A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P R S T U V W X Z

My Days of Adventure

E >> Ernest Alfred Vizetelly >> My Days of Adventure




Bower represented the _Morning Advertiser_. I do not remember seeing Bowes
of the _Standard_ at the gatherings I have referred to, or Crawford of the
_Daily News_, who so long wrote his Paris letters at a little café
fronting the Bourse. But it was certainly at the Grand Café that I first
set eyes on Labouchere, who, like Sala, was installed at the neighbouring
Grand Hotel, and was soon to become famous as the _Daily News_' "Besieged
Resident." As for Mr. Thomas Gibson Bowles, who represented the _Morning
Post_ during the German Siege, I first set eyes on him at the British
Embassy, when he had a beautiful little moustache (which I greatly envied)
and wore his hair nicely parted down the middle. _Eheu! fugaces labuntur
anni_.

Sala was the life and soul of those gatherings at the Grand Café, always
exuberantly gay, unless indeed the conversation turned on the prospects of
the French forces, when he railed at them without ceasing. Blanchard
Jerrold, who was well acquainted with the spy system of the Empire,
repeatedly warned Sala to be cautious--but in vain; and the eventual
result of his outspokenness was a very unpleasant adventure on the eve of
the Empire's fall. In the presence of all those distinguished men of the
pen, I myself mostly preserved, as befitted my age, a very discreet
silence, listening intently, but seldom opening my lips unless it were to
accept or refuse another cup of coffee, or some _sirop de groseille_ or
_grenadine_. I never touched any intoxicant excepting claret at my meals,
and though, in my Eastbourne days, I had, like most boys of my time,
experimented with a clay pipe and some dark shag, I did not smoke. My
father personally was extremely fond of cigars, but had he caught me
smoking one, he would, I believe, have knocked me down.

In connection with those Grand Café gatherings I one day had a little
adventure. It had been arranged that I should meet my father there, and
turning into the Boulevards from the Madeleine I went slowly past what was
then called the Rue Basse du Rempart. I was thinking of something or
other--I do not remember what, but in any case I was absorbed in thought,
and inadvertently I dogged the footsteps of two black-coated gentlemen who
were deep in conversation. I was almost unconscious of their presence, and
in any case I did not hear a word of what they were saying. But all at
once one of them turned round, and said to me angrily: "Veux-tu bien t'en
aller, petit espion!" otherwise: "Be off, little spy!" I woke up as it
were, looked at him, and to my amazement recognized Gambetta, whom I had
seen several times already, when I was with my mentor Brossard at either
the Café de Suède or the Café de Madrid. At the same time, however, his
companion also turned round, and proved to be Jules Simon, who knew me
through a son of his. This was fortunate, for he immediately exclaimed:
"Why, no! It is young Vizetelly, a friend of my son's," adding, "Did you
wish to speak to me?"

I replied in the negative, saying that I had not even recognized him from
behind, and trying to explain that it was purely by chance that I had been
following him and M. Gambetta. "You know me, then?" exclaimed the future
dictator somewhat sharply; whereupon I mentioned that he had been pointed
out to me more than once, notably when he was in the company of M.
Delescluze. "Ah, oui, fort bien," he answered. "I am sorry if I spoke as I
did. But"--and here he turned to Simon--"one never knows, one can never
take too many precautions. The Spaniard would willingly send both of us to
Mazas." By "the Spaniard," of course, he meant the Empress Eugénie, just
as people meant Marie-Antoinette when they referred to "the Austrian"
during the first Revolution. That ended the affair. They both shook hands
with me, I raised my hat, and hurried on to the Grand Café, leaving them
to their private conversation. This was the first time that I ever
exchanged words with Gambetta. The incident must have occurred just after
his return from Switzerland, whither he had repaired fully anticipating
the triumph of the French arms, returning, however, directly he heard of
the first disasters. Simon and he were naturally drawn together by their
opposition to the Empire, but they were men of very different characters,
and some six months later they were at daggers drawn.

