Workman and Soldier: a tale of Paris life during the siege and the rule of the Commune, etc

Front matter

WORKMAN AND SOLDIER. Uniform in size, price t,s. each, Cloth elegant, fully Illustrated. The Gentleman Cadet : His Career and Adventures at the Royal Academy, Woolwich. By Lieut. - Colonel A. W. Drayson. Harty the Wanderer; or, Conduct is Fate. A Tale by Fairleigh Owen. Twenty-eight Illustrations by John Proctor. The Day of Wonders : A Medley of Sense and Nonsense. By M. Sullivan. 30 Illustrations by W. G. Browne. A "Wayside Posy. Gathered for Girls. By F. Lablache. 15 Illustrations by A. H. Collins. Hair-Breadth Escapes ; or, The Adventures of Three Boys in South Africa. By Rev. H. C Adams. Heroes of the Crusades. By Barbara Hutton. Home Life in the Highlands. By Lilias Graeme. John Deane of Nottingham, His Adventures and Exploits. By W. H. G. Kingston. The Rival Crusoes. By W. H. G. Kingston.

Swift and Sure; or, The Career of Two Brothers. By Alfred Elwes. Tales of the Saracens. By Barbara Hutton. Tales of the White Cockade. By Barbara HUITON. Wilton of Cuthbert's: A Tale of Undergraduate Life Thirty Years Ago. By Rev. H. C. Adams. GRIFFITH AND FARRAN, WEST CORNER OF ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD, LONDON. E. P. DUTT0N AND CO., NEW YORK. frontispiece. WORKMAN AND SOLDIER: A TALE OF PARIS LIFE DURING THE SIEGE AND THE RULE OF THE COMMUNE. BY JAMES F. COBB, F.R.G.S. AUTHOR OF "THE WATCHERS ON THE LONGSHIPS," "SILENT JIM," ETC. WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS. GRIFFITH AND FARRAN, SUCCESSORS TO NEWBERY AND HARRIS, WEST CORNER OF ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD, LONDON. E. P. DUTTON AND CO., NEW YORK. MDCCCLXXX. \Thc rights of Translation and of Reproduction are reserved.] CONTENTS. CHAP- PAGE I. A Parisian Interior , II.

A Breton Interior u III. A Parisian Workshop 22 IV. War 2S V. Alone in the World 33 VI. Pierre on the March 37 VII. Cecile 44 VIII. The Fourth of September 50 IX. A Letter from Pieree 58 X. St. Cloud 63 XI. The Prussian Spy 70 XII. Through Fire and Shot 79 XIII. A Release, an Imprisonment, a Happy Meeting . 94 XIV. Troubles without and Troubles within the City . 99 XV. The old Grandmother goes Home .... 107 XVI. Horrors of the Siege — Louis' first Battle . 115 XVII. In the Hospital on Christmas Eve .... 122 XVIII. A Sad Christmas Contents. VI CHAP. rAGE XIX. The New Year H6 XX. The Bombardment '5° XXI. The Last Days of the Siege i72 XXII. Peace lSl XXIII. News at last 189 XXIV. Hopes and Fears i"99 XXV. Dark Clouds on the Horizon 207 XXVI. The Storm Bursts . 214 XXVII. Liberty, Equality, Fraternity .... 227 XXVIII.

Preface

. I HAVE endeavoured in the following pages to bring before my readers in the form of a tale, the sad history of those eventful and disastrous months, which, com mencing with the declaration of war by France against Prussia in July, 1870, terminated with the defeat and destruction of the Commune of Paris in May, 1871. The sufferings and trials of the poor family in the Rue du Dragon, during these terrible days, were neither greater nor less than those of thousands of others at the same period. From the journals and recitals of eye-witnesses, detailing the hardships and miseries endured by the Parisian population, the battles and sorties during the siege, and the fierce and bloody street conflicts under the Commune, which so quickly followed it, I have tried to draw a picture of family life, as it then really existed in the French capital.

