Diary of the Besieged Resident in Paris. Henry Labouchere
was anxious to obtain his opinion upon the situation, and this is a résumé of what he told me. "When Jules Favre," he said, "went to Bismarck, he was prepared to agree to the dismantlement of the fortresses of Alsace and Lorraine, the cession of half the fleet, the payment of an indemnity of eighty millions of pounds, and an agreement for a term of years not to have a standing army of more than 200,000 men. A Constituent Assembly would have ratified these terms. The cession of a portion of the fleet is but tantamount to the payment of money. The conscription is so unpopular that a majority of the nation would have been glad to know that the standing army would henceforward be a small one. As for the fortresses, they have not been taken, and yet they have not arrested the Prussian advance on Paris; consequently their destruction would not seriously weaken the defences of the country." I asked whether Paris would now consent to these terms. "No," he said, "if the Government offered them there would be a revolution. Paris, rightly or wrongly, believes that she will be able to hold out for two months, and that during this time there will be a levée en masse." "And do you share this opinion?" I asked. "I am not of a very sanguine character" he replied; "but I really am now inclined to believe that the Prussians will never enter Paris unless they starve us into a surrender." "Then," I said, "I suppose they will starve us out." "I am an old man," he said, "and I always remember Philip's saying, 'Time and I are two,' In two months many things may happen. Winter is coming on. The Prussian army is composed of men engaged in business at home and anxious to return; the North does not love the South, and divisions may arise. The King of Prussia is an old man, and he may die. Without absolutely counting upon a French army raising the siege, there are levées forming in Lyons and elsewhere, and the Germans will find their communications seriously menaced. Russia, too, and Austria may interfere, so I think that we are wise to resist as long as we can." "But if you have to capitulate, what will happen?" I asked. "If we do capitulate, our disaster will be complete," he answered. "I do not anticipate disorders; the population of Paris is an intelligent one, it wishes the Government to resist as long as it can, but not to prolong an impossible situation. Paris must do her part in defending the country, she can do no more." "Well," I said, "supposing that the Prussians were to withdraw, and peace were to be concluded on reasonable terms, what do you think would take place?" "Gambetta, Jules Favre, and the majority of the Parisian Deputies would call a Constituent Assembly as soon as possible, and resign power into its hands. They are moderate Republicans, but between a Red Republic and a Constitutional Monarchy they would prefer the latter. As practical men, from what I know of them, I am inclined to think that they would be in favour of the Orleanist family—either the Comte de Paris or the Duc d'Aumale." "And would the majority of the Constituent Assembly go with them?" I asked. "I think it would" he replied. "The Orleanist family would mean peace. Of late years Frenchmen have cared very little for military glory; their dream has been to save money. One advantage of our disasters is that it has limited the number of pretenders to the Throne, for after the capitulation of Sedan, neither the army nor the peasants will support a Bonaparte. There will be two parties—the ultra-Republicans, and the advocates of a Constitutional Monarchy under a Prince of the House of Orleans. Unless the friends of the Orleans Princes commit some great fault, they are masters of the situation."
I went down this morning to the Halles Centrales. There was very little going on. Bonnes were coming to market, but most of the booths were untenanted, and the price of vegetables, eggs, and butter was exorbitant. "Why do you complain of me?" said a dealer to a customer—"is it my fault? Curse Badinguet and that wretch of a Bismarck; they choose to fight, so you must pay double for these carrots" The butchers yesterday published an appeal against the maximum; they said that the cost of animals is so great that they positively are losing upon every joint which they sell. A new proclamation of the Mayor has just been issued, announcing that 500 oxen and 4,000 sheep will daily be slaughtered and sold to the butchers at a price to enable them to gain 20 per cent, by retailing meat at the official tariff. I find that, come what may, we have coffee and sugar enough to last many months, so that provided the bread does not fail, we shall take some time to starve out.
