The Paris Commune

"To the average person today, the Siege of Paris evokes principally two images: rat-eating and balloons. The first represents the depths to which a modern civilization can be reduced; the second, the zenith of its resourcefulness in adversity." -- Alistair Horne, The Fall of Paris (Kindle Locations 2538-2540). 

The Fall of Paris, first published 1965, covers a sequence of events in Paris in 1870-1871: in particular, the German siege of Paris, the defeat of the French, and the subsequent rise of the Paris Commune. In reading this book I was fascinated by many things. Horne's long narrative explains how the fall of the French Second Empire created the conditions for the Franco-Prussian war.  He vividly describes the months of blockade and shelling by German troops, the worsening conditions inside Paris, and finally the surrender of the French.

The locations of the German occupation surrounding Paris are especially interesting because they read like a list of the ends of the Metro trains for contemporary Paris, showing that the Germans were well inside the boundaries of the vastly enlarged modern city. Also fascinating: his descriptions of the experiences of the Impressionist painters who were inside Paris during this time; for example, Renoir was almost put to death at one point, and survived because one of the executioners recognized him.

Immediately after the surrender to Germany, there was an uprising by the working people of Paris who attempted to have a socialist government to their benefit. The Fall of Paris explains many historic figures and events that have become pretty obscure, at least to non-historians like me, and describes the street fighting, the various factions, the often needless violence (such as the destruction of the Vendôme Column), the looting, the setting of fires, and the horrendous bloody end of the uprising. Horne calls it "a terrible example of how swiftly a civil, urban conflict can become degraded into such unbridled ferocity." (Kindle Locations 8066-8067).

The continued existence today of many of the locations within Paris where the fighting took places is another interesting fact. It's amazing how many streets, intersections, and neighborhoods Horne mentions have retained their identity. Tourism in Paris today includes many of these landmarks: the Hôtel de Ville, Père-Lachaise cemetery, Versailles, the hill of the Butte-aux-Cailles near the Porte d’Italie, the Croix Rouge intersection between the Boulevards Raspail and St. Germain, the Rue de l’Université near the river, or the Rue Vavin in Montparnasse.

To return to the two memorable images: rat-eating and balloons. Rat-eating resulted because the food supplies became so inadequate that rats were an appealing source of nourishment -- one writer said they tasted like birds.

Rat Seller during the Siege of Paris in 1870.
By Narcisse Chaillou.
Musée Carnavalet, Paris.

A Rat Presented as Food.
By Auguste Charpentier.
Museée Carnavalet.

"... the supplies of fresh meat were exhausted ... whence originated the exotic menus with which the Siege is immortally coupled. It was then that the signs ‘Feline and Canine Butchers’ made their debut. Although it was known that carnivores at the zoo were being nurtured on stray dogs, at first the idea of slaughtering domestic pets for human consumption provoked great indignation; a member of the Rafinesque family recorded how ‘the cart of a dog-and-cat butcher from which emanated lamentable barks and miaows was assailed by a crowd which was moved and perhaps disgusted. In the scuffle that followed five dogs escaped at the gallop whilst the crowd cheered.’ But soon necessity bred familiarity, and by mid-December Labouchere was reporting in a matter-of-fact way, ‘I had a slice of spaniel the other day’ (though it made him ‘feel like a cannibal’), and recounting without comment a week later how a man he had met was fattening up a huge cat which he meant to serve up on Christmas Day, ‘surrounded with mice, like sausages’."(Kindle Locations 3586-3594).

"Next it was the turn of the rats. Although, together with the carrier-pigeon, the rat was to become the most fabled animal of the Siege of Paris, and from December on a good rat-hunt was one of the favourite pastimes of the National Guard, the number actually consumed was relatively few. Apart from the (probably exaggerated) fear of the diseases they carried, on account of the lavish preparation of sauces required to make them palatable rats were essentially a rich man’s dish; hence the famous menus of the Jockey Club, featuring such delicacies as salmi de rats and ‘rat pie’." (Kindle Locations 3598-3603).  

The poorest people suffered the most, as no preparations for food distribution or rationing had been put into effect. Thus rich people were able to monopolize the scarce commodities, which eventually included rats but also cats, dogs, horses, the flesh of the zoo's elephants and kangaroos, and more. A total lack of milk caused the death of many infants and small children, while bread could be made from a combination of flour and straw. Prices went out of control, and long queues formed wherever a hint of available food was rumored. Fuel for cooking, washing, and heating houses also became scarce, and eventually unobtainable. At the same time, bombardments were causing destruction of homes and neighborhoods. Horne's description of people's desperation is gut-wrenching.

