The Prussian War And The Paris Commune


There have been two critical periods in the story of France in which

history was made at a rate of rapidity rarely equalled in the history of

the world. The first of these was the era of the Revolution and the

Napoleonic regime, which has no parallel among human events in the

rapidity and momentous gravity of its changes. The second was the period

from August, 1870, to the summer of 1871, less than a year in length,

ye
crowded with important events to an unprecedented degree.



Within that year was fought a great war between France and Germany, in

which the military power of France, in an incredibly brief period, was

utterly overthrown, and that nation left at the mercy of its opponent.

Within the same period the second empire of France came to a sudden and

disastrous end, and a republic, the third in French history, was built

upon its ruins. Simultaneously a new and powerful empire was founded,

that of Germany, the palace at Versailles being the scene of this highly

important change in the political conditions of Europe. During this

period also a political revolution took place in Italy, in consequence

of the French war, and Paris sustained two sieges; the first by the

German army; the second and most bitter by the French themselves,

fighting against a mob of fanatical revolutionists and ending in a

frightful saturnalia of murder, ruin and revenge.



Has there ever been a year in the world's history more crowded with

momentous events? Within that year the political status of France,

Germany, and Italy was transformed, the late emperor of France suddenly

found himself a throneless fugitive, and the people of Paris passed

through an experience unparalleled in the diversified history of that

ancient city. Of all the sieges to which Paris has been subjected, far

the strangest was that in which the scum of the city, miscalled the

commune, fought with tiger-like ferocity against the forces of the

newly-formed republic, filled with the revengeful and murderous spirit

which had inspired the masses in the first revolution.



It is the story of this tragic interlude which we propose here to tell,

premising with a brief resume of the events which led up to it.



Louis Napoleon, posing as Emperor Napoleon III. of France, a position

which he had been enabled to gain through the glamour of the name of his

famous uncle, was infected throughout his reign with the desire to

emulate the deeds of the great Napoleon. He hoped to shine as one of the

military stars of Europe, and was encouraged by the success of the war

which he fomented in Italy. His second effort in this direction was the

invasion of Mexico and the attempt to establish an empire, under his

tutelage, upon American soil. In this he ran counter to the Monroe

Doctrine and the power of the United States and was forced to retire

with his feathers scorched and his prestige sadly diminished.



But what he probably proposed to make the great military triumph of his

reign came in 1870, when, on a flimsy pretence, a misunderstanding which

called only for diplomatic adjustment, he suddenly declared war against

Germany and rashly put his armies into the field to cope with that

powerful rival. Never had there been a more unwise or suicidal

proceeding. In shameful ignorance of the real condition of the army,

which he was made to believe was "five times ready," "ready to the last

gaiter button," he marshalled against the thoroughly prepared military

power of Germany an army ill-organized, ill-supplied, without proper

reserves, and led by commanders of appalling incapacity. Maps and plans

were bad; strategy was an unknown quantity; no study had been made of

the use of the railway in war; almost everything except courage was

lacking, and courage without leadership was hopeless against the

thoroughly drilled and supplied German army and the science of Yon

Moltke, the great German strategist.



Had it been the first Napoleon, he would have made himself sure

personally as to "the last gaiter button" and all other details, but

with sublime self-satisfaction and inane blindness the Second Napoleon

put himself at the head of this unready army, inspired apparently with

the "on to Berlin" confidence of the cheering Parisian mob.



He was to be awakened suddenly and painfully from his dream of victory

and military fame. The first collision of the two armies took place on

August 2. On September 2, just one month later, the derelict emperor was

a prisoner of war in the hands of the King of Prussia, together with his

army of more than 80,000 men. He had proved an utter failure as a

commander, a mere encumbrance, without a plan of campaign, a conception

of leadership, or an idea of strategic movements. Recognizing, when too

late, his incapacity, he had resigned the general command to Marshal

Bazaine, who withdrew with a large army into Metz, and subsequently, in

a northward movement for Bazaine's relief, he found himself surrounded

at Sedan by an irresistible force and was obliged to surrender to save

his army from impending annihilation.



Such was the first act in this lugubrious drama. Two days later, on

September 4, France was proclaimed a republic. Before the end of October

Bazaine surrendered Metz to the Germans and his great army of 180,000

men was lost to France. The military force of France was vanishing with

alarming rapidity. Another event of the period, of interest in this

connection, was the loss of the temporal power of the pope, above

alluded to. The papacy had been defended by Napoleon III. against the

Italian revolutionists, and the withdrawal of the French force from Rome

left that city open to the army of Victor Emmanuel. It was occupied in

September and became the capital of the new kingdom of Italy. In

December another important event took place, the King of Prussia being

proclaimed at Versailles the head of a new empire of Germany, which

embraced all the German states except Austria.



