged to respect any more than that of Belgium, since Europe has allowed Bismarck to violate that of Luxemburg. Ah! if Bourbaki were a Tortensen, a Wrangel, or a Turenne--perhaps he is--what a grand campaign we might have in a few weeks on the Danube, the Lech, and the Saar."

The _Liberte_, of Jan. 2, says:--

"A great manifestation is being organised against the Government. The object is to subst.i.tute in its place the college of Mayors of Paris and their adjuncts. The manifestation, if it occurs, will not get further than the Boulevards. General Trochu is in no fear from Mayor Mothe, but he must understand that the moment for action has arrived. His proclamation has only imperfectly replied to the apprehensions of Paris.

A capitulation, the very idea of which the Government recoils from, and which would only become possible when cold, hunger, and a bombardment have made further resistance impossible, besieges the minds of all, and presses all the hearts which beat for a resistance _a outrance_ in a vice of steel. Trochu should reply to these agonies no longer by proclamations, but by acts."

_January 4th._

It is said, I know not with what truth, that there always are, on an average, 5000 families who are in dest.i.tute circ.u.mstances, because their chiefs never would play out their trumps at whist until it became too late to use them effectively. If Trochu really was under the impression that he had trumps in his hand good enough to enable him to win the game he is playing against the Prussians, he has kept them back so long that they are worthless. If he could not break through the Prussian lines a month ago, _a fortiori_, he will not be able to do so now. They are stronger, and he is weaker; for the inaction of the last few weeks, and the surrender of Avron, would have been enough to damp the ardour of far more veteran troops than those which he has under his command. The outcry against this excellent but vain man grows stronger every day, and sorry, indeed, must he be that he "rushed in where others feared to tread." "Action, speedy action," shout the newspapers, much as the Americans did before Bull's Run, or as M. Felix Pyat always calls it, Run Bull. The generals well know that if they yield to the cry, there will most a.s.suredly be a French edition of that battle. In fact, the situation may be summed up in a very few words. The generals have no faith in their troops, and the troops have no faith in their generals.

Go outside the walls and talk to the officers and the soldiers who are doing the real fighting, and who pa.s.s the day dodging sh.e.l.ls, and the night freezing in their tents. They tell you that they are prepared to do their duty, but that they are doubtful of ultimate success. Come inside, and talk to some hero who has never yet got beyond the ramparts, Cato at Utica is a joke to him, Palafox at Saragossa a whining coward.

Since the forts have been bombarded, he has persuaded himself that he is eating, drinking, and sleeping under the fire of the enemy. "Human nature is a rum 'un," said Mr. Richard Swiveller; and most a.s.suredly this is true of French nature. That real civil courage and spirit of self-sacrifice which the Parisians have shown, in submitting to hardship and ruin rather than consent to the dismemberment of their country, they regard as no t.i.tle to respect. Nothing which does not strike the imagination has any value in their eyes. A uniform does not make a soldier; and although they have all arrayed themselves in uniform, they are far worse soldiers than the peasantry who have been enrolled in the Mobiles. To tell them this, however, would make them highly indignant.

Military glory is their pa.s.sion, and it is an unfortunate one. To admire the pomp and pride of glorious war no more makes a warrior than to admire poetry makes a poet. The Parisian is not a coward; but his individuality is so strongly developed that he objects to that individuality being destroyed by some stray shot. To die with thousands looking on is one thing; to die obscurely is another. French courage is not the same as that of the many branches of the great Saxon family. A Saxon has a dogged stubbornness which gives him an every-day and every-hour courage. That of the Frenchman is more dependent upon external circ.u.mstances. He must have confidence in his leader, he must have been encouraged by success, and he must be treated with severity tempered with judicious flattery. Give him a sword, and let him prance about on a horse like a circus rider, and, provided there are a sufficient number of spectators, he will do wonders, but he will not consent to perish obscurely for the sake of anything or anyone. Trochu has utterly failed in exciting enthusiasm in those under his command; he issues many proclamations, but they fail to strike the right chord.

Instead of keeping up discipline by judicious severity, he endeavours to do so by lecturing like a schoolmaster. And then, since the commencement of the siege he has been unsuccessful in all his offensive movements. I am not a military man, but although I can understand the reasons against a sortie _en ma.s.se_, it does appear to me strange that the Prussians are not more frequently disquieted by attacks which at least would oblige them to make many a weary march round the outer circle, and would prevent them from detaching troops for service elsewhere.