Preface. During those dreary days of privation, misery, and almost every kind of suffering, heroic deeds and self denying actions, wrought by many in various ranks of life, stood out in strong contrast to the selfishness, cowardice, and base wickedness of others. Characters illustrative of both will be found in the story. Having passed the month of August, 1870, at Dinan, I write from personal experience of the scenes which occurred there, at that period. WORKMAN AND SOLDIER.

Chapter I

A PARISIAN INTERIOR. " E'en here do I behold Thy steps, Almighty ! here amidst the crowd Through the great city roll'd, With everlasting murmur, deep and loud — Choking the ways that wind 'Mongst the proud piles, the work of human kind. Thy golden sunshine comes From the round heaven, and on their dwellings lies, And lights their inner homes, For them thou sillest with air the unbounded skies, And givest them the stores Of ocean, and the harvest of its shores." Bryant. Old and picturesque Paris of the last century is gradually disappearing. It is difficult now to find in the French metropolis those narrow and tortuous streets with their dark, lofty houses excluding almost every ray of sunlight from falling on the rough, uneven pavement below, through the midst of which a black unsavoury stream wended its insalubrious course, which were more the rule than the exception some fifty years ago.

Then, they abounded in the neighbourhood of the Louvre and the Palais Royal, while, on the left bank of the Seine, the old city consisted of a perfect labyrinth of these sombre narrow lanes, densely populated from the aristocratic suite of apart- B Work Jit mt and Soldier. 2 ments on the first floor, to the wretched garret on the fifth or sixth storey. Revolutions and restorations, reforming municipalities and paternal governments have combined to sweep away this pic turesque, but dangerous and unhealthy feature of the French metropolis ; consequently these quaint old streets, remnants of a bygone age, are daily becoming rarer ; portions of them, indeed, here and there remain, but even these are doomed to destruction, looking all the more dilapidated and forlorn, in contrast to the smart new buildings everywhere rising in their immediate vicinity.

Isa visitor mounts at the Palais Royal to the top of an Ode'on omnibus, he will, after crossing the Seine and proceeding a little way along the Quay, turn up the Rue des Saints Peres, a steep, somewhat narrow, but comparatively modern thoroughfare ; this leads into the new Boulevard St. Germain, with its white, half-finished houses, freshly-planted trees, and busy traffic of tram-cars and omnibuses. After proceeding a very little way along it, the omnibus takes a sharp turn into a narrow, crooked street, which is quite a relic of the Paris of the 1 8th century ; the houses are extremely lofty, many are out of the perpendicular, some leaning forward, others sloping back while the narrow strip of blue sky above looks doubly blue in contrast to the dark, gloomy forms of the buildings below. This thoroughfare is called the Rue du Dragon.

The shops on either side are dull, dingy and old-fashioned ; here we see some quaint, antique furniture of very faded velvet and tarnished gilding ; here an establishment for the sale of old iron and curiosities, there an old book-stall in close vicinity to a sausa°-eshop and a cremerie. There are one or two restaurants in the Rue du Dragon of uninviting appearance, where a very cheap dinner can be partaken of from a tablecloth of by no means spotless appearance, and washed down with thin and sour wine. On the first floor of many of the houses are cafe's and billiard A Parisian Interior. 3 rooms, with here and there " Apartments to let," but the upper storeys — there are five or six before you reach the garrets — are mostly inhabited by small tradespeople, clerks, working-men and their families, seamstresses, &c, while some of the lowest of the Parisian population lodge in the miserable garrets at the top.

As the Rue du Dragon has long since been doomed to destruction (and perhaps even now has ceased to exist), its houses are never repaired, whitewashed, painted, or smartened up ; there are broken windows and window-frames, large holes in the plastering, gaps among the tiles, and many missing chimney-pots. Picturesque the Rue du Dragon certainly is, but there is nothing attractive in its appearance, most visitors would be quite content with passing through it in an omnibus, rather congratulating themselves that they had not to walk, through so ill-paved and untempting a thoroughfare. It is the month of June, 1870. The scene is a room on the third storey of a house in the Rue du Dragon. It is an old fashioned-looking apartment, and somewhat low-pitched, the floor is covered with red tiles, many of which are missing, and the surface of the room is altogether so uneven that it forms an inclined plane towards the window ; to the timid the idea suggests itself that some day the house may fall suddenly against its opposite neighbour, which seems equally disposed to meet it half way.

