7.30 p.m.
I live au quatrième with a balcony before my room. I can see the flashes of cannon in the direction of Vincennes. There appears to be a great fire somewhere.
12 p.m.
Have driven to the Barrière de l'Enfer. Nothing there. On the Champ de Mars I found troops returned from Clamart. They complain that they never saw their officers during the engagement, that there were no scouts in the Bois de Clamart, and that the Prussians succeeded by their old game of sticking to the cover. At first they fell back—the French troops pressed on, when they were exposed to a concentric fire. From the Champs Elysées I drove to the Buttes de Montmartre. Thousands of people clustered everywhere except where they were kept off by the Nationaux, who were guarding the batteries. The northern sky was bright from the reflection of a conflagration—as the forest of St. Germain was burning. It was almost light. We could see every shot and shell fired from the forts round St. Denis. At ten o'clock I got back to the Boulevard des Italiens. Every café was closed. It appears that at about nine o'clock the Café Riche was full of Gardes Mobiles, officers, and lorettes. They made so much noise that the public outside became indignant, and insisted on their giving up their orgie. The National Guard joined in this protest, and an order was sent at once to close every café. Before the Maison Dorée I saw a few viveurs, gazing at its closed windows as though the end of the world had come. This café has been opened day and night for the last twenty years. From my balcony I can no longer hear the cannon; the sky, however, is even brighter from the conflagration than it was.
September 20th.
The firing has recommenced. We can hear it distinctly. General Ambert has been cashiered. Figaro announces that Villemessant has returned. We are given a dozen paragraphs about this humbug of humbugs, his uniform, &c., &c. I do not think that he will be either killed or wounded. The latest telegram from the outer world announces that "Sir Campbell"—médecin Anglais—has arrived at Dieppe with despatches to the Ministers of Foreign Affairs and of Marine.
11 a.m.
Paris very quiet and very despondent. Few soldiers about. The Line is reviled, the Mobile extolled. From all accounts the latter seem to have behaved well—a little excited at first, but full of pluck. Let the siege only last a week and they will be capital soldiers, and then we shall no longer be called upon, to believe the assertions of military men, that it takes years of drill and idling in a barrack to make a soldier.
My own impression always has been that Malet brought back a written answer from Bismarck offering to see Jules Favre. Can it be that, after all, the Parisians, at the mere sound of cannon, are going to cave in, and give up Alsace and Lorraine? If they do, I give them up. If my friends in Belleville descend into the streets to prevent this ignominy, I descend with them.
4 p.m.