Part 70

On cautiously peeping out, he saw a poor fellow leaning against the gate in a seemingly exhausted condition; he had been wounded, and begged to be allowed to come inside our courtyard. The concierge, who thinks it wise to be prudent, consulted with Louis; but neither dared do anything until Mr. Moulton had given the necessary orders. Louis ran about to wake up the family, and Mr. Moulton told the porter to take the man directly to the stables and to go for a doctor. The wounded man begged to see a priest, and Louis was despatched to bring one. Securing a doctor seemed to be a great undertaking. The concierge had had cramps in the night (so he said), which would necessitate his remaining at home, and made so many excuses that Mr. Moulton lost patience and declared he would go himself; but this I would not hear of his doing alone, and insisted upon going with him. Mademoiselle, issuing from her room, appeared in her lilac dressing-gown, holding a pocket-handkerchief in one hand and a smelling- bottle to her nose with the other. She was told to keep watch over the invalid while we were absent. Mr. Moulton and I walked to the Faubourg St. Honoré, to our apothecary, who gave us the name of the nearest doctor. It was not pleasant, to say the least, to be in the streets. We were in the habit of hearing bombs and shells, so that was no novelty; but to see them whizzing over our heads was a new sensation, and not an agreeable one. We found a doctor, a most amiable gentleman, who, although he had been up all night, was quite ready to follow us, and we hurried back to the Rue de Courcelles, where we found Mademoiselle seated on a water-pail outside the stables and looking the picture of woe. Her idea of keeping vigil!

The doctor made a hasty examination, and was preparing the bandages when Louis arrived with the priest. I left them and went into the house to make some tea, which I thought might be needed; but my father-in-law came in and said that the man had gone to sleep.

Later, about two o'clock, Louis told us that all was over; the poor fellow had received the last sacraments, had turned over on his side, and had breathed his last. We sent for the ambulance; but it was five o'clock before they took him away.

It made us very sad all day to think that death had entered our gates.

15th May.--Thiers's house in the Rue St. Georges was pillaged to-day by the mob, who howled like madmen and hurled all sorts of curses and maledictions on luckless Thiers, who has done nothing wrong, and certainly tried to do good.

Auber, who lives in the same street, must have seen and heard all that was going on. How he must have suffered!

16th May.--The Column Vendôme fell to-day; they have been working some days to undermine it at the base of the socle. Every one thought it would make a tremendous crash, but it did not; it fell just where they intended it to fall, toward the Rue de la Paix, on some fagots placed to receive it. They were a long time pulling at it; three or four pulleys, and as many ropes, and twenty men tugging with all their might--et voilà. The figure that replaced the Little Corporal (which is safe somewhere in Neuilly) came to earth in a cloud of dust, and the famous column lay broken in three huge pieces.

I inclose a ticket which Mr. Lemaire obtained somehow, and which, as you see, permitted him to circulate librement in the Place Vendôme:

I think it is strange that Auber does not let us hear from him. I fear his heart is broken, like the column.

The weather is heavenly. The two chestnut-trees in our front courtyard are in full flower; the few plants in the greenhouse are all putting out buds. Where shall we be when the buds become flowers?

Last year at this time it was the height of the giddiest of giddy seasons. One can hardly believe it is the same Paris.

My father-in-law feels very bad that I did not leave when I still had the chance. So do I,... but now it is too late. I must stay till the bitter end, and no doubt the end will be bitter: battle, murder, and sudden death, and all the things we pray against in the Litany.

Dombrowski has failed in his sortie to St. Cloud.

18th May.--It seems that the Communards wish all France to adopt their gentle methods, and they believe and hope that Communism will reign supreme over the country.

Rigault, to prove what an admirable government France has, yesterday issued the decree to arrest a mass of people. No one knows exactly why, except that he wishes to show how great his power is. He wants the Commune to finish in fire and flame as a funeral pile. I hope he will be on the top of it, like Sardanapalus, and suffer the most. Horrible man!

I received a letter from Mr. Mallet this morning, inclosing an invitation to assist at a concert given by all the musiques militaires à Paris on the Place de la Concorde, and offering a ticket for two places on the terrace of the Tuileries. The idea of these creatures on the brink of annihilation, death, and destruction giving a concert! If it were not so tragic it would really be laughable.

DEAR LADY,--I wish I could bring you this extraordinary document de viva persona; but I do not like to leave the embassy, even for a short time. Lascelles and I are well, but very anxious. You will notice that this invitation is for the 21st. Our friends evidently think we will be pleasantly attuned to music on that day. They are as mad as March hares; they will be asking us to dance at Mazas next.... Hoping you are not as depressed as we are, Yours, E. MALLET.

Just as I had finished reading the above we heard a tremendous explosion. Louis said it was l'École Militaire, which was to be blown up to-day. What are we coming to?

Louis and I ventured to go up to the third story, and we put our heads out of one of the small windows. We saw the bombs flying over our heads like sea-gulls. All the sky was dimmed with black smoke, but we could not see if anything was burning, though we hear that the Tuileries is on fire and all the public buildings are being set fire to.

An organized mob of pétroleurs and pétroleuses receive two francs a day for pouring petroleum about and then setting fire. How awful!

Louis assures us that they will not come near us, as their only idea is to destroy public property. My father-in-law says the fever of destruction may seize them, and they might pillage the fine houses and set fire to them. He is having everything of value, like jewels, silver, and his precious bric-à-brac, carried down to the cellar, where there is an iron vault, and has showed us all how to open it in case of a disaster.

May 21st. (Sunday evening)--The Versaillais entered Paris by the Point du Jour, led by gallant Gallifet.

May 22d.--Rigault gave the order that all the hostages (otages) were to be shot. Rigault wrote the order himself. It does not bear any of the fantastic seals they are so fond of, and of which they have an incredible quantity. It has been written on a paper (une déclaration d'expédition du chemin de fer d'Orléans). Probably he was trying to get away. It was the last order he gave, and the last fuse to be used to set fire to the funeral pile.

This proclamation, of which I give an exact copy, will give you a little idea of what this horrible brute is capable of:

Floréal, an 79 [the way they date things in republics]. Fusillez l'Archevêque et les otages; incendiez les Tuileries et le Palais Royal, et repliez-vous sur la rue Germain-des-Prés.

Procureur de la Commune,

Ici tout va bien. RAOUL RIGAULT.

In the evening of the 22d the victims--forty of them--the good Darboy, Duguerry, Bonjean, and others--were piled into a transport-wagon with only a board placed across, where they could sit, and were taken to the place of execution.