Events moved rapidly during Palikao's ministry. Reviving a former
proposition of Jules Favre's, Gambetta proposed to the Legislative Body
the formation of a Committee of National Defence, and one was ultimately
appointed; but the only member of the Opposition included in it was
Thiers. In the middle of August there were some revolutionary disturbances
at La Villette. Then, after the famous conference at Châlons, where
Rouher, Prince Napoleon, and others discussed the situation with the
Emperor and MacMahon, Trochu was appointed Military Governor of Paris,
where he soon found himself at loggerheads with Palikao. Meantime, the
French under Bazaine, to whom the Emperor was obliged to relinquish the
supreme command--the Opposition deputies particularly insisting on
Bazaine's appointment in his stead--were experiencing reverse after
reverse. The battle of Courcelles or Pange, on August 14, was followed two
days later by that of Vionville or Mars-la-Tour, and, after yet another
two days, came the great struggle of Gravelotte, and Bazaine was thrown
back on Metz.

At the Châlons conference it had been decided that the Emperor should
return to Paris and that MacMahon's army also should retreat towards the
capital. But Palikao telegraphed to Napoleon: "If you abandon Bazaine
there will be Revolution in Paris, and you yourself will be attacked by
all the enemy's forces. Paris will defend herself from all assault from
outside. The fortifications are completed." It has been argued that the
plan to save Bazaine might have succeeded had it been immediately carried
into effect, and in accordance, too, with Palikao's ideas; but the
original scheme was modified, delay ensued, and the French were outmarched
by the Germans, who came up with them at Sedan. As for Palikao's statement
that the Paris fortifications were completed at the time when he
despatched his telegram, that was absolutely untrue. The armament of the
outlying forts had scarcely begun, and not a single gun was in position on
any one of the ninety-five bastions of the ramparts. On the other hand,
Palikao was certainly doing all he could for the city. He had formed the
aforementioned Committee of Defence, and under his auspices the fosse or
ditch in front of the ramparts was carried across the sixty-nine roads
leading into Paris, whilst drawbridges were installed on all these points,
with armed lunettes in front of them. Again, redoubts were thrown up in
advance of some of the outlying forts, or on spots where breaks occurred
in the chain of defensive works.

At the same time, ships' guns were ordered up from Cherbourg, Brest,
Lorient, and Toulon, together with naval gunners to serve them. Sailors,
customhouse officers, and provincial gendarmes were also conveyed to Paris
in considerable numbers. Gardes-mobiles, francs-tireurs, and even firemen
likewise came from the provinces, whilst the work of provisioning the city
proceeded briskly, the Chamber never hesitating to vote all the money
asked of it. At the same time, whilst there were many new arrivals in
Paris, there were also many departures from the city. The general fear of
a siege spread rapidly. Every day thousands of well-to-do middle-class
folk went off in order to place themselves out of harm's way; and at the
same time thousands of foreigners were expelled on the ground that, in the
event of a siege occurring, they would merely be "useless mouths." In
contrast with that exodus was the great inrush of people from the suburbs
of Paris. They poured into the city unceasingly, from villas, cottages,
and farms, employing every variety of vehicle to convey their furniture
and other household goods, their corn, flour, wine, and other produce.
There was a block at virtually every city gate, so many were the folk
eager for shelter within the protecting ramparts raised at the instigation
of Thiers some thirty years previously.

In point of fact, although the Germans were not yet really marching on
Paris--for Bazaine's army had to be bottled up, and MacMahon's disposed
of, before there could be an effective advance on the French capital--it
was imagined in the city and its outskirts that the enemy might arrive at
any moment. The general alarm was intensified when, on the night of August
21, a large body of invalided men, who had fought at Weissenburg or Worth,
made their way into Paris, looking battle and travel-stained, some with
their heads bandaged, others with their arms in slings, and others limping
along with the help of sticks. It is difficult to conceive by what
aberration the authorities allowed the Parisians to obtain that woeful
glimpse of the misfortunes of France. The men in question ought never to
have been sent to Paris at all. They might well have been cared for
elsewhere. As it happened, the sorry sight affected all who beheld it.
Some were angered by it, others depressed, and others well-nigh terrified.

As a kind of set-off, however, to that gloomy spectacle, fresh rumours of
French successes began to circulate. There was a report that Bazaine's
army had annihilated the whole of Prince Frederick-Charles's cavalry, and,
in particular, there was a most sensational account of how three German
army-corps, including the famous white Cuirassiers to which Bismarck
belonged, had been tumbled into the "Quarries of Jaumont" and there
absolutely destroyed! I will not say that there is no locality named
Jaumont, but I cannot find any such place mentioned in Joanne's elaborate
dictionary of the communes of France, and possibly it was as mythical as
was the alleged German disaster, the rumours of which momentarily revived
the spirits of the deluded Parisians, who were particularly pleased to
think that the hated Bismarck's regiment had been annihilated.

