Diary of the Besieged Resident in Paris

by Henry Du Pré Labouchere

CHAPTER VI.

October 10th.

It is very curious how close, under certain conditions of wind and temperature, the cannonade appears to be, even in the centre of the town. This morning I was returning home at about two o'clock, when I heard a succession of detonations so distinctly, that I literally went into the next street, as I imagined that a house must be falling down there. It is said that the palace of St. Cloud has been destroyed.

As well as I can learn, General Burnside came into Paris mainly to discuss with Mr. Washburne the possibility of the American families who are still here being allowed to pass the Prussian lines. He saw Jules Favre, but, if he attempted any species of negotiation, it could have led to nothing, as we are so absolutely confident that the Army of the Loire will in a few days cut off the Prussian supplies, and we are so proud of our attitude, that I really believe if Jules Favre were to consent to pay a war indemnity as a condition of peace, he and his friends would be driven from power the next day.

Having nothing particularly to boast of to-day, the newspapers request the world to be good enough to turn its eyes upon Gambetta traversing space in a balloon. A nation whose Minister is capable of this heroic feat must eventually drive the enemy from its soil. The Figaro, in fact, hints that in all probability peace will be signed at Berlin at no very distant date. The Gaulois, a comparatively sensible newspaper, thus deals with this aërial voyage:—"As the balloon passed above the Prussian armies, amid the clouds and the birds, the old William probably turned to Bismarck and asked, 'What is that black point in the sky?' 'It is a Minister,' replied Bismarck; 'it is the heroic Gambetta, on his way to the Loire. In Paris he named prefects; on the Loire he will assemble battalions.' Favourable winds wafted the balloon on her course; perhaps Gambetta landed at Cahors, his natal town, perhaps somewhere else—perhaps in the arms of Crémieux, that aged lion. To-morrow the provinces will resound with his voice, which will mingle with the rattling of arms and the sound of drums. Like a trumpet, it will peal along the Loire, inflaming hearts, forming battalions, and causing the manes of St. Just and Desmoulins to rise from their graves."

Yesterday a battalion of the National Guard was drawn up before the Hôtel de Ville, but there was no demonstration of the Ultras. M. Arago, the Mayor of Paris, made a few speeches from a window, which are described as inflaming the hearts of these heroic soldiers of the country. The rain, however, in the end, sent the heroic soldiers home, and obliged M. Arago to shut his window. A day never passes without one or more of our rulers putting his head out of some window or other, and what is called "delivering himself up to a fervid improvisation." The Ultra newspapers are never tired of abusing the priests, who are courageously and honestly performing their duty. Yesterday I read a letter from a patriot, in which he complains that this caste of crows are to decree the field of battle, and asks the Government to decree that the last moments of virtuous citizens, dying for their country, shall not be troubled by this new Horror. To-day a citizen writes as follows:—"Why are not the National Guards installed in the churches? Not only might they find in these edifices dedicated to an extinct superstition, shelter from the weather, but orators might from time to time in the pulpits deliver speeches. Those churches which are not required by the National Guard might serve as excellent stables for the oxen, the sheep, and the hogs, which are now parked out in the open air."

Next to the priests and the churches, the streets named after members and friends of the late Imperial family excite the ire of patriots. The inhabitants of the quartier Prince Eugène, have, I read to-day, decided that the Boulevard Prince Eugène shall henceforward be called the Boulevard Dussault, "the noble child of the Haute Vienne, who was murdered by the aides of the infamous Bonaparte."

We are not, as you might perhaps suppose, wanting in news. The French journalists, even when communications with the rest of the world were open, preferred to evolve their facts from their moral consciousness—their hand has not lost its cunning. Peasants, who play the part here of the intelligent contraband of the American civil war, bring in daily the most wonderful stories of the misery which the Prussians are suffering, and the damage which our artillery is causing them—and these tales are duly published. Then, at least three times a week we kill a Prussian Prince, and "an army" relieves Bazaine. A few days ago a troop of 1500 oxen marched into our lines, "they were French oxen, and they were impelled by their patriotism." This beats the ducks who asked the old woman to come and kill them.

The clubs appear to be divided upon the question of the "commune." In most of them, however, resolutions have been passed reaffirming their determination to hold the elections with or without the consent of the Government. Rochefort to-day publishes a sensible reply to Flourens, who called upon him to explain why he does not resign. "I have," he says, "descended into the most impenetrable recesses of my conscience, and I have emerged with the conviction that my withdrawal would cause a conflict, and this would open a breach to the Prussians. You will say that I am capitulating with my convictions; if it be so, I do not necessarily capitulate with the Prussians. I silence my political instincts; let our brave friends in Belleville allow theirs to sleep for a time." I understand that in the council which was held to decide upon the advisability of adjourning these elections, Rochefort, Simon, Ferry, and Arago voted against the adjournment, and Pelletan, Garnier Pagés, Picard, and Favre in favour of it. Trochu then decided the question in the affirmative by a threat that, if the elections were allowed to take place, he would resign.

October 11th.