"A boy about four files behind me was a pitiable object; his cries and his frantic endeavors to attract notice to a document of some sort he held in his hand, were silenced at last by a kick from an officer and a 'Tais-toi, crapaud!' Very different was it with a poor child of nine, who stood next to me. He never cried nor uttered a word of complaint, but stood quietly by my side for some time, looking furtively into my face. At last he ventured to slip his little hand into mine, and from that time till the close of that terrible day we marched hand in hand. Meantime the executions went on. I counted up to twenty, and afterwards I believe some six or seven more took place. Those put to death were nearly all officers of the National Guard. One who was standing near me, a paymaster, had his little bag containing the pay of his men, which he had received the day before, but had not been able to distribute among them. He now gave it away to those standing round him (I among them getting a few francs), saying, 'I shall be shot; but this money may be of use to you, my children, in your sad captivity.' He was led out and shot a few minutes afterwards. They all, without exception, met their fate bravely and like men. There was no shrinking from death, or entreaties to be spared, among those I saw killed.
"After an hour we resumed our march, the mob saluting us with the choicest selection of curses and abusive epithets I ever heard. We passed down the Rue Royale, the bystanders calling on us to look upon the ruin we had caused, through the Champs Élysées to the Arch of Triumph, marching bare-headed, under a burning sun. At length, in the Avenue de l'Impératrice, an order to halt was given. There, weary and footsore, many dropped down on the ground, waiting for death, which we were now convinced was near at hand. For myself, I felt utterly numbed and contented to die, and I think I should have received with equal indifference the news of my release. I remember plotting in my mind how I could possibly get news of my fate conveyed to my parents in England. Could I ask one of the soldiers to convey a message for me? And would he understand what to do? With such thoughts, and mechanically repeating the Lord's Prayer to myself at intervals, I whiled away more than an hour, until an order, 'Get up, all of you,' broke the thread of my meditations. Presently General the Marquis de Gallifet (he who had served the emperor in Mexico) passed slowly down the line, attended by several officers. He stopped here and there, selecting several of our number, chiefly the old or the wounded, and ordered them to step out of the ranks. His commands were usually couched in abusive language. A young man near me called out, 'I am an American. Here is my passport. I am innocent.' 'Silence! We have foreigners and riff-raff more than enough. We have got to get rid of them,' was the general's reply. All chance was over now, we thought; we should be shot in a few minutes. Our idea was that those who had been placed aside were to be spared, and those about me said: 'It is just. They would not shoot the aged and the wounded!' Alas! we were soon to be undeceived. Again we started, and were ordered to march arm in arm to the Bois de Boulogne. There those picked out of our ranks by General de Gallifet—over eighty in number—were all shot before our eyes; yet so great was our thirst that many, while the shooting was going on, were struggling for water, of which there was only a scant supply. I was not fortunate enough to get any.
"The execution being over, we proceeded, now knowing that our destination was Versailles. Oh, the misery and wretchedness of that weary march! The sun poured fiercely down on our uncovered heads, our throats were parched with thirst, our blistered feet and tired legs could hardly support our aching bodies. Now and again a man utterly worn out would drop by the wayside. One of our guard would then dismount, and try by kicks and blows to make him resume his place in the line. In all cases those measures proved unavailing, and a shot in the rear told us that one of our number had ceased to exist. The executioner would then fall into his place, laughing and chatting gayly with his comrades.
"Towards eight o'clock in the evening we entered Versailles. If the curses we had endured in Paris were frightful and numerous, here they were multiplied tenfold. We toiled up the hill leading to Satory, through mud ankle deep. 'There stand the mitrailleuses, ready for us,' said one of my companions. Then, indeed, for the first time I felt afraid, and wished I had been among those who had been executed in the daytime, rather than be horribly wounded and linger in my misery; for no sure aim is taken by a mitrailleuse.
"The order came to halt, and I waited for the whirring sound; but, thank God! I waited in vain. We set ourselves in motion once more, and soon were in an immense courtyard surrounded by walls, having on one side large sheds in which we were to pass the night. With what eagerness did we throw ourselves on our faces in the mud, and lap up the filthy water in the pools! There was another Englishman, as well as several Americans, among our number, also some Dutch, Belgians, and Italians. The Englishman had arrived in Paris from Brest on May 14 to 'better himself,' and had been immediately arrested and put in prison by the Commune. Being released on the 21st of May, he was captured the next day by the Versaillais. I remained all the time with him till my release.
"On Wednesday, May 31, we were despatched to Versailles to be examined at the orangerie. The orangerie is about seven hundred feet long and forty broad, including two wings at either end. It is flagged with stone, on which the dust accumulates in great quantities. According to my experience, it is bitterly cold at night, and very hot in the daytime. Within its walls, instead of fragrant orange-trees, were four to five thousand human beings, now herded together in a condition too miserable to imagine, a prey to vermin, disease, and starvation.
"The general appearance of the crowd of captives was, I must confess, far from prepossessing. They were very dirty, very dusty and worn out, as I myself was probably, and no wonder; the floor was several inches thick in dust, no straw was attainable, and washing was impossible. I gained some comparative comfort by gathering up dust in a handkerchief and making a cushion of it. Thursday, June 1, dragged on as miserably as its predecessor, the only event being the visit of a deputy, which gave rise to great anticipations, as he said, in my hearing, that our condition was disgraceful, and that straw and a small portion of soup ought to be allowed us.
"The terrible scenes and sufferings we had gone through had deprived many of our number of their reason. Some of the madmen were dangerous, and made attempts to take the lives of their companions; others did nothing but shout and scream day and night. The second night we passed in the orangerie the Englishman and I thought we had secured a place where we might lie down and sleep in the side gallery; but at midnight we were attacked by one of the most dangerous of the madmen. It was useless to hope to find any other place to lie down in, and we had no more rest that night, for several maniacs persisted in following us wherever we went, and would allow us no repose. I counted that night forty-four men bereft of reason wandering about and attacking others, as they had done ourselves.
"The next day we found ourselves at last in the ranks of those who were to leave the orangerie. Our names were inscribed at eleven o'clock, and we stood in rank till seven in the evening, afraid to lose our places if we stirred. What our destination might be, was to us unknown; but there was not a man who was not glad to quit the place where we had suffered such misery."
Their destination proved to be Brest, which they reached at midnight of the next day, after travelling in cattle-cars for about thirty hours. They were transferred at once to a hulk lying in the harbor, clean shirts and water to wash with were given them, which seemed positive luxuries. Their treatment was not bad; they had hammocks to sleep in, and permission to smoke on deck every other day. But the sufferings they had gone through, and the terribly foul air of the orangerie, had so broken them down that most of them were stricken by a kind of jail-fever. Many, without warning, would drop down as if in a fit, and be carried to a hospital ship moored near them, to be seen no more.