In to-day's Journal des Debats M. John Lemoinne points out to his readers that M. Bismarck, in his remarks to M. Jules Favre, expressed the opinion of Germany, and that the expression of his views respecting the necessity of Germany annexing Alsace and Lorraine is not necessarily an insult to France. The war, says M. Lemoinne, never was a war of monarchs, but a war of nations. France as well as the Emperor is responsible for it. It must continue to be, he continues, a war a outrance between two races. The terms of peace proposed by M. Bismarck cannot be accepted by France. The moderate tone and dignified melancholy of this article contrast favourably with that of almost all the leaders in the other papers, and more particularly in those of the ultra-Republican press. In La France, a moderate and well-conducted journal, I find the following remarks:—"Paris is the capital of France and of the world. Paris besieged is a beautiful, a surprising spectacle. The sky is blue, the atmosphere is pure, this is a happy augury, fifteen days of patience on the part of the Parisians, fifteen days to arm in the provinces, and the German army will be irreparably compromised. It will then be unable to cut its way out of the circle of fire which will surround it." When journals of the standing of La France deal in this sort of nonsense it is not surprising that the ex-Imperialist organs, which are endeavouring to curry favour with the mob, are still more absurd. The Figaro concludes two columns of bombast with the following flight:—"But thou, O country, never diest. Bled in all thy veins by the butchers of the North, thy divine head mutilated by the heels of brutes, the Christ of nations, for two months nailed on the cross, never hast thou appeared so great and so beautiful, Thou neededst this martyrdom, O our mother, to know how we love thee. In order that Paris, in which there is a genius which has given her the empire of the world, should fall into the hands of the barbarians, there must cease to be a God in heaven. As God she exists, and as God she is immortal. Paris will never surrender." When it is remembered that this ignorant, vain, foolish population has for nearly twenty years been fed with this sort of stuff, it is not surprising that even to this hour it cannot realise the fact that Paris is in any danger of being captured. The ultra-Republican press is becoming every day more virulent. M. Blanqui, in his organ, La Patrie en Danger, after praising the act of a person of the name of Malet, who last February shot an officer who refused to shout "Vive la Republique," thus continues:—"I was reminded of this when the other day I saw defile on the boulevards a regiment of rustic peasants. I raised my hat to salute these soldiers of liberty, but there was no response from them. Malet would have raised the kepi of one of the captains with a bullet, and he would have done well. Let us be without pity. Vive Marat! We will do justice ourselves...." The ultra-Republicans, of the stamp of M. Blanqui and M. Felix Pyat, seem to be under the impression that it is far more important to establish a Republican form of Government in France than to resist the Prussians. In the meetings which they hold every evening they clamour for the election at once of a municipality, because they hope to become themselves members of it, and then to absorb all the power which is now wielded by the Provisional Government. Beyond discrediting themselves by these attempts to disturb the harmony within the walls, which is of such vital importance at the present moment, I do not think that they will do much. I have talked to many working men, and whatever may be their political opinions, they are far too sensible to play the game of the Prussians by weakening the existing Government. After the Prussians perhaps the deluge; but as long as they are before Paris, and the Provisional Government does not capitulate, I do not dread any political disorders. What we may come to, are bread riots. There is already an immense deal of misery, and, as the siege continues and provisions rise in price, it will of course increase.

I was talking this morning to a gentleman who used at one time to play a very important part in public life, who is well acquainted with most of the members of the Government, and who is a man of calm judgment. I was anxious to obtain his opinion upon the situation, and this is a resume of what he told me. "When Jules Favre," he said, "went to Bismarck, he was prepared to agree to the dismantlement of the fortresses of Alsace and Lorraine, the cession of half the fleet, the payment of an indemnity of eighty millions of pounds, and an agreement for a term of years not to have a standing army of more than 200,000 men. A Constituent Assembly would have ratified these terms. The cession of a portion of the fleet is but tantamount to the payment of money. The conscription is so unpopular that a majority of the nation would have been glad to know that the standing army would henceforward be a small one. As for the fortresses, they have not been taken, and yet they have not arrested the Prussian advance on Paris; consequently their destruction would not seriously weaken the defences of the country." I asked whether Paris would now consent to these terms. "No," he said, "if the Government offered them there would be a revolution. Paris, rightly or wrongly, believes that she will be able to hold out for two months, and that during this time there will be a levee en masse." "And do you share this opinion?" I asked. "I am not of a very sanguine character" he replied; "but I really am now inclined to believe that the Prussians will never enter Paris unless they starve us into a surrender." "Then," I said, "I suppose they will starve us out." "I am an old man," he said, "and I always remember Philip's saying, 'Time and I are two,' In two months many things may happen. Winter is coming on. The Prussian army is composed of men engaged in business at home and anxious to return; the North does not love the South, and divisions may arise. The King of Prussia is an old man, and he may die. Without absolutely counting upon a French army raising the siege, there are levees forming in Lyons and elsewhere, and the Germans will find their communications seriously menaced. Russia, too, and Austria may interfere, so I think that we are wise to resist as long as we can." "But if you have to capitulate, what will happen?" I asked. "If we do capitulate, our disaster will be complete," he answered. "I do not anticipate disorders; the population of Paris is an intelligent one, it wishes the Government to resist as long as it can, but not to prolong an impossible situation. Paris must do her part in defending the country, she can do no more." "Well," I said, "supposing that the Prussians were to withdraw, and peace were to be concluded on reasonable terms, what do you think would take place?" "Gambetta, Jules Favre, and the majority of the Parisian Deputies would call a Constituent Assembly as soon as possible, and resign power into its hands. They are moderate Republicans, but between a Red Republic and a Constitutional Monarchy they would prefer the latter. As practical men, from what I know of them, I am inclined to think that they would be in favour of the Orleanist family—either the Comte de Paris or the Duc d'Aumale." "And would the majority of the Constituent Assembly go with them?" I asked. "I think it would" he replied. "The Orleanist family would mean peace. Of late years Frenchmen have cared very little for military glory; their dream has been to save money. One advantage of our disasters is that it has limited the number of pretenders to the Throne, for after the capitulation of Sedan, neither the army nor the peasants will support a Bonaparte. There will be two parties—the ultra-Republicans, and the advocates of a Constitutional Monarchy under a Prince of the House of Orleans. Unless the friends of the Orleans Princes commit some great fault, they are masters of the situation."

I went down this morning to the Halles Centrales. There was very little going on. Bonnes were coming to market, but most of the booths were untenanted, and the price of vegetables, eggs, and butter was exorbitant. "Why do you complain of me?" said a dealer to a customer—"is it my fault? Curse Badinguet and that wretch of a Bismarck; they choose to fight, so you must pay double for these carrots" The butchers yesterday published an appeal against the maximum; they said that the cost of animals is so great that they positively are losing upon every joint which they sell. A new proclamation of the Mayor has just been issued, announcing that 500 oxen and 4,000 sheep will daily be slaughtered and sold to the butchers at a price to enable them to gain 20 per cent, by retailing meat at the official tariff. I find that, come what may, we have coffee and sugar enough to last many months, so that provided the bread does not fail, we shall take some time to starve out.

This afternoon a dense column of smoke was seen rising in the air in the direction of La Villette, and it gradually covered the town with a dark cloud. The pessimists among the Boulevard quidnuncs insisted that the town had been set on fire by the Prussians; the optimists were convinced that the 10,000, who for some reason or other are supposed to be in a wood, patiently waiting to be roasted, were being burnt. It turns out that some petroleum in the Buttes de Chaumont caught fire. After burning about two hours, the fire was put out by heaping dirt on it.

The Prussians still occupy the plateau of Meudon, and despatches from the forts say that troops are supposed to be concentrating between Meudon and Sevres. We have come to the conclusion that as the Prussians do not fire upon Grenello and Auteuil, they have neither Krupp nor siege guns. I trust this may prove true. News has been received from Tours; it was brought by an officer who ran the blockade. We are much elated to learn that the result of M. Jules Favre's interview has been posted up throughout France. We believe that the effect of this measure "will be equal to an army." The Post Office informs the public that a regular system of balloons has been organised, and that letters will be received and forwarded to the provinces and abroad, provided they do not weigh above four grammes. A deputation of English and American correspondents waited to-day on M. Jules Favre, to ask him to give them facilities to send their letters by the balloons. This he promised to do. He also half promised to let all correspondents have a pass, on stating who they are. The worst of a pass is, that it is no protection against arrest, for, say your captors, "Prussian spies are so cunning that they would be precisely the persons to have papers, either forged or stolen." Another trouble is, that if you are arrested, you are generally shut up, with half-a-dozen thieves and drunkards, for about twenty-four hours, before a Commissary condescends to inquire into your case. No one as yet has ever troubled me; but the spy mania certainly does not add to the charm of the residence of a stranger in Paris just now. I would rather run the chance of being hit during a bombardment, than affront the certainty of twenty-four hours in a filthy police cell. Suspicion is, no doubt, carried to a ridiculous excess; but it is equally true that unquestionable spies are arrested every day under every sort of disguise. Mr. Washburne told me yesterday that he saw a soi-disant "Invalide" arrested, who turned out to be a regular "spectacled Dutchman."

