Paris Under The Commune - free ebook by John Leighton

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Paris Under The Commune

John Leighton

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122 chapters

LONDON: 1871.

LONDON: 1871.

Socialism, or the Red Republic, is all one; for it would tear down the tricolour and set up the red flag. It would make penny pieces out of the Column Vendôme. It would knock down the statue of Napoleon and raise up that of Marat in its stead. It would suppress the Académie, the École Polytechnique, and the Legion of Honour. To the grand device Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity, it would add “Ou la mort.” It would bring about a general bankruptcy. It would ruin the rich without enriching the poo

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PREFACE.

PREFACE.

Early in June of the present year I was making notes and sketches, without the least idea of what I should do with them. I was at the Mont-Parnasse Station of the Western Railway, awaiting a train from Paris to St. Cloud. Our fellow passengers, as we discovered afterwards, were principally prisoners for Versailles; the guards, soldiers; and the line, for two miles at least, appeared desolation and ruin. The façade of the station, a very large one, was pockmarked all over by Federal bullets, whil

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INTRODUCTORY.

INTRODUCTORY.

Liberté Égalité Fraternité Late in the day of the 30th October, 1870, the agitation was great in Paris; the news had spread that the village of Le Bourget had been retaken by the Prussians. The military report had done what it could to render the pill less bitter by saying that “ this village did not form a part of the system of defence ,” but the people though kept in ignorance perceived instinctively that there must be weakness on the part of the chiefs. After so much French blood had been she

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I.

I.

L isten! What does that mean? Is it a transient squall or the first gust of a tempest? Is it due to nature or to man’s agency; is it an émeute or the advent of a revolution that is to overturn everything? Such were my reflections when awakened, on the 18th of March, 1871, at about four in the morning, by a noise due to the tramp of many feet. From my window, in the gloomy white fog, I could see detachments of soldiers walking under the walls, proceeding slowly, wrapped in their grey capotes; a s

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II.

II.

At three o’clock in the afternoon there was a dense group of linesmen and Nationals in one of the streets bordering on the Elysée-Montmartre. The person who told us this did not recollect the name of the street, but men were eagerly haranguing the crowd, talking of General Lecomte, and his having twice ordered the troops to fire upon the citizen militia. “And what he did was right,” said an old gentleman who was listening. Words that were no sooner uttered than they provoked a torrent of curses

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III.

III.

It is ten o’clock in the evening, and if I were not so tired I would go to the Hôtel de Ville, which, I am told, has been taken possession of by the National Guards; the 18th of March is continuing the 31st of October. But the events of this day have made me so weary that I can hardly write all I have seen and heard. On the outer boulevards the wine shops are crowded with tipsy people, the drunken braggarts who boast they have made a revolution. When a stroke succeeds there are plenty of rascals

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IV.

IV.

Next morning, the 19th of March, I was in haste to know the events of last night, what attitude Paris had assumed after her first surprise. The night, doubtless, had brought counsel, and perhaps settled the discord existing between the Government and the Central Committee. Early in the morning things appeared much as usual; the streets were peaceful, servants shopping, and the ordinary passengers going to and fro. In passing I met a casual acquaintance to whom I had spoken now and then, a man wi

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V.

V.

Paris remains inactive, and watches events as one watches running water. What does this indifference spring from? Surprise and the disappearance of the chiefs might yesterday have excused the inaction of Paris, but twenty-four hours have passed over, every man has interrogated his conscience, and been able to listen to its answer. There has been time to reconnoitre, to concert together; there would have been time to act! Why is nothing done? Why has nothing been done yet? Generals Clément Thomas

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VI.

VI.

The Butte-Montmartre is en fête . The weather is charming, and every one goes to see the cannon and inspect the barricades, Men, women, and children mount the hilly streets, and they all appear joyous ... for what, they cannot say themselves, but who can resist the charm of sunshine? If it rained, the city would be in mourning. Now the citizens have closed their shops and put on their best clothes, and are going to dine at the restaurant. These are the very enemies of disorder, the small shopkee

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VII.

VII.

In the midst of all these troubles, in which every one is borne along, without any knowledge of where he is drifting—with the Central Committee making proclamations on one side, and the Versailles Government training troops on the other, a few men have arisen who have spoken some words of reason. These men may be certain from this moment that they are approved of by Paris, and will be obeyed By Paris—by the honest and intelligent Paris—by the Paris which is ready to favour that side which can pr

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VIII.

VIII.

Paris has this evening, the 21st of March, an air of extraordinary contentment; it has belief in the deputies and the maires , it has trust even, in the National Assembly. People talk of the manifestation of the Friends of Order and approve of it. A foreigner, a Russian, Monsieur A—— J——, who has inhabited Paris for ten years, and is consequently Parisian, has given me the following information, of which I took hasty note:— “At half-past one o’clock to-day a group, of which I made one, was forme

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IX.

IX.

What is this fusillade? Against whom is it directed? Against the Prussians? No! Against Frenchmen, against passers-by, against those who cry “ Vive la République et vive l’Ordre .” Men are falling dead or wounded, women flying, shops closing, amid the whistling of the bullets,—all Paris terrified. This is what I have just seen or heard. We are done for then at last. We shall see the barricades thrown up in our streets; we shall meet the horrid litters, from which hang hands black with powder; ev

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X.

X.

In the midst of all this horror and terror I saw one little incident which made me smile, though it was sad too; an idyl which might be an elegy. Three hired carriages descended the Rue Notre-Dame-de-Lorette. It was a wedding. In the first carriage was the bride, young and pretty, in tears; in the second, the bridegroom, looking anything but pleased. As the horses were proceeding slowly on account of the hill, I approached and inquired the cause of the discontent. A disagreeable circumstance had

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XI.

XI.

The mairie of the Second Arrondissement seems destined to be the centre of resistance to the Central Committee. The Federals have not been able, or have not dared, to occupy it. In the quarter of the Place de la Bourse and the Place des Victoires, National Guards have assembled and declared themselves Friends of Order. But they are few in number. Yesterday morning, the 23rd of March, they were reinforced by battalions that joined them, one by one, from all parts of Paris. They obey the orders, t

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XII.

XII.

It is two in the morning. Tired of doing nothing I take out my note-book, seat myself on a doorstep opposite the Restaurant Catelain, and jet down my memoranda by the light of a street lamp. As soon as night came on, every measure of precaution was taken. We have no idea by whom we are commanded, but it would appear that a serious defence is contemplated, and is being executed with prudence. Is it Admiral Saisset who is at our head? We hope so. Although we have been so often disappointed in our

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XIII.

XIII.

Never have I seen the dawn break with greater pleasure. Almost everyone has some time in his life passed such sleepless nights, when it seems to him that the darkness will never disappear, and the desire for light and day becomes a fearful longing. Never was dawn more grateful than after that wretched night. And yet the fear of a disastrous collision did not disappear with the night. It was even likely that the Federals might have waited for the morning to begin their attack, just when fatigue i

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XIV.