Not an hour pa.s.ses without some new rumour respecting the armies of the Provinces being put in circulation. A letter in which General Chanzy is said to be playing with Frederick Charles as a cat plays with a mouse, and which is attributed to Mr. Odo Russell, English Under-Secretary of State, and Correspondent of the _Times_, has been read by some one, and this morning all the newspapers are jubilant over it. A copy of the _Moniteur de Versailles_ of the 1st has found its way in; there is nothing in it about Frederick Charles, but this we consider evidence that he has sustained a defeat. Then somebody has found a bottle in the Seine with a letter in it; this letter alludes to a great French victory. Mr. Washburne has the English papers up to the 22nd, but he keeps grim guard over them, and allows no one to have a glimpse of them; since our worthy friend Otto von Bismarck sent in to him an extract from a letter of mine, in which I alluded to the contents of some of them which had reached us. He pa.s.ses his existence, however, staving off insidious questions. His very looks are commented on. "We saw him to-day," says an evening paper I have just bought; "he smiled! Good sign! Our victory must have been overwhelming if John Bull is obliged to confess it." Another newspaper asks him whether, considering the circ.u.mstances, he does not consider it a duty to violate his promise to Count Bismarck, and to hand over his newspapers to the Government. In this way, thinks this tempter, the debt which America owes to France for aiding her during her revolution will be repaid. "We gave you Lafayette and Rochambeau, in return we only ask for one copy of an English paper."

The anxiety for news is weighing heavier on the population than the absence of provisions or the cold. Every day, and all day, there are crowds standing upon the elevated points in the city, peering through gla.s.ses, in the wild hope of witnessing the advent of Chanzy, who is apparently expected to p.r.i.c.k in with Faidherbe by his side, each upon a gorgeously caparisoned steed, like the heroes in the romances of the late Mr. G.P.R. James. Many pretend to distinguish, above the noise of the cannon of our forts and the Prussian batteries, the echoes of distant artillery, and rush off to announce to their friends that the army of succour has fallen on the besiegers from the rear. In the meantime the bombardment of the forts and villages to the east of the city is continuing, and with that pa.s.sion for system in everything which distinguishes the Germans, it is being methodized. A fixed number of sh.e.l.ls are fired off every minute, and at certain hours in the day there are long pauses. What is happening in the forts is, of course, kept very secret. The official bulletins say that no damage in them has yet been done. As for the villages round them, they are, I presume, sh.e.l.led merely in order to make them untenable.

The Government appears now as anxious to find others to share responsibility with it as heretofore it has been averse to any division of power. The Mayors of the city are to meet with their deputies once a week at the Hotel de Ville to express their opinions respecting munic.i.p.al matters, and once a week at the Ministry of the Interior to discuss the political situation. As there are twenty mayors and forty adjuncts, they, when together, are almost numerous enough to form a species of Parliament. The all important food question remains _in statu quo_. It is, however, beginning to be hinted in semi-official organs, that perhaps the bread will have to be rationed; I may be wrong, but I am inclined to think that the population will not submit to this.

Government makes no statement with respect to the amount of corn in store. Some say that there is not enough for two weeks, others that there is enough for two months' consumption; M. Dorien a.s.sured a friend of mine yesterday that, to the best of his belief, there is enough to carry us into March. Landlords and tenants are as much at loggerheads here as they are in Ireland; the Government has issued three decrees to regulate the question. By the first is suspended all judicial proceedings on the part of landlords for their rent; by the second, it granted a delay of three months to all persons unable to pay the October term; by the third, it required all those who wished to profit by the second to make a declaration of inability to pay before a magistrate.