On or about August 30, a friend of my eldest brother Adrian, a medical
man named Blewitt, arrived in Paris with the object of joining an
Anglo-American ambulance which was being formed in connection with the Red
Cross Society. Dr. Blewitt spoke a little French, but he was not well
acquainted with the city, and I was deputed to assist him whilst he
remained there. An interesting account of the doings of the ambulance in
question was written some sixteen or seventeen years ago by Dr. Charles
Edward Ryan, of Glenlara, Tipperary, who belonged to it. Its head men were
Dr. Marion-Sims and Dr. Frank, others being Dr. Ryan, as already
mentioned, and Drs. Blewitt, Webb, May, Nicholl, Hayden, Howett,
Tilghmann, and last but not least, the future Sir William MacCormack. Dr.
Blewitt had a variety of business to transact with the officials of the
French Red Cross Society, and I was with him at his interviews with its
venerable-looking President, the Count de Flavigny, and others. It is of
interest to recall that at the outbreak of the war the society's only
means was an income of £5 6_s._ 3_d._, but that by August 28 its receipts
had risen to nearly £112,000. By October it had expended more than
£100,000 in organizing thirty-two field ambulances. Its total outlay
during the war exceeded half a million sterling, and in its various field,
town, and village ambulances no fewer than 110,000 men were succoured and
nursed.

In Paris the society's headquarters were established at the Palace de
l'Industrie in the Champs Elysées, and among the members of its principal
committee were several ladies of high rank. I well remember seeing there
that great leader of fashion, the Marquise de Galliffet, whose elaborate
ball gowns I had more than once admired at Worth's, but who, now that
misfortune had fallen upon France, was, like all her friends, very plainly
garbed in black. At the Palais de l'Industrie I also found Mme. de
MacMahon, short and plump, but full of dignity and energy, as became a
daughter of the Castries. I remember a brief address which she delivered
to the Anglo-American Ambulance on the day when it quitted Paris, and in
which she thanked its members for their courage and devotion in coming
forward, and expressed her confidence, and that of all her friends, in the
kindly services which they would undoubtedly bestow upon every sufferer
who came under their care.

I accompanied the ambulance on its march through Paris to the Eastern
Hallway Station. When it was drawn up outside the Palais de l'Industrie,
Count de Flavigny in his turn made a short but feeling speech, and
immediately afterwards the _cortége_ started. At the head of it were three
young ladies, the daughters of Dr. Marion-Sims, who carried respectively
the flags of France, England, and the United States. Then came the chief
surgeons, the assistant-surgeons, the dressers and male nurses, with some
waggons of stores bringing up the rear. I walked, I remember, between
Dr. Blewitt and Dr. May. On either side of the procession were members of
the Red Cross Society, carrying sticks or poles tipped with collection
bags, into which money speedily began to rain. We crossed the Place de la
Concorde, turned up the Rue Royale, and then followed the main Boulevards
as far, I think, as the Boulevard de Strasbourg. There were crowds of
people on either hand, and our progress was necessarily slow, as it was
desired to give the onlookers full time to deposit their offerings in the
collection-bags. From the Cercle Impérial at the corner of the Champs
Elysées, from the Jockey Club, the Turf Club, the Union, the Chemins-de-
Fer, the Ganaches, and other clubs on or adjacent to the Boulevards, came
servants, often in liveries, bearing with them both bank-notes and gold.
Everybody seemed anxious to give something, and an official of the society
afterwards told me that the collection had proved the largest it had ever
made. There was also great enthusiasm all along the line of route, cries
of "Vivent les Anglais! Vivent les Américains!" resounding upon every
side.

