myself with that improvised _soupe-au-vin_, I soon felt warm and inspirited once more. Hardship sits on one but lightly when one is only seventeen years of age and stirred by early ambition. All the world then lay before me, like mine oyster, to be opened by either sword or pen.
At a later hour, by the light of a solitary guttering candle, in the little _cabinet_ upstairs, I wrote, as best I could, an account of the recent fighting and the loss of Le Mans; and early on the following morning I prevailed on a railway-man who was going to Rennes to post my packet there, in order that it might be forwarded to England _viâ_ Saint Malo. The article appeared in the _Pall Mall Gazette_, filling a page of that journal, and whatever its imperfections may have been, it was undoubtedly the first detailed account of the battle of Le Mans, from the French side, to appear in the English Press. It so happened, indeed, that the other correspondents with the French forces, including my cousin Montague Vizetelly of _The Daily News_, lingered at Le Mans until it was too late for them to leave the town, the Germans having effected their entry.
German detachments soon started in pursuit of the retreating Army of the Loire. Chanzy, as previously mentioned, modified his plans, in accordance with Gambetta’s views, on the evening of January 12. The new orders were that the 16th Army Corps should retreat on Laval by way of Chassillé and Saint Jean-sur-Erve, that the 17th, after passing Conlie, should come down to Sainte Suzanne, and that the 21st should proceed from Conlie to Sillé-le-Guillaume. There were several rear-guard engagements during, the retreat. Already on the 13th, before the 21st Corps could modify its original line of march, it had to fight at Ballon, north of Le Mans. On the next day one of its detachments, composed of 9000 Mobilisés of the Mayenne, was attacked at Beaumont-sur-Sarthe, and hastily fell back, leaving 1400 men in the hands of the Germans, who on their side lost only _nine_! Those French soldiers who retreated by way of Conlie partially pillaged the abandoned stores there. A battalion of Mobiles, on passing that way, provided themselves with new trousers, coats, boots, and blankets, besides carrying off a quantity of bread, salt-pork, sugar, and other provisions. These things were at least saved from the Germans, who on reaching the abandoned camp found there a quantity of military _matériel_, five million cartridges, 1500 cases of biscuits and extract of meat, 180 barrels of salt-pork, a score of sacks of rice, and 140 puncheons of brandy.
On January 14 the 21st Corps under Jaurès reached Sillé-le-Guillaume, and was there attacked by the advanced guard of the 13th German Corps under the Grand Duke of Mecklenburg. The French offered a good resistance, however, and the Germans retreated on Conlie. I myself had managed to leave Sillé the previous afternoon, but such was the block on the line that our train could get no farther than Voutré, a village of about a thousand souls. Railway travelling seeming an impossibility, I prevailed on a farmer to give me a lift as far as Sainte Suzanne, whence I hoped to cut across country in the direction of Laval. Sainte Suzanne is an ancient and picturesque little town which in those days still had a rampart and the ruins of an early feudal castle. I supped and slept at an inn there, and was told in the morning (January 14) that it would be best for me to go southward towards Saint Jean-sur-Erve, where I should strike the direct highway to Laval, and might also be able to procure a conveyance. I did not then know the exact retreating orders. I hoped to get out of the way of all the troops and waggons encumbering the roads, but in this I was doomed to disappointment, for at Saint Jean I fell in with them again.
That day a part of the rear-guard of the 16th Corps (Jauréguiberry)–that is, a detachment of 1100 men with a squadron of cavalry under General Le Bouëdec–had been driven out of Chassillé by the German cavalry under General von Schmidt. This had accelerated the French retreat, which continued in the greatest confusion, all the men hastening precipitately towards Saint Jean, where, after getting the bulk of his force on to the heights across the river Erve, which here intersects the highway, Jauréguiberry resolved on attempting to check the enemy’s pursuit. Though the condition of most of the men was lamentable, vigorous defensive preparations were made on the night of the 14th and the early morning of the following day. On the low ground, near the village and the river, trees were felled and roads were barricaded; while on the slopes batteries were disposed behind hedges, in which embrasures were cut. The enemy’s force was, I believe, chiefly composed of cavalry and artillery. The latter was already firing at us when Jauréguiberry rode along our lines. A shell exploded near him, and some splinters of the projectile struck his horse in the neck, inflicting a ghastly, gaping wound. The poor beast, however, did not fall immediately, but galloped on frantically for more than a score of yards, then suddenly reared, and after doing so came down, all of a heap, upon the snow. However, the Admiral, who was a good horseman, speedily disengaged himself, and turned to secure another mount–when he perceived that Colonel Beraud, his chief of staff, who had been riding behind him, had been wounded by the same shell, and had fallen from his horse. I saw the Colonel being carried to a neighbouring farmhouse, and was afterwards told that he had died there.
The engagement had no very decisive result, but Schmidt fell back to the road connecting Sainte Suzanne with Thorigné-en-Charnie, whilst we withdrew towards Soulge-le-Bruant, about halfway between Saint Jean and Laval. During the fight, however, whilst the artillery duel was in progress, quite half of Jauréguiberry’s men had taken themselves off without waiting for orders. I believe that on the night of January 15 he could not have mustered more than 7000 men for action. Yet only two days previously he had had nearly three times that number with him.
Nevertheless, much might be pleaded for the men. The weather was still bitterly cold, snow lay everywhere, little or no food could be obtained, the commissariat refraining from requisitioning cattle at the farms, for all through the departments for Mayenne and Ille-et-Vilaine cattle-plague was raging. Hungry, emaciated, faint, coughing incessantly, at times affected with small-pox, the men limped or trudged on despairingly. Their boots were often in a most wretched condition; some wore sabots, others, as I said once before, merely had rags around their poor frost-bitten feet. And the roads were obstructed by guns, vans, waggons, vehicles of all kinds. Sometimes an axle had broken, sometimes a horse had fallen dead on the snow, in any case one or another conveyance had come to a standstill, and prevented others from pursuing their route. I recollect seeing hungry men cutting steaks from the flanks of the dead beasts, sometimes devouring the horseflesh raw, at others taking it to some cottage, where the avaricious peasants, who refused to part with a scrap of food, at least had to let these cold and hungry men warm themselves at a fire, and toast their horseflesh before it. At one halt three soldiers knocked a peasant down because he vowed that he could not even give them a pinch of salt. That done, they rifled his cupboards and ate all they could find.
Experience had taught me a lesson. I had filled my pockets with ham, bread, hard-boiled eggs, and other things, before leaving Sainte Suzanne. I had also obtained a meal at Saint Jean, and secured some brandy there, and I ate and drank sparingly and surreptitiously whilst I went on, overtaking one after another batch of weary soldiers. However, the distance between Saint Jean and Laval is not very great. Judging by the map, it is a matter of some twenty-five miles at the utmost. Moreover, I walked only half the distance. The troops moved so slowly that I reached Soulge-le-Bruant long before them, and there induced a man to drive me to Laval. I was there on the afternoon of January 16, and as from this point trains were still running westward, I reached Saint Servan on the following day. Thus I slipped through to my goal, thereby justifying the nickname of L’Anguille–the Eel–which some of my young French friends had bestowed on me.