XIV.

On Friday, the 24th of March, at nine in the morning, we are still in the quarter of the Bourse. Some of the men have not slept for forty-eight hours. We are tired but still resolved. Our numbers are increasing every hour. I have just seen three battalions, with trumpeters and all complete, come up and join us. They will now be able to let the men who have been so long on duty get a little rest. As to what is going on, we are but very incompletely informed. The Federals are fortifying themselves

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XV.

XV.

The news is excellent, in a few hours perhaps it will be better. We rejoice beforehand at the almost certain prospect of pacification. The sun shines, the boulevards are crowded with people, the faces of the women especially are beaming. What is the cause of all this joy? A placard has just been posted up on all the walls in the city. I copy it with pleasure. “DEAR FELLOW CITIZENS,—I hasten to announce to you that together with the Deputies of the Seine and the Mayors of Paris, we have obtained

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XVI.

XVI.

On the ground-floor of the house of my neighbour there is an upholsterer’s workshop. The day before yesterday the master went out to fetch some work, and this morning he had not yet returned. In an agony of apprehension his wife went everywhere in search of him. His body has just been found at the Morgue with a bullet through its head. Some say he was walking across the Rue de la Paix on his way home, and was shot by accident; but the Journal Officiel announces that this poor man, Wahlin, was a

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XVII.

XVII.

What is the meaning of all this! Are we deceiving ourselves, or being deceived? We await in vain the consummation of Admiral Saisset’s promises. In officially announcing that the Assembly had acceded to the just demands of the mayors and deputies, did he take upon himself to pass delusive hopes as accomplished facts? It seems pretty certain now that the Government will make no concessions, that the proclamation is only waste paper, and that the Provisional Commander of the National Guard has bee

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XVIII.

XVIII.

Crowds in the streets and promenades. This evening all the theatres will be re-opened. In the meantime the voting is going on. The weather is delightful, so I take a stroll along the promenades. Under the colonnade of the Châtelet there is a long line of electors awaiting their turn. I fancy that in this quarter the candidates of the Central Committee will be surely elected. Women, in bright-coloured dresses and fresh spring bonnets, are walking to and fro. I hear some one say that there are a g

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XIX.

XIX.

It is over. We have a “Municipal Council,” according to some; a “Commune,” according to others. Not quite legally elected, but sufficiently so. Eighty councillors, sixty of whom are quite unknown men. Who can have recommended them, or, rather, imposed them on the electors? Can there really be some occult power at work under cover of the ex-Central Committee? Is the Commune only a pretext, and are we at the début of a social and political revolution? I overheard a partizan of the new doctrines sa

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XX.

XX.

Who can help being carried away by the enthusiasm of a crowd? I am not a political man, I am only an observer who sees, hears, and feels. I was on the Place de l’Hôtel de Ville at the moment when the names of the successful candidates were proclaimed, and the emotion is still fresh upon me. [25] There were perhaps a hundred thousand men there, assembled from all quarters of the city. The neighbouring streets were also full, and the bayonets glittering in the sun filled the Place with brilliant f

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XXI.

XXI.

“Citizens,” says the Official Journal this morning, “your Commune is constituted.” Then follows decree upon decree. White posters are being stuck up everywhere. Why are they at the Hôtel de Ville, if not to publish decrees? The conscription is abolished. We shall see no more poor young fellows marching through the town with their numbers in their caps, and fired with that noble patriotism which is imbibed in the cabarets at so much a glass. We shall have no more soldiers, but to make up for that

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XXII.

XXII.

Come, let us understand each other. Who are you, members of the Commune? Those among you who are in some sort known to the public do not possess, however, enough of its confidence to make up for the want of knowledge it has of the others. Have a care how you excite our mistrust. You have published decrees that certainly are open to criticism, but that are not entirely obnoxious, for their object is to uphold the interests of that portion of the population, which you most particularly represent,

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XXIII.

XXIII.

“I tell you, you shall not go!”—“But I will.”—“Well, you may, but not your furniture.”—“And who shall prevent my carrying off my furniture if I choose?”—“I will.”—“I defy you!”—“Thief!”—“Robber!” This animated discussion was being carried on at the door of a house, in front of which a cart filled with furniture was standing; a crowd of street boys was fast assembling, and the heads of curious neighbours appeared grinning in all the windows. A partizan of the Commune had determined to profit by t

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XXIV.

XXIV.

What a quantity of luggage! Even those who had the good fortune of witnessing the emigration before the siege would never have supposed that there could be so much luggage in Paris. Well-to-do looking trunks with brass ornaments, black wooden boxes, hairy trunks, leathern hat-boxes, and cardboard bonnet-boxes, portmanteaux and carpet bags are piled up on vehicles of every description, of which more than ten thousand block up the roads leading to the railway stations. Everybody is wild to get awa

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XXV.

XXV.

Garibaldi is expected. Gambon has gone to Corsica to meet him. He is to be placed at the head of the National Guard. It is devoutly to be hoped that he will not come. [31] Firstly, because his presence at this moment would create new dangers; and secondly, because this admirable and honoured man would compromise his glory uselessly in our sorry discords. If I, an obscure citizen, had the honour of being one of those to whom the liberator of Naples lends an ear, I would go to him without hesitati

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XXVI.

XXVI.

Monday, the 3rd of April. [33] A fearful day! I have been hurrying this way and that, looking, questioning, reading. It is now ten o’clock in the evening. And what do I know? Nothing certain; nothing except this, which is awful,—they are fighting. Yes, at the gates of Paris, Frenchmen against Frenchmen, beneath the eyes of the Prussians, who are watching the battle-field like ravens: they are fighting. I have seen ambulance waggons pass full of National Guards. By whom have they been wounded? By

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XXVII.

XXVII.

To whom shall we listen? Whom believe? It would take a hundred pages, and more, to relate all the different rumours which have circulated to-day, the 4th of April, the second day of the horrible straggle. Let us hastily note down the most persistent of these assertions; later I will put some order into this pell-mell of news. All through the night the drums beat to arms in every quarter of the town. Companies assembled rapidly, and directed their way towards the Place Vendôme or the Porte Maillo

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XXVIII.

XXVIII.

Every hour that flies by, becomes more sinister than the last. They fight at Clamart as they fight at Neuilly, at Meudon and at Courbevoie. Everywhere rage the mitrailleuses, the cannon, and the rifle; the victories of the Communalists are lyingly proclaimed. The truth of their pretended triumphs will soon be known; and unhappily victory will be as detestable as defeat. General Duval has been made prisoner and put to death. “If you had taken me,” asked General Vinoy, “would you not have shot me?

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XXIX.

XXIX.