The train by which the ambulance quitted Paris did not start until a very
late hour in the evening. Prior to its departure most of us dined at a
restaurant near the railway-station. No little champagne was consumed at
this repast, and, unaccustomed as I was to the sparkling wine of the
Marne, it got, I fear, slightly into my head. However, my services as
interpreter were requisitioned more than once by some members of the
ambulance in connection with certain inquiries which they wished to make
of the railway officials; and I recollect that when some question arose of
going in and out of the station, and reaching the platform again without
let or hindrance--the departure of the train being long delayed--the
_sous-chef de gare_ made me a most courteous bow, and responded: "À vous,
messieurs, tout est permis. There are no regulations for you!" At last the
train started, proceeding on its way to Soissons, where it arrived at
daybreak on August 29, the ambulance then hastening to join MacMahon, and
reaching him just in time to be of good service at Sedan. I will only add
here that my friend Dr. Blewitt was with Dr. Frank at Balan and Bazeilles,
where the slaughter was so terrible. The rest of the ambulance's dramatic
story must be read in Dr. Ryan's deeply interesting pages.

Whilst the Parisians were being beguiled with stories of how the Prince of
Saxe-Meiningen had written to his wife telling her that the German troops
were suffering terribly from sore feet, the said troops were in point of
fact lustily outmarching MacMahon's forces. On August 30, General de
Failly was badly worsted at Beaumont, and on the following day MacMahon
was forced to move on Sedan. The first reports which reached Paris
indicated, as usual, very favourable results respecting the contest there.
My friend Captain Bingham, however, obtained some correct information--
from, I believe, the British Embassy--and I have always understood that it
was he who first made the terrible truth known to one of the deputies of
the Opposition party, who hastened to convey it to Thiers. The battle of
Sedan was fought on Thursday, September 1; but it was only on Saturday,
September 3, that Palikao shadowed forth the disaster in the Chamber,
stating that MacMahon had failed to effect a junction with Bazaine, and
that, after alternate reverses and successes--that is, driving a part of
the German army into the Meuse!--he had been obliged to retreat on Sedan
and Mézières, some portion of his forces, moreover, having been compelled
to cross the Belgian frontier.

That tissue of inaccuracies, devised perhaps to palliate the effect of the
German telegrams of victory which were now becoming known to the
incredulous Parisians, was torn to shreds a few hours later when the
Legislative Body assembled for a night-sitting. Palikao was then obliged
to admit that the French army and the Emperor Napoleon had surrendered to
the victorious German force. Jules Favre, who was the recognized leader of
the Republican Opposition, thereupon brought forward a motion of
dethronement, proposing that the executive authority should be vested in a
parliamentary committee. In accordance with the practice of the Chamber,
Farve's motion had to be referred to its _bureaux_, or ordinary
committees, and thus no decision was arrived at that night, it being
agreed that the Chamber should reassemble on the morrow at noon.

The deputies separated at a very late hour. My father and myself were
among all the anxious people who had assembled on the Place de la Concorde
to await the issue of the debate. Wild talk was heard on every side,
imprecations were levelled at the Empire, and it was already suggested
that the country had been sold to the foreigner. At last, as the crowd
became extremely restless, the authorities, who had taken their
precautions in consequence of the revolutionary spirit which was abroad,
decided to disperse it. During the evening a considerable body of mounted
Gardes de Paris had been stationed in or near the Palais de l'Industrie,
and now, on instructions being conveyed to their commander, they suddenly
cantered down the Champs Elysées and cleared the square, chasing people
round and round the fountains and the seated statues of the cities of
France, until they fled by way either of the quays, the Rue de Rivoti, or
the Rue Royale. The vigour which the troops displayed did not seem of good
augury for the adversaries of the Empire. Without a doubt Revolution was
already in the air, but everything indicated that the authorities were
quite prepared to contend with it, and in all probability successfully.

It was with difficulty that my father and myself contrived to avoid the
troopers and reach the Avenue Gabriel, whence we made our way home.
Meantime there had been disturbances in other parts of Paris. On the
Boulevard Bonne Nouvelle a band of demonstrators had come into collision
with the police, who had arrested several of them. Thus, as I have already
mentioned, the authorities seemed to be as vigilant and as energetic as
ever. But, without doubt, on that night of Saturday, September 3, the
secret Republican associations were very active, sending the _mot d'ordre_
from one to another part of the city, so that all might be ready for
Revolution when the Legislative Body assembled on the morrow.