To-day a fourth decree has been issued, again suspending the October term, and making the three previous decrees applicable to the January term, but giving to landlords a right to dispute the truth of the allegation of poverty on the part of their tenants; the question is a very serious one, for on the payment of rent depends directly or indirectly the means of livelihood of half the nation. Thus the landlords say that if the tenants do not pay them they cannot pay the interest of the mortgages on their properties. If this interest be not paid, however, the shareholders of the Credit Foncier and other great mortgage banks get nothing. Paris, under the fostering care of the Emperor, had become, next to St. Petersburgh, the dearest capital in Europe. Its property was artificial, and was dependent upon a long chain of connecting links remaining unbroken. In the industrial quarters money was made by the manufacture of _Articles de Paris_, and for these, as soon as the communications are reopened, there will be the same market as heretofore. As a city of pleasure, however, its prosperity must depend, like a huge watering-place, upon its being able to attract strangers. If they do not return, a reduction in prices will take place, which will ruin most of the shopkeepers, proprietors of houses, and hotel keepers; but this, although unpleasant to individuals, would be to the advantage of the world at large. Extravagance in Paris makes extravagance the fashion everywhere; under the Empire, to spend money was the readiest road to social distinction. The old _bourgeoisie_ still retained the careful habits of the days of Louis Philippe, and made fortunes by cheeseparing. Imperial Paris was far above this. Families were obliged to spend 20 per cent, of their incomes in order to lodge themselves; shops in favoured quarters were let for fabulous prices, and charged fabulous prices for their wares. _Cocodettes_ of the Court, _cocottes_ of the Bois, wives of speculators, shoddy squaws from New York, Calmues recently imported from their native steppes, doubtful Italian Princesses, gushing Polish Countesses, and foolish Englishwomen, merrily raced along the road to ruin. Good taste was lost in tinsel and glitter; what a thing cost was the only standard of its beauty. Great gingerbread palaces were everywhere run up, and let even before they were out of the builder's hands. It was deemed fashionable to drive about in a carriage with four horses, with perhaps a black man to drive, and an Arab sitting on the box by his side. Dresses by milliners in vogue gave a ready currency to their wearers. The Raphael of his trade gave himself all the airs of a distinguished artist; he received his clients with vulgar condescension, and they--no matter what their rank--submitted to his insolence in the hope that he would enable them to outshine their rivals. Amba.s.sadors' wives and Court ladies used to go to take tea with the fellow, and dispute the honour of filling his cup or putting sugar into it. I once went into his shop--a sort of drawing-room hung round with dresses; I found him lolling on a chair, his legs crossed before the fire. Around him were a bevy of women, some pretty, some ugly, listening to his observations with the rapt attention of the disciples of a sage. He called them up before him like school girls, and after inspecting them, praised or blamed their dresses. One, a pretty young girl, found favour in his eyes, and he told her that he must dream and meditate several days over her, in order to find the inspiration to make a gown worthy of her. "Why do you wear these ugly gloves?" he said to another, "never let me see you in gloves of that colour again." She was a very grand lady, but she slipped off her gloves, and put them in her pocket with a guilty look. When there was going to be a ball at Court, ladies used to go down on their knees to him to make them beautiful. For some time he declined to dress any longer the wife of a great Imperial dignitary who had not been sufficiently humble towards him; she came to him in tears, but he was obdurate, and he only consented at last to make a gown for her on condition that she would put it on for the first time in his shop. The Empress, who dealt with him, sent to tell him that if he did not abate his prices she would leave him. "You cannot," he replied, and in fact she could not, for she stood by him to the last. A morning dress by this artist, worth in reality about 4l., cost 30l.; an evening dress, tawdry with flounces, ribbons, and bad lace could not be had under 70. There are about thirty shops in Paris where, as at this man-milliner's, the goods are not better than elsewhere, but where they cost about ten times their value. They are patronised by fools with more money than wits, and chiefly by foreign fools. The proprietor of one of these establishments was complaining to me the other day of what he was losing by the siege; I told him that I sympathised with him about as much as I should with a Greek brigand, bewailing a falling off of wealthy strangers in the district where he was in the habit of carrying on his commercial operations. Whenever the communications are again open to Paris, and English return to it, I would give them this piece of advice--never deal where _ici on parle Anglais_ is written up; it means _ici on vole les Anglais_. The only tradesmen in Paris who are making a good thing out of their country's misfortunes are the liquor sellers and the grocers; their stores seem inexhaustible, but they are sold at famine prices. "I who speak to you, I owe myself to my country. There is no sacrifice I would not make rather than capitulate to those Huns, those Vandals," said a grocer to me, with a most sand-the-sugar face, this morning, as he pocketed about ten times the value of a trifle--candles, in fact, which have risen twenty-five per cent. in the last two days--and folding his arms, scowled from under his kepi into futurity, with stern but vacuous resolution.