The two windows in this apartment look down upon the street ; in the centre of the opposite side is a large open fire place ; in one corner stands an old-fashioned clock, which keeps up a loud ticking ; there are some high-backed, antique chairs, a couch to match, covered with a faded green material which once was rich and handsome; two mirrors in rather shabby frames, with their glass very much scratched, hang opposite each other on the walls ; there are also a few quaint engravings and pictures, mostly of religious subjects, and a good many cooking and household utensils suspended from, or ranged on shelves round the walls ; a quantity of linen about 13 indicates that some of the lodgers must be laundresses, and a carpenter's basket in a corner betrays the calling of another. The apartment, though poor and somewhat dingy in appearance, is scrupulously clean and neat.

A very old woman, with a brown and shrivelled face, is sitting near the window in the sun ; she is dressed in black, has a coloured silk handkerchief round her head, and a little shawl pinned across her shoulders ; her feeble, trembling hands are slowly engaged in knitting a stocking. A comely-looking dame of between fifty and sixty is bustling about the room, now arranging the linen, now at tending to the saucepan simmering on the fire. She wears the snowy-white cap, with its broad frill, the well-known and becoming head-dress of the lower orders in France, a neat print dress, and a white apron. " Louis will soon be home now, I hope, mother," she said. " I have got some good soup for him to-day, poor boy ; he looked ill and seemed in low spirits yesterday. Perhaps his master is not very kind to him ; he gives him plenty of work to do, I'm sure, and not many holidays."

" Isn't Josephine coming to dinner too to-day, Marie ? " asked the old woman. " Yes, mother, I hope so ; Madame St. Aubin told her she might come and see us to-day, as she meant to take the children out herself to drive in the Bois de Boulogne, and would not require Josephine." "Well, we don't often all meet now," said the old woman. " I wish Clotilde could come too." " Ah ! Clotilde, yes, but she is too far off now, and she cannot leave her children, nor bring them with her either. Poor Clotilde ! I am not satisfied with Camille, mother ; he is not much at home now ; he goes to clubs and meetings, and is getting more discontented than ever. I wish men would attend to their work and not so much to politics." " Yes, Marie, you are right," said the old woman, with a A Parisian Interior. 5 sigh, " that has been the cause of all our troubles, our men being never satisfied, and always wanting change ; their minds filled with evil notions and revolutionary ideas.

Alas ! alas ! " and the old woman laid down her knitting and a very sorrow ful expression came over her face. " And Louis too, mother, I don't like his being so much with Camille ; now and then he says things which distress me much, and he is not so regular and devout at church as he used to be." " He has been a steady lad so far, thank God ! Marie, think how good he has been to you and Josephine ; how punctually he comes home of a night, hardly ever goes out with young men of his own age, but on Sundays and fete days takes his mother and sister to the Bois or to Versailles, and is al ways happy and contented in your society. In this great Paris, how many temptations there are for young men of his age and condition in life ! " " Yes, mother, I am indeed thankful that he is so good ; I only trust he may keep so ; but, hark ! here he comes ; that is his step on the stairs, I know."

Almost immediately the door opened and Louis entered the room. He was a bright-looking young man of about twenty, rather tall, with a somewhat pale face, dark closely-cut hair, a small moustache and imperial ; he was dressed in the blouse, large white trousers, and cloth cap, which is the French working-man's ordinary costume. After kissing his mother and grandmother on both cheeks, according to the French custom, he sat down, and, taking a newspaper out of his pocket, began carelessly to look through it. " Well, Louis," said his mother, " is there much work now ? " " No, mother, not just at present, but in a few weeks there'll be a great deal. I shall have no more work to-day. I am glad Josephine is coming. I have not seen her for the last fortnight. I want to know if she has heard anything of Pierre lately."