At one o’clock this morning, the 5th of April, on my return from one of these nightly excursions through Paris, I was following the Rue du Mont Thabor so as to gain the boulevards, when on crossing the Rue Saint-Honoré I perceived a small number of National Guards ranged along the pavement. The incident was a common one, and I took no notice of it. In the Rue du Mont Thabor not a person was to be seen; all was in silence and solitude. Suddenly a door opened a few steps in front of me; a man came

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XXX.

XXX.

I am beginning to feel decidedly uncomfortable. This new decree of the Commune seriously endangers the liberty of all those who are so unfortunate as to have incurred the ill-will of their concierge, or whose dealings with his next-door neighbour have not been of a strictly amicable nature. Let us copy the 1st article of this ferocious decree. “All persons accused of complicity with the Government of Versailles shall be immediately taken and incarcerated.” [37] Pest! they do not mince matters! W

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XXXI.

XXXI.

Flourens is dead: we heard that last night for certain. A National Guard had previously brought back the colonel’s horse from Bougival, but it was only a few hours ago that we heard any details. An attempt was made to take him prisoner at Rueil. A gendarme called out to him to surrender, he replied by a pistol shot; another gendarme advanced, and wounded him in the side, a third cleft his skull with a sabre out. Some people do not believe in the pistol shot, and talk of assassination. How many s

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XXXII.

XXXII.

In the midst of so many horrible events, which interest the whole mass of the people, ought I to mention an incident which broke but one heart? Yes, I think the sad episode is not without importance, even in so vast a picture. It was a child’s funeral. The little wooden coffin, scantily covered with a black pall, was not larger, as Théophile Gautier says, “than a violin case.” There were few mourners. A woman, the mother doubtless, in a black stuff dress and white crimped cap, holding by the han

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XXXIII.

XXXIII.

Communal fraternity is decidedly in the ascendant; it is putting into practice this admirable precept, “Arrest each other.” They say M. Delescluze has been sent to the Conciergerie. Yesterday Lullier was arrested, to-day Assy. It was not sufficient to change Executive Committees—if I may be allowed to say so—with no more ceremony than one would change one’s boots; the Commune conducts itself, in respect to those members that become obnoxious to it, absolutely as if they were no more than ordinar

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XXXIV.

XXXIV.

The fighting still continues, the cannonading is almost incessant. However, the damage done is but small. To-day, the 7th April, things seem to be in pretty much the same position as they were after Bergeret had been beaten back and Flourens killed. The forts of Vanves and Issy bombard the Versailles batteries, which in their turn vomit shot and shell on Vanves and Issy. Idle spectators, watching from the Trocadéro, see long lines of white smoke arise in the distance. Every morning, Citizen Clus

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XXXV.

XXXV.

Thirty men carrying muffled drums, thirty more with trumpets draped in crape, head a long procession; every now and then the drums roll dismally, and the trumpets give a long sad wail. Numerous detachments of all the battalions come next, marching slowly, their arms reversed. A small bunch of red immortelles is on every breast. Has the choice of the colour a political signification, or is it a symbol of a bloody death? Next appears an immense funeral car draped with black, and drawn by four blac

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XXXVI.

XXXVI.

We are to have no more letters! As in the time of the siege, if you desire to obtain news of your mother or your wife, you have no other alternative than to consult a somnambulist or a fortune-teller. This is not at all a complicated operation; of course you possess a ribbon or a look of hair, something appertaining to the absent person. This suffices to keep you informed, hour by hour, of what she says, does, and thinks. Perhaps you would prefer the ordinary course of things, and that you would

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XXXVII.

XXXVII.

The queen of the age is the Press. Lately dethroned and somewhat shorn of her majesty, but still a queen. It is in vain that the press has sometimes degraded itself in the eyes of honest men by stooping to applaud and approve of crimes and excesses, that journalists have done what they can to lower it; still the august offspring of the human mind, the press, has really lost neither its power nor its fascination. Misunderstood, misapplied, it may have done some harm, but no one can question the s

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XXXVIII.

XXXVIII.

It cannot be true. I will not believe it. It cannot be possible that Paris is to be again bombarded: and by whom? By Frenchmen! In spite of the danger I was told there was to be apprehended near Neuilly, I wished to see with my own eyes what was going on. So this morning, the 8th April, I went to the Champs Elysées. Until I reached the Rond Point there was nothing unusual, only perhaps fewer people to be seen about. The omnibus does not go any farther than the corner of the Avenue Marigny. An En

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XXXIX.

XXXIX.

Where is Bergeret? What have they done with Bergeret? We miss Bergeret. They have no right to suppress Bergeret, who, according to the official document, was “himself” at Neuilly; Bergeret, who drove to battle in an open carriage; who enlivened our ennui with a little fun. They were perfectly at liberty to take away his command and give it to whomsoever they chose; I am quite agreeable to that, but they had no right to take him away and prevent him amusing us. Alas! we do not have the chance so

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XL.

XL.

Who takes Bergeret’s place? Dombrowski. [49] Who had the idea of doing this? Cluseret. First of all we had the Central Committee, then we had the Commune, and now we have Cluseret. It looks as if Cluseret had swallowed the Commune, which had previously swallowed and only half digested the Central Committee. We are told that Cluseret is a great man, that Cluseret is strong, that Cluseret will save Paris. Cluseret issues decrees, and sees that they are executed. The Commune says, “ we wish ;” but

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XLI.

XLI.

It was not enough that men should be riddled with balls and torn to pieces by shells. The women are also seized with a strange enthusiasm in their turn, and they too fall on the battle-field, victims of a terrible heroism. What extraordinary beings are these who exchange the needle for the needle-gun, the broom for the bayonet, who quit their children that they may die by the sides of their husbands or lovers? Amazons of the rabble, magnificent and abject, something between Penthesilea and Théro

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XLII.

XLII.

May conciliation be hoped for yet? Alas! I can scarcely think so. The bloody fight will have a bloody end. It is not alone between the Commune of Paris and the Assembly of Versailles that there lies an abyss which only corpses can fill. Paris itself, at this moment—I mean the Paris sincerely desirous of peace—is no longer understood by France; a few days of separation have caused strange divisions in men’s minds; the capital seems to speak the country’s language no longer. Timbuctoo is not as fa

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XLIII.

XLIII.

Do you know what the Abbaye de Cinq-Pierres is, or rather what it was? Mind, not Saint-Pierre, but Cinq-Pierres (Five Stones). Gavroche, [55] who loves puns and is very fond of slang, gave this nickname to a set of huge stones which stood before the prison of La Roquette, and on which the guillotine used to be erected on the mornings when a capital punishment was to take place. The executioner was the Abbé de Cinq-Pierres, for Gavroche is as logical as he is ingenious. Well! the abbey exists no

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XLIV.

XLIV.

I have just witnessed a horrible scene. Alas! what harrowing spectacles meet our eyes on every side, and will still before all this comes to an end. I accompanied a poor old woman to a cemetery in the east of Paris. Her son, who had engaged himself in a battalion of Federal guards, had not been home for five days. He was most likely dead, the neighbours said, and one bade her “go and look at the Cimetière de l’Est, they have brought in a load of bodies there.” Imagine a deep trench and about thi

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XLV.