_January 6th._

I have just returned from Point-du-Jour, where I went with Mr. Frank Lawley in order to see myself what truth there was in the announcement that we were being bombarded. Point-du-Jour is the point where the Seine issues from Paris. The circular railroad pa.s.ses over the river here on a high brick viaduct, which makes a species of fortification. The hills outside the city form a sort of amphitheatre, in which are situated the towns of Sevres and Meudon. To the right of the river is Mont Valerien and the batteries in the Bois de Boulogne; to the left the Fort of Issy. The noise of the cannonade was very loud; but very little could be seen, owing to the sun shining on the hills outside. Speculators, however, with telescopes, were offering to show the Prussian artillerymen for one sou--one of them offered to let me see a general for two sous. When I got within about half a mile of the ramparts I began to hear the whistling of the sh.e.l.ls. Here the sightseers were not so numerous. Whenever a sh.e.l.l was heard, there was a rush behind walls and houses. Some people threw themselves down, others seemed to imagine that the smallest tree would protect them, and congregated behind the thinnest saplings. Boys were running about picking up pieces of sh.e.l.ls, and offering them for sale. Women were standing at their doors, and peeping their heads out: "Brigands, bandits, they dare to bombard us; wait till to-morrow, we will make them rue it." This, and expressions of a similar nature, was the tone of the small talk. My own impression is, that the Prussians were firing at the ramparts, and that, as often occurs, their projectiles overshot the mark. I did not see anyone either killed or wounded, and it seems to me that the most astonishing thing in a bombardment is the little damage it does to life and limb. I saw a bit of iron cut away a branch from one of the trees, and one sh.e.l.l I saw burst on the road by the river. In 15 minutes we counted 11 sh.e.l.ls whizzing through the air, over our heads, which fell I presume somewhere behind us. The newspaper which I have just bought, I see, says that two sh.e.l.ls have fallen close by the Invalides, and that they have been coming in pretty thickly all along the zone near the southern ramparts.

This may or may not be the case. Like Herodotus in Egypt, I make a distinction between what I am told and what I see, and only guarantee the authenticity of the latter. The only house which as far as I could perceive had been struck was a small one. A chimney-stack had been knocked over; an old lady who inhabited it pointed this out to me. She seemed to be under the impression that this was the result of design, and plaintively asked me what she had done to "William" and to Bismarck that they should knock over her chimney. On the ramparts no damage seemed to have been done. The National Guard on duty were in the casemates. The noise, however, was tremendous. Issy, Valerien, the guns of the bastions and those of the cannon-boats were firing as hard as they could, and the Prussian batteries were returning their fire with a will. After the sun went down the dark hills opposite were lit up with the flashes of light which issued every second from the batteries.

The Government has issued a proclamation; in it is announced that we are to be relieved by the Army of the North. Another proclamation has been posted, purporting to proceed from the "delegates of the twenty arrondiss.e.m.e.nts," calling upon the population to turn out Trochu. It has attracted little notice. Several mayors, too, it is reported, have threatened to resign unless more energetic counsels prevail in high places. Frenchmen, however, as one of their statesmen said, cannot grasp two ideas at a time, and for to-day at least the bombardment is the all-absorbing idea. Whether Frederick Charles has been really defeated I do not know, but we are all a.s.sured that he has been. Paris journals state that he has been wounded, and that 45,000 of his army have surrendered. It is a.s.serted, too, that the prisoners who were taken yesterday admit that one of their armies has had a very serious reverse.

The bombardment of the forts still continues, and it has extended to the southern ones. With respect to its effect, I will say nothing, lest I be accused of giving aid and comfort to the enemy. _La Verite_ of yesterday already calls upon the Government to open and either suppress or expurgate the letters of English correspondents.

The vin ordinaire is giving out. It has already risen nearly 60 per cent. in price. This is a very serious thing for the poor, who not only drink it, but warm it and make with bread a soup out of it. Yesterday, I had a slice of Pollux for dinner. Pollux and his brother Castor are two elephants, which have been killed. It was tough, coa.r.s.e, and oily, and I do not recommend English families to eat elephant as long as they can get beef or mutton. Many of the restaurants are closed owing to want of fuel. They are recommended to use lamps; but although French cooks can do wonders with very poor materials, when they are called upon to cook an elephant with a spirit lamp the thing is almost beyond their ingenuity. Castor and Pollux's trunks sold for 45fr. a lb.; the other parts of the interesting twins fetched about 10fr. a lb. It is a good deal warmer to-day, and has been thawing in the sun; if the cold and the siege had continued much longer, the Prussians would have found us all in bed. It is a far easier thing to cut down a tree than to make it burn. Proverbs are not always true; and I have found to my bitter experience of late that the proverb that "there is no smoke without a fire" is untrue. The Tupper who made it never tried to burn green wood.