A day or two previously my father had returned from England, and I found him with my stepmother. He became very much interested in my story, and talked of going to Laval himself. Further important developments might soon occur, the Germans might push on to Chanzy’s new base, and I felt that I also ought to go back. The life I had been leading either makes or mars a man physically. Personally, I believe that it did me a world of good. At all events, it was settled that my father and myself should go to Laval together. We started a couple of days later, and managed to travel by rail as far as Rennes. But from that point to Laval the line was now very badly blocked, and so we hired a closed vehicle, a ramshackle affair, drawn by two scraggy Breton nags. The main roads, being still crowded with troops, artillery, and baggage waggons, and other impedimenta, were often impassable, and so we proceeded by devious ways, amidst which our driver lost himself, in such wise that at night we had to seek a shelter at the famous Chateau des Bochers, immortalized by Mme. de Sévigné, and replete with precious portraits of herself, her own and her husband’s families, in addition to a quantity of beautiful furniture dating from her time.
It took us, I think, altogether two days to reach Laval, where, after securing accommodation at one of the hotels, we went out in search of news, having heard none since we had started on our journey. Perceiving a newspaper shop, we entered it, and my father insisted on purchasing a copy of virtually every journal which was on sale there. Unfortunately for us, this seemed highly suspicious to a local National Guard who was in the shop, and when we left it he followed us. My father had just then begun to speak to me in English, and at the sound of a foreign tongue the man’s suspicions increased. So he drew nearer, and demanded to know who and what we were. I replied that we were English and that I had previously been authorised to accompany the army as a newspaper correspondent. My statements, however, were received with incredulity by this suspicious individual, who, after one or two further inquiries, requested us to accompany him to a guard-house standing near one of the bridges thrown over the river Mayenne.
Thither we went, followed by several people who had assembled during our parley, and found ourselves before a Lieutenant of Gendarmes, on the charge of being German spies. Our denouncer was most positive on the point. Had we not bought at least a dozen newspapers? Why a dozen, when sensible people would have been satisfied with one? Such extensive purchases must surely have been prompted by some sinister motive. Besides, he had heard us conversing in German. English, indeed! No, no! He was certain that we had spoken German, and was equally certain of our guilt.
The Lieutenant looked grave, and my explanations did not quite satisfy him. The predicament was the more awkward as, although my father was provided with a British passport, I had somehow left my precious military permit at Saint Servan, Further, my father carried with him some documents which might have been deemed incriminating, They were, indeed, safe-conducts signed by various German generals, which had been used by us conjointly while passing, through the German lines after making our way out of Paris in November. As for my correspondent’s permit, signed some time previously by the Chief of the Staff, I had been unable to find it when examining my papers on our way to Laval, but had consoled myself with the thought that I might get it replaced at headquarters. [The red-cross armlet which had repeatedly proved so useful to me, enabling me to come and go without much interference, was at our hotel, in a bag we had brought with us.] Could I have shown it to the Lieutenant, he might have ordered our release. As it happened, he decided to send us to the Provost Marshal. I was not greatly put out by that command, for I remembered the officer in question, or thought I did, and felt convinced that everything would speedily be set right.
We started off in the charge of a brigadier-otherwise a corporal–of Gendarmes, and four men, our denouncer following closely at our heels. My father at once pointed out to me that the brigadier and one of the men wore silver medals bearing the effigy of Queen Victoria, so I said to the former, “You were in the Crimea. You are wearing our Queen’s medal.”
“Yes,” he replied, “I gained that at the Alma.”
“And your comrade?”
“He won his at the Tohernaya.”
“I dare say you would have been glad if French and English had fought side by side in this war?” I added. “Perhaps they ought to have done so.”
“_Parbleu!_ The English certainly owed us a _bon coup de main_, instead of which they have only sold us broken-down horses and bad boots.”
I agreed that there had been some instances of the kind. A few more words passed, and I believe that the brigadier became convinced of our English nationality. But as his orders were to take us to the Provost’s, thither we were bound to go. An ever increasing crowd followed. Shopkeepers and other folk came to their doors and windows, and the words, “They are spies, German spies!” rang out repeatedly, exciting the crowd and rendering it more and more hostile. For a while we followed a quay with granite parapets, below which flowed the Mayenne, laden with drifting ice. All at once, however, I perceived on our left a large square, where about a hundred men of the Laval National Guard were being exercised. They saw us appear with our escort, they saw the crowd which followed us, and they heard the cries, “Spies! German spies!” Forthwith, with that disregard for discipline which among the French was so characteristic of the period, they broke their ranks and ran towards us.
We were only able to take a few more steps. In vain did the Gendarmes try to force a way through the excited mob. We were surrounded by angry, scowling, vociferating men. Imprecations burst forth, fists were clenched, arms were waved, rifles were shaken, the unruly National Guards being the most eager of all to denounce and threaten us. “Down with the spies!” they shouted. “Down with the German pigs! Give them to us! Let us shoot them!”
A very threatening rush ensued, and I was almost carried off my feet. But in another moment I found myself against the parapet of the quay, with my father beside me, and the icy river in the rear. In front of us stood the brigadier and his four men guarding us from the angry citizens of Laval.
“Hand them over to us! We will settle their affair,” shouted an excited National Guard. “You know that they are spies, brigadier.”
“I know that I have my orders,” growled the veteran. “I am taking them to the Provost. It is for him to decide.”
“That is too much ceremony,” was the retort. “Let us shoot them!”
“But they are not worth a cartridge!” shouted another man. “Throw them into the river!”
That ominous cry was taken up. “Yes, yes, to the river with them!” Then came another rush, one so extremely violent that our case seemed desperate.
But the brigadier and his men had managed to fix bayonets during the brief parley, and on the mob being confronted by five blades of glistening steel, its savage eagerness abated. Moreover, the old brigadier behaved magnificently. “Keep back!” cried he. “I have my orders. You will have to settle me before you take my prisoners!”
Just then I caught the eye of one of the National Guards, who was shaking his fist at us, and I said to him, “You are quite mistaken. We are not Germans, but English!”
“Yes, yes, _Anglais, Anglais_!” my father exclaimed.
While some of the men in the crowd were more or less incredulously repeating that statement, a black-bearded individual–whom I can, at this very moment, still picture with my mind’s eye, so vividly did the affair impress me–climbed on to the parapet near us, and called out, “You say you are English? Do you know London? Do you know Regent Street? Do you know the Soho?”
“Yes, yes!” we answered quickly.
“You know the Lei-ces-terre Square? What name is the music-hall there?”
“Why, the Alhambra!” The “Empire,” let me add, did not exist in those days.