This afternoon a dense column of smoke was seen rising in the air in the direction of La Villette, and it gradually covered the town with a dark cloud. The pessimists among the Boulevard quidnuncs insisted that the town had been set on fire by the Prussians; the optimists were convinced that the 10,000, who for some reason or other are supposed to be in a wood, patiently waiting to be roasted, were being burnt. It turns out that some petroleum in the Buttes de Chaumont caught fire. After burning about two hours, the fire was put out by heaping dirt on it.
The Prussians still occupy the plateau of Meudon, and despatches from the forts say that troops are supposed to be concentrating between Meudon and Sèvres. We have come to the conclusion that as the Prussians do not fire upon Grenello and Auteuil, they have neither Krupp nor siege guns. I trust this may prove true. News has been received from Tours; it was brought by an officer who ran the blockade. We are much elated to learn that the result of M. Jules Favre's interview has been posted up throughout France. We believe that the effect of this measure "will be equal to an army." The Post Office informs the public that a regular system of balloons has been organised, and that letters will be received and forwarded to the provinces and abroad, provided they do not weigh above four grammes. A deputation of English and American correspondents waited to-day on M. Jules Favre, to ask him to give them facilities to send their letters by the balloons. This he promised to do. He also half promised to let all correspondents have a pass, on stating who they are. The worst of a pass is, that it is no protection against arrest, for, say your captors, "Prussian spies are so cunning that they would be precisely the persons to have papers, either forged or stolen." Another trouble is, that if you are arrested, you are generally shut up, with half-a-dozen thieves and drunkards, for about twenty-four hours, before a Commissary condescends to inquire into your case. No one as yet has ever troubled me; but the spy mania certainly does not add to the charm of the residence of a stranger in Paris just now. I would rather run the chance of being hit during a bombardment, than affront the certainty of twenty-four hours in a filthy police cell. Suspicion is, no doubt, carried to a ridiculous excess; but it is equally true that unquestionable spies are arrested every day under every sort of disguise. Mr. Washburne told me yesterday that he saw a soi-disant "Invalide" arrested, who turned out to be a regular "spectacled Dutchman."
September 28th.
Nothing new at the front. We suppose that the enemy are concentrating troops on the Sèvres-Meudon plateau, and that they intend to attack on that side. We are confident that the guns of Mont Valérien will prevent the success of this attack. On the opposite side of Paris they are endeavouring to erect batteries; but they are unable to do so on account of the fire of Fort Nogent. It seems to me that we are shouting before we are quite out of the wood; but we are already congratulating ourselves upon having sustained a siege which throws those of Saragossa and Richmond into the shade. If we have not yet been bombarded, we have assumed "an heroic attitude of expectation;" and if the Prussians have not yet stormed the walls, we have shown that we were ready to repel them if they had. Deprived of our shepherd and our sheep-dogs, we civic sheep have set up so loud a ba-ba, that we have terrified the wolves who wished to devour us. In the impossible event of an ultimate capitulation we shall hang our swords and our muskets over our fire-places, and say to our grandchildren, "I, too, was one of the defenders of Paris." In the meantime, soldiers who have run away when attacked are paraded through the streets with a placard on their breasts, requesting all good citizens to spit upon them. Two courts-martial have been established to judge spies and marauders, and in each of the nine sections there is a court-martial to sit upon peccant National Guards. "The sentence," says the decree, "will at once be executed by the detachment on duty." We are preparing for the worst; in the Place of the Panthéon, and other squares, it is proposed to take up the paving stones, because they will, if left, explode shells which may strike them. The windows of the Louvre and other public edifices are being filled with sand bags. This morning I was walking along the Rue Lafayette, when I heard a cry "A bas les cigares!" and I found that if I continued to smoke, it was thought that I should set light to some ammunition waggons which were passing.
Yesterday evening there was a report, which was almost universally credited, that a revolution had broken out in London, because the English Government had refused to aid Paris in driving back the Prussians. The Parisians find it impossible to understand that the world at large can