CHAPTER XVII.

_January 7th._

The attempt of the "Ultras" to force Trochu to resign has been a failure. On Friday bands issuing from the outer Faubourgs marched through the streets shouting "No capitulation!" A manifesto was posted on the walls, signed by the delegates of the 20 arrondiss.e.m.e.nts, calling on the people to rise. At the weekly meeting of the Mayors M.

Delescluze, the Mayor of the 19th arrondiss.e.m.e.nt, proposed that Trochu and Le Flo should be called upon to resign, and that a supreme council should be established in which the "civil element should not be subordinated to the military element." M. Gustave Flourens published a letter from his prison suggesting that the people should choose as their leader a young energetic Democrat--that is to say himself. M. Felix Pyat, on the other hand, explained that generals are tyrants, and that the best thing would be to carry on the operations of the siege without one. The "bombardment" is, however, still the absorbing question of the day; and all these incipient attempts at revolution have failed. Trochu issued a proclamation, in which he said, "The Governor of Paris will never capitulate." M. Delescluze has resigned, and several arrests have been made. The Government, however, owes its triumph, not so much to its own inherent merits, as to the demerits of those who wished to supplant it. Everyone complains of Trochu's strange inaction, and distrusts his colleagues, who seem to be playing fast-and-loose with the Commune, and to be anxious by a little gentle violence to be restored to private life. The cry still is, "We will not capitulate!" and the nearer the moment approaches that the provisions must fail, the louder is it shouted. Notwithstanding the bitter experience which the Parisians have had of the vanity of mere words to conjure disaster, they still seem to suppose that if they only cry out loud enough that the Prussians cannot, will not, shall not, enter Paris, their men of war will be convinced that the task is beyond their powers, and go home in despair. We are like a tribe of Africans beating tom-toms and howling in order to avert a threatening storm. Yesterday a great council of war was held, at which not only the generals of division and admirals, but even generals of brigade, were present. Although it is a military dictum that "councils of war never fight," I think that in a few days we shall have a sortie, as that anonymous general "public opinion" insists upon it.

We are still without news from the provinces. The _Gazette Officiale_ to-day publishes an extract from a German paper which hardly seems to bear out the a.s.sertion of the Government that the Army of the North is advancing to our succour. As evidence that our affairs are looking up in the provinces _La France_ contains the following: "A foreigner who knows exactly the situation of our departments said yesterday, 'These d.a.m.ned French, in spite of their asinine qualities, are getting the better of the Prussians.'" We are forced to live to-day upon this crumb of comfort which has fallen from the lips of a great unknown. Hope is the last feeling which dies out in the human breast, and rightly or wrongly nine persons out of ten believe that Chanzy will shortly force the Prussians to raise the siege. The bombardment is supposed to mask their having been obliged to send heavy reinforcements to Frederick Charles, who regularly every morning is either killed, wounded, or taken prisoner.

It is almost needless to say that the newspapers are filled with wondrous tales respecting the bombardment; with denunciations against the Prussians for their sacrilege in venturing upon it; and with congratulations to the population on their heroism in supporting it. The number of persons who have been all but hit by sh.e.l.ls is enormous. I went to the left bank of the Seine in order to see myself the state of affairs. At Point-du-Jour there is a hot corner spa.r.s.ely inhabited. The Prussians are evidently here firing at the viaduct which crosses the river. From there I followed the ramparts as close as I could as far as Montrouge. I heard of many sh.e.l.ls which had fallen, but except at Point-du-Jour I did not myself either see any fall, or hear any whiz through the air. I then went to the Observatory, where according to the _Soir_ the sh.e.l.ls were falling very freely. A citizen who was sweeping before the gate told me that he knew nothing about them. In the Rue d'Enfer, just behind, there was a house which had been struck during the night, and close by there was a cantiniere, on her way to be buried, who had been killed by one. At the garden of the Luxembourg and at the artesian well near the Invalides I heard of sh.e.l.ls, but could not find out where they had struck. As far as I can make out, the Prussians aim at the bastions, and occasionally, but rarely, at some public building.