September 28th.

Nothing new at the front. We suppose that the enemy are concentrating troops on the Sevres-Meudon plateau, and that they intend to attack on that side. We are confident that the guns of Mont Valerien will prevent the success of this attack. On the opposite side of Paris they are endeavouring to erect batteries; but they are unable to do so on account of the fire of Fort Nogent. It seems to me that we are shouting before we are quite out of the wood; but we are already congratulating ourselves upon having sustained a siege which throws those of Saragossa and Richmond into the shade. If we have not yet been bombarded, we have assumed "an heroic attitude of expectation;" and if the Prussians have not yet stormed the walls, we have shown that we were ready to repel them if they had. Deprived of our shepherd and our sheep-dogs, we civic sheep have set up so loud a ba-ba, that we have terrified the wolves who wished to devour us. In the impossible event of an ultimate capitulation we shall hang our swords and our muskets over our fire-places, and say to our grandchildren, "I, too, was one of the defenders of Paris." In the meantime, soldiers who have run away when attacked are paraded through the streets with a placard on their breasts, requesting all good citizens to spit upon them. Two courts-martial have been established to judge spies and marauders, and in each of the nine sections there is a court-martial to sit upon peccant National Guards. "The sentence," says the decree, "will at once be executed by the detachment on duty." We are preparing for the worst; in the Place of the Pantheon, and other squares, it is proposed to take up the paving stones, because they will, if left, explode shells which may strike them. The windows of the Louvre and other public edifices are being filled with sand bags. This morning I was walking along the Rue Lafayette, when I heard a cry "A bas les cigares!" and I found that if I continued to smoke, it was thought that I should set light to some ammunition waggons which were passing.

Yesterday evening there was a report, which was almost universally credited, that a revolution had broken out in London, because the English Government had refused to aid Paris in driving back the Prussians. The Parisians find it impossible to understand that the world at large can see little distinction between a French army entering Berlin and a Prussian army entering Paris. Their capital is to them a holy city, and they imagine that the Christian world regards the Prussian attack upon it much as the Mahometan world would regard a bombardment of Mecca. No doubt it will be a shocking thing to bombard a city such as this, filled with women and children; still, being an Englishman, I cannot see that it would be worse than to bombard London. The newspapers of this morning contain a precis of a letter from "our Fritz" to William "the mystic drunkard." Our Fritz writes to his papa to say that he ought to have accepted peace when it was proffered by Jules Favre. How the contents of the letter are known in Paris is not stated. But here we know everything. We know that at a council of war held two days ago at Versailles a majority declared that it was impossible to take Paris. We know that the German soldiers are dying of starvation and clothed in rags. We know that they are forced by their officers, against their will, to attack their French brothers. Did not yesterday a National Guard himself take five Prussian prisoners? They were starving, and thankfully accepted a piece of bread. They had a wounded companion in a wheelbarrow, who continually shook his fist in the direction of the "mystic drunkard," and plaintively moaned forth the only French word he knew, "Miserable, miserable!" Did not another National Guard go into a house recently occupied by "Bavarians," and find the following words written on a shutter—"Poor Frenchmen, we love you: they force us to fight against you?" I believe all this, and many other strange facts, because I see them in print in the newspapers. Can it possibly be that I am over-credulous? Am I wrong, too, in believing that France is rising en masse, that Moltke did not understand his business in advancing on Paris, and that he will be crushed by the armies of the Loire and a dozen other places—if, indeed, our gallant heroes congregated in Paris give their brethren outside time to share in the triumph of defeating him? En attendant, we eat, drink, and are reasonably merry; our defenders mount guard, and drill when they are off guard. Our wary Mobiles outside not only refuse to allow Prussians to pass, but such is their vigilance, they generally arrest officers of any regiment except their own who come within their ken. These worthy fellows will, I believe, fight with bravery. The working men, too, are engaged in heaping up barricades, and are ready to allow themselves to be killed and their landlords' houses to be blown up rather than surrender. The sailors in the forts are prepared to hold them like ships against all comers. The "infantry of the marine" is commanded by an old tar who stands no nonsense. A few days ago he published an order complaining that the marines "undulated under fire." Some of his officers went to him as a deputation to protest against this slur on them and their men; but he cut their remonstrances short by immediately cashiering the spokesman. To-day he announces that if his men are supplied with drink within the limits of his command he will burn down all the pothouses. It is greatly to be deplored that the determined spirit of this Admiral does not animate all his brother commanders; they are perpetually engaged in discussing with those who are under their orders, and appear to be afraid to put down insubordination with a high hand. If ever they venture upon any act of rigour, they are called upon by the Ultra press to justify it, and they generally do so in a lengthy letter.

I have been, as the Americans say, much exercised of late respecting certain persons whom I have seen strolling about the streets, avoiding as much as possible their species. Whenever anyone looked at them they sneaked away with deprecating glances. They are dressed in a sort of pea-jacket, with hoods, black trousers, and black caps, and their general appearance was a cross between a sailor and a monk. I have at length discovered with surprise that these retiring innocents are the new sergents-de-ville of M. Keratry, who are daily denounced by the Ultras as ferocious wolves eager to rend and devour all honest citizens. If this be true, I can only say that they are well disguised in sheep's clothing.

Letters from Paris, if ever they do get to London, must necessarily be so dull, that they can hardly repay the trouble of reading them. Life here is about as lively as life on board a ship. The two main subjects of conversation, the military preparations within the town, and the amount of food, are in honour tabooed to correspondents. With respect to the former I will only say, that if the Prussians do carry the forts and the enceinte, they will not have taken Paris; with regard to the latter, I can state that we shall not be starved out for some time. Besides the cattle which have been accumulated, we have 90,000 horses; and although a cab horse may not taste as good as Southdown mutton, I have no doubt that Parisian cooking will make it a very palatable dish for hungry men; there are, too, a great many dogs, and the rats have not yet left the sinking ship. As for coffee and sugar we have enough to last for six months; and, unless the statistics of the Government are utterly worthless, come what may we shall not lack bread for many a day.

The Rump of the Corps Diplomatique has held a second meeting, and a messenger has been sent to Bismarck to know—1st, whether he means to bombard the city; 2nd, whether, if he does, he intends to give the usual twenty-four hours' notice. Diplomates are little better than old women when they have to act on an emergency. Were it not for Mr. Washburne, who was brought up in the rough-and-ready life of the Far West, instead of serving an apprenticeship in Courts and Government offices, those who are still here would be perfectly helpless. They come to him at all moments, and although he cannot speak French, for all practical purposes he is worth more than all his colleagues put together. Lord Lyons would, I believe, have remained, had he not been over persuaded by timid colleagues, who were ordered to do as he did. It is a great pity that he did not act according to his own judgment; but Republics, we know, are not in good odour with courtiers. As for that poor creature Metternich, he was utterly demoralized. He was more of a Chamberlain of Badinguet than an Ambassador, and, of course, when his friend disappeared, he took the earliest opportunity to follow his example.

September 29th.

We still are cut off from the outer world, but neither "the world forgetting," nor, we imagine, "by the world forgot." The inhabitants of the "Mecca of civilization" are still, like Sister Anne, looking out for some one to come to their assistance. I am utterly sick and tired of the eternal brag and bombast around me. Let the Parisians gain some success, and then celebrate it as loudly as they please: but why, in the name of common sense, will they rejoice over victories yet to come? "We are preserving," they say, "a dignified expectative attitude." Mr. Micawber put the thing in more simple vernacular when, he said that he was waiting for something to turn up. "First catch your hare" is a piece of advice which our patriots here would scoff at. They have not yet caught the Prussians, but they have already, by a flight of imagination, cooked and eaten them. Count Moltke may as well—if I am to believe one quarter of what I hear—like the American coon, come down. In a question of military strategy between the grocers of Paris and the Prussian generals I should have thought that the odds were considerably in favour of the latter, but I am told that this is not so, and that in laying siege to Paris they are committing a mistake for which a schoolboy would be deservedly whipped. If you eliminate the working-class element, which has not been corrupted by the Imperial system, the population of this town is much what I imagine that of Constantinople to have been when it was taken by the Turks. They are Greeks of the lower empire. Monsieur sticks his kepi on one side of his head, and struts and swaggers along the Boulevard as though he were a bantam cock. We have lost the petits creves who formed so agreeable an element in society, but they have been replaced by the military dandy, a being, if possible, still more offensive. This creature mounts some sorry screw and parades the Boulevard and the Champs Elysees, frowning dismally upon the world in general, and twirling his moustache with the one hand, whilst he holds on to the saddle with the other. His sword is of the longest, his waist is of the tightest, and his boots are of the brightest. His like is only to be seen in England when the Battle of Waterloo is played at Astley's, but his seat is not as good as that of the equestrian warriors of that establishment. As he slowly paces along he gazes slyly to see how many people are looking at him, and it must be owned that those who do see him, vastly admire him. What manner of beings these admirers are may be imagined from their idol. No contrast can be greater than that which exists between the Parisian Bobadils and the Provincial Mobiles. The latter are quiet and orderly, eager to drill and without a vestige of bluster—these poor peasants are of a very different stuff from the emasculated, conceited scum which has palmed itself off on Europe as representative Frenchmen. The families with whom they lodge speak with wonder of their sobriety, their decency, and their simple ways, and in their hearts almost despise them because they do not ravish their daughters or pillage their cellars; and neither swear every half-hour to die for their country, nor yell the "Marseillaise." If Paris be saved, it will be thanks to them and to the working men of the capital. But it will be the old sic vos non vobis story; their brave deeds and undemonstrative heroism will be forgotten, and Jules and Alphonse, the dandies and braggarts of the Boulevard, will swear to their own heroism. I trust that the Prussians will fail to take Paris, because I think that the French are right to fight on rather than submit to the dismemberment of their country; and because I prefer a Republic to a Monarchy where a King reigns by right divine. But when I read the bombastic articles in the newspapers—when I see the insane conceit and the utter ignorance of those with whom I am thrown—when I find them really believing that they are heroes because they are going, they say, to win battles, it is difficult to entertain any great sympathy for them. How utterly must poor old Badinguet, before whom they cringed for years—who used them, bought them, and made his market out of their vanity, their ignorance, and their love of theatrical claptrap, despise them, as he dreams again through life's dream in the gardens of his German prison. They call him now a "sinister scoundrel" and a "lugubrious stage player." But he was their master for many a long year, and they owe their emancipation from his yoke to Prussian arms and not to themselves.