It was on this same last night of the Empire that George Augustus Sala met
with the very unpleasant adventure to which I previously referred. During
the evening he went as usual to the Grand Café, and meeting Blanchard
Jerrold there, he endeavoured to induce him to go to supper at the Café du
Helder. Sala being in an even more talkative mood than usual, and--now
that he had heard of the disaster of Sedan--more than ever inclined to
express his contempt of the French in regard to military matters, Jerrold
declined the invitation, fearing, as he afterwards said to my father in my
presence, that some unpleasantness might well ensue, as Sala, in spite of
all remonstrances, would not cease "gassing." Apropos of that expression,
it is somewhat amusing to recall that Sala at one time designed for
himself an illuminated visiting-card, on which appeared his initials G. A.
S. in letters of gold, the A being intersected by a gas-lamp diffusing
many vivid rays of light, whilst underneath it was a scroll bearing the
appropriate motto, "Dux est Lux."

But, to return to my story, Jerrold having refused the invitation; Sala
repaired alone to the Café du Helder, an establishment which in those
imperial times was particularly patronized by officers of the Paris
garrison and officers from the provinces on leave. It was the height of
folly for anybody to "run down" the French army in such a place, unless,
indeed, he wished to have a number of duels on his hands. It is true that
on the night of September 3, there may have been few, if any, military men
at the Helder. Certain it is, however, that whilst Sala was supping in the
principal room upstairs, he entered into conversation with other people,
spoke incautiously, as he had been doing for a week past, and on departing
from the establishment was summarily arrested and conveyed to the Poste de
Police on the Boulevard Bonne Nouvelle. The cells there were already more
or less crowded with roughs who had been arrested during the disturbance
earlier in the evening, and when a police official thrust Sala into their
midst, at the same time calling him a vile Prussian spy, the patriotism of
the other prisoners was immediately aroused, though, for the most part,
they were utter scamps who had only created a disturbance for the purpose
of filling their pockets.

Sala was subjected not merely to much ill-treatment, but also to
indignities which only Rabelais or Zola could have (in different ways)
adequately described; and it was not until the morning that he was able to
communicate with the manager of the Grand Hotel, where he had his
quarters. The manager acquainted the British Embassy with his predicament,
and it was, I think, Mr. Sheffield who repaired to the Préfecture de
Police to obtain an order for Sala's liberation. The story told me at the
time was that Lord Lyons's representative found matters already in great
confusion at the Préfecture. There had been a stampede of officials,
scarcely any being at their posts, in such wise that he made his way to
the Prefect's sanctum unannounced. There he found M. Piétri engaged with a
confidential acolyte in destroying a large number of compromising papers,
emptying boxes and pigeon-holes in swift succession, and piling their
contents on an already huge fire, which was stirred incessantly in order
that it might burn more swiftly. Piétri only paused in his task in order
to write an order for Sala's release, and I have always understood that
this was the last official order that emanated from the famous Prefect of
the Second Empire. It is true that he presented himself at the Tuileries
before he fled to Belgium, but the Empress, as we know, was averse from
any armed conflict with the population of Paris. As a matter of fact, the
Prefecture had spent its last strength during the night of September 3.
Disorganized as it was on the morning of the 4th, it could not have fought
the Revolution. As will presently appear, those police who on the night of
the 3rd were chosen to assist in guarding the approaches to the Palais
Bourbon on the morrow, were quite unable to do so.

Disorder, indeed, prevailed in many places. My father had recently found
himself in a dilemma in regard to the requirements of the _Illustrated
London News_. In those days the universal snap-shotting hand-camera was
unknown. Every scene that it was desired to depict in the paper had to be
sketched, and in presence of all the defensive preparations which were
being made, a question arose as to what might and what might not be
sketched. General Trochu was Governor of Paris, and applications were made
to him on the subject. A reply came requiring a reference from the British
Embassy before any permission whatever was granted. In due course a letter
was obtained from the Embassy, signed not, I think, by Lord Lyons himself,
but by one of the secretaries--perhaps Sir Edward Malet, or Mr. Wodehouse,
or even Mr. Sheffield. At all events, on the morning of September 4, my
father, being anxious to settle the matter, commissioned me to take the
Embassy letter to Trochu's quarters at the Louvre. Here I found great
confusion. Nobody was paying the slightest attention to official work. The
_bureaux_ were half deserted. Officers came and went incessantly, or
gathered in little groups in the passages and on the stairs, all of them
looking extremely upset and talking anxiously and excitedly together. I
could find nobody to attend to any business, and was at a loss what to do,
when a door opened and a general officer in undress uniform appeared on
the threshold of a large and finely appointed room.

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