Probably about 50 sh.e.l.ls have been sent with malice prepense inside the town. Just behind a bastion it is a little dangerous; but in Grenelle, Vaugirard, and Montrouge, the risk to each individual is not so great as it would be to go over a crowded crossing in London. In these quarters I saw a few people moving away with their goods and chattels; but the population generally seemed rather pleased than otherwise with what was going on. Except close in by the ramparts, there was no excitement.

Almost the whole of the portion of the town on the left bank of the Seine is now under fire; but even should it be seriously bombarded, I doubt if the effect will be at all commensurate with the expense of powder and projectiles. When sh.e.l.ls fall over a very large area, the odds against each separate person being hit by them are so large that no one thinks that--happen what may to others--he will be wounded.

_January 11th._

The spy mania, which raged with such intensity at the commencement of the siege, has again broken out. Every day persons are arrested because they are supposed, by lighted candles and other mysterious devices, to be in communication with the enemy. Sergeant Hoff, who used to kill his couple of brace of Germans every day, and who disappeared after Champigny, it is now said was a spy; and instead of mourning over his wife, who had been slain by the Prussians, kept a mistress in splendour, like a fine gentleman. Foreigners are looked upon suspiciously in the streets. Very black looks are cast upon the Americans who have established and kept up the best ambulance there is in Paris at their own cost. Even the French ambulances are suspected, since some of their members, during a suspension of arms, broke bread with the Prussians; for it is held that any one who does not hate a German must be in the pay of Bismarck. But this is not all: the newspapers hint that there are spies at headquarters. General Schmitz has a valet who has a wife, and this wife is a German. What more clear than that General Schmitz confides what pa.s.ses at councils of war to his valet--generals usually do; that the valet confides it to his wife, who, in some mysterious manner, confides it to Bismarck. Then General Trochu has an aide-de-camp, a Prince Bibesco. He is a Wallachian, and a son of an ex-Hospodar--I never yet heard of a Wallachian who was not more or less.

Can a doubt exist in the mind of any reasonable being that this young gentleman, a harmless lad, who had pa.s.sed the greater part of his existence dancing cotillons at Paris, is in direct communication with the Prussians outside? A day or two ago two National Guards were exchanging their strategical views in a cafe, when they observed a stranger write down something. He was immediately arrested, as he evidently intended to transmit the opinions of these two military sages to General Moltke. I was myself down at Montrouge yesterday, when I was requested by two National Guards to accompany them to the nearest commissary. I asked why, and was told that a woman had heard me speak German. I replied that I was English. "Zat ve saal soon zee," said one of my captors. "I spek Anglish like an Anglishman, address to me the vord in Anglish." I replied that the gentleman spoke English with so perfect an accent that I thought he must be a fellow-countryman. The worthy fellow was disarmed by the compliment, and told a crowd which had collected round us to do prompt justice on the spy, that I not only was an Englishman, but _un c.o.c.kne_; that is to say, he explained, an inhabitant of London. He shook me by the hand; his friend shook me by the hand; and several ladies and gentlemen also shook me by the hand; and then we parted. Yesterday evening on the Boulevards there were groups discussing "the traitors." Some said that General Schmitz had been arrested; others that he ought to be arrested. A patriot observed to me that all foreigners in Paris ought, as a precautionary measure, to be extirpated. "Parbleu," I replied, and you may depend upon it I rolled my eyes and shrugged my shoulders in true Gallic fashion. This morning General Trochu has published a proclamation, denouncing all attacks upon his staff, and making himself responsible for its members. It is an honest, manly protest, and by far the best doc.u.ment which this prolific writer has issued for some time. Another complaint is made against the generals who damp the popular enthusiasm by throwing doubts upon ultimate victory. In fact, we have got to such a condition that a military man dares not venture to express his real opinion upon military matters for fear of being denounced. We are, indeed, still in a most unsurrendering mood. I was talking to-day to a banker--a friend who would do anything for me except cash my bill. In business he is a clear-headed, sensible man. I asked him what would occur if our provisions gave out before the armies of the provinces arrived to our succour. He replied that the Government would announce the fact, and call upon all able-bodied men to make a dash at the Prussian lines; that 300,000 at least would respond to that call, and would either be killed or force their way out. This will give you an idea of the present tone of the population. Nine men out of ten believe that we have enough provisions to last at least until the end of February. The only official utterance respecting the provisions is contained in a paragraph in the _Journal Officiel_ to-day, in which we are informed that there are 15,000 oxen and 40,000 sheep in Bordeaux waiting for marching orders to Paris. This is much like telling a starving man in the Strand that figs are plentiful in Palestine, and only waiting to be picked.