XLV.

What is absolutely stupefying in the midst of all this, is the smiling aspect of the streets and the promenades. The constantly increasing emigration is only felt by the diminution in the number of depraved women and dissipated men; enough, however, remain to fill the cafés and give life to the boulevards. It might almost be said that Paris is in its normal state. Every morning, from the Champs Elysées, Les Ternes, and Vaugirard, families are seen removing into the town, out of the way of the bo

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XLVI.

XLVI.

An insertion in the Journal Officiel of Versailles has justly irritated the greater part of the French press. This is the paragraph. “False news of the most infamous kind has been spread in Paris where no independent journal is allowed to appear.” From these few lines it may be concluded, that in the eyes of the Government of Versailles the whole of the Paris newspapers, whose editors have not deserted their posts, have entirely submitted to the Commune, and only think and say what the Commune p

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XLVII.

XLVII.

Wednesday, 12th April.—Another day passed as yesterday was, as to-morrow will be. The Versaillais attack the forts of Vanves and Issy and are repulsed. There is fighting at Neuilly, at Bagneux, at Asnières. In the town requisitions and arrests are being made. A detachment of National Guards arrives before the Northern railway-station. They inquire for the director, but director there is none. Embarrassing situation this. The National Guards cannot come all this way for nothing. Determined on arr

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XLVIII.

XLVIII.

Eh! What? It is impossible! Are your brains scattered? I speak figuratively, awaiting the time when they will be scattered in earnest. It must be some miserable jester who has worded, printed, and placarded this unconscionable decree. But no, it is in the usual form, the usual type. This is rather too much, Gentlemen of the Commune; it outsteps the bounds of the ridiculous; you count a little too much this time on the complicity of some of the population, and on the patience of others. Here is t

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XLIX.

XLIX.

The delegates of the League of the Republican Union of the Rights of Paris returned from Versailles to-day, the 14th April, and published the following reports:— “CITIZENS,—The undersigned, chosen by you to present your programme to the Government of Versailles, and to proffer the good offices of the League to aid in the conclusion of an armistice, have the honour of submitting you an account of their mission. “The delegates, having made known to Monsieur Thiers the programme of the League,

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L.

L.

During this time the walls resound with fun. Paris of the street and gutter—Paris, Gavroche and blackguard, rolls with laughter before the caricatures which ingenious salesmen stick with pins on shutters and house doors. Who designed these wild pictures, glaringly coloured and common, seldom amusing and often outrageously coarse? They are signed with unknown names—pseudonyms doubtless; their authors, amongst whom it is sad to think that artists of talent must be counted, are like women, high bor

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LI.

LI.

What has Monsieur Courbet to do among these people? He is a painter, not a politician. A few beery speeches uttered at the Hautefeuille Café cannot turn his past into a revolutionary one, and an order refused for the simple reason that it is more piquant for a man to have his button-hole without ornament than with a slip of red ribbon in it, when it is well known that he disdains whatever every one else admires, is but a poor title to fame. To your last, Napoleon Gaillard! [57] To your paint-bru

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LII.

LII.

It is forbidden to cross the Place Vendôme, and naturally, walking there is prohibited too. I had been prowling about every afternoon for the last few days, trying to pass the sentinels of the Rue de la Paix, hoping that some lucky chance might enable me to evade the military order; all I got for my pains was a sharply articulated “ Passes au large! ” and I remained shut out. To-day, as I was watching for a favourable opportunity, a petite dame who held up her skirts to show her stockings, which

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LIII.

LIII.

Who would think it? They are voting. When I say “they are voting,” I mean to say “they might vote;” for as for going to the poll, Paris seems to trouble itself but little about it. The Commune, too, seems somewhat embarrassed. You remember Victor Hugo’s song of the Adventurers of the Sea: “En partant du golfe d’Otrente Nous étions trente, Mais en arrivant à Cadix Nous n’étions que dix.” [59] The gentlemen of the Hôtel de Ville might sing this song with a few slight variations. The Gulf o

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LIV.

LIV.

And what has become of the Bourse? What are the brokers and jobbers saying and doing now? I ask myself this question for the first time, as in ordinary circumstances, the Bourse is of all sublunary things that which occupies me the least. I am one of those excessively stupid people, who have never yet been able to understand how all those black-coated individuals can occupy three mortal hours of every day, in coming and going beneath the colonnade of the “temple of Plutus.” I know perfectly well

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LV.

LV.

The game is played, the Commune is au complet . In the first arrondissement 21260 electors, are inscribed, and there were 9 voters! Monsieur Vésinier had 2 votes, and Monsieur Vésinier was elected. Monsieur Lacord—more clever still—has no votes at all, and, triumphing by the unanimity of his electors, Monsieur Lacord will preside over the Commune of Paris in future. A very logical arrangement. It must be evident to all serious minds that the legislators of the Hôtel de Ville have promulgated in

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LVI.

LVI.

Paris! for once I defy you to remain indifferent. You have had much to bear, during these latter days; it has been said to you, that you should kneel in your churches no more, and you have not knelt there; that the newspapers that pleased you, should be read no more, and you have not read them. You have continued to smile—with but the tips of your lips, it is true—and to promenade on the boulevards. But now comes stalking on that which will make you shudder indeed! Do you know what I have just r

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LVII.

LVII.

I have just heard or read, a touching story; and here it is as I remember it. In the Faubourg Saint Antoine lives a community of women with whom the aged of the poor find shelter; those who have become infirm, or have dropped into helpless childishness, whether men or women, are received there without question or payment. There they are lodged, fed and clothed, and humbly prayed for. Last evening, sleep was just beginning to reign in the little community. The old people had been put to rest, eac

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LVIII.

LVIII.

The people of the Hôtel de Ville said to themselves, “All our fine doings and talking come to nothing, the delegate Cluseret and the commandant Dombrowski send us the most encouraging despatches in vain, we shall never succeed in persuading the Parisian population, that our struggle against the army of Versailles is a long string of decisive victories; whatever we may do, they will finish by finding out that the federate battalions gave way strangely in face of the iron-plated mitrailleuses the

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LIX.

LIX.

We have a court-martial; it is presided over by the citizen Rossel, chief of the grand staff of the army. It has just condemned to death the Commandant Girod, who refused to march against the “enemy.” The Executive Committee, however, has pardoned Commandant Girod. Let us look at this matter a little. If the Executive Committee occupies its time in undoing what the court-martial has done, I can’t quite understand why the executive has instituted a court-martial at all. If I were a member of the

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LX.

LX.

It is precisely because the men that the Commune sends to the front, fight and die so gloriously, that we feel exasperated against its members. A curse upon them, for thus wasting the moral riches of Paris! Confusion to them, for enlisting into so bad a service, the first-rate forces which a successful revolt leaves at their disposal. I will tell you what happened yesterday, the 22nd of April, on the Boulevard Bineau; and then I think you will agree with me that France, who has lost so much, sti

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LXI.

