Ten days passed after the surrender, and apparently the French authorities had made no provision to revictual Paris. There was no beef, to speak of, in the city, and very little mutton. The bread remained the same wretched dark stuff, one-third flour, two-thirds pease, beans, oats, rice, straw—in fact, any refuse. Delicious white bread, fresh butter, and eggs were to be bought of the German soldiers just beyond the barriers; and any one who took the trouble, and had the means, could procure these luxuries at reasonable prices. The peasants sold them to the German soldiers, and they were permitted to resell them at a small profit. The first train of provisions to enter Paris was sent by the citizens of London, to their credit be it spoken. Will it be believed that considerable difficulty was experienced in finding persons willing to take the trouble to distribute this food gratuitously? It was done to a very limited extent at the mairies. The great dry-goods establishment of the Bon Marché distributed a portion; but much was stored in the Halles de l'Abondance for want of distribution, and burned up when that establishment was destroyed during the Commune. I remember hearing a Chauvin of the Assembly at Versailles pitch into the English for coming over after the Commune to visit Paris in her desolation. He was answered by Jules Favre, as happily as truly, that "the English, before they organized their trains of pleasure, had organized their trains of relief."
In this connection let me state that more than two millions of dollars were sent from the United States. At least two cargoes of provisions arrived at Havre, our Government supplying the vessels. No one could be found to distribute the supplies. The French are so government-ridden that they are unable to take the initiative in any thing for themselves. I have seen a strong, bold man, a guide in the Pyrenees, stand wringing his hands and crying, while his house was on fire, waiting for the soldiers to come and save his furniture and put out the flames. One of the shiploads of provisions I speak of was sent to London, sold there, and the proceeds distributed to the poor of France. Part of the relief sent was distributed through the Government, but experience showed this method to be slow—there was too much red-tape about it. The funds were finally placed in the hands of American ladies and gentlemen residing at Paris and Versailles, whose knowledge of France and acquaintance with French people gave them the means of making a judicious distribution. A part was expended by a committee of ladies, of which Madame MacMahon was the President; something was placed at the disposal of the Countess of Paris, out of regard for her husband, who had served in our army during the war; and a very large portion was distributed through the Sisters of Charity. Nothing could be more judicious, and at the same time more thoroughly business-like, than the manner in which these admirable women disposed of the money intrusted to them, rendering a voucher for every franc they expended. One felt that every penny in their hands had been placed where it was most needed, and would do most good.
Mr. Washburne left Paris early in February for Brussels, where his family were residing, and where, by-the-way, a very large number of our Parisian Americans had taken refuge. But he came back in a week, feeling quite poorly. He had been so overrun with visitors making inquiries or asking favors, that he had had no rest, and so returned to the lately beleaguered city for a little quiet. I remained until the Germans had made their triumphal entry, and their more triumphal departure, and then got leave and went to London to join my family.
[CHAPTER XX.]
The Commune.—Murder of French Generals.—The National Guard of Order.—It disbands.—The Reasons.—Flight of the Government to Versailles.—Thiers.—Attempts to reorganize National Guard.—An American arrested by Commune.—Legation intervenes.—His Discharge.—His Treatment.—Reign of King Mob.—"Démonstrations Pacifiques."—Absurd Decrees of the Commune.—Destruction of the Vendôme Column.
But it has rarely been my lot, in the course of my official life, to enjoy an uninterrupted leave of absence. The present was no exception. I was scarcely fairly installed in England, and fighting "my battles o'er again," and showing "how fields were lost", when there came a telegram from Mr. Washburne telling me that there were disturbances in Paris, and that I must return immediately. Some of the National Guard of the Belleville and Montmartre quarters had taken advantage of the confusion reigning immediately after the surrender, and seized several field-guns and mitrailleuses, and carried them off to their fastnesses on Montmartre. They now refused to surrender them; and when the Government attempted to take them, the troops fraternized with the mob, and deserted their generals, Lecompte and Thomas, whom the Communists forthwith shot. It was said that Count Bismarck had urged the disarming of the National Guard at the time of the surrender. Trochu's Government had refused. They must have bitterly regretted it afterward.
On my return I entered Paris by the Gare St. Lazare. That usually peaceful temple of traffic was thronged by Gardes Nationaux—"The National Guard of Order," they called themselves, or were called, to distinguish them from the Communists. These gentlemen appeared to be enjoying themselves. They were comfortably housed in the building, and lounged and chatted there, not without frequent visits to the neighboring cafés. I found that they held the Grand Hotel, and the new Opera-house, both strong positions, and within easy supporting distance of each other. They also held the Bourse, the Bank of France, the "Finances," and many other "coignes of vantage." But "coignes of vantage" are of very little use when the heart to defend them is lacking. In a very few days these men, outnumbering the Communists two or three to one, backed by the power of the Government and the wealth of Paris, and by the moral support of the Germans and of the civilized world, had disbanded, taken refuge in flight, and left their families, and their property, and their beautiful city to the tender mercies of the mob.
It was a matter of the utmost astonishment to me, and to every one with whom I conversed, that the National Guard of Order should have behaved as they did. I never understood it till I talked with my barber just after his battalion had disbanded, and before he had escaped to London. They got tired of sleeping away from their families, getting their meals irregularly, and having to pay restaurant-prices for them. They were in a state of disgust, too, with the Government, who refused to pass an act to relieve them from their rents accrued during the siege. My barber was an excellent representative of his class, the petite bourgeoisie; a well-to-do man, employing two apprentices, making a good livelihood, and laying by something for a dot for his children—economical, intelligent, sober. He belonged to the most respectable battalion in the city, that of the quarter of the "Finances." I expressed my surprise at their disbanding. He said that the Government would do nothing for them, so they would do nothing for the Government: it might put down the émeute itself. So they abandoned their property and their homes and their idolized Paris, shut up their shops, and ran away.