The bombardment has diminished in intensity. The Government has put the Prussian prisoners in the ambulances on the left bank of the Seine. It appears to me that it would have been wiser to have moved the ambulances to the right bank. By day few sh.e.l.ls fall into the town beyond the immediate vicinity of the ramparts. At night they are more plentiful, and seem to be aimed promiscuously. I suppose about ten people are hit every twenty-four hours. Now as above fifty people die every day in Paris of bronchitis, there is far more danger from the latter than from the batteries of the disciples of Geist outside. It is not worse to die by a bomb than of a cold. Indeed I am by no means sure that of two evils the latter is not the least; yet a person being suddenly struck down in the streets of a capital by a piece of iron from a cannon will always produce a more startling effect upon the mind than a rise in the bills of mortality from natural causes. Those who are out of the reach of the Prussian guns are becoming accustomed to the bombardment. "You naughty child," I heard a woman who was walking before me say to her daughter, "if you do not behave better I will not take you to see the bombardment." "It is better than a vaudeville," said a girl near me on the Trocadero, and she clapped her hands. A man at Point-du-Jour showed me two great holes which had been made in his garden the night before by two bombs close by his front door. He, his wife, and his children seemed to be rather proud of them. I asked him why he did not move into the interior of the town, and he said that he could not afford it. In a German paper which recently found its way in, it was stated that the bombardment of Paris would commence when the psychological moment had arrived. We are intensely indignant at this term; we consider it so cold-blooded. It is like a doctor standing by a man on the rack, and feeling his pulse to see how many more turns of the screw he can bear.

All the forts outside are still holding their own against the Prussian batteries. Issy has had as yet the greatest amount of attention paid to it by the besiegers. There is a battery at Meudon which seems never to tire of throwing sh.e.l.ls into it. It is said, however, that the enemy is endeavouring to establish breaching guns at a closer range, in order to make his b.a.l.l.s strike the ground and then bound into the fort--a mode of firing which was very successful at Strasburg.

The sensation news of to-day is that Faidherbe has driven Manteuffel across the Belgian frontier, and that Frederick Charles, who always seems to come to life after being killed, has been recalled from Orleans to Paris. The funds rose to-day one per cent. upon these rumours. Our chief confidence, however, just now is in Bourbaki; we think that he has joined Garibaldi, and that these two will force the Prussians to raise the siege by throwing themselves on their communications. I only hope they may.

Mr. Washburne has not been allowed to send out his weekly bag. I presume, however, that this embargo will not be kept up. The Government has not yet announced its intention with respect to M. Jules Favre proceeding to London to represent France in the conferences on the Eastern Question. Most of the newspapers seem to be of opinion that until the Republic has been officially recognised, it is not consistent with her dignity to take part in any European Conference. The diplomatists, who have been a little thrown in the background of late, by wars and generals, must be delighted to find their old friend, the "Eastern Question," cropping up. The settlement of the Schleswig-Holstein question was a heavy blow to them; but for many a year they will have an opportunity to prose and protocol over Turkey. An Austrian wit--indeed the only wit that Austria ever produced--used to say that Englishmen could only talk about the weather, and that if by some dispensation of Providence there ever should be no such thing as weather, the whole English nation would become dumb. What the weather is to Englishmen the Eastern Question is to diplomatists. For their sakes, let us hope that it never will be satisfactorily settled. Diplomatists, like many other apparently useless beings, must live.

_January 15th._

Yesterday we were made comparatively happy by a report that the Prussian funds had fallen 3 per cent. at Berlin. To-day we are told that Bourbaki has gained a great victory, raised the siege of Belfort, and is about to enter Germany. German newspapers up to the 7th have been seized at the advanced posts, but whatever in them tells against us we put down to a general conspiracy on the part of Europe to deceive us. It is somewhat curious to watch the trans.m.u.tations of the names of English statesmen after they have pa.s.sed through a German and a French translation. Thus the latest news from London is that Mr. Hackington is made Irish Secretary, and that Mr. Floresko is Minister of Commerce.