LXI.

Another, and a sadder scene happened in the Avenue des Ternes. A funeral procession was passing along. The coffin, borne by two men, was very small, the coffin of a young child. The father, a workman in a blouse, walked behind with a little knot of other mourners. A sad sight, but the catastrophe was horrible. Suddenly a shell from Mont Valérien fell on the tiny coffin, and, bursting, scattered the remains of the dead child upon the living father. The corpse was entirely destroyed, with the trap

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LXII.

LXII.

At last the unhappy inhabitants of Neuilly are able to leave their cellars. For three weeks, they have been hourly expecting the roofs of their houses to fall in and crush them; and with much difficulty have managed during the quieter moments of the day to procure enough to keep them from dying of starvation. For three weeks they have endured all the terrors, all the dangers of battle and bombardment. Many are dead—they all thought themselves sure to die. Horrible details are told. A little past

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LXIII.

LXIII.

I had almost made up my mind not to continue these notes. Tired and weary, I remained two days at home, wishing to see nothing, hear nothing, trying to absorb myself in my books, and to take up the lost thread of my interrupted studies, but all to no purpose. It is ten in the morning, and I am out again in search of news. How many things may have happened in two days! Not far from the Hôtel de Ville excited groups are assembled at the corners of the streets that lead out of the Rue de Rivoli. Th

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LXIV.

LXIV.

No! no! Monsieur Félix Pyat, you must remain, if you please. You have been of it, you are of it, and you shall be of it. It is well that you should go through all the tenses of the verb, I am not astonished that a man as clever as you, finding that things were taking a bad turn, should have thought fit to give in your resignation. When the house is burning, one jumps out of window. But your cleverness has been so much pure loss, for your amiable confederates are waiting in the street to thrust y

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LXV.

LXV.

An anonymous writer, who is no other, it is said, than the citizen Delescluze, has just published the following:— “The Commune has assured to itself the receipt of a sum of 600,000 francs a day—eighteen millions a month.” There was once upon a time a French forger, named Collé, celebrated for the extent and importance of his swindling, and who possessed, it was said, a very large fortune. When questioned upon the subject, he used to answer: “I have assured to myself a receipt of a hundred francs

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LXVI.

LXVI.

“The social revolution could end but in one great catastrophe, of which the immediate effects would be— “To make the land a barren waste: “To put a strait jacket upon society: “And, if it were possible that such a state of things could be prolonged for several weeks— “To cause three or four millions of human beings to perish by horrible famine. “When the Government shall be without resources, when the country shall be without produce and without commerce: “When starving P

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LXVII.

LXVII.

A balloon! A balloon! Quick! A balloon! There is not a moment to be lost. The inhabitants of Brive-la-Gaillarde and the mountaineers of Savoy are thirsting for news; let us shower manna on them. Write away! Pierre Denis! Pump in your gas, emulators of Godard! And may the four winds of heaven carry our “Declarations” to the four quarters of France! Ah! ah! The Versaillais—band of traitors that they are!—did not calculate on this. They raise soldiers, the simpletons; they bombard our forts and our

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LXVIII.

LXVIII.

I’m surprised myself, as I re-read the preceding pages, at the strange contradictions I meet with. During the first few days I was almost favourable to the Commune; I waited, I hoped. To-day all is very different. When I write down in the evening what I have seen and thought in the day, I allow myself to blame with severity men that inspired me formerly with some kind of sympathy. What has taken place? Have my opinions changed? I do not think so. Besides, I have in reality but one opinion. I rec

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LXIX.

LXIX.

The Commune has naturally brought an infinite number of journals into existence. Try, if you will, to count the leaves of the forest, the grains of sand on the seashore, the stars in the heavens, but do not, in your wildest dreams, attempt to enumerate the newspapers that have seen the light since the famous day of the 18th of March. Félix Pyat has a journal, Le Vengeur ; Vermorel has a journal, Le Cri du People ; Delescluze has a journal, Le Reveil ; there is not a member of the Commune but ind

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LXX.

LXX.

“Issy is taken! Issy is not taken! Mégy [74] has delivered it up! Eudes holds it still.” I have heard nothing but contradictory news since this morning. Is Fort Issy in the hands of the Versailles troops—yes or no? Hoping to get better information by approaching the scene of conflict, I went to the Porte d’Issy, but returned without having succeeded in learning anything. There were but few people in that direction; some National Guards, sheltered by a casemate, and a few women, watching for the

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LXXI.

LXXI.

We shall see no more of Cluseret! Cluseret is done for, Cluseret is in prison! [75] What has he done? Is he in disgrace on account of Fort Issy? This would scarcely be just, considering that if the fort were evacuated yesterday it was reoccupied this morning; by the bye, I cannot explain satisfactorily to myself why the Versaillais should have abandoned this position, which they seem to have considered of some importance. If it is not on account of Fort Issy that Cluseret was politely asked to g

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LXXII.

LXXII.

Suppose that a man in disguise goes into the opera ball intoxicated, rushes hither and thither, gesticulating, insulting the women, mocking the men, turns off the gas, then sets light to some curtains, until such a hue and cry is raised that he is turned out of the place. Whereupon our mask runs off to the nearest costumier’s, changes his clown’s dress for that of a pantaloon, and returns to the opera to recommence his old tricks, saying, “I have changed my dress, no one will recognise me.” But

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LXXIII.

LXXIII.

The Parisian Official Journal says: “The members of the Commune are not amenable to any other tribunal than their own” (that of the Commune). Ah! truly, men of the Hôtel de Ville, you imagine that, do you? Have you forgotten that there are such tribunals as court-martials and assizes?...

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LXXIV.

LXXIV.

M. Rossel is really very unfortunate! What is M. Rossel? [78] Why, the provisional successor of Citizen Cluseret. It was not a bad idea to put in the word provisional . The Commune had confided to him the care of military matters, which he had accepted, but with an air of condescension. This “Communeux” looks to me like an aristocrat. At any rate he has not been fortunate. Scarcely had he taken upon himself the safety of Paris, when the redoubt of Moulin-Saquet was surprised by the Versaillais.

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LXXV.

LXXV.

Malediction on the man who imagined this decree; malediction on the assembly that approved it; and cursed be the hand which shall first touch a stone of that tomb! Oh I believe me, I am not among those who regret the times of royal prerogatives, and who believe that everything would have gone well, in the most peaceful country in the world, if Louis XVII had only succeeded to the throne after his father, Louis XVI. The author of the revolution of 1798 knew what he was about in multiplying such t

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LXXVI.

LXXVI.