" Yes, indeed," said his mother, " they were just going to have the conscription down there in Bretagne, when we last heard, and I long to know what number Pierre drew. I should be sorry if he were taken for a soldier." "Our cousin Pierre is not fit for a soldier either," remarked Louis, " he is too religious, like all the Bretons. When he was in Paris he used to go to church every day if possible, and how fond Monsieur le Cure was of him, always holding him up as an example to me too. Ah ! we Parisians are more en lightened ! " " You ought to know better than to talk like that, Louis," said his grandmother; " remember there can be no real light without religion, and as far as that goes, I am sure the Bretons are more enlightened than the Parisians." "So you think, my grandmother; you belong to the old order of things, now we think rather differently."

" Oh Louis ! Louis ! don't talk in that way," said his mother; "where do you get all these notions from? You used to speak up for religion once, my son." " And so I do now, mother ; all' I say is, we don't want too much of it, nor to be always going to church as the Bretons do." " You get these evil ideas from Camille, I fear," said his mother ; " alas ! that I have such a son-in-law." "What have you to say against Camille, mother? Pie is always kind to me, and he is an excellent workman ; for cabinet work there is none like him. Ah ! you should see the fine things he can make, and hear how he is praised by his masters ; but he snaps his fingers at them behind their backs, and says, ' Your time will soon come, when you will have to work too, and we shall have equal rights and division of pro perty, and — ' " A Parisian Interior. 7 " Stop, Louis !

I'll have no more of it," said his mother, gazing at him half in sorrow, half in anger. At that moment the door opened, and Josephine came in. She was a pleasing, pretty-looking girl of eighteen, neatly dressed in the white cap and apron of a bonne. Louis jumped up at once to welcome and embrace his sister. " But what is the matter, Josephine ?" he exclaimed, after a few seconds ; " you are crying. Has Madame St. Aubin been un kind to you ? or are you ill ? or have you had bad news ? " "Ah! bad news, alas ! bad news, my brother. This morning I had a letter from Pierre. You know, Louis, that there has been a conscription, and that Pierre, who drew a good number last time, was again liable. Well ! this time he was not so lucky — he drew a bad number, so he must become a soldier, for neither he nor his family can afford to get a substitute.

Alas ! alas ! " and she sank into a chair, sobbing and covering her face with her hands. " I am sorry indeed," said Louis ; " but cheer up, Josephine, no harm will come to Pierre, for there's no chance of war now ; Europe is most peaceful." " It is bad news indeed," said their mother ; " I wish Pierre could get a substitute." "No chance of it, mother," sobbed Josephine; "you know how weak and sickly his poor old father is ; he can earn but little for himself, and Pierre has worked so bravely lately, been saving a little money too, and in every letter I got from him he wrote that he would soon have enough to support me, and that, before another year passed away, we might hope to be married, and now there's no chance of it— perhaps never." " Oh, we won't say never, Josephine," said her mother; "it's very true what Louis says, that there's no probability of war just now."

" That may be, but Pierre will have to serve seven years, and who can tell how many wars there won't be in that time ? And if there is no war, he is sure to be sent to Africa, where he may die of fever or of sunstroke, or be murdered by the Arabs ; and is he likely to keep as good and simple in the army, among so many bad soldiers, as he is now? Oh ! no, I fear not, and she again gave way to tears. A " For your sake, Josephine, I am sorry that Pierre is drawn for a soldier," said Louis; "at the same time, I think it will do him good, polish him up a bit, and teach him a little more of the ways of the world." " How can you talk so, Louis ? the less he knows of it the better." " Well, you may think so, but I am sure the army will do him good." "Don't dispute about it, children," said their mother; "come to your dinner now, though I quite agree with Josephine, and am grieved to hear Louis talk as he has done this morning."

" It is nothing, my mother, never mind," said Louis, embracing her ; " though we may have different opinions, we are all good friends just the same." They sat down to their homely meal, during which all did their best to cheer up poor Josephine, and make her forget her trouble. Before proceeding further with our story, it is necessary to relate a few particulars concerning the family to which we have just introduced our readers. Madame Laforce was the widow of a small but respectable tradesman, who had kept a shop in the Quartier St. Germain at Paris, and died while still young, some fifteen years ago. Ill-health having during the last few years of his life prevented him from attending to business, his affairs were found in an unsatisfactory state at his death. His widow, with her three children to provide for, was quite unable to pay off his debts, her little property was consequently seized by her husband's creditors, and she was obliged to retire to a wretched lodging, Ai Parisian Interior. 9 where by the kindness of friends, and her own industry she managed to gain a livelihood.