A committee of "subsistence" has been established. The feud between the butchers and the public still continues, and most of the meat stalls are closed. The grocers, too, are charging absurd prices for their goods. La Liberte suggests that their clients should do themselves justice, and one of these mornings, unless these gentry abate their prices, some grocer will be found hanging before his door. Although provisions are plentiful, the misery is very great. Beggars increase in number every day—they are like one of the plagues of Egypt. I was taking a cup of coffee this morning before a cafe, and I counted twenty-three beggars who asked me for money whilst I was sitting there. We still derive much comfort from caricaturing Badinguet, William, and Bismarck. The latest effort represents Badinguet and William as Robert Macaire and Bertrand. Another represents Badinguet eating an eagle. "Coquin," says William, "what are you doing with your eagle?" "Eating it," replies Badinguet; "what else can I do with it?" Little statuettes, too, of the "two friends," Badinguet and William, are in great request. William, with an immense moustache, scowls at Badinguet, who humbly kneels before him.

M. Jules Favre, in reply to the English press deputation, sent last night to say that each correspondent must make a personal application to General Trochu. I know what that means already. All I ask is that my letters should be put up in a balloon. As for passes, I have one already, and it has not been of the slightest service to me. Les Nouvelles heads an article "English Spies," and proposes that to simplify the question of whether they are spies or not, all English in Paris should at once be shot. I cannot say that I personally have found any ill-feeling to exist against me because I am an Englishman. Yesterday afternoon I was in a crowd, and some one suggested that I was a spy; I immediately mounted on a chair and explained that I was a "journaliste Anglais," and pointed out to my friends that they ought to be obliged to me for remaining here. "If any one doubts me," I added, "let us go to the nearest commissary." No one did doubt me, and fifty patriots immediately shook hands with me. The French people are apt to form hasty judgments sometimes, and to act on them still more hastily, but if one can get them to listen for a moment, they are reasonable, and soon their natural good nature asserts itself. The zealous but well-intended Mobiles are the most dangerous, for they shoot you first and then apologise to your corpse. An order is placarded to-day of Governor Trochu's, announcing that anyone trying to pass the lines will be sent before the Courts Martial, or if he or she runs away when ordered to stop, will be shot on the spot. This latter clause allows a very great latitude for zeal, more particularly as the "lines" just now are little more than a geographical expression. Their Emperor is a prisoner, the enemy is thundering at their gates, they are shut up here like rats in a hole; they have been vanquished in the only engagement they have had with their besiegers, and yet the Parisians believe that, compared with them, the Germans are an inferior race, and, like the slave before Marius, will shrink abashed before the majesty of Paris. "If we," say their newspapers, "the wisest, the best, the noblest of human beings, have to succumb to this horde of barbarians that environ us, we shall cease to believe in the existence of a Providence."

The movement on the part of the "Ultras" to elect at once a municipality is gaining strength. Yesterday several chiefs of the faubourg battalions of the National Guard interviewed Jules Ferry on the subject. Ledru Rollin has declared himself in favour of it, and this morning there are evidences that the Government is inclined to give way to the pressure, for a decree is published in the Journal Officiel ordering a registration of voters. The worst of Frenchmen is that, no matter how patriotic each one may be, he is convinced that the interests of his country require that he should be one of its rulers. The men of '48 who have returned from exile are surprised that they are almost forgotten by the present generation, which regards them as interesting historical relics, and puts its faith in new gods. At the clubs every evening the Government is denounced for refusing to admit into its ranks this or that patriot, or adjourning the municipal elections, and for not sending revolutionary agents into the provinces. A newspaper this morning makes the excellent suggestion that M. Blanqui, M.F. Pyat, and their principal adherents should be invited to proceed at once to the provinces in a balloon, invested with the rank of Government agents. "They cannot," it adds, "do so much harm there as they are doing here; and then, too, the balloon may burst." Personally, I should be glad to see a moderate Republic established here, for I regard a Court as a waste of public money; but it seems to me that Republicans should remember that it is for the nation, and not for them, to decide what shall henceforward be the form of government.



CHAPTER IV

September 30th.

We are still beating our tom-toms like the Chinese, to frighten away the enemy, and our braves still fire off powder at invisible Uhlans. The Prussians, to our intense disgust, will not condescend even to notice us. We jeer at them, we revile them, and yet they will not attack us. What they are doing we cannot understand. They appear to have withdrawn from the advanced positions which they held. We know that they are in the habit of making war in a thoroughly ungentlemanly manner, and we cannot make up our minds whether our "attitude" is causing them to hesitate, or whether they are not devising some new trick to take us by surprise. That they are starving, that their communications with Germany are cut off, that their leaders are at loggerheads, that the Army of the Loire will soon be here to help us to demolish them, we have not the slightest doubt. The question is no longer whether Paris will be taken—that we have solved already—it is whether the Prussians will be able to get back to the Rhine. We are thankful that Bismarck did not accept Jules Favre's offer of a money indemnity. We would not give a hundred francs now to ensure peace or an armistice. I went this morning into a shop, the proprietor of which, a bootmaker, I have long known, and I listened with interest to the conversation of this worthy man with some of his neighbours who had dropped in to have a gossip, and to congratulate him on his martial achievements, as he had been on guard in a bastion. We first discussed why the Army of the Loire had not arrived, and we came to the conclusion that it was engaged in rallying Bazaine. "I should like to read your English newspapers now," said one; "your Tims told us we ought to cede Alsace and Lorraine, but its editor must now acknowledge that Paris is invincible." I told him that I felt convinced that he did so regularly every morning. "No peace," shouted a little tailor, who had been prancing about on an imaginary steed, killing imaginary Prussians, "we have made a pact with death; the world knows now what are the consequences of attacking us." The all-absorbing question of subsistence then came up, and some one remarked that beef would give out sooner than mutton. "We must learn," observed a jolly-looking grocer, "to vanquish the prejudices of our stomachs. Even those who do not like mutton must make the sacrifice of their taste to their country." I mildly suggested that perhaps in a few weeks the stomachs which had a prejudice against rats would have to overcome it. At this the countenance of the gossips fell considerably, when the bootmaker, after mysteriously closing the door, whispered, "A secret was confided to me this morning by an intimate friend of General Trochu. There is a tunnel which connects Paris with the provinces, and through it flocks and herds are entering the town." This news cheered us up amazingly. My bootmaker's wife came in to help him off with his military accoutrements; so, with a compliment about Venus disarming Mars, I withdrew in company with an American, who had gone into the shop with me. This American is a sort of transatlantic Bunsby. He talks little, but thinks much. His sole observation to me as we walked away was this, "They will squat, sir, mark my words, they will squat." I received this oracular utterance with respect, and I leave it to others to solve its meaning, I am myself a person of singular credulity, but even I sometimes ask myself whether all I hear and read can be true. Was there really, as all the newspapers this morning inform me, a meeting last Sunday at London of 400,000 persons, who were addressed by eminent M.P's, and by the principal merchants and owners of manufactories in England, at which resolutions were adopted denouncing the Queen, and calling upon Mr. Gladstone either to retire from office, or to declare war against Prussia?

The Tuileries correspondence, of which I gave a short summary yesterday, reveals the fact that both M. de Cassagnac and Baron Jerome David were regular pensioners on the Civil List. The cost of the Prince Imperial's baptism amounted to 898,000fr. The cousins, male and female, of the Emperor, received 1,310,975fr. per annum; the Duc de Persigny received in two months, 60,000fr.; Prince Jablonowyski, Countess Gajan, Madame Claude Vignon, Le General Morris, and many other ladies and gentlemen who never did the State any service, are down for various sums. Among other items is one of 1,200fr. to General de Failly for sugar plums. The Duchess of Mouchy, whose name continually appears, received 2,000,000fr. as a marriage portion. The son of the American Bonaparte had a pension of 30,000fr.; Madame Ratazzi of 24,000fr.; her sister, Madame Turr, the same; Marquis Pepoli, 25,000fr. But the poor relations do not appear to have been contented with their pensions, for on some pretext or other they were always getting extra allowances out of their rich cousin. As for Prince Achille Murat, the Emperor paid his debts a dozen times. Whatever he may have been to the outer world, poor old Badinguet seems to have been a Providence to his forty-two cousins and to his personal friends. He carried out Sidney Smith's notion of charity—put his hand into someone else's pocket, and gave away what he stole liberally.