Rejoice, poor housewives, who, on days of poverty, were obliged to carry to the Mont-de-Piété [80] the discoloured remains of your wedding dress, or your husband’s Sunday coat; rejoice, artisans, who, after a day of toil, thought your bed so hard since your last mattress was taken to the Rue des Blancs-Manteaux, to rejoin your last pair of sheets. The Commune has decreed that “all objects in pawn at the Mont-de-Piété, for a sum not exceeding twenty francs, shall be given back gratuitously to all

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LXXVII.

LXXVII.

They have put them into the prison of Saint-Lazare. Whom? The nuns of the convent of Picpus. They have put them there because they have been arrested. But why were they arrested? That is what Monsieur Rigault himself could not clearly explain. Some of the nuns are old. They have been living long in seclusion, and have only changed cells; having been the captives of Heaven, they have become the prisoners of Citizen Mouton. In such an abject place too, poor harmless souls! Victor Hugo has said, sp

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LXXVIII.

LXXVIII.

After Bergeret came Cluseret; after Cluseret, Rossel. But Rossel has just sent in his resignation. My idea is, that we take back Cluseret, that we may have Bergeret, and so on, unless we prefer to throw ourselves into the open arms of General Lullier. The choice of another general for the defence of Paris is however no business of mine; and the Commune, a sultan without a favourite, may throw his handkerchief if he pleases, to the tender Delescluze, as some say he has the intention—I have not th

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LXXIX.

LXXIX.

I was told the following by an eye-witness of the scene. In a small room at the Hôtel de Ville five personages were seated round a table at dinner. The repast was of the most modest kind, and consisted of soup, one dish of meat, one kind of vegetable, cheese, and a bottle of vin ordinaire each. One would have thought, oneself in a restaurant at two francs a head, if it had not been that the condiments had got musty during the siege; besides, there was something solemn and official in the very sm

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LXXX.

LXXX.

I am beginning to regret Cluseret. He was impatient, especially in speech. He used to say “Every man a National Guard!” But with Cluseret, as with one’s conscience, there were possible conciliations. You had only to answer the decrees of the war-delegate by an enthusiastic “Why I am delighted, indeed I was just going to beg you to send me to the Porte-Maillot;” which having done, one was free to go about one’s business without fear of molestation. As to leaving Paris, in spite of the law which c

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LXXXI.

LXXXI.

Glorious news! I have seen Lullier again. We had lost Cluseret, lost Rossel; Delescluze does not suffice, and except for Dombrowski and La Cécilia with his prima-donna-like name, the company of the Commune would be sadly wanting in stars. Happily! Lullier has been restored to us. What had become of him? he only wrote seven or eight letters a day to Rochefort and Maroteau, that I can find out. How did he manage to employ that indomitable activity of his, and that of his two hundred friends, who w

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LXXXII.

LXXXII.

This morning I took a walk in the most innocent manner, having committed no crime that I knew of. It was lovely weather, and the streets looked gay, as they generally do when it is very bright, even when the hearts of the people are most sad. I passed through the Rue Saint-Honoré, the Palais Royal, and finally the Rue Richelieu. I beg pardon for these details, but I am particularly careful in indicating the road I took, as I wish the inhabitants of the places in question, to bear witness that I

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LXXXIII.

LXXXIII.

At ten o’clock in the evening I was walking up the Rue Notre-Dame-de-Lorette. In these times the streets are quite deserted at that hour. Looking on in front I saw that the Place Saint-Georges was lighted up by long tongues of flame, that the wind blew hither and thither. I hastened on, and was soon standing in front of M. Thiers’ house. [90] At the open gate stood a sentinel; a large fire had been lighted in the court by the National Guards; not that the night was cold, they seemed to have ligh

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LXXXIV.

LXXXIV.

An anecdote: Parisian all over; but with such stuff are they amused! Raoul Rigault, the man who arrests, was breakfasting with Gaston Dacosta, the man who destroys. These two friends are worthy of each other. Rigault has incarcerated the Archbishop of Paris, but Dacosta claims the merit of having loosened the first stone in M. Thiers’ house. But however, Rigault would destroy if Dacosta were not there to do so; and if Rigault did not arrest, Dacosta would arrest for him. They talked as they ate.

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LXXXV.

LXXXV.

The horrible cracking sound that is heard at sea when a vessel splits upon a rock, is not a surer sign of peril to the terrified crew, than are the vain efforts, contradictions and agitation at the Hôtel de Ville, the forerunners of disaster to the men of the Commune. Listen! the vessel is about to heave asunder. Everybody gives orders, no one obeys them. One man looks defiantly at another; this man denounces that, and Rigault thinks seriously of arresting them both. There is a majority which is

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LXXXVI.

LXXXVI.

It was five o’clock in the afternoon. The day had been splendid and the sun shone brilliantly on Caesar still standing on the glorious pedestal of his victories. Outside the barricades of the Rue de la Paix and the Rue Castiglione, the crowd was standing in a compact mass, as far as the Tuileries on one side and the New Opera House on the other. There must have been from twenty to twenty-fire thousand people there. Strangers accosted each other by the title of Citizen, I heard some talking about

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LXXXVII.

LXXXVII.

On the sixteenth, I received a prospectus through my concierge. There was to be a concert, mixed with speeches—a sort of popular fête at the Tuileries. The places varied in price from ten sous to five francs. Five francs the Salle des Maréchaux; ten sous the garden, which was to be illuminated with Venetian lamps among the orange-trees; the whole to be enlivened by fireworks from the Courbevoie batteries. I had tact enough not to put on white gloves, and set out for the palace. It was not a fair

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LXXXVIII.

LXXXVIII.

I was busy writing, when suddenly I heard a fearful detonation, followed by report on report. The windows rattled: I thought the house was shaking under me. The noise continued: it seemed as if cannon were roaring on all sides. I rushed down into the street; frightened people were running hither and thither, and asking questions. Some thought that the Versaillais were bombarding Paris on all sides. On the Boulevards I was told it was the fort of Vanves that had been blown up. At last I arrived o

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LXXXIX.

LXXXIX.

I have gazed so long on what was passing around me that my eyes are weary. I have watched the slow decline of joy, of comfort and luxury, almost without knowing how everything has been dying around me, as a man in a ball-room where the candles are put out, one by one, may not perceive at first the gathering gloom. To see Paris, as it is at the present moment, as the Commune has made it, requires an effort. Let me shut my eyes, and evoke the vision of Paris as it was, living, joyous, happy even i

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XC.

XC.

The roaring of cannon close at hand, the whizzing of shells, volleys of musketry! I hear this in my sleep, and awake with a start. I dress and go out. I am told the troops have come in. “How? where? when?” I ask of the National Guards who come rushing down the street, crying out, “We are betrayed!” They, however, know but very little. They have come from the Trocadero, and have seen the red trousers of the soldiers in the distance. Fighting is going on near the viaduct of Auteuil, at the Champ d

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XCI.

XCI.