When her children grew up and were able to help her, she removed to the larger and better apartments where we have just seen her; she took in fine washing and needlework ; her eldest daughter, some three years before, had married a well-to-do and clever workman, Louis had regular employment as a carpenter and joiner, and Josephine was bonne or nursemaid at Madame St. Aubin's, a rich lady who lived in the Champs Elyse'es. The old woman, Madame Plumier, had come to Paris to live with her daughter about two years ago. Her life had been a very stirring and eventful one, and she was now nearly ninety years of age. By birth a Breton, she had come early to Paris with her parents ; here she had witnessed all the horrors of the first revolution, her husband's head fell beneath the guillotine, and she with her sister escaped with difficulty from the capital, reaching Bretagne at last, after many hardships.

Here in time she married a young farmer, who not long after was drawn by the relentless conscription of the First Napoleon and enrolled in the Grand Army, among whose ranks he took part in nearly all those campaigns in the various countries of Europe which have rendered the great Emperor's name so famous. He returned unhurt after the disastrous retreat from Moscow, but was severely wounded at Waterloo; he was then pensioned off and lived happily with his wife for many peaceful years, till his death in 1840. Madame Plumier, who had only two children, a son and a daughter, afterwards resided with the former, a fisherman of St. Malo ; he was unhappily drowned one stormy night while pursuing his calling at sea, and his mother, not wishing to be a burden to his widow, who had a large family to support, was only too glad to accept her daughter's urgent invitation to come and take up her abode with her at Paris.

Pierre, the cousin alluded to in the conversation above, was the only son of a nephew of Madame Plumier. He lived with his father at Dinan in Brittany, and had made Josephine's acquaintance during a visit to Paris some two years before. He had come to the capital to learn a trade, and during his stay there had been so much at Madame Laforce's lodgings, that he had become quite one of the family. He and Louis, who were about the same age, had worked together under the same employer, and though even then, they had some slight differ ence of opinion on political and religious subjects, they were on the whole fast and sworn friends. Pierre, too, had won Josephine's heart ; all the family were pleased at the engage ment, for a steadier or better-conducted young fellow could hardly have been found in all Paris, or the provinces.

Chapter II

A BRETON INTERIOR. " He turn'd and lest the spot ; Oh ! do not deem him weak, For dauntless was the soldier's heart, Though tears were on his cheek. Go watch the foremost ranks In danger's dark career, Be sure the hand most daring there Has wiped away a tear. " Old So no. No part of Brittany is more beautiful than the country round the picturesque old town of Dinan. It is charmingly diversi fied, waving cornfields and rich pastures being intermingled with dark woods and steep and rugged heights. The river Ranee pursues its winding course through the loveliest scenery, its banks, now clothed with luxuriant foliage down to the water's edge, now rising into bare and lofty cliffs, relieved oc casionally by stunted pine and coarse brushwood; here and there the river passes through some little village, where it is crossed by a picturesque bridge, as at Lehon, where the magnificent re mains of the noble Abbey Church, destroyed and desecrated at the Revolution, rise, a grand and conspicuous object among its white cottages ; sometimes a modern chateau looks down from some forest-covered height, upon the silver stream below, or a quaint old mill or rustic cabaret, with an old creaking sign board, stands close to the river side, while the pedestrian, as he slowly walks along the path which skirts the stream, will now and then meet or overtake one or more horses dragging along a heavy barge, which probably he will observe to be the residence of some happy and contented family.