Figaro, with its usual good taste, recommends the battalions of the National Guard to choose celebrities of the demi-monde for their vivandieres. From what I hear every day, I imagine that the battalions will be far more likely to hang the editor of this facetious paper than to take his advice. I am told by the kiosque women that its sale is falling off daily.

The clubs and their organs have announced that the municipal elections are to take place, with or without the consent of the Government, on October 2, and that not only the inhabitants of Paris, but the Gardes Mobiles and the peasants who have taken refuge within the walls of the city are to vote. In the working men's quarters there is undoubtedly a strong feeling in favour of these elections being held at once. But the working men do not attend the clubs. I have dropped into several of them, and the audience appeared to me principally to be composed of strongminded women and demagogues, who never did an honest day's work in their lives. The Government has, however, been "interviewed" on the subject of the municipal elections by the chiefs of the battalions of the National Guards of the Faubourgs, and, if only some men of position can be found to put themselves at the head of the movement, it will cause trouble. As yet, Ledru-Rollin is the only known politician who avowedly favours it. The Government is, I believe, divided upon the expediency of holding the elections at once, or rather I should say, upon the possibility of putting them off without provoking disturbances. I am inclined to think that, as is usually the case, the Moderates will yield on this point to their Ultra colleagues. Very possibly they may think that, if ever a capitulation becomes necessary, it will be as well to make the nominees of the Faubourgs share in the responsibility. As Jules Favre said of Rochefort, they are perhaps safer in the Government than outside of it.

The column of the Place Vendome is daily bombarded by indignant patriots, who demand that it should be razed to the ground, and the metal of which it is composed be melted down into cannon. The statue of Napoleon I., in the cocked hat and great-coat, which used to be on its summit, was removed a few years ago to a pedestal at the end of the Avenue de la Grande Armee. It has been concealed to preserve it from the iconoclasts. There has been a lull of late in M. Gambetta's proclamations. Within the last twenty-four hours, not above two fresh ones have appeared. The newspapers are beginning to clamour for a sortie. Why, they ask, are we to allow ourselves to be besieged by an army which does not equal in numbers our own? Why are we to allow them quietly to establish their batteries? There is a certain amount of sense in these complaints, though the vital question of how regiments, which have never had an opportunity of being brigaded together, will be able to vanquish in the open field the disciplined troops of Germany, is the unknown [Greek: x] in the problem which has yet to be solved. It is evident, however, that the question must be tested, unless we are to remain within the fortifications until we have digested our last omnibus horse. If the enemy attacks, there is fair ground to suppose that he will be repelled; but then, perhaps he will leave us to make the first move. Without entering into details, I may say that considerable engineering skill has been shown of late in strengthening the defences, that the Mobiles and the National Guard, if their words mean anything, which has yet to be proved, are full of fighting, and that the armed force at our disposal has at length been knocked into some sort of shape. Every day that the Prussian attack is delayed diminishes its chance of success. "If they do carry the town by assault," said a general to me yesterday, "it will be our fault, for, from a military point of view, it is now impregnable." What the effect of a bombardment may be upon the morale of the inhabitants we have yet to see. In any case, however, until several of those hard nuts, the forts, have been cracked, a bombardment can only be partial.

There was heavy firing last night, and it increased in intensity this morning. At about one o'clock I saw above 100 wounded being brought to the Palais de l'Industrie, and on going to Montrouge I found the church near the fortifications full of them. The following is the official account of what has happened:

Our troops in a vigorous sortie, successively occupied Chevilly and l'Hay, and advanced as far as Thiais and Choisy-le-Roi. All these positions were solidly occupied, the latter with cannon. After a sharp artillery and musketry engagement our troops fell back on their positions with a remarkable order and aplomb. The Garde Mobile were very firm. En somme journee tres honorable. Our losses have been considerable. Those of the enemy probably as considerable. TROCHU.

I need not add that as usual we have had rumours all day of a great victory and a junction with the Army of the Loire. General Trochu's despatch, dated 10-30, Bicetre, reduces matters to their real dimensions.

October 1st.

Although the Government statistics respecting the amount of food in Paris have been published, and are consequently, in all probability, in the hands of the Prussians, I do not like to give them myself. It can, however, do no harm to explain the system which is being adopted by the authorities to make our stores hold out as long as possible. Every butcher receives each morning a certain amount of meat, calculated upon his average sales. Against this meat he issues tickets in the evening to his customers, who, upon presentation of the ticket the next morning, receive the amount for which they have inscribed themselves at the price fixed by the tariff of the week. When tickets have been issued by the butcher equivalent to the meat which he is to receive, he issues no more. Yesterday a decree was promulgated, ordering all persons having flour on sale to give it up to the Government at the current price. It will, I presume, be distributed to the bakers, like the meat to the butchers. As regards meat, the supply does not equal the demand—many persons are unable to obtain tickets, and consequently have to go without it. Restaurants cannot get enough for their customers. This evening, for instance, at seven o'clock, on going into a restaurant, I found almost everything already eaten up. I was obliged to "vanquish the prejudices of my stomach," and make a dinner on sheeps' trotters, pickled cauliflower, and peaches. My stomach is still engaged in "vanquishing its prejudice" to this repast, and I am yet in the agonies of indigestion. In connection, however, with this question of food, there is another important consideration. Work is at a standstill. Mobiles and Nationaux who apply forma pauperis receive one franc and a half per diem. Now, at present prices, it is materially impossible for a single man to buy sufficient food to stave off hunger for this sum, how then those who depend upon it for their sustenance, and have wives and families to support out of it, are able to live, it is difficult to understand. Sooner or later the population will have to be rationed like soldiers, and, if the siege goes on, useless mouths will have to be turned out. It was supposed that the peasants in the neighbourhood of Paris, who were invited to take refuge within its walls, would bring more than enough food with them for themselves and their families, but they preferred to bring their old beds and their furniture. Besides our stores of flour, of sheep, and of oxen, we have twenty-two million pounds of horse-flesh to fall back upon, so that I do not think that we shall be starved out for some time; still the misery among those who have no money to buy food will, unless Government boldly faces the question, be very great. Everything, except beef, mutton, and bread, is already at a fancy price. Ham costs 7fr. the kilo.; cauliflowers, 1.50fr. a head; salt butter 9fr. the kilo, (a kilo, is about two pounds); a fat chicken 10fr.; a thin one, 5fr.; a rabbit, 11fr.; a duck, 9fr.; a fat goose, 20fr.

Rents, too, are as vexed a question as they are in Ireland. In a few days the October term comes due. Few can pay it; it is proposed, therefore, to allow no landlord to levy it either before the close of the siege or before December.

General Trochu, in his Rapport Militaire of yesterday's proceedings, expands his despatch of yesterday evening. The object, he says, was, by a combined action on both banks of the Seine, to discover precisely in what force the enemy was in the villages of Choisy-le-Roi and Chevilly. Whilst the brigade of General Giulham drove the enemy out of Chevilly, the head of the column of General Blaise entered the village of Thiais, and seized a battery of cannon, which, however, could not be moved for want of horses. At this moment the Prussians were reinforced, and a retreat took place in good order. General Giulham was killed. General d'Exea, while this combat was going on, marched with a brigade on Creteil, and inflicted a severe loss with his mitrailleuses on the enemy. This report contrasts favourably with the florid, exaggerated accounts of the engagement which are published in this morning's papers. I am glad to find that France possesses at least one man who tells the truth, and who can address his fellow-citizens in plain language. The credulity of the Parisians, and their love of high-flown bombast, amount to a disease, which, if this city is not to sink into a species of Baden Baden, must be stamped out. Mr. O'Sullivan recently published an account of his expedition to the Prussian headquarters in the Electeur Libre. Because he said that the Prussians were conducting themselves well in the villages they occupied, the editor of the paper has been overwhelmed with letters reviling him for publishing such audacious lies. Most Frenchmen consider anyone who differs from them to be either a knave or a fool, and they fabricate facts to prove their theories. An "intelligent young man" published a letter this morning saying that he had escaped from Versailles, and that already 700 girls have been ravished there by the Prussians. This intelligent young man's tale will be credited, and Mr. O'Sullivan will be disbelieved by nine-tenths of this population. They believe only what they wish to believe.

M. Rochefort has issued a "poster" begging citizens not to construct private barricades. There must, he justly observes, be "unity in the system of interior defences." The Reveil announces that the Ultras do not intend to proceed to revolutionary elections of a municipality to-morrow, because they have hopes that the Government intend to yield on this question. The Prefect of the Police is actively engaged in an attempt to throw light upon Pietri's connection with the plots which periodically came to a head against the Empire. Documents have been discovered which will show that most of these plots were got up by the Imperial police. Pietri, Lagrange, and Barnier, a juge d'instruction, were the prime movers. A certain Bablot received 20,000fr. for his services as a conspirator.