It is imprudent to go out; the night was almost peaceable, the morning is hideous. The roar of musketry is intense and without interruption. I suppose there must be fighting going on in the Rue du Faubourg Montmartre. I start back, the noise is so fearful. In the Cour Trévise not a person to be seen, the houses are closely shut and barred. On a second floor I hear a great moving of furniture, and hear quite distinctly the sound of sobbing, of female sobbing. I hear that the second floor of the h

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XCII.

XCII.

Oh! those that hear it not, how happy they must be; they will never understand how fearful this continuous, this dreadful noise is, and to feel that each ball is aimed at some breast, and each shell brings ruin in its train. Fear and horror wrings one’s heart and maddens one’s brain. Visions pass before one’s eyes of corpses, of houses crushing sleeping inmates, of men falling and crying out for mercy! and one feels quite strange to go on living among the crowds that die! I have been out a littl

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XCIII.

XCIII.

This morning, the 23rd, after a combat of three hours, the barricade of the Place de Clichy has not yet yielded. Yet two battalions of National Guards had, at the beginning of the fight, reversed their arms, and were fraternising with the soldiers on the Place de la Maine, a hundred and fifty yards from the scene of the fray. The cracking of the rifles, the explosion of shells, and the sound of mitrailleuses filled the air. The smell of powder was stifling. Dreadful cries arose from the poor wou

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XCIV.

XCIV.

It is the middle of the night; and I awake with a terrible start. A bright red light streams through the panes. I throw open the window; the sky to the left is one mass of dark smoke and lurid streaks of light—it is a fire, Paris on fire! [105] I dress and go out. At the corner of the Rue de Trévise a sentinel stops me, “You can’t pass.” I am so bewildered that I do not think of noticing whether he is a Federal or a soldier. What am I to do, where am I to go? Although an hour ago balls were whis

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XCV.

XCV.

Certainly I nursed no vain illusions. What you had done, gentlemen of the Commune, had enlightened me as to your value, and as to the purity of your intentions. Seeing you lie, steal, and kill, I had said to you, “You are liars, robbers, and murderers;” but truly, in spite of Citizen Félix Pyat, who is a coward, and Citizen Miot, who is a fool; in spite of Millière, who shot réfractaires , and Philippe, whose trade shall be nameless; in spite of Dacosta, who amused himself with telling the Jesui

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XCVI.

XCVI.

With three friends I stood upon the roof of a house near the new opera, watching what was passing around. The spectacle was such, that horror paralyses every other sentiment, even that of self-preservation. Consternation sits encircled by a blazing atmosphere of terror! The Hôtel de Ville is in flames; the smoke, at times a deep red, envelops all, so that it is impossible to distinguish more than the outlines of immense walls; the wind brings, in heavy gusts, a deadly odour—of burnt flesh, perha

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XCVII.

XCVII.

She walks with a rapid step, near the shadow of the wall; she is poorly dressed; her age is between forty and fifty; her forehead is bound with a red checkered handkerchief, from which hang meshes of uncombed hair. The face is red and the eyes blurred, and she moves with her look bent down on the ground. Her right hand is in her pocket, or in the bosom of her half-unbuttoned dress; in the other hand she holds one of the high, narrow tin cans in which milk is carried in Paris, but which now, in t

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XCVIII.

XCVIII.

It is seven in the evening, the circulation has become almost impossible. The streets are lined with patrols, and the regiments of the Line camp upon the outer boulevards. They dine, smoke, and bivouac, and drink with the citizens on the doorsteps of their houses. In the distance is heard the storm of sounds which tells of the despairing resistance of Belleville, and along the foot of the houses are seen square white patches, showing the walled-up cellars, every hole and crevice being plastered

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XCIX.

XCIX.

The hours and the days pass and resemble each other horribly. To write the history of the calamities is not yet possible. Each one sees but a corner of the picture, and the narratives that are collected are vague and contradictory; it appears certain now that the insurrection is approaching the end. It is said that the fort of Montrouge is taken; but it still hurls its shells upon Paris. Several have just fallen in the quarter of the Banque. There is fighting still at the Halles, at the Luxembou

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C.

C.

Where are these men going with hurried steps, and with lanterns in their hands? Their uniform is that of the National Guard, and consequently of Federals, but the tricolour band which they wear on the arm would seem to indicate that they belong to the Party of Order. They are making their way by one of the entries of the sewers, and preceded by an officer are disappearing beneath the sombre vaults. Calling to mind the sinister expression of a Communal artillery commander—“The reactionary quarter

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CI.

CI.

The fire is out, let us contemplate the ruins. [112] The Commune is vanquished. Look at Paris, sad, motionless, laid waste. This is what we have come to! Consternation is in every breast, solitude is in every street. We feel no longer either anger or pity; we are resigned, broken by emotion; we see processions of prisoners pass on their way to Versailles, and we scarcely look at them; no one thinks of saying either, “Wretches!” or “Poor fellows!” The soldiers themselves are very silent. Although

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CHRONOLOGY OF THE PARISIAN INSURRECTION, FROM THE 18th OF MARCH TO THE 29th MAY, 1871.

CHRONOLOGY OF THE PARISIAN INSURRECTION, FROM THE 18th OF MARCH TO THE 29th MAY, 1871.

The dash (—) in each day after the commencement of military operations divides the civil from the military. Saturday, 18th March : Early in the morning troops take possession of the Buttes Montmartre and Belleville. The soldiers charged with the recovery of the pieces of artillery fraternise with the people and the National Guard. Arrest of Generals Lecomte and Clement Thomas: they are shot at Montmartre without trial. National Guards take possession of the Hôtel de Ville, the Prefecture of Poli

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HENRI ROCHEFORT.

HENRI ROCHEFORT.

Henri Rochefort, personal enemy of the Empire, republican humourist of the Marseillaise , and the lukewarm socialist of the Mot d’Ordre , who could answer to the judge who demanded his name, “I am Henri Rochefort, Comte de Lucey,” has been reproached by some with his titles of nobility, and with the childish pleasure that he takes in affecting the plebeian. It is said of him that he aspires but to descend, but who would condemn him for spurning the petrifactions of the Faubourg Saint-Germain? A

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THE EIGHTEENTH OF MARCH.

THE EIGHTEENTH OF MARCH.

It was on the day of the 18th of March, exactly six months after the appearance of Prussians beneath the walls of Paris, that the Government had chosen for the repression of the rebellion. At four o’clock in the morning, the troops of the army of Paris received orders to occupy the positions that had been assigned to them. All were to take part in the action, but it is just to add here that the most arduous and fatiguing part fell to the share of the Lustielle division, composed of the Paturel b

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THE PRUSSIANS AND THE COMMUNE.

THE PRUSSIANS AND THE COMMUNE.

The enemies of yesterday, the Prussians, did not disdain to enter into communication with the Central Committee on the 22nd of March. This was an additional reason for the new masters of Paris to regard their position as established, and the Official Journal took care to make known to the public the following despatch received from Prussian head-quarters:— “To the actual Commandant of Paris, the Commander-in-Chief of the third corps d’armée. “Head-quarters, Compiègne, “21st March, 1871.