The man seemed satisfied. “I think they are English,” he said to his friends. But somebody else exclaimed, “I don’t believe it. One of them is wearing a German hat.”
Now, it happened that my father had returned from London wearing a felt hat of a shape which was then somewhat fashionable there, and which, curiously enough, was called the “Crown Prince,” after the heir to the Prussian throne–that is, our Princess Royal’s husband, subsequently the Emperor Frederick. The National Guard, who spoke a little English, wished to inspect this incriminating hat, so my father took it off, and one of the Gendarmes, having placed it on his bayonet, passed it to the man on the parapet. When the latter had read “Christy, London,” on the lining, he once more testified in our favour.
But other fellows also wished to examine the suspicious headgear, and it passed from hand to hand before it was returned to my father in a more or less damaged condition, Even then a good many men were not satisfied respecting our nationality, but during that incident of the hat–a laughable one to me nowadays, though everything looked very ugly when it occurred–there had been time for the men’s angry passions to cool, to a considerable extent at all events; and after that serio-comical interlude, they were much less eager to inflict on us the summary law of Lynch. A further parley ensued, and eventually the Gendarmes, who still stood with bayonets crossed in front of us, were authorized, by decision of the Sovereign People, to take us to the Provost’s. Thither we went, then, amidst a perfect procession of watchful guards and civilians.
Directly we appeared before the Provost, I realized that our troubles were not yet over. Some changes had taken place during the retreat, and either the officer whom I remembered having seen at Le Mans (that is, Colonel Mora) had been replaced by another, or else the one before whom we now appeared was not the Provost-General, but only the Provost of the 18th Corps. At all events, he was a complete stranger to me. After hearing, first, the statements of the brigadier and the National Guard who had denounced us, and who had kept close to us all the time, and, secondly, the explanations supplied by my father and myself, he said to me, “If you had a staff permit to follow the army, somebody at headquarters must be able to identify you.”
“I think that might be done,” I answered, “by Major-General Feilding, who–as you must know–accompanies the army on behalf of the British Government. Personally, I am known to several officers of the 21st Corps– General Gougeard and his Chief of Staff, for instance–and also to some of the aides-de-camp at headquarters.”
“Well, get yourselves identified, and obtain a proper safe-conduct,” said the Provost. “Brigadier, you are to take these men to headquarters. If they are identified there, you will let them go. If not, take them to the château (the prison), and report to me.”
Again we all set out, this time climbing the hilly ill-paved streets of old Laval, above which the town’s great feudal castle reared its dark, round keep; and presently we came to the local college, formerly an Ursuline convent, where Chanzy had fixed his headquarters.
In one of the large class-rooms were several officers, one of whom immediately recognized me. He laughed when he heard our story. “I was arrested myself, the other day,” he said, “because I was heard speaking in English to your General Feilding. And yet I was in uniform, as I am now.”
The Gendarmes were promptly dismissed, though not before my father had slipped something into the hand of the old brigadier for himself and his comrades. Their firmness had saved us, for when a mob’s passions are inflamed by patriotic zeal, the worst may happen to the objects of its wrath.
A proper safe-conduct (which I still possess) was prepared by an aide-de-camp on duty, and whilst he was drafting it, an elderly but bright-eyed officer entered, and went up to a large circular stove to warm himself. Three small stars still glittered faintly on his faded cap, and six rows of narrow tarnished gold braid ornamented the sleeves of his somewhat shabby dolman. It was Chanzy himself.
He noticed our presence, and our case was explained to him. Looking at me keenly, he said, “I think I have seen you before. You are the young English correspondent who was allowed to make some sketches at Yvré-l’Evêque, are you not?”
“Yes, _mon genéral_,” I answered, saluting. “You gave me permission through, I think, Monsieur le Commandant de Boisdeffre.”
He nodded pleasantly as we withdrew, then lapsed into a thoughtful attitude.
Out we went, down through old Laval and towards the new town, my father carrying the safe-conduct in his hand. The Gendarmes must have already told people that we were “all right,” for we now encountered only pleasant faces. Nevertheless, we handed the safe-conduct to one party of National Guards for their inspection, in order that their minds might be quite at rest. That occurred outside the hospital, where at that moment I little imagined that a young Englishman–a volunteer in the Sixth Battalion of the Côtes-du-Nord Mobile Guards (21st Army Corps)–was lying invalided by a chill, which he had caught during an ascent in our army balloon with Gaston Tissandier. Since then that young Englishman has become famous as Field-Marshal Viscount Kitchener of Khartoum.
But the National Guards insisted on carrying my father and myself to the chief café of Laval. They would take no refusal. In genuine French fashion, they were all anxiety to offer some amends for their misplaced patriotic impulsiveness that afternoon, when they had threatened, first, to shoot, and, next, to drown us. In lieu thereof they now deluged us with punch _à la française_, and as the café soon became crowded with other folk who all joined our party, there ensued a scene which almost suggested that some glorious victory had been gained at last by invaded and unfortunate France.
XIII
THE BITTER END
Battues for Deserters–End of the Operations against Chanzy–Faidherbe’s Battles–Bourbaki’s alleged Victories and Retreat–The Position in Paris– The terrible Death Rate–State of the Paris Army–The Sanguinary Buzenval Sortie–Towards Capitulation–The German Conditions–The Armistice Provisions–Bourbaki’s Disaster–Could the War have been prolonged?–The Resources of France–The general Weariness–I return to Paris–The Elections for a National Assembly–The Negotiations–The State of Paris– The Preliminaries of Peace–The Triumphal Entry of the Germans–The War’s Aftermath.
We remained for a few days longer at Laval, and were not again interfered with there. A painful interest attached to one sight which we witnessed more than once. It was that of the many processions of deserters whom the horse Gendarmerie of the headquarters staff frequently brought into the town. The whole region was scoured for runaways, many of whom were found in the villages and at lonely farms. They had generally cast off their uniform and put on blouses, but the peasantry frequently betrayed them, particularly as they seldom, if ever, had any money to spend in bribes. Apart from those _battues_ and the measures of all kinds which Chanzy took to reorganise his army, little of immediate import occurred at Laval. Gambetta had been there, and had then departed for Lille in order to ascertain the condition of Faidherbe’s Army of the North. The German pursuit of Chanzy’s forces ceased virtually at Saint Jean-sur-Erve. There was just another little skirmish at Sainte Mélaine, but that was all. [I should add that on January 17 the Germans under Mecklenburg secured possession of Alengon (Chanty’s original objective) alter an ineffectual resistance offered by the troops under Commandant Lipowski, who was seconded in his endeavours by young M. Antonin Dubost, then Prefect of the Orne, and recently President of the French Senate.] Accordingly my father and I returned to Saint Servan, and, having conjointly prepared some articles on Chanzy’s retreat and present circumstances, forwarded them to London for the _Pall Mall Gazette_.