The complaints of the newspapers against the number of young men who avoid military duty by hooking themselves on in some capacity or other to an ambulance are becoming louder every day. For my part I confess that I look with contempt upon any young Frenchman I meet with the red cross on his arm, unless he be a surgeon. I had some thoughts of making myself useful as a neutral in joining one of these ambulances, but I was deterred by what happened to a fellow-countryman of mine who offered his services. He was told that thousands of applicants were turned away every day, and that there already were far more persons attached to every ambulance than were necessary.

Dr. Evans, the leading spirit of the American ambulance, the man whose speciality it was to have drawn more royal teeth, and to have received more royal decorations than any other human being, has left Paris. Mr. Washburne informs me that there are still about 250 Americans here, of whom about forty are women. Some of them remain to look after their homes, others out of curiosity. "I regard," said an American lady to me to-day, who had been in a southern city (Vicksburg, if I remember rightly), when it was under fire, "a bombardment as the finest and most interesting effort of pyrotechnical skill, and I want to see if you Europeans have developed this art as fully as we have, which I doubt."

October 2nd.

I wrote to General Trochu yesterday to ask him to allow me to accompany him outside the walls to witness military operations. His secretary has sent me a reply to-day regretting that the General cannot comply with my request. The correspondent of the Morning Post interviewed the secretary yesterday on the same subject, but was informed that as no laisser passer was recognised by the Mobiles, and as General Trochu had himself been arrested, the Government would not take upon itself the responsibility of granting them. This is absurd, for I hear that neither the General nor any of his staff have been fired upon or arrested during the last week. The French military mind is unable to understand that the world will rather credit the testimony of impartial neutrals than official bulletins. As far as correspondents are concerned, they are worse off under the Republic than even under the Empire.

M. Louis Blanc's appeal to the people of England is declamatory and rhetorical in tone, and I am inclined to think that the people of England are but a Richard Doe, and that in reality it is addressed to the Parisians. M. Blanc asks the English in Paris to bear witness that the windows of the Louvre are being stuffed with sandbags to preserve the treasures within from the risks of a bombardment. I do so with pleasure. I cannot, however, bear him out in his assertions respecting the menacing calm of Paris, and the indomitable attitude of its National Guards. M. Blanc, like most of his countrymen, mistakes the wish for the will, words for deeds, promises for performance. What has happened here, and what is happening? The forts are manned with sailors, who conscientiously fire off their cannon. A position has been lost. Two sorties consisting of troops and armed peasants have been driven back. The National Guards do duty on the ramparts, drill in the streets, offer crowns to the statue of Strasburg, wear uniforms, and announce that they have made a pact with death. I sincerely trust that they may distinguish themselves, but they have not had an opportunity to do so. Not one of them has as yet honoured his draft on death. Behind their forts, their troops, their crowd of peasants, and their ramparts, they boast of what they will do. If they do really bury themselves beneath the ruins of their capital they will be entitled to the admiration of history, but as yet they are civilians of the present and heroes of the future. Noisy blusterers may be brave men. I have no doubt there are many in Paris ready to die for their country. I can, however, only deal with facts, and I find that the Parisians appear to rely for safety upon everything except their own valour. One day it is the Army of the Loire; another day it is some mechanical machine; another day dissensions among the Prussian generals; another day the intervention of Russia or Austria. In the meantime, clubs denounce the Government; club orators make absurd and impracticable speeches, the Mayor changes the names of streets, and inscribes Liberte, Egalite, and Fraternite on the public buildings. The journals of all colours, with only one or two exceptions, are filled with lies and bombast, and the people believe the one and admire the other. The Minister of the Interior placards the walls with idle proclamations, and arrests Bonapartists. Innocent neutrals are mobbed as Prussian spies, and the only prisoners that we see are French soldiers on their way to be shot for cowardice. Nothing is really done to force the Prussians to raise the siege, although the defenders exceed in number the besiegers. How can all this end? In a given time provisions and ammunition will be exhausted, and a capitulation must ensue. I wish with all my heart that the hosts of Germany may meet with the same fate as befell the army of Sennacherib; but they are not likely to be killed or forced to retreat by speeches, pacts with death, sentimental appeals, and exaggerated abuse.

The Temps calculates that our loss on Friday amounted to about 500 wounded and 400 killed. The object of the sortie was to blow up a bridge over the Seine, and to rouse the courage of the Parisians by obtaining a marked success at a point where the Prussians were not supposed to be in force. Neither end was attained, and consequently we are greatly depressed. Count Bismarck has not condescended to send a reply to the Corps Diplomatique, requesting to be allowed to establish postal communication with their Governments, much to the disgust of that estimable body.

The result of the pryings of the Government into the papers of their predecessors has as yet only disclosed the facts, that most of the conspiracies against the Empire were got up by the police, and that the Emperor bribed porters and postmen to open letters. His main object seems to have been to get hold of the letters of his Ministers to their mistresses. The fourth livraison of the Tuileries papers contains the report of a spy on the doings of the Russian Military Attache. This gentleman lost some document, and observes that it can only be his Prussian colleague who took it from him. Such is diplomacy. The weather is beautiful. Women and children are making holiday in the streets. The inner line of barricades is nearly finished.

Evening.

The news of the fall of Strasburg and Toul was received by the Government here this morning, and has just been made public. "In falling," says M. Gambetta, "they cast a glance towards Paris to affirm once more the unity and indivisibility of the Republic; and they leave us as a legacy the duty to deliver them, the honour to revenge them." The Boulevards were crowded, and everyone seemed as much astonished as if they had never believed this double disaster to be possible. Many refused to credit the news. L'Electeur Libre proposes to meet the emergency by sending "virile missionaries into the provinces to organise a levee en masse, to drive from our territory the impious hordes which are overrunning it." These missionaries would, I presume, go to their posts in balloons. It never seems to occur to anyone here that the authority of a Parisian dropping down from the clouds in a parachute in any province would be contested. The right of Paris to rule France is a dictum so unquestioned in the minds of the Parisians, that their newspapers are now urging the Government to send new men to Tours to oust those who were sent there before the commencement of the siege. It strikes no one that the thirty-eight million of Frenchmen outside Paris may be of opinion that the centralization of all power in the hands of the most corrupt and frivolous capital in the universe has had its share in reducing France to her present desperate condition, and may be resolved to assert their claim to have a voice in the conduct of public affairs. The Parisians regard all provincials as helots, whose sole business it is to hear and to obey. If the result to France of her disasters could be to free her at once from the domination of the Emperor and of Paris, she would in the end be the gainer by them.

I hear that General Vinoy expresses himself very satisfied with the soldierly bearing of the Mobiles who were under fire on Friday. It was far better, he says, than he expected. He ascribes the failure of his sortie to the forts having forewarned the Prussians by their heavy firing between three and four o'clock in the morning. M. de Rohan, "delegate of the democracy of England," has written a long letter to M. Jules Favre informing him that a friend who has arrived from London (!) has brought news of an immense meeting which has been held in favour of France, and that this meeting represents the opinion of the whole of England. M. Jules Favre, in his reply, expresses his sincere thanks "for the sentiments which have been so nobly expressed in the name of the English nation." The correspondence occupies two columns in the Journal Officiel. M. de Rohan's residence in England is, I should imagine, in the vicinity of Tooley-street.

October 3rd.

The Journal Officiel contains a decree ordering the statue of Strasburg, on the Place de la Concorde, to be replaced by one in bronze. No war news.



CHAPTER V.

October 5th.

From a military, or rather an engineering point of view, Paris is stronger to-day than it was two weeks ago. The defences have been strengthened. With respect, however, to its defenders, they are much what they were. The soldiers of the line and the marines are soldiers; the Mobiles and the Nationaux, with some few exceptions, remain armed citizens. Each battalion is an imperium in imperio. The men ignore every one except their own officers, and these officers exercise but little influence except when they consent to act in strict accordance with the feelings of those whom they are supposed to command. Some of the battalions appear to be anxious to fight, but it unfortunately happens that these are the very ones which are most undisciplined. The battalions of the bourgeois quarters obey orders, but there is no go in them. The battalions of the artizan Faubourgs have plenty of go, but they do not obey orders. General Trochu either cannot, or does not, desire to enforce military discipline. Outside the enceinte, the hands of the Mobiles are against every man, but no notice is taken when they fire at or arrest officers of other corps. The Courts-martial which sit are a mere farce. I see that yesterday a Franc-tireur was tried for breaking his musket when ordered to march. He was acquitted because the court came to the conclusion that he was "un brave garcon." The application of military law to the Nationaux is regarded by these citizens as an act of arbitrary power. Yesterday several battalions passed the following resolution:—"In order to preserve at once necessary discipline and the rights of citizens, no man shall henceforward be brought before a council of war, or be awarded a punishment, except with the consent of the family council of his company."