The diplomatists and consuls still at Paris have sent a collective note to Count Bismarck, complaining that the notice of the bombardment was not given, and asking him to afford them the means to place the persons and the property of their respective countrymen out of danger. The minnows sign with the whales. Mr. Washburne's name is inserted between that of the representative of Monaco and that of the Charge d'Affaires of Honduras.

The bombardment still continues. The cannon now make one continuous noise. Each particular discharge cannot be distinguished. The sh.e.l.ls fall on the left bank to a distance of about a mile from the ramparts. A return of the _Official Journal_ gives 138 wounded and 51 killed up to the 13th. Among the killed are 18 children and 12 women; among the wounded, 21 children and 45 women. Waggons and hand-carts packed with household goods are streaming in from the left to the right bank. In the bombarded quarters many shops are closed. Some householders have made a sort of casemate reaching to the first story of their houses; others sleep in their cellars. The streets are, however, full of people, even in the most exposed districts; and all the heights from which a view is to be had of the Prussian batteries are crowded with sightseers. Every now and then one comes across some house through which a sh.e.l.l has pa.s.sed. The public buildings have, as yet, suffered very slightly. The dome of the Pantheon, which we presume is used as a mark for the aim of the Prussian artillerymen, has been hit once. The sh.e.l.l has made a round hole in the roof, and it burst inside the church. In the Jardin des Plantes all the gla.s.s of the conservatories has been shattered by the concussion of the air, and the orchids and other tropical plants are dying. Although war and its horrors are thus brought home to our very doors, it is even still difficult to realise that great events are pa.s.sing around us which history will celebrate in its most solemn and dignified style. Distance in battles lends grandeur to the view. Had the charge of Balaclava taken place on Clapham Common, or had our gallant swordsmen replaced the donkeys on Hampstead Heath, even Tennyson would have been unable to poetise their exploits. When one sees stuck up in an omnibus-office that omnibuses "will have to make a circuit from _cause de bombardement_;" when sh.e.l.ls burst in restaurants and maim the waiters; when the trenches are in tea-gardens; and when one is invited for a sou to look through a telescope at the enemy firing off their guns, there is a homely domestic air about the whole thing which is quite inconsistent with "the pomp and pride of glorious war."

On Friday night there was an abortive sortie at Clamart. Some of the newspapers say that the troops engaged in it were kept too long waiting, and that they warmed their feet by stamping, and made so much noise that the Prussians caught wind of the gathering. Be this as it may, as soon as they got into Clamart they were received with volleys of musketry, and withdrew. I am told that the marching battalions of the National Guard, now in the trenches, are doing their work better than was expected. The generals in command are satisfied with them, but whether they will be of any great use for offensive operations, is a question yet to be solved. The clubs still keep up their outcry for "La Commune,"

which they imagine will prove a panacea for every evil. In the club of the Rue Arras last night, a speaker went a step still further, and demanded "the establishment of anarchy as the ruling power." Trochu is still either attacked, or feebly defended, in the newspapers. The French are so accustomed to the State doing everything for them, that their ruler is made responsible for everything which goes wrong. The demand for a sortie _en ma.s.se_ is not so strong. Every one is anxious not to surrender, and no one precisely knows how a surrender is to be avoided.

Successes on paper have so long done duty for successes in the field, that no one, even yet, can believe that this paper currency has been so depreciated that bankruptcy must ensue. Is it possible, each man asks, that 500,000 armed Frenchmen will have to surrender to half the number of Germans? And as they reply that it is impossible, they come to the conclusion that treason must be at work, and look round for the traitor.

Trochu, who is as honest and upright as a man as he is incompetent as a general, will probably share the fate of the "Man of Sedan" and the "Man of Metz," as they are called. "He is a Laoc.o.o.n," says M. Felix Pyat in his newspaper, with some confusion of metaphor, "who will strangle the Republic."

We hear now that Government is undertaking an inquiry to discover precisely how long our stock of provisions will last. Matters are managed so carelessly, that I doubt whether the Minister of Commerce himself knows to within ten days the precise date when we shall be starved out. The rations of meat now amount to 1-27th of a pound per diem for each adult. At the fashionable restaurants the supply is unlimited, and the price as unlimited. Two cutlets of donkey cost 18 francs, and everything else in the way of animal food is in proportion.