The war was now fast drawing to an end. I have hitherto left several important occurrences unmentioned, being unwilling to interrupt my narrative of the fighting at Le Mans and the subsequent retreat. I feel, however, that I now ought to glance at the state of affairs in other parts of France. I have just mentioned that after visiting Chanzy at Laval (January 19), Gambetta repaired to Lille to confer with Faidherbe. Let us see, then, what the latter general had been doing. He was no longer opposed by Manteuffel, who had been sent to the east of France in the hope that he would deal more effectually than Werder with Bourbaki’s army, which was still in the field there. Manteuffel’s successor in the north was General von Goeben, with whom, on January 18, Faidherbe fought an engagement at Vermand, followed on the morrow by the battle of Saint Quentin, which was waged for seven hours amidst thaw and fog. Though it was claimed as a French victory, it was not one. The Germans, it is true, lost 2500 men, but the French killed and wounded amounted to 3500, and there were thousands of men missing, the Germans taking some 5000 prisoners, whilst other troops disbanded much as Chanzy’s men disbanded during his retreat. From a strategical point of view the action at Saint Quentin was indecisive.
Turning to eastern France, Bourbaki fought two indecisive engagements near Villersexel, south-east of Vesoul, on January 9 and 10, and claimed the victory on these occasions. On January 13 came another engagement at Arcey, which he also claimed as a success, being congratulated upon it by Gambetta. The weather was most severe in the region of his operations, and the sufferings of his men were quite as great as–if not greater than– those of Chanzy’s troops. There were nights when men lay down to sleep, and never awoke again. On January 15,16, and 17 there was a succession of engagements on the Lisaine, known collectively as the battle of Héricourt. These actions resulted in Bourbaki’s retreat southward towards Besançon, where for the moment we will leave him, in order to consider the position of Paris at this juncture.
Since the beginning of the year, the day of the capital’s surrender had been fast approaching. Paris actually fell because its supply of food was virtually exhausted. On January 18 it became necessary to ration the bread, now a dark, sticky compound, which included such ingredients as bran, starch, rice, barley, vermicelli, and pea-flour. About ten ounces was allotted per diem to each adult, children under five years of age receiving half that quantity. But the health-bill of the city was also a contributory cause of the capitulation. In November there were 7444 deaths among the non-combatant population, against 3863 in November, 1869. The death-roll of December rose to 10,665, against 4214 in December the previous year. In January, between sixty and seventy persons died from small-pox every day. Bronchitis and pneumonia made an ever-increasing number of victims. From January 14 to January 21 the mortality rose to no less than 4465; from the latter date until January 28, the day of the capitulation, the figures were 4671, whereas in normal times they had never been more than 1000 in any week.
Among the troops the position was going from bad to worse. Thousands of men were in the hospitals, and thousands contrived to desert and hide themselves in the city. Out of 100,705 linesmen, there were, on January 1, no fewer than 23,938 absentees; while 23,565 units were absent from the Mobile Guard, which, on paper, numbered 111,999. Briefly, one man out of every five was either a patient or a deserter. As for the German bombardment, this had some moral but very little material effect. Apart from the damage done to buildings, it killed (as I previously said) about one hundred and wounded about two hundred persons.
The Government now had little if any confidence in the utility of any further sorties. Nevertheless, as the extremist newspapers still clamoured for one, it was eventually decided to attack the German positions across the Seine, on the west of the city. This sortie, commonly called that of Buzenval, took place on January 10, the day after King William of Prussia had been proclaimed German Emperor in Louis XIV’s “Hall of Mirrors” at Versailles. [The decision to raise the King to the imperial dignity had been arrived at on January 1.] Without doubt, the Buzenval sortie was devised chiefly in order to give the National Guard the constantly demanded opportunity and satisfaction of being led against the Germans. Trochu, who assumed chief command, establishing himself at the fort of Mont Valérien, divided his forces into three columns, led by Generals Vinoy, Bellemare, and Ducrot. The first (the left wing) comprised 22,000 men, including 8000 National Guards; the second (the central column) 34,500 men, including 16,000 Guards; and the third (the right wing) 33,500 men, among whom were no fewer than 18,000 Guards. Thus the total force was about 90,000, the National Guards representing about a third of that number. Each column had with it ten batteries, representing for the entire force 180 guns. The French front, however, extended over a distance of nearly four miles, and the army’s real strength was thereby diminished. There was some fairly desperate fighting at Saint Cloud, Montretout, and Longboyau, but the French were driven back after losing 4000 men, mostly National Guards, whereas the German losses were only about six hundred.
The affair caused consternation in Paris, particularly as several prominent men had fallen in the ranks of the National Guard. On the night of January 21, some extremists forced their way into the prison of Mazas and delivered some of their friends who had been shut up there since the rising of October 31. On the morrow, January 22, there was a demonstration and an affray on the Place de l’Hôtel de Ville, shots being exchanged with the result that people were killed and wounded. The Government gained the day, however, and retaliated by closing the revolutionary clubs and suppressing some extremist newspapers. But four hours later Trochu resigned his position as Military Governor of Paris (in which he was replaced by General Vinoy), only retaining the Presidency of the Government. Another important incident had occurred on the very evening after the insurrection: Jules Favre, the Foreign Minister, had then forwarded a letter to Prince Bismarck.
The Government’s first idea had been merely to surrender–that is to open the city-gates and let the Germans enter at their peril. It did not wish to negotiate or sign any capitulation. Jules Favre indicated as much when, writing to Bismarck, and certainly the proposed course might have placed the Germans–with the eyes of the world fixed upon them–in a difficult position. But Favre was no match for the great Prussian statesman. Formal negotiations were soon opened, and Bismarck so contrived affairs that, as Gambetta subsequently and rightly complained, the convention which Favre signed applied far more to France as a whole than to Paris itself. In regard to the city, the chief conditions were that a war indemnity of £8,000,000 should be paid; that the forts round the city should be occupied by the Germans; that the garrison–Line, Mobile Guard, and Naval Contingent (altogether about 180,000 men)–should become prisoners of war; and that the armament (1500 fortress guns and 400 field pieces) should be surrendered, as well as the large stores of ammunition. On the other hand, a force of 12,000 men was left to the French Government for “police duty” in the city, and the National Guards were, at Favre’s urgent but foolish request, allowed to retain their arms. Further, the city was to be provisioned. In regard to France generally, arrangements were made for an armistice of twenty-one days’ duration, in order to allow of the election of a National Assembly to treat for peace. In these arrangements Favre and Vinoy (the new Governor of Paris) were out-jockeyed by Bismarck and Moltke. They were largely ignorant of the real position in the provinces, and consented to very disadvantageous terms in regard to the lines which the Germans and the French should respectively occupy during the armistice period. Moreover, although it was agreed that hostilities should cease on most points, no such stipulation was made respecting the east of France, where both Bourbaki and Garibaldi were in the field.