I am not a military man, but it certainly does appear to me strange that the Prussians are allowed quietly to entrench themselves round the city, and that they are not disturbed by feints and real sorties. We can act on the inner lines, we have got a circular railroad, and we have armed men in numbers. General Trochu has announced that he has a plan, the success of which he guarantees; he declines to confide to a soul any of its details, but he announces that he has deposited it with his notary, Maitre Duclos, in order that it may not be lost to the world in the event of his being killed. As yet no one has fathomed this mysterious plan; it appears to contemplate defensive rather than offensive operations.

Mont Valerien now fires daily. Its commander has been changed; its former one has been removed because the protests against the silence of this fort were so loud and strong. His successor, with the fate of his predecessor before him, bangs away at every Uhlan within sight. For the commanders of forts to be forced to keep up a continual fire in order to satisfy public opinion, is not an encouraging state of things. The assertion of the Government, that no reports of what is going on in France have been received from Tours, is discredited. They have got themselves in a mess by their former declarations that communications with the exterior were kept up; for if they know nothing, it is asked what can these communications have been worth. Our last news from outside is derived from a Rouen newspaper of the 29th ult., which is published to-day.

A few days ago it was announced that all pledges below the value of 20fr. would be returned by the Mont-de-Piete without payment. Since then everyone has been pledging articles for sums below this amount, as a second decree of the same nature is expected. It is not a bad plan to give relief in this manner to those in want. As yet, however, there is no absolute destitution, and as long as the provisions last I do not think that there will be. So long as flour and meat last, everyone with more or less trouble will get his share. As the amount of both these articles is, however, finite, one of these days we shall hear that they are exhausted. The proprietors have been deprived of their power to sue for rents, consequently a family requires but little ready money to rub on from hand to mouth. My landlord every week presents me with my bill. The ceremony seems to please him, and does me no harm. I have pasted upon my mantlepiece the decree of the Government adjourning payment of rent, and the right to read and re-read this document is all that he will get from me until the end of the siege. Yesterday I ordered myself a warm suit of clothes; I chose a tailor with a German name, so I feel convinced that he will not venture to ask for payment under the present circumstances, and if he does he will not get it. If my funds run out before the siege is over I shall have at least the pleasure to think that this has not been caused by improvidence.

Some acquaintances of mine managed in the course of yesterday to get out to Villejuif without being arrested. I have not been so fortunate. I have charged the barrieres three times, and each time have had to retire discomfited. My friends describe the soldiers of the line in the front as utterly despising their allies the Mobiles. They camp out without tents, in order to be ready at any moment to resist an attack.

October 7th.

Paris would hardly be recognised under its present aspect by those citizens of the Far West who are in the habit of regarding it as a place where good Americans go when they die. In the garden of the Tuileries, where bonnes used to flirt with guardsmen, there is an artillery camp. The guns, the pickets of horses, the tents, the camp-fires, and the soldiers in their shirt-sleeves, have a picturesque effect under the great trees. On the Place de la Concorde from morning to evening there is a mob discussing things in general, and watching the regiments as they defile with their crowns before the statue of Strasburg. In the morning the guns of the forts can be heard heavily booming; but the sound has now lost its novelty, and no one pays more attention to it than the miller to the wheel of his mill. In the Champs Elysees there are no private carriages, and few persons sitting on the chairs. The Palais de l'Industrie is the central ambulance; the Cirque de l'Imperatrice a barrack. All the cafes chantants are closed. Some few youthful votaries of pleasure still patronise the merry-go-rounds; but the business cannot be a lucrative one. Along the quays by the river side there are cavalry and infantry regiments under tentes d'abri. The Champ de Mars is a camp. In most of the squares there are sheep and oxen. On the outer Boulevards lines of huts have been built for the Mobiles, and similar huts are being erected along the Rue des Remparts for the Nationaux on duty. Everywhere there are squads of Nationaux, some learning the goose-step, others practising skirmishing between the carts and fiacres, others levelling their guns and snapping them off at imaginary Prussians. The omnibuses are crowded; and I fear greatly that their horses will be far from tender when we eat them. The cabbies, once so haughty and insolent, are humble and conciliatory, for Brutus and Scaevola have taught them manners, and usually pay their fares in patriotic speeches. At the Arc de Triomphe, at the Trocadero, and at Passy, near the Point du Jour, there are always crowds trying to see the Prussians on the distant hills, and in the Avenue de l'Imperatrice (now the Avenue Uhrich), there are always numerous admirers of Mont Valerien gazing silently upon the object of their worship. In the Faubourg St. Antoine workmen are lounging about doing nothing, and watching others drilling. In the outer faubourgs much the same thing goes on, except where barricades are being built. Round each of these there is always a crowd of men and women, apparently expecting the enemy to assault them every moment. At the different gates of the town there are companies of Mobiles and National Guards, who sternly repel every civilian who seeks to get through them. On an average of every ten minutes, no matter where one is, one meets either a battalion of Nationaux or Mobiles, marching somewhere. The asphalt of the boulevards, that sacred ground of dandies and smart dresses, is deserted during the daytime. In the evening for about two hours it is thronged by Nationaux with their wives; Mobiles who ramble along, grinning vaguely, hand in hand, as though they were in their native villages; and loafers. There, and in the principal streets, speculators have taken advantage of the rights of man to stop up the side walks with tables on which their wares are displayed. On some of them there are kepis, on others ointment for corns, on others statuettes of the two inseparables of Berlin, William and his little Bismarck, on others General Trochu and the members of the Government in gilt gingerbread. The street-hawkers are enjoying a perfect carnival—the last editions of the papers—the Tuileries' papers—the caricatures of Badinguet—portraits of the heroic Uhrich, and infallible cures for the small-pox or for worms, are offered for sale by stentorian lungs. Citizens, too, equally bankrupt alike in voice and in purse, place four lighted candles on the pavement, and from the midst of this circle of light dismally croak the "Marseillaise" and other patriotic songs. As for beggars, their name is legion; but as every one who wants food can get it at the public cantines, their piteous whines are disregarded. Lodgings are to be hired in the best streets for about one-tenth part of what was asked for them two months ago, and even that need not be paid. Few shops are shut; but their proprietors sit, hoping against hope, for some customer to appear. The grocers, the butchers, and the bakers, and the military tailors, still make money; but they are denounced for doing so at the clubs as bad patriots. As for the hotels, almost all of them are closed. At the Grand Hotel, there are not twenty persons. Business of every kind is at a standstill. Those who have money, live on it; those who have not, live on the State: the former shrug their shoulders and say, "Provided it does not last;" the latter do not mind how long it lasts. All are comparatively happy in the thought that the eyes of Europe are on them, and that they have already thrown Leonidas and his Spartans into the shade.

The Government has placarded to-day a despatch from Tours. Two armies are already formed, we are told—one at Lyons, and the other at——. The situation of Bazaine is excellent. The provinces are ready. The departments are organising to the cry of "Guerre a outrance, ni un pouce de terrain, ni une pierre de nos forteresses!" I trust that the news is true; but I have an ineradicable distrust of all French official utterances. A partial attempt is being made to relieve the population. At the Mairies of the arrondissements, tickets are delivered to heads of families, giving them the right to a certain portion of meat per diem until January. The restaurants are still fairly supplied; so that the system of rationing is not yet carried out in its integrity.

I am not entirely without hopes that the trial through which France is passing will in the end benefit it. Although we still brag a good deal, there is within the last few days a slight diminution of bluster. Cooped up here, week after week, the population must in the end realise the fact that the world can move on without them, and that twenty years of despotism has enervated them and made other nations their equals, if not their superiors. As Sydney Smith said of Macaulay, they have occasional flashes of silence. They sit, now and then, silent and gloomy, and mourn for the "Pauvre France." "Nous sommes bien tombes." This is a good sign, but will it outlive a single gleam of success? Shall we not in that case have the Gallic cock crowing as lustily as ever? The French have many amiable and engaging qualities, and if adversity would only teach them wisdom, the country is rich enough to rise from the ruin which has overtaken it. M. Jules Simon has published a plan of education which he says in twenty years will produce a race of virile citizens; but this is a little long to wait for a social regeneration. At present they are schoolboys, accustomed to depend on their masters for everything, and the defence of Paris is little more than the "barring out" of a girls' school. They cannot, like Anglo-Saxons, organise themselves, and they have no man at their head of sufficient force of character to impose his will upon them. The existing Government has, it is true, to a certain extent produced administrative order, but they have not succeeded in inspiring confidence in themselves, or in raising the spirit of the Parisians to the level of the situation. The Ultras say justly, that this negative system cannot last, and that prompt action is as much a political as it is a military necessity.

The sixth livraison of the Tuileries papers has just appeared. Its contents are unimportant. There is a receipt from Miss Howard, the Emperor's former mistress, showing that between 1850 and 1855 she received above five million francs. This sum was not, however, a sufficient remuneration in her opinion, for her services, as in July, 1855, she writes for more, and says "the Emperor is too good to leave a woman whom he has tenderly loved in a false position." This and several other of her letters are addressed to the Emperor's Secretary, whose functions seem to have been of a peculiarly domestic character. Indeed, the person who fulfilled them would everywhere, except at a Court, have been called something less euphonious than "secretary." A report from M. Duvergier, ex-Secretary-General of the Police, is published respecting the Cabinet Noir. It is addressed to the then Minister of the Interior. It is lengthy, and very detailed. It appears that occasionally the Emperor's own letters were opened.