Events of great moment, as may be seen, were occurring with startling

rapidity. Before the surrender of Bazaine the advance of the German army

had appeared before Paris and on September 19 the siege of that city

began. Soon it was so closely invested that food could not enter and the

only way out was by balloon. The German bombardment did little damage to

the great city, which was defended obstinately. But the Germans had a

powerful ally within, where the grisly demon of famine threatened the

defenders.



Meanwhile Gambetta, the most ardent patriot left to France, was seeking

with nervous energy to raise fresh armies in the south; Garibaldi, his

sword free from duty in Italy, had come to the aid of France; all

patriots were called to the ranks and a struggle of some importance took

place. But all this practically ceased on the 28th of January, 1871,

when an armistice brought the hopeless resistance of Paris to an end.

Almost at once the war died out on all sides, the Germans occupied all

the forts around Paris, and France lay at the mercy of Germany, after a

struggle of six months' duration.



The first siege of Paris had terminated; a second and more desperately

contested one was at hand. On March 13 the German army around Paris,

which had been given the triumph of a march into the conquered city,

set out on its return home and the authorities of the new republic

prepared to take possession of their freed capital.



They were to find the task one of unlooked-for difficulty. On March 18

the revolutionary element of the city rose en masse, organized under

the name of the Commune, took possession of Paris, and prepared to

defend it to the death against the leaders of the new-formed government,

whom they contemned as aristocrats.



The story of the Commune is a shameful and terrible one. Beginning in a

fraternization of the National Guard with the mob, its advent was sealed

with murder. In a contest on the 18th for the possession of some cannon

General Lecomte ordered his men to fire on the insurgents. They refused.

A gentleman standing in a crowd of angry men on the street corner said:

"General Lecomte is right." He was immediately seized and quickly

recognised as General Clement Thomas, a brave officer who had done

gallant service during the siege. This sufficed him nothing with the

mob. He and General Lecomte were at once dragged away to prison. At 4

o'clock that same day they were brought out by a party of the insurgent

National Guards, and after a mock trial were taken to a walled enclosure

and shot down in cold blood. They were the first victims of the mob,

which had early begun to burn its bridges behind it.



On the following day the leaders of the outbreak met at the

Hotel-de-Ville. They all belonged to the International, a secret society

formed for the abolition of property, religion, rulers, government, and

the upper classes, and the reduction of the community to a state of

anarchy or something resembling it. They called upon the citizens to

meet in their sections and elect a commune--the new form of government

advocated by the Anarchists, in which destruction of all existing

institutions was to precede reconstruction from the bottom upwards.



Events now moved rapidly. A delegation from the few men of note left in

Paris proceeded to Versailles, where the government of the republic was

in session, and demanded that special municipal rights should be given

to the people of Paris. The refusal of this request precipitated the

insurrection. The furious people at once elected a revolutionary

government, choosing the most extreme of the revolutionists, who

organized what was called the Council of the Commune. This consisted of

eighty members, of varied nationality, seventy of them never having been

heard of in Paris before. They had risen from the bottom of the deep sea

of anarchy to assume control.



On the 3d of April the civil war broke out--Paris against Versailles,

the army under the Assembly of the republic against the National Guard

in sympathy with the Commune. The Germans, who still held two of the

forts in the vicinity of Paris, looked grimly on at the tragedy about to

be played upon the stage which their hands had erected.



The war began with murder. Dr. Pasquier, a distinguished surgeon,

bearing a flag of truce, met two National Guards on the bridge of

Courbevoie, near Neuilly, where the body of Napoleon had been brought

ashore thirty years before. After a brief debate one of the soldiers

ended the colloquy by blowing out the doctor's brains. As soon as

General Vinoy, in command of the army of order, heard of this murderous

act he ordered the guns of Fort Varelien to be turned upon the city.



On the following morning five columns of the troops of the Commune

marched out to take the fort, lured by the confident impression that the

soldiers under Vinoy would fraternize with them. They were mistaken. The

guns of Fort Varelien hurled death-dealing missiles into their columns

and they were quickly in full retreat. Flourens, a scientist of fame who

had joined their ranks, fell dead. Duval, one of their generals, was

captured and was quickly shot as a traitor. The other leaders were at

once sent to prison by the angry Council on their return and the Commune

ordered that Paris should be filled with barricades.