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GAMBON.

GAMBON.

There are certain legendary names which when spoken or remembered evoke a second image and raise a double personality, Castor implies Pollux; Ninos, Euryalus; Damon, Pythias. An inferior species of union connects Saint Anthony with his pig, Roland with his mare, and the infinitely more modern Gambon with his historic cow. He was “the village Hampden” of the Empire. By withstanding the tyranny of Caesar’s tax-gatherer and refusing to pay the imperial rates, he obtained a popularity upon which he

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LULLIER.

LULLIER.

Charles Ernest Lullier was born in 1838, admitted into the Naval School in 1854, and appointed cadet of the second class in 1856. He was expelled the Naval School for want of obedience and for his irascible character. When on board the Austerlitz he was noted for his quarrelsome disposition and his violent behaviour to his superiors as well as his equals, which led to his removal from the ship and to his detention for a month on board the Admiral’s ship at Brest. He was first brought into notori

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PROTOT.

PROTOT.

Citizen Protot, appointed Delegate of Justice by a decree of the twentieth of April, 1871, was born in 1839. As an advocate, he defended Mégy, the famous Communist general of the fort of Issy, when he was accused of the assassination of a police agent on the eleventh of April, 1870. This trial, and the ability he displayed, drew public attention for a moment upon him. Compromised as a member of secret societies, he managed to escape the police, but was condemned in his absence to fines and impri

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VII. (Page 229.)

VII. (Page 229.)

“And now he thinks: ‘The Empire is tottering, There’s little chance of victory.’ Then, creeping furtively backwards, he tries to slink away. Remain, renegade, in the building! “‘The ceiling falls,’ you say! ‘if they see me They will seize and stop me as I go,’ Daring neither to rest nor fly, you miserably watch the roof And then the door, “And shiveringly you put your hand upon the bolt. Back into the dismal ranks! Back! Justice, whom they have thrust into a pit, Is there

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JOURDE.

JOURDE.

Jourde certainly occupied one of the most difficult offices of the Commune, for he had to find the means to maintain the situation, but as the Ministry of Finances is burnt, no documents can be found to show the employment he made of the funds which passed through his hands. On the 30th of May, when he was arrested, disguised as an artizan, with his friend Dubois, he had about him a sum of 8070 francs in bank notes, and Dubois 3100 francs; making a total sum of 11,170 francs between the two. A p

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IX. (Page 316.)

IX. (Page 316.)

These are the last proclamations from the Hôtel de Ville. They refer immediately to the burning of the capital. In the evening of the thirty-first of May, when Delescluze denied with vehemence that the regular army had made its entry, he wrote to Dombrowski:— “CITIZEN—I learn that the orders given for the construction of barricades are contradictory. “See that this be not repeated. “Blow up or burn the houses which interfere with your plans for the defence. The barricades ought to be una

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FERRÉ.

FERRÉ.

At half-past nine on the morning of the 18th of March Ferré was at No. 6, Rue des Rosiers, opposing the departure of the prisoners of the Republican Guard, by obtaining from the Commander Bardelle the revocation of the order for their dismissal, which was known to have been issued. He went to the council of the Château Rouge, whither General Lecomte was about to be taken, and made himself conspicuous by the persistency with which he called for the death of that general. On the morning of Monday,

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XI. (Page 342.)

XI. (Page 342.)

At the trial of Ferré, August 10, Dr. Puymoyen, physician to the prison for juvenile offenders, opposite La Roquette, gave the following graphic evidence:— “Immediately after the insurgents, driven back by the troops, had occupied La Roquette, they installed a court-martial at the children’s prison opposite, where I live. It was from thence I saw the poor wretches whom they feigned to release, ushered in to the square, where they encountered an ignoble mob, that ill-treated them in the most brut

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XII. (Page 345.)

XII. (Page 345.)

Regarding the death of President Bonjean, the Abbé de Marsay said—“That gentleman carried his scruples so far that he would not avail himself of forty-eight hours’ leave on parole , fearing he could not get back in time; thus did not see his family.” The Abbé Perni, a venerable man with a white beard, who had been a missionary said: “On Wednesday, the 24th of May, we were ordered back to our cells at La Roquette at an earlier hour than usual, and at about four o’clock in the afternoon a battalio

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URBAIN.

URBAIN.

Urbain, formerly head master of an academy, was elected to the Commune, and became, in virtue of his former office of teacher, a member of the Committee of Instruction, retaining at the same time his office of mayor. He finally installed himself in his mayoralty about the middle of April, with his sister and young son, and gave protection there to his mistress, Leroy, who had great influence over him, and who used to frequent the committees and clubs. At the mayoralty of the 7th Arrondissement t

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THE DEVASTATIONS OF PARIS.

THE DEVASTATIONS OF PARIS.

The following is the way in which the fires were prepared:—In some instances a number of men, acting as avant-courriers , went first, telling the inhabitants that the Quarter was about to be delivered to the flames, and urging them to fly for their lives; in other oases, the unfortunate people were told that the whole city would be burnt, and that they might as well meet death where they were as run to seek it elsewhere. In some places—in the Rue de Vaugirard, for instance—it is asserted that se

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XV.

XV.

The following order of the day of General de Ladmirault, commanding the first army corps of Versailles, sums up the principal episodes of this eight days battle:— “Officers and soldiers of the First Corps d’Armée,— The defences of the lines of Neuilly, Courbevoie, Bécon and Asnières served you by way of apprenticeship. Your energy and courage were formed amid the greatest works and perils. Every one in his grade has given an example of the most complete abnegation and devotion. Artillery, en

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XVI.

XVI.

The amount of the extraordinary expenses of the Versailles was, at the rate of three millions of francs a day, 216 millions from the 18th March to the 28th May. The list of artillery implements removed from the arsenals of Douai, Lyon, Besançon, Toulon, and Cherbourg, and forwarded to Versailles from the 18th March to the 21st May, comprise— Ammunition received at Versailles— The stock of gunpowder amounted to 400 tons. Up to the 21st of May, the artillery received 20 tons a day, and on that day

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DAMAGED OR DESTROYED BY THE COMMUNISTS OF PARIS,

DAMAGED OR DESTROYED BY THE COMMUNISTS OF PARIS,

MAY 24-29, 1871. Fire commenced in the houses marked thus (*). Palais des Tuileries (Emperor’s Paris residence). Burnt . Musée du Louvre. Library totally destroyed . Palais Royal (Prince Napoleon’s Paris residence). Burnt . Palais de la Légion d’Honneur (records all gone). Burnt . Conseil d’Etat. Burnt . Corps Législatif. Damaged . Cour des Comptes (Exchequer). Burnt . Ministère d’Etat (Minister of State). Fired, but saved . Ministère des Finances (Treasury). Burnt . Hôtel de Ville. (Town Hall o

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