I went to the Hotel de Ville this afternoon, to see whether anything was going on there. Several battalions passed by, but they did not demonstrate en passant. The place was full of groups of what in England would be called the "dangerous classes." They were patiently listening to various orators who were denouncing everything in general, and the Government in particular. The principal question seemed to be that of arms. Frenchmen are so accustomed to expect their Governments to do everything for them, that they cannot understand why, although there were but few Chassepots in the city, every citizen should not be given one. It is indeed necessary to live here and to mix with all classes to realise the fact that the Parisians have until now lived in an ideal world of their own creation. Their orators, their statesmen, and their journalists, have traded upon the traditions of the First Empire, and persuaded them that they are a superior race, and that their superiority is universally recognised. Utterly ignorant of foreign languages and of foreign countries, they believe that their literature is the only one in the world, and that a Frenchman abroad is adored as something little less than a divinity. They regard the Prussians round their city much as the citizens of Sparta would have regarded Helots, and they are so astonished at their reverses, that they are utterly unable to realise what is going on. As for trying to make them comprehend that Paris ought to enjoy no immunity from attack which Berlin or London might not equally claim, it is labour lost. "The neutrals," I heard a member of the late Assembly shouting in a cafe, "are traitors to civilisation in not coming to the aid of the Queen of Europe." They did their very best, they declare, to prevent Napoleon from making war. Yet one has only to talk with one of them for half an hour to find that he still hankers after the Rhine, and thinks that France wishes to be supreme in Europe.

October 8th.

Yesterday I happened to be calling at the Embassy, when a young English gentleman made his appearance, and quietly asked whether he could take any letters to England. He is to start to-day in a balloon, and has paid 5,000f. for his place. I gave him a letter, and a copy of one which I had confided on Wednesday to an Irishman who is trying to get through the lines. I hear that to-morrow the Columbian Minister is going to the Prussian Headquarters, and a friend of mine assures me that he thinks if I give him a letter by one o'clock to-day this diplomatist will take it. The Corps Diplomatique are excessively indignant with the reply they have received from Count Bismarck, declining to allow any but open despatches through the Prussian lines. They have held an indignation meeting. M. Kern, the Swiss Minister, has drawn up a protest, which has been signed by himself and all his colleagues. The Columbian Minister is to be the bearer of it. It bombards Bismarck with copious extracts from Puffendorf and Grotius, and cites a case in point from the siege of Vienna in the 15th century. It will be remembered that Messenger Johnson, at the risk of his life and at a very great expense to the country, brought despatches to the Parisian Embassy on the second day of the siege. I recommend Mr. Rylands, or some other M.P. of independent character, to insist upon Parliament being informed what these important despatches were. The revelation will be a curious one.

Yesterday afternoon I made an excursion into the Bois de Boulogne under the convoy of a friend in power. We went out by the Porte de Neuilly. Anything like the scene of artificial desolation and ruin outside this gate it is impossible to imagine. The houses are blown up—in some places the bare walls are still standing, in others even these have been thrown down. The Bois itself, from being the most beautiful park in the world, has become a jungle of underwood. In the roads there are large barricades formed of the trees which used to line them, which have been cut down. Between the ramparts and the lake the wood is swept clean away, and the stumps of the trees have been sharpened to a point. About 8,000 soldiers are encamped in the open air on the race-course and in the Bois. Near Suresnes there is a redoubt which throws shell and shot into St. Cloud. We are under the impression that the firing from this redoubt, from Valerien, Issy, and the gunboat Farcy, which took place on Thursday morning, between 2 a.m. and 8 a.m., has destroyed the batteries and earthworks which the Prussians were erecting on the heights of St. Cloud and Meudon-Clamart. You, however, are better informed respecting the damage which was done than we are. When I was in the Bois the redoubt was not firing, and the sailors who man it were lounging about, exactly as though they had been on board ship. Occasionally Mont-Valerien fired a shot, but it was only a sort of visiting card to the Prussians, for with the best glasses we could see nothing of them. Indeed, the way they keep under cover is something wonderful. "I have been for three weeks in a fort," said the aide-de-camp of one of the commanders of a southern fort, "every day we have made reconnaissances, and I have not seen one single Prussian."

From what I learn, on good authority, the political situation is this. The Government consists mainly of Orleanists. When they assumed the direction of public affairs, they hoped to interest either Austria or Russia in the cause of France. They were, therefore, very careful to avoid as much as possible any Republican propagandism either at home or abroad. Little by little they have discovered that if France is to be saved it must be by herself. Some of them, however, still hanker after a Russian intervention, and do not wish to weaken M. Thiers' prospects of success at St. Petersburg. They have, however, been obliged to yield to the Republicanism of the Parisian "men of action," and they have gradually drifted into a Government charged not only with the defence of the country, but also with the establishment of a Republic. As is usual in all councils, the extreme party has gained the ascendancy. But the programme of the Ultras of the "ins" falls far short of that of the Ultras of the "outs." The latter are continually referring to '93, and as the Committee of Public Safety then saved France, they are unable to understand why the same organisation should not save it now. Their leaders demand a Commune, because they hope to be among its members. The masses support them, because they sincerely believe that in the election of a Commune Paris will find her safety. The Government is accused of a want of energy. "Are we to remain cooped up here until we are starved out?" ask the Ultras. "As a military man, I decline to make a sortie," replies General Trochu. "We are not in '93. War is waged in a more scientific manner," whispers Ernest Picard. The plan of the Government, if plan it has, appears to be to wear out the endurance of the besiegers by a defensive attitude, until either an army from the provinces cuts off their communications, or the public opinion of Europe forces them to raise the siege. The plan of the Ultras is to save Paris by Paris; to make continual sorties, and, every now and then, one in such force that it will be a battle. I am inclined to think that theoretically the Government plan is the best, but it ignores the material it has to do with, and it will find itself obliged either to adopt the policy of the Ultras, or to allow them to elect a "Commune," which would soon absorb all power. The position appears to me to be a false one, owing to the attempt to rule France from Paris through an occasional despatch by balloon. What ought to have been done was to remove the seat of Government to another town before the siege commenced, and to have left either Trochu or some other military man here to defend Paris, as Uhrich defended Strasburg. But the Government consisted of the deputies of Paris; and had they moved the seat of Government, they would have lost their locus standi. Everyone here sees the absurdity of Palikao's declaration, that Bazaine was commander-in-chief when he was invested in Metz, but no one seems to see the still greater absurdity of the supreme civil and military Government of the whole country remaining in Paris whilst it is invested by the German armies. Yesterday, for instance, a decree was issued allowing the town of Roubaix to borrow, I forget how much. Can anything be more absurd than for a provincial town to be forced to wait for such an authorisation until it receives it from Paris? It is true that there is a delegation at Tours, but, so long as it is nothing but a delegation, it will be hindered in its operations by the dread of doing anything which may conflict with the views of its superiors here. Paris at present is as great an incubus to France as the Emperor was. Yesterday M. Gambetta started in a balloon for Tours, and in the interests of France I shall be glad to see his colleagues one and all follow him. The day before a balloon had been prepared for him, but his nerves failed him at the last moment, and he deferred his departure for twenty-four hours.

M. Rochefort was "interviewed" yesterday by a deputation of women, who asked to be employed in the hospitals instead, of the men who are now there. He promised to take their request into consideration. I was down yesterday at the headquarters of the Ambulance Internationale, and I cannot say that I think that the accusations of the Ultra-press respecting the number of young Frenchmen there, is borne out by facts. There have been, however, a vast number of petits creves and others who have shirked military service by forming themselves into amateur ambulances. The "sergents de ville" have received orders to arrest anyone wearing the Red Cross who is unable to produce his certificate as an infirmier. This has thrown the petits creves—the pets of priests and old ladies—those youths who are best described by the English expression, "nice young men for a small tea-party"—into consternation. I saw yesterday one of these emasculated specimens of humanity arrayed in a suit of velvet knickerbockers, with a red cross on his arm, borne off to prison, notwithstanding his whining protests.

Another abuse which has been put an end to is that of ladies going about begging for money for the "wounded." They are no longer allowed to do so unless they have an authorisation. I have a lively recollection of an old grandaunt of mine, who used to dun every one she met for a shilling for the benefit of the souls of the natives of Southern Africa, and as I know that the shillings never went beyond ministering to the wants of this aged relative, warned by precocious experience, I have not allowed myself to be caught by the "ladies."

A singular remonstrance has been received at the British Embassy. In the Rue de Chaillot resides a celebrated English courtezan, called Cora Pearl, and above her house floats the English flag. The inhabitants of the street request the "Ambassador of England, a country the purity and the decency of whose manners is well known," to cause this bit of bunting, which is a scandal in their eyes, to be hauled down. I left Mr. Wodehouse consulting the text writers upon international law, in order to discover a precedent for the case. Colonel Claremont is doing his best to look after the interests of his fellow-countrymen. I had a prejudice against this gentleman, because I was unable to believe that any one hailing from the Horse Guards could under any circumstances make himself a useful member of society. I find, however, that he is a man of energy and good common sense, with very little of the pipeclay about him.