The latter had achieved some slight successes near Dijon on January 21 and 23, but on February 1–that is, two days after the signing of the armistice–the Garibaldians were once more driven out of the Burgundian capital. That, however, was as nothing in comparison with what befell Bourbaki’s unfortunate army. Manteuffel having compelled it to retreat from Besançon to Pontarlier, it was next forced to withdraw into Switzerland [Before this happened, Bourbaki attempted his life.] (neutral territory, where it was necessarily disarmed by the Swiss authorities) in order to escape either capture or annihilation by the Germans. The latter took some 6000 prisoners, before the other men (about 80,000 in number) succeeded in crossing the Swiss frontier. A portion of the army was saved, however, by General Billot. With regard to the position elsewhere, Longwy, I should mention, surrendered three days before the capitulation of Paris; but Belfort prolonged its resistance until February 13, when all other hostilities had ceased. Its garrison, so gallantly commanded by Colonel Denfert-Bochereau, was accorded the honours of war.
As I wrote in my book, “Republican France,” the country generally was weary of the long struggle; and only Gambetta, Freycinet, and a few military men, such as Chanzy and Faidherbe, were in favour of prolonging it. From the declaration of war on July 15 to the capitulation of Paris and the armistice on January 28, the contest had lasted twenty-eight weeks. Seven of those weeks had sufficed to overthrow the Second Empire; but only after another one-and-twenty weeks had the Third Republic laid down her arms. Whatever may have been the blunders of the National Defence, it at least saved the honour of France,
It may well be doubted whether the position could have been retrieved had the war been prolonged, though undoubtedly the country was still possessed of many resources. In “Republican France,” I gave a number of figures which showed that over 600,000 men could have been brought into action almost immediately, and that another 260,000 could afterwards have been provided. On February 8, when Chanzy had largely reorganized his army, he, alone, had under his orders 4952 officers and 227,361 men, with 430 guns. That careful and distinguished French military historian, M. Pierre Lehautcourt, places, however, the other resources of France at even a higher figure than I did. He also points out, rightly enough, that although so large a part of France was invaded, the uninvaded territory was of greater extent, and inhabited by twenty-five millions of people. He estimates the total available artillery on the French side at 1232 guns, each with an average allowance of 242 projectiles. In addition, there were 443 guns awaiting projectiles. He tells us that the French ordnance factories were at this period turning out on an average 25,000 chassepots every month, and delivering two million cartridges every day; whilst other large supplies of weapons and ammunition were constantly arriving from abroad. On the other hand, there was certainly a scarcity of horses, the mortality of which in this war, as in all others, was very great. Chanzy only disposed of 20,000, and the remount service could only supply another 12,000. However, additional animals might doubtless have been found in various parts of France, or procured from abroad.
But material resources, however great they may be, are of little avail when a nation has practically lost heart. In spite, moreover, of all the efforts of commanding officers, insubordination was rampant among the troops in the field. There had been so many defeats, so many retreats, that they had lost all confidence in their generals. During the period of the armistice, desertions were still numerous. I may add, that if at the expiration of the armistice the struggle had been renewed, Chanzy’s plan– which received approval at a secret military and Government council held in Paris, whither he repaired early in February–was to place General de Colomb at the head of a strong force for the defence of Brittany, whilst he, Chanzy, would, with his own army, cross the Loire and defend southern France.
Directly news arrived that an armistice had been signed, and that Paris was once more open, my father arranged to return there, accompanied by myself and my younger brother, Arthur Vizetelly. We took with us, I remember, a plentiful supply of poultry and other edibles for distribution among the friends who had been suffering from the scarcity of provisions during the latter days of the siege. The elections for the new National Assembly were just over, nearly all of the forty-three deputies returned for Paris being Republicans, though throughout the rest of France Legitimist and Orleanist candidates were generally successful. I remember that just before I left Saint Servan one of our tradesmen, an enthusiastic Royalist, said to me, “We shall have a King on the throne by the time you come back to see us in the summer.” At that moment it certainly seemed as if such would be the case. As for the Empire, one could only regard it as dead. There were, I think, merely five recognized Bonapartist members in the whole of the new National Assembly, and most of them came from Corsica. Thus, it was by an almost unanimous vote that the Assembly declared Napoleon III and his dynasty to be responsible for the “invasion, ruin, and dismemberment of France.”
The Assembly having called Thiers to the position of “Chief of the Executive Power,” peace negotiations ensued between him and Bismarck. They began on February 22, Thiers being assisted by Jules Favre, who retained the position of Minister of Foreign Affairs, mainly because nobody else would take it and append his signature to a treaty which was bound to be disastrous for the country. The chief conditions of that treaty will be remembered. Germany was to annex Alsace-Lorraine, to receive a war indemnity of two hundred million pounds sterling (with interest in addition), and secure commercially “most favoured nation” treatment from France. The preliminaries were signed on February 26, and accepted by the National Assembly on March 1, but the actual treaty of Frankfort was not signed and ratified until the ensuing month of May.
Paris presented a sorry spectacle during the weeks which followed the armistice. There was no work for the thousands of artisans who had become National Guards during the siege. Their allowance as such was prolonged in order that they might at least have some means of subsistence. But the unrest was general. By the side of the universal hatred of the Germans, which was displayed on all sides, even finding vent in the notices set up in the shop-windows to the effect that no Germans need apply there, one observed a very bitter feeling towards the new Government. Thiers had been an Orleanist all his life, and among the Paris working-classes there was a general feeling that the National Assembly would give France a king. This feeling tended to bring about the subsequent bloody Insurrection of the Commune; but, as I wrote in “Republican France,” it was precisely the Commune which gave the French Royalists a chance. It placed a weapon in their hands and enabled them to say, “You see, by that insurrection, by all those terrible excesses, what a Republic implies. Order, quietude, fruitful work, are only possible under a monarchy.” As we know, however, the efforts of the Royalists were defeated, in part by the obstinacy of their candidate, the Comte de Chambord, and in part by the good behaviour of the Republicans generally, as counselled both by Thiers and by Gambetta.
On March 1, the very day when the National Assembly ratified the preliminaries of peace at Bordeaux, the Germans made their triumphal entry into Paris. Four or five days previously my father had sent me on a special mission to Bordeaux, and it was then that after long years I again set eyes on Garibaldi, who had been elected as a French deputy, but who resigned his seat in consequence of the onerous terms of peace. Others, notably Gambetta, did precisely the same, by way of protesting against the so-called “Devil’s Treaty.” However, I was back in Paris in time to witness the German entry into the city. My father, my brother Arthur, and myself were together in the Champs Elysées on that historical occasion. I have related elsewhere [In “Republican France.”] how a number of women of the Paris Boulevards were whipped in the Champs Elysées shrubberies by young roughs, who, not unnaturally, resented the shameless overtures made by these women to the German soldiery. There were, however, some unfortunate mistakes that day, as, for instance, when an attempt was made to ill-treat an elderly lady who merely spoke to the Germans in the hope of obtaining some information respecting her son, then still a prisoner of war. I remember also that Archibald Forbes was knocked down and kicked for returning the salute of the Crown Prince of Saxony. Some of the English correspondents who hurried to the scene removed Forbes to a little hotel in the Faubourg St. Honoré, for he had really been hurt by that savage assault, though it did not prevent him from penning a graphic account of what he witnessed on that momentous day.