Though the Commune had imprisoned the unsuccessful generals, they were

infuriated at the execution of General Duval and sought in the

dignitaries of the church the most exalted hostages they could find

against such summary acts. On the night of the 6th Monseigneur Darboy,

Archbishop of Paris, his chaplain, and eight other priests were

arrested. The cure of the Madeleine and his vicar had before been

seized. Other priests were later taken into custody and the prison at

Mazas was well filled with these so-called hostages. The fury of the

leaders of the revolt led them to other excesses against religion, the

churches being closed, the arms cut from the crosses, and red flags hung

in their stead.



The outrages were not confined to the church. In the words of a resident

of Paris: "The motto of the Commune soon became fraternity of that sort

which means arrest of each other." Before the Council was two weeks old

many of its leading members had found their way to prison. Dissensions

had broken out in its midst, and the stronger victimized the weaker.



By April 7 a personage calling himself General Cluseret had, as some one

expressed it, "swallowed up the Commune." He called himself an American,

and had been in the Union service in the American civil war, but no one

knew where he was born. He had served in the Chasseurs d'Afrique and in

the Papal Zouaves, and after the fall of the Commune escaped from Paris

and became a general of the Fenians, nearly capturing Chester Castle in

their service.



This man became absolute dictator over the revolted city, with its two

million of inhabitants; yet after three weeks of this dictatorial rule

his star declined and he found himself in prison at Mazas, to which he

had sent so many others.



Leaving these details for the present, we must return to the war, which

was soon in full blast. The assault of April 4 repulsed, the guns of

Fort Varelien were opened upon the city and the second bombardment of

Paris in that memorable year began. The guns of its friends were more

destructive than those of its foes, the forts taking part in the

bombardment being much nearer the centre of the city. Their shells

damaged the Arch of Triumph, which the Prussians had spared; they fell

alike on homes, public buildings and churches; alike on men, women and

children, friend and foe.



Under order of General Cluseret, the dictator of the Commune, every man

was ordered to take part in the defence of the city. His neighbors were

required to see that he did so and to arrest him if he showed a

disposition to decline. For the seventy-three days that the power of the

Commune lasted Paris was a veritable pandemonium, the fighting, the

arrests, the bombardment keeping the excitement at an intense pitch. The

people deserted the streets, which were silent and empty, except for the

soldiers of the Commune--a disorderly crew in motley uniforms--the

movement of ammunition wagons, and the other scenes incident to a state

of war. But the usual swarming life of Paris had vanished. There was no

movement, scarcely any sound. The shop-windows were shut, many of them

boarded up, red flags hanging from a few, but as a rule the very

buildings seemed dead.



This is the story told by one observer, but another--perhaps at a

different period of the bombardment--speaks of well-dressed people

"loitering in the boulevards as if nothing were going on. The cafes,

indeed, were ordered to close their doors at midnight, but behind closed

shutters went on gambling, drinking and debauchery. After spending a

riotous night, fast men and women considered it a joke to drive out to

the Arch of Triumph and see how the fight was going on."



On the 9th of April the army of Versailles began to make active assaults

upon the forts held by the soldiers of the Commune, and with such effect

that confusion and dismay quickly pervaded its councils. As the struggle

went on the fury and spirit of retaliation of the insurgents increased.

New hostages were arrested, the palace of the archbishop was pillaged,

and in the first week of May the destruction of the house of M. Thiers,

the president of the republic, was decreed. It was a beautiful mansion,

filled with objects of art and valuable documents used by him in writing

his historical works. Some of these were removed, but most of them were

consumed by the flames. On the 12th of May the Commune, now inspired by

the spirit of destruction, ordered the levelling of the famous column in

the Place Vendome, describing it as a symbol of brute force and false

glory.



This famous column, one hundred and thirty-five feet high, formed on the

model of Trajan's column at Rome, had been erected by Napoleon I., cast

from cannon taken from his foes, and surmounted by a statue of Napoleon

in his imperial robes. On May 16 this proud work of art fell, being

pulled down with a tremendous crash by the aid of ropes fastened to its

upper part. It is pleasant to be able to state that this fine work of

art has been restored. Its attempted destruction filled the army of

Versailles with a spirit of revenge, which led them, on their entering

Paris a few days later, to deal with the insurrectionists with brutal

and merciless energy. They had other and abundant cause for this

feeling, as the reader will perceive in the recital of the later deeds

of the desperate Commune.



By the date now reached the army of order was rapidly gaining ground.

The fort of Vauves was taken; that of Mont Rouge was dismantled;

breaches were opened in the barricades, and by the 20th of May the army

was in the streets and fighting its way onward against a desperate

defence. The carnage was frightful; Dambrowski, a Pole and the only able

general of the Commune, was killed; prisoners on both sides were shot

down without mercy; there were barricades in almost every street and

these were hotly defended, the courage of despair in their defenders

making the progress of the besieging army a slow and bloody one.