From Monday next a new system of the distribution of meat is to come into force. Between 450 and 500 oxen and 3,500 sheep are to be daily slaughtered. This meat is to be divided into twenty lots, one for each arrondissement, the size of each lot to be determined by the number of the inhabitants of the particular arrondissement. The lot will then be divided between the butchers in the arrondissement, at twenty centimes per kilogramme below the retail price. Each arrondissement may, however, adopt a system of rations. I suspect most of the beef I have eaten of late is horse; anyhow, it does not taste like ordinary beef. To obtain a joint at home is almost impossible. In the first place, it is difficult to purchase it; in the second place, if, when bought, it is spotted by patriots going through the street, it is seized upon on the ground that any one who can obtain a joint for love or money must be an aristocrat who is getting more than his share. I met a lady early this morning, who used to be most fashionable. She was walking along with a parcel under her shawl, and six dogs were following her. She asked me to drive them away, but they declined to go. I could not understand their sudden affection for my fair friend, until she confided to me that she had two pounds of mutton in her parcel. A tariff for horse-flesh is published to-day; it costs—the choice parts, whichever they may be—1f 40c. the kilo.; the rest, 80c. the kilo.

Figaro yesterday published a "correspondence from Orleans." The Official Gazette of this morning publishes an official note from the Prefect of Police stating that this correspondence is "a lie, such as those which the Figaro invents every day."

Afternoon.

I have just returned from the Place de l'Hotel de Ville. When I got there at about two o'clock six or seven thousand manifesters had already congregated there. They were all, as is the nature of Frenchmen in a crowd, shouting their political opinions into their neighbours' ears. Almost all of them were Nationaux from the Faubourgs, and although they were not armed, they wore a kepi, or some other distinctive military badge. As well as I could judge, nine out of ten were working men. Their object, as a sharp, wiry artizan bellowed into my ear, was to force the Government to consent to the election of a Commune, in order that the Chassepots may be more fairly distributed between the bourgeois and the ouvriers, and that Paris shall no longer render itself ridiculous by waiting within its walls until its provisions are exhausted and it is forced to capitulate. There appeared to be no disposition to pillage; rightly or wrongly, these men consider that the Government is wanting in energy, and that it is the representative of the bourgeoisie and not of the entire population. Every now and then, some one shouted out "Vive la Commune!" and all waved their caps and took up the cry. After these somewhat monotonous proceedings had continued about half an hour, several bourgeois battalions of National Guards came along the quay, and drew up in line, four deep, before the Hotel de Ville. They were not molested except with words. The leading ranks of the manifesters endeavoured by their eloquence to convince them that they ought not to prevent citizens peacefully expressing their opinions; but the grocers stood stolidly to their arms, and vouchsafed no reply. At three o'clock General Trochu with his staff rode along inside the line, and then withdrew. General Tamisier then made a speech, which of course no one could hear. Shortly afterwards there was a cry of "Voila Flourens—Voila nos amis," and an ouvrier battalion with its band playing the Marseillaise marched by. They did not halt, notwithstanding the entreaties of the manifesters, for they were bound, their officers explained, on a sacred mission, to deposit a crown before the statue of Strasburg. When I left the Place the crowd was, I think, increasing, and as I drove along the Rue Rivoli I met several bourgeois battalions marching towards the Hotel de Ville. I presume, therefore, that General Trochu had thought it expedient to send reinforcements. "We will come back again with arms," was the general cry among the ouvriers, and unless things mend for the better I imagine that they will keep their word. The line of demarcation between the bourgeois and the ouvrier battalions is clearly marked, and they differ as much in their opinions as in their appearance. The sleek, well-fed shopkeeper of the Rue Vivienne, although patriotic, dreads disorder, and does not absolutely contemplate with pleasure an encounter with the Prussians. The wild, impulsive working man from Belleville or La Villette dreads neither Prussians without, nor anarchy within. If he could only find a leader he would blow up himself and half Paris rather than submit to the humiliation of a capitulation. Anything he thinks is better than this "masterly inactivity." Above the din of the crowd the cannon could be heard sullenly firing from the forts; but even this warning of how near the foe is, seemed to convey no lesson to avoid civil strife. Unless General Trochu is a man of more energy than I take him to be, if ever the Prussians do get into the town they will find us in the condition of the Kilkenny cats.

October 9th.

The representative of the Republic of Columbia, to whom I had given my letter of yesterday, has returned it to me, as he was afraid to cross the lines with it. The Briton who has paid for a place in a balloon is still here, and he imagines that he will start to-morrow, so I shall give him my Columbian letter and this one. I understand that any one who is ready to give assurances that he will praise everything and every one belonging to the Government, is afforded facilities for sending out letters by the Post-office balloons, but I am not prepared to give any other pledge except that I shall tell the truth without fear or favour.

The Journal Officiel of this morning, and the Moderate papers, boast that the Ultra manifestation of yesterday was a complete failure. As usual, they cry before they are out of the wood. After I left the Place it appears that there was a counter manifestation of bourgeois National Guards, who arrived in military order with their arms. Jules Favre addressed them. Now as far as I can make out, these battalions went to the Hotel de Ville on their own initiative. No one, however, seems to see any incongruity in the friends of the Government making an armed demonstration as a protest against armed and unarmed demonstrations in general. The question of the municipal elections will lie dormant for a few days, but I see no evidence that those who were in favour of it have altered their minds. As far as yesterday's proceedings were concerned, they only go to prove the fact, which no one ever doubted, that the bourgeoisie and their adherents are ready to support the Government, but they have also proved to my mind conclusively that the working men as a body have entirely lost all confidence in the men at the head of affairs.

On the pure merits of the question, I think that the working men have reason on their side. They know clearly what they want—to make sorties and to endeavour to destroy the enemy's works; if this fails—to make provisions last as long as possible by a system of rationing—and then to destroy Paris rather than surrender it. The Government and their adherents are waiters on Providence, and, except that they have some vague idea that the Army of the Loire will perform impossibilities, they are contented to live on from day to day, and to hope that something will happen to avert the inevitable catastrophe. I can understand a military dictatorship in a besieged capital, and I can understand a small elected council acting with revolutionary energy; but what I cannot understand is a military governor who fears to enforce military discipline, and a dozen respectable lawyers and orators, whose sole idea of Government is, as Blanqui truly says, to issue decrees and proclamations, and to make speeches. The only practical man among them is M. Dorian, the Minister of Public Works, M. Dorian is a hard-headed manufacturer, and utterly ignoring red tape, clerks, and routine; he has set all the private ateliers to work, to make cannon and muskets. I have not yet heard of his making a single speech, or issuing a single proclamation since the commencement of the siege, and he alone of his colleagues appears to me to be the right man in the right place. I do not take my views of the working men from the nonsense which is printed about them in official and semi-official organs. They are the only class here which, to use an Americanism, is not "played out." The Government dreads them as much as the Empire did; but although they are too much carried away by their enthusiasm and their impulsiveness, they are the only persons in Paris who appear to have a grain of common sense. "As for the Army of the Loire," said one of them to me this morning, "no one, except a fool or a Government employe, can believe that it will ever be able to raise the siege, and as for all these bourgeois, they consider that they are heroes because once or twice a week they pass the night at the ramparts; they think first of their shops, then of their country." "But how can you imagine that you and your friends would be able to defeat the Prussians, who are disciplined soldiers?" I asked. "We can at least try," he replied. I ventured to point out to my friend that perhaps a little discipline in the ouvrier battalions might not be a bad thing; but he insisted that the indiscipline was caused by their distrust of their rulers, and that they were ready to obey their officers. "Take," he said "Flourens' battalions. They do not, it is true, march as regularly as the bourgeois, and they have nothing but kepis and old muskets; but, as far as fighting goes, they are worth all the bourgeois put together." I do not say that Trochu is not wise to depend upon the bourgeois; all I say is, that as the Empire fell because it did not venture to arm any except the regular soldiers, so will Paris render itself the laughing stock of Europe, if its defence is to depend upon an apocryphal Army of the Loire, marines from the Navy, peasants from the provinces, and the National Guards of the wealthy quarters. To talk of the heroic attitude of Paris, when the Parisians have not been under fire, is simply absurd. As long as the outer forts hold out, it is no more dangerous to "man the ramparts" than to mount guard at the Tuileries. I saw to-day a company of mounted National Guards exercising. Their uniforms were exquisitely clean, but I asked myself of what earthly use they were. Their commander ordered them to charge, when every horse butted against the one next to him. I believe a heavy gale of wind would have disconnected all these warriors from their chargers. I fully recognise the fact that the leaders of the ouvriers talk a great deal of nonsense, and that they are actuated as much by personal ambition as by patriotism; but it is certain that the individual working man is the only reality in this population of corrupt and emasculated humbugs; everyone else is a windbag and a sham.

A decree has been issued, informing all who have no means of subsistence that they will receive a certain amount of bread per diem upon application at their respective mairies. We are also told that if we wish to make puddings of the blood of oxen, we must mix pigs' blood with it, otherwise it will be unwholesome.