The German entry was, on the whole, fairly imposing as a military display; but the stage-management was very bad, and one could not imagine that Napoleon’s entry into Berlin had in any way resembled it. Nor could it be said to have equalled the entry of the Allied Sovereigns into Paris in 1814. German princelings in basket-carriages drawn by ponies did not add to the dignity of the spectacle. Moreover, both the Crown Prince of Saxony and the Crown Prince of Germany (Emperor Frederick) attended it in virtually an _incognito_ manner. As for the Emperor William, his councillors dissuaded him from entering the city for fear lest there should be trouble there. I believe also that neither Bismarck nor Moltke attended, though, like the Emperor, they both witnessed the preliminary review of troops in the Bois de Boulogne. The German occupation was limited to the Champs Elysées quarter, and on the first day the Parisians generally abstained from going there; but on the morrow–when news that the preliminaries of peace had been accepted at Bordeaux had reached the capital–they flocked to gaze upon _nos amis les ennemis_, and greatly enjoyed, I believe, the lively music played by the German regimental bands. “Music hath charms,” as we are all aware. The departure of the German troops on the ensuing evening was of a much more spectacular character than their entry had been. As with their bands playing, whilst they themselves sang the “Wacht am Rhein” in chorus, they marched up the Champs Elysées on their way back to Versailles, those of their comrades who were still billeted in the houses came to the balconies with as many lighted candles as they could carry. Bivouac fires, moreover, were burning brightly here and there, and the whole animated scene, with its play of light and shade under the dark March sky, was one to be long remembered.
The Franco-German War was over, and a new era had begun for Europe. The balance of power was largely transferred. France had again ceased to be the predominant continental state. She had attained to that position for a time under Louis XIV, and later, more conspicuously, under Napoleon I. But in both of those instances vaulting ambition had o’er-leapt itself. The purposes of Napoleon III were less far-reaching. Such ideas of aggrandisement as he entertained were largely subordinated to his desire to consolidate the _régime_ he had revived, and to ensure the continuity of his dynasty. But the very principle of nationality which he more than once expounded, and which he championed in the case of Italy, brought about his ruin. He gave Italy Venetia, but refused her Rome, and thereby alienated her. Further, the consolidation of Germany–from his own nationalist point of view–became a threat to French interests. Thus he was hoist chiefly by his own _pétard_, and France paid the penalty for his errors.
The Franco-German War was over, I have said, but there came a terrible aftermath–that is, the rising of the Commune, some of the introductory features of which were described by me in “Republican France.” There is only one fairly good history of that formidable insurrection in the English language–one written some years ago by Mr. Thomas March. It is, however, a history from the official standpoint, and is consequently one-sided as well as inaccurate in certain respects. Again, the English version of the History of the Commune put together by one of its partisans, Lissagaray, sins in the other direction. An impartial account of the rising remains to be written. If I am spared I may, perhaps, be privileged to contribute to it by preparing a work on much the same lines as those of this present volume. Not only do I possess the greater part of the literature on the subject, including many of the newspapers of the time, but throughout the insurrection I was in Paris or its suburbs.
I sketched the dead bodies of Generals Clément Thomas and Lecomte only a few hours after their assassination. I saw the Vendôme column fall while American visitors to Paris were singing, “Hail, Columbia!” in the hotels of the Rue de la Paix. I was under fire in the same street when a demonstration was made there. Provided with passports by both sides, I went in and out of the city and witnessed the fighting at Asnières and elsewhere. I attended the clubs held in the churches, when women often perorated from the pulpits. I saw Thiers’s house being demolished; and when the end came and the Versailles troops made their entry into the city, I was repeatedly in the street-fighting with my good friend, Captain Bingham. I recollect sketching the attack on the Elysée Palace from a balcony of our house, and finding that balcony on the pavement a few hours later when it had been carried away by a shell from a Communard battery at Montmartre. Finally, I saw Paris burning. I gazed on the sheaves of flames rising above the Tuileries. I saw the whole front of the Ministry of Finances fall into the Rue de Rivoli. I saw the now vanished Carrefour de la Croix Rouge one blaze of fire. I helped to carry water to put out the conflagration at the Palais de Justice. I was prodded with a bayonet when, after working in that manner for some hours, I attempted to shirk duty at another fire which I came upon in the course of my expeditions. All that period of my life flashes on my mind as vividly as Paris herself flashed under the wondering stars of those balmy nights in May.
My father and my brother Arthur also had some remarkable adventures. There was one occasion when they persuaded a venturesome Paris cabman to drive them from conflagration to conflagration, and this whilst the street-fighting was still in progress. Every now and then, as they drove on, men and women ran eagerly out of houses into which wounded combatants had been taken, imagining that they must belong to the medical profession, as nobody else was likely to go about Paris in such a fashion at such a moment. Those good folk forgot the journalists. The service of the Press carries with it obligations which must not be shirked. Journalism has become, not merely the chronicle of the day, but the foundation of history. And now I know not if I should say farewell or _au revoir_ to my readers. Whether I ever attempt a detailed account of the Commune of Paris must depend on a variety of circumstances. After three-and-forty years “at the mill,” I am inclined to feel tired, and with me health is not what it has been. Nevertheless, my plans must depend chiefly on the reception given to this present volume.
INDEX
Adam, Edmond
Adare, Lord
Albert, Archduke
Albert, Prince (the elder), of Prussia Alencon taken
Alexander II of Russia
Alexandra, Queen
Allix, Jules
Amazons of Paris
Ambert, General
Ambulances, Anglo-American
at Conlie
at Le Mans
author’s impression of
Amiens
Arabs with Chanzy
Arago, Emmanuel
Etienne
Ardenay,
Armistice, conditions for an
concluded
Army, French, under the Empire
of Paris, _see also_ Paris
of Brittany
at the outset of National Defence of the Vosges, _see also_ Garibaldi
of the East, _see also_ Bourbaki
of the Loire, _see also_ D’Aurelle, Goulmiers, Chanzy, Le Mans, etc.
of the North, _see_ Faidheibe
at the end of war
_for German army see_ German _and names of commanders_ Arnim, Count von
Artists, French newspaper
Assembly, _see_ National
Aurelle, _see_ D’Aurelle
Auvours plateau (Le Mans)
Balloon service from Paris
Bapauine, battle of
Barry, General
Battues for deserters
Bazaine, Marshal
Beauce country
Beaumont, fight at
Beaune-la-Rolande, battle of
Belfort, siege of
Bellemare, General Carré de
Bellenger, Marguerite
Belly, Félix
Beraud, Colonel
Bernard, Colonel
Berezowski
Beuvron, Abbé de
Billot, General
Bingham, Captain Hon. D.A.