The rest of the story is all blood and horror. The desperate leaders of

the Commune determined that, if they must perish, Paris should be their

funeral pyre. On the night of May 24 the city became a scene of

incendiary rage. The Hotel-de-Ville was in flames; the Palace of the

Tuileries was burning like a great furnace; the Palace of the Legion of

Honor, the Ministry of War, the Treasury were lurid volcanoes of flames;

on all sides the torch had been applied.



Not only these great public buildings, but many private houses were

consigned to the flames. All the sewers beneath Paris had been strewn

with torpedoes, bombs, and inflammable materials, connected with

electric wires, and the catacombs in the eastern quarter of the city

were similarly prepared. It was the intention of the desperate

revolutionists to blow up the city, but fortunately, before their

preparations were completed, the army of order was in control and

sappers and miners were sent underground to cut the electric wires

leading to these mines of death-dealing explosives.



But the capture of the city came too late to save the lives of many of

the "hostages" whom the Commune had sent to prison. Not content with

burning the architectural monuments of the city, as the last effort of

baffled rage they condemned these innocent victims of their wrath to

death. On Wednesday, May 24, the venerable archbishop and five others of

the imprisoned priests were taken from their cells and shot to death. On

Thursday fifty more, priests and others, were similarly slaughtered.



A large number of captives remained shut up in the prison of La

Roquette, around which, on Saturday the 27th, a yelling crowd gathered,

thirsting for their lives. They, knowing that their rescuers were

fighting within the city, determined to defend themselves and convert

the prison into a fortress. Poiret, one of the warders, horrified by

what had already been done, was the leader in the resolution, in which

he was joined by the Abbe Lamazan, who called out:



"Don't let us be shot, my friends; let us defend ourselves. Trust in

God; he is on our side."



The sergents de ville, captives in the story below, had made the same

resolution. They had no arms, but they barricaded the doors and resolved

to defend themselves from the murderous throng outside, howling for

their blood. Two guns and a mortar had been brought by the mob to fire

on the prison and the moment was critical.



Suddenly there came a lull in the uproar. Something had taken place. In

a few minutes more the crowd broke up and dispersed, dragging away the

guns they had brought. Word had reached them that the Council had fled

from its headquarters to Belleville and a sudden panic seized the mob.

Yet that night they returned, howling and cursing, while a barricade

near by was still held by the insurgents. But with the early dawn this

was abandoned, the mob melted away, and soon after a batallion of

rescuers marched up and took possession of the prison. The captives were

saved. Their resistance, seemingly so desperate, had proved successful.

That day, Sunday, May 28, ended the rule of the Commune. The Versailles

troops, who had been fighting their way steadily from street to street

since the 21st, completed their work, the whole great city was in their

hands, and the rule of the Commune was over.



The Commune had left devastation behind it. On every side were

smoldering ruins, including the great municipal buildings, the law

courts, and other public edifices, two theatres, eight whole streets,

and innumerable private houses, while the dead bodies of its victims lay

where they had been shot down. The soldiers, infuriated by the ruin

which they beheld on all sides, were savage in their revenge. Every man

seized whose hands were black with powder was instantly shot, many

innocent persons perishing, since numbers had been forced to the

barricades. The story of what took place during those bloody days of

retribution is too long to tell, and it must suffice to sum it up in the

frightful death roll of fourteen thousand persons--six thousand of them

killed in open fight, eight thousand executed in bitter revenge.



The executions over, the prisons were filled to bursting. Count Orsi

tells us that six hundred men were locked up in the wine cellars of

Versailles, forty-five feet underground. He himself, falsely seized

through the malice of an enemy, spent ten days in this horrible place

amid the scum of the insurgents. As for the members of the Council of

the Commune, some escaped, some were executed, others were transported

to New Caledonia, a lonely isle in the far Pacific--from which they were

subsequently freed when the hot blood of that year of revengeful

retribution cooled down.



Thus ends the remarkable story of that year of war, insurrection, and

devastation, the whole due to the overweening ambition of one man, Louis

Napoleon, who wished to shine as a great conqueror. The destiny of

France lay in his hand alone. He blindly decided upon war. The result

was the humiliation of France, the death of thousands of her sons, the

overthrow of her government, the frightful saturnalia of the rule of the

Commune, and the loss to France of two of her provinces, those of Alsace

and Lorraine, and a war indemnity of one thousand million dollars. Such

terrors march in the train of blind and unrestrained ambition.



More

;