After rat eating, Horne's other famous image of the siege is the famous hot-air balloons. These were filled with hot air, hydrogen, or other light gas, and launched to fly over the German blockade and deliver news to the outside world. It was the first really effective use of flight for military purposes. At the beginning of the siege, few balloons were available, but workshops were developed to produce them in useful numbers.

One high-profile balloon flight delivered the French politician Gambetta beyond enemy lines. This was incredibly daring:

"The decision to entrust Gambetta to a balloon was reached on October 3rd, but it was not until four days later that a favourable wind allowed him to start. By 11 a.m. on the 7th, a huge crowd had assembled round the launching-pad that had been set up in the Place St.-Pierre, Montmartre, the highest point of Paris and close to where the Sacré-Cœur now stands. There had been a big disappointment the previous day when the count-down ceased after two small trial balloons had disappeared into thick fog at an altitude of a few hundred feet. But now all augured well. There were loud cheers as Gambetta arrived, wrapped up in a great furred cloak prepared by some kind feminine hand. A farewell embrace from the veteran Socialist, Louis Blanc, a command of ‘Messieurs les voyageurs, en ballon!’, and Gambetta climbed into the open wicker basket. The crowd commented on Gambetta’s apparent nervousness, on the paleness of his normally florid face, on how he clutched at the rigging and how an additional rope had to be thrown round the shrouds to prevent his falling out. His apprehension was more than understandable. From a man embarking on this kind of balloon journey in 1870 probably at least as much real courage was demanded as from an early American or Soviet astronaut in the 1960’s; and for the balloonists there were no helping hands or batteries of computers on earth, ready to guide them down, no flotillas standing by to pick them out of the sea, and only in the matter of ‘re-entry’ did they have more control over their flight than the astronauts. Over their head billowed a great bag of highly inflammable coal-gas that needed just one stray enemy bullet to turn it into a ball of flame. Needless to say, no other Minister of any nation had yet entrusted himself to such a vehicle, even for the briefest flight. As the anchor ropes were cast off, Gambetta managed to recover his nerve sufficiently to unfurl a tricolour, displaying a characteristic sense of theatre. Teams of men guided the unpredictably bobbing, flimsy elephant into the air so as not to foul nearby roofs. At last the Armand Barbès began to rise freely, spinning and jigging with a sickening motion, accompanied by great cries of ‘Vive la France! Vive la République!’ from below, until it slowly disappeared out of sight to the west. If this was not actually France’s ‘finest hour’ of the war, it was certainly the beginning of it." (Kindle Locations 1834-1851).

A balloon lost at sea after leaving Paris in 1870.  From a Broadside about balloon events during the Siege of Paris, 1870-1871. Image from Wikipedia.

"Altogether some 65 manned balloons left Paris during the Siege. They carried 164 passengers, 381 pigeons, 5 dogs, and nearly 11 tons of official dispatches, including approximately two and a half million letters. Six landed in Belgium, four in Holland, two in Germany, one in Norway, two were lost at sea, but only five fell into enemy hands. The news they exported of Paris’s continued resistance did much to stimulate sympathy abroad for the French cause, as well as kindling hope in the provinces. But above all, the knowledge that the city was not entirely cut off from the outside world, the ability to communicate, however haphazardly, with relatives there, and to learn that other French forces were still resisting the enemy somewhere in the provinces, went far towards countering that deadly ailment, l’ennui, and towards restoring Parisian morale." (Kindle Locations 2726-2732). 

There's much much more than balloons and rats in this book. The politics and in-fighting of the Commune represent an important development in French history, while lessons learned and lessons not learned are all very significant. Horne provides numerous glimpses of parallels between the Franco Prussian war and World War I, which was pretty much a re-run of the same horrors. To some extent, I found the level of detail overwhelming, and I really never mastered the names and roles of the numerous political figures who were leaders of Germany or of the many rivals for leadership of France.

I'm posting this review as a contribution to the ongoing blog event "Paris in July," hosted at the blog Thyme for Tea (link). Alistair Horne (1925-2017) wrote a number of books about Paris which might be of interest to other bloggers looking for material for this enjoyable voyage of the imagination.