Bismarck, Prince
Blano, Louis
Blanchard, P.
Blanqui, Augusta,
Blewitt, Dr. Byron
Boisdeffre, Captain, later General de Bonaparte, Lycée, _see_ Lycée
Bonaparte, Prince Pierre, _See also_ Napoleon Bonnemains, General de
Boots, army
Bordone, General
Borel, General
Boulanger, General, his mistress
Bourbaki, General Charles
Bourbon, Palais, _see_ Legislative Body Bourdillon, General
Bourges,
Bourget, Le,
Bower, Mr.,
Bowles, T. Gibson,
Brie-Comte-Robert,
Brownings, the,
Bulwer, Sir E.,
Caillaux, E. and J.,
Cambriels, General,
Canrobert, Marshal,
Capitulations, see Amiens, Belfort, Longwy, Metz, Paris, Sedan, Strasbourg, Toul, etc.
Capoul, Victor,
Caricatures of the period,
Casimir-Perler, J.P.,
Cathelineau, Colonel,
Chabaud-Latour, General,
Challemel-Lacour,
Cham (M. de Noé),
Chambord, Comte de,
Champagné, fighting at,
Champigny, sortie of,
Changé, fighting at,
Chanzy, General Alfred,
his early career and appearance,
his orders and operations with the Loire forces, Charette, General Baron,
Chartres,
“Chartreuse de Parme, La”,
Chassillé, fight at,
Chateaubriand, Count and Countess de Châteaudun, fight at,
Châtillon, fight at,
Chemin des Boeufs (Le Mans),
“Claque,” the,
Claremont, Colonel,
Clocks, German love of,
Clubs, Paris,
social
revolutionary
Colin, General,
Collins, Mortimer,
Colomb, General de,
Colomb, General von,
Commune of Paris,
attempts to set up a
rising of the
Condé, Prince de,
Conlie, camp of,
Connerré,
Corbeil, Germans at,
Correspondents, English, in Paris, Coulmiers, battle of,
Couriers from Paris,
Cousin-Montauban, see Palikao.
Cowardice and panic, cases of,
Crane, Stephen,
Cremer, General,
Crémieux, Adolphe,
Crouzat, General,
Crown Prince of Prussia (Emperor Frederick), Curten, General,
Daily News,
Daily Telegraph,
Daumier, Honoré,
D’Aurelle de Paladines, General,
Davenport brothers,
“Débâcle, La,” Zola’s,
Dejean, General,
Delescluze, Charles,
Denfert-Rochereau, Colonel,
Des Pallières, General Martin,
Devonshire, late Duke of,
Dieppe, Germans reach,
Dijon, fighting at,
Doré, Gustave,
Dorian, Frédéric,
D’Orsay, Count,
Douay,
General Abel;
General Félix,
“Downfall, the,” see Débâcle.
Droué, fight at,
Dubost, Antonin,
Ducrot, General,
Duff, Brigadier-General (U.S.A.),
Dumas, Alexandre,
Dunraven, Lord, see Adare.
Duvernois, Clément,
“Echoes of the Clubs”
Edwardes, Mrs. Annie
Elgar, Dr. Francis
Elysée Palace
Emotions in war
Empress, _see_ Eugénie.
English attempts to leave Paris
exodus from
Eugénie, Empress
Faidherbe, General
Failly, General de
Fashions, Paris
Favre, Jules
Feilding, Major-General
Fennell family
Ferry, Jules
Fitz-James, Duc de
Flourens, Gustave
Forbach, battle of
Forbes, Archibald
Forge, Anatole de la
Fourichon, Admiral
Franco-German War
cause and origin of
preparations for
outbreak of
first French armies
departure of Napoleon III for
Germans enter France
first engagements
news of Sedan
troops gathered in Paris
German advance on Paris
Châtillon affair
investment of Paris
French provincial armies
the fighting near Le Mans
the retreat to Laval
armistice and peace negotiations
_See also Paris, and names of battles and commanders_. Frederick, Emperor, _see_ Crown Prince, Frederick Charles, Prince, of Prussia
Freyoinet, Charles de Saulces de,
Frossard, General
Galliffet, Mme. de
Gambetta, Léon
Garde, _see_ Imperial, Mobile, _and_ National. Garibaldi, General
Garibaldi, Riciotti
Garnier-Pagès
Germans
early victories
alleged overthrow at Jaumont
Sedan
advance on Paris
expelled from Paris
love of clocks
Princes
strategy
exactions at Le Mans
officers’ manners
entry into Paris
Glais-Bizoin
Godard brothers
Goeben, General von
Gougeard, General
Gramont, Duc Agénor de
Gramont-Cadèrousse, Duc de
Greenwood, Frederick
Guard, _see_ Imperial, Mobile, National.
Halliday, Andrew
Hazen, General W. B. (U.S.A.)
Heiduck, General von
Héricourt, battle of
Home, David Dunglass
Horses in the War
Hozier, Captain, later Colonel, Sir H. Hugo, Victor
_Illustrated London News_
_Illustrated Times_
Imperial Guard
Imperial Prince
Jarras, General
Jaumont quarries
Jaurégulberry, Admiral
Jaurès, Admiral
Jerrold, Blanchard
Johnson, Captain
Jouffroy, General
Jung, Captain
Kanitz, Colonel von
Kean, Edmund
Kératry, Comte de
Kitchener, Lord
Kraatz-Koschlau, General von
Laboughere, Henry,
Ladmirault, General de
La Ferté-Bernard
Lalande, General
La Malmaison sortie
La Motte-Rouge, General de
Landells
Langres
Laon, capitulation of
Laval, retreat on
adventure at
Leboeuf, Marshal
Lebouëdec, General
Lebrun, General
Lecomte, General
Ledru-Rollin
Le Flô, General
Lefort, General
Legislative Body, French (Palais Bourbon) Le Mans
Chanzy at
town described
country around
fighting near
decisive fighting begins
retreat from
battle losses at
street fighting at
Germans at
their exactions
Chanzy’s statue at
Lermina, Jules
Lewal, Colonel
Lipowski, Commandant
Lobbia, Colonel
Loigny-Poupry, battle
Longwy, capitulation
Lycée Bonaparte, now Condorcet
Lyons, Lord
MacMahon, Marshal
Mme. de
Magnin, M.
Maine country
Malmaison, _see_ La Malmaison
Mans, _see_ Le Mans
Mantes, Germans at
Manteuffel, General von
Marchenoir forest
Mario, Jessie White
Marseillaise, the
Mayhew, brothers
Mazure, General
Mecklenburg-Schwerin, Frederick Francis, Grand Duke of Metz
Michel, General
Millaud, A., his verses
Middleton, Robert
Mobile Guard,
in Paris
Moltke, Marshal von
Monson, Sir Edmund
Montbard, artist
Mora, Colonel
Morny, Duc de
Motte Rouge, _see_ La Motte-Rouge
Moulin, artist
Nadar, Jules Tournachon, called
Napoleon I
Napoleon III,
Napoleon (Jérôme), Prince
National Assembly elected
National Defence Government
confirmed by a plebiscitum
in the provinces
National Guard (Paris)
of Châteaudun
of Laval
_New York Times_
Niel, Marshal
Noé, Vicomte de, _see_ Cham.