But on the other side of the great granite hill, on the crown and slopes of which the quaint old city is built, are villages too, as well as solitary houses and cottages scattered over the plain or hidden among the forests. These cottages are for the most part very humble and old fashioned dwellings, low buildings of one storey, oftener still consisting of only a ground floor with two or three rooms, in the larger of which a huge oven takes up nearly the whole of one side ; pigs, cocks and hens, accompanied by their little families, may often be observed by the passer-by to be as much at home on the clay floor of the untidy and unsavoury apartment, as its human occupants are. The most conspicuous article of furniture is generally a spinning-wheel, while a large rough deal table and a few rickety chairs are to be found in every cottage.

Though such uncleanly and uninviting dwellings are for the most part, unfortunately, the rule among the Breton peasantry, there are many and pleasing exceptions. Let us pay a visit to one of these, to the neat pretty cottage of the old peasant proprietor, Jacques Plumier, about a mile and a half from Dinan. Small indeed is the cottage, it is built of brick with thatched roof, and contains only two rooms ; the clay floor is well swept, scarcely a speck of dust can be seen on it, the kitchen utensils which hang over the great open fire place are bright and polished ; the tables and chairs, though they look so old that they must surely have descended from the days of the " Grand Monarque," outliving all the revolutions which France has suffered since his reign, have evidently been carefully mended by an experienced joiner.

On one side of the fire place stands a comfortable and more modern-looking armchair, provided too with a cushion. On the walls are some gaudy prints, in which bright colours take the place of correct drawing and good taste ; there is an old portrait of Louis XVI., another of Charles X., proving that this house, like so many in Brittany, belongs to a Royalist family ; there are, too, several pictures of Napoleon surrounded by his generals, who are arrayed in all the colours of the rainbow, and who are generally regarding with satisfaction a battle-field strewn with the dead and dying. In one corner of the room is a crucifix with a benitier ' under it, and in the other an almanack, which gives little information except the names of the Saints, of which there is conveniently one for every day in the year.

On a shelf are ranged some half dozen very old and much-worn books. The inner room is smaller, almost the only furniture it contains are two beds, of which the coverings are clean and white. A remarkably tidy and well-kept garden surrounds the cottage. There are beautiful rose-trees in full bloom, a honey suckle is trained to climb up over the door and window, tall holly-hocks and brilliant sunflowers stand just before the little gate; there are, too, a few beds of geraniums and fuchsias, as well as violets and mignonette. A kitchen garden adjoins the flower garden ; here are cabbages in abundance, onions, garlic, endive, celery, and potatoes, a few raspberry and gooseberry bushes, and some carefully-tended strawberry beds ; behind this again is a little patch of ground, on part of which some corn is growing, the other portion is grass, and here a small cow is grazing.

Built up against the cottage is a low out-house, containing a stable for the cow, and a sty for two fat pigs. The owner of this property is evidently a well-to-do peasant; let us hasten to introduce him to our readers. He is sitting now in the armchair beside the fire place ; we cannot see his face, for it is buried in his hands ; some great sorrow has come upon the poor man — what is it ? The conscription is the cause of his trouble — that conscrip tion which is a curse to the French peasantry, and has so often blighted the industry of the nation. Jacques Plumier had just heard the sad news that his only son Pierre had been drawn for the army. Pierre was his joy, and the pride, the support of 1 Vessel for holy water common in Roman Catholic families. his declining years, the mainstay of the little household ; it was owing to Pierre's diligence, steadiness, and perseverance that the cottage was kept so neat and tidy, that the pretty garden looked so trim and was so productive ; it was through Pierre's savings that a cow was grazing in the little field, and two pigs were grunting in the sty.

Pierre had lost his mother when he was quite a boy — a heavy blow had her death been to both husband and son — but Pierre had ever since devoted himself with affectionate solicitude to his father, attended to all his wants, nursed him in sickness, and worked hard that he might have to labour less. He had only left him during the time that he went to Paris to learn his trade, and an anxious period that was for the loving father ; but Pierre returned uncorrupted from the capital, and now he worked even harder than before. He was apprenticed to one of the best cabinet-makers in Dinan, from whom he received very good wages. Morning and evening he was able to attend to the garden and the field, which his father would work at too when he was at home, but he also had regular employment at a nursery-garden a little outside the town.