Nogent-le-Rotrou
Noir, Victor, assassinated
Nuits, fighting at
Ollivier, Emile;
Madame
Orleans;
battle of
Paladines, see D’Aurelle
Palikao, General de
_Pall Mall Gazette_
Parigné l’Eveque
Paris,
cafés in;
riots in;
elections in;
early in the war;
defensive preparations;
fugitives and refugees;
wounded soldiers in;
Anglo-American ambulance in;
army and armament of;
Hugo’s return to;
German advance on;
last day of liberty in;
live-stock in;
customary meat supply of;
clubs in;
defence of Châtillon;
siege begins;
attempts to leave;
first couriers from;
balloon and pigeon post;
siege jests;
spyophobia and signal craze in;
amazons of;
reconnaissances and sorties from; news of Metz in;
demonstrations and riots in;
plebiscitum in;
food and rations in;
English people leave;
state of environs of;
steps to relieve;
bombardment of;
health of;
deserters in;
affray in;
capitulation of;
author returns to;
aspect after the armistice;
Germans enter;
rising of the Commune, _See also_ Revolution. Paris, General
“Partant pour la Syrie”
Peace conditions
“Pekin, Siege of”
Pelcoq, Jules, artist
Pelletan, Eugène
Picard, Ernest
Pietri, Prefect
Pigeon-Post
Piquet, M.
Pius IX
Pollard family
Pontifical Zouaves
Pontlieue (Le Mans)
Pont-Noyelles, battle of
Postal-services, _see_ Balloon, Courier, Pigeon. Prim, General
Prussians, not Germans
Pyat, Félix
Quatrefages de Bréau
Quinet, Edgar
Rampont, Dr.
“Red Badge of Courage”
Red Cross Society, French
Reed, Sir E. J.
Rennes
Retreat, Chanzy’s, on Marchenoir forest; on Le Mans;
on Laval;
Revolution of September 4.
Reyau, General
Richard, Mayor of Le Mans
Robinson, Sir John
Rochefort, Henri
Rochers, Château des
Rodellee du Ponzic, Lieutenant
Roquebrune, General de
Rothschild, Baron Alphonse de
Rouen, Germans reach
Rouher, Eugène
Rousseau, General
Russell, Sir William Howard
Ryan, Dr. C. E.
Saint Agil
Saint Calais
Saint Cloud château destroyed
Saint Jean-sur-Erve
Saint Malo
Saint Quentin,
defence of;
battle of
Saint Servan
Sainte Suzanne
Sala, G.A.
Sardou, Victorien
Sass, Marie
Saxe-Meiningen, Prince of
Saxony, Crown Prince of
Schmidt, General von
Sedan, news of
Napoleon at
Senate, Imperial
Shackle
Sieges, _see_ Paris _and other places_ Signal craze in Paris
Sillé-le-Guillaume
Simon, Jules
Skinner, Hilary
Sologne region
Songs, some Victorian
Sophia, Queen of Holland
Spuller, Eugène
Spyophobia in Paris
at Laval
Stendhal
Stoffel, Colonel
Strasbourg, siege of
Susbielle, General
Tann, General von der
Tertre Rouge position (Le Mans)
Thackeray, W.M.
Thiers, Adolphe
Thomas, General Clément
Tibaldi
_Times_, the
Tissandier brothers
Toul capitulates
Treaty, _see_ Peace
Trochu, General
Troppmann
Tuilerie position (Le Mans)
Tuileries palace
Uhrich, General
Vaillant, Marshal
Valentin, Edmond
Vendôme column
Versailles during Paris siege
Villemessant, H. de
Villersexel, battle of
Villorceau, fighting at
Vimercati, Count
Vinoy, General
Vizetelly family
Vizetelly, Adrian
——, Arthur
——, Edward Henry
——, Elizabeth Anne
——, Ellen Elizabeth
——, Ernest Alfred, parentage
men he saw in childhood
his passionate temper
at school at Eastbourne
at London sights
sees Garibaldi
and Nadar
goes to France
at the Lycée Bonaparte
his tutor Brassard
sees an attempt on Alexander H.
assists his father
his first article
sees famous Frenchmen
visits the Tuileries
goes to Compiègne
is addressed by Napoleon III
sees Paris riots
visits Prince Pierre’s house
is befriended by Captain Bingham dreams of seeing a war
has a glimpse of its seamy side
sees Napoleon III set out for the war hears Capoul sing the “Marseillaise”
sees a demonstration
meets English newspaper correspondents is called a little spy by Gambetta
with the Anglo-American ambulance witnesses the Revolution
takes a letter to Trochu
sees Victor Hugo’s return to Paris witnesses a great review
describes Parish last day of liberty sees Captain Johnson arrive
visits balloon factories
ascends in Nadar’s captive balloon sees Gambetta leave in a balloon
learns fencing
goes to a women’s club
interviews the Paris Amazons
witnesses the demonstration of October 21 and that of October 31
food arrangements of his father and himself leaves Paris
at Brie Comte-Robert
at Corbeil
at Champlan
at Versailles
visits Colonel Walker with his father leaves Versailles
at Mantes
reaches Saint Servan
visits the Camp of Conlie
accompanies Gougeard’s division to the front in the retreat on Le Mans
receives the baptism of fire
has an amusing experience at Rennes returns to Le Mans
sees and sketches Chanzy
witnesses part of the battle of Le Mans sees the stampede from the tile-works and the confusion at Le Mans
his views on German officers
on a soldier’s emotions
on ambulances
escapes from Le Mans
at Sillé-le-Guillaume
at the fight of Saint Jean-sur-Erve follows the retreat
returns to Laval
has a dramatic adventure there
returns to Paris
sees the Germans enter Paris
some of his experiences during the Commune Vizetelly, Frank
—-, Francis (Frank) Horace
—-, Frederick Whitehead
—-, Henry
—-, Henry Richard (author’s father) —-, James Thomas George
—-, James Henry
—-, Montague
Voigts Rhetz, General von
Vosges, _see_ Army of the
Voules, Horace
Walker, Colonel Beauchamp
War, emotions in
war-news in 1870
_See also_ Franco-German War
Washburne, Mr.
Werder, General von
Whitehurst, Felix
William, King of Prussia, later Emperor Wimpfen, General de
Wittich, General von
Wodehouse, Hon. Mr.
Wolseley, Field-Marshal Lord
Yvré-l’Evéque
Zola, Emile, his “La Débâcle”
THE END