William Nelson A Memoir 15

William Nelson A Memoir 15

The Parisian capital is a place of too easy and frequent resort to admit

of its being embraced within the range of notable explorations; but two

of his visits to Paris were made under such exceptional circumstances as

to claim special notice here. The first of those was his characteristic

visit at the period of Prince Louis Napoleon’s famous _coup d’état_. An

old friend, Mr. Matthew Tait, thus briefly narrates the event:--“We all

know how fond he was of foreign travel, and how he liked to watch the

movements of crowds and to witness any public display. My brother

accompanied him to Paris in 1851. It was at the time of the _coup

d’état_. Mingling one day with the crowds that filled the Place de la

Concorde, they suddenly found themselves exposed to a charge of cavalry.

The crowd instantly gave way amid shrieks and yells; some of them were

mortally wounded. My brother remarked to me afterwards on the coolness

and self-possession of William Nelson, who seemed to have far more

sympathy with the unfortunate victims than concern for his own safety.”

 

In William Nelson’s boyhood the journey to London was a formidable

adventure. A youth who had achieved that feat won the respect of his

companions as one who had seen the world. To have actually crossed the

Channel was to be a great traveller. Rotterdam and the Hague, or

Christiania and Copenhagen, by reason of the trade of the neighbouring

sea-port, lay within easier reach than Paris. But steam-boats and

railways have wrought as great a revolution in ideas as in experience;

and in his later years a visit to Paris was no uncommon occurrence. But

the circumstances were altogether exceptional when in March 1871,--the

year succeeding that of his journey across the American continent,--he

proceeded thither, accompanied by Mrs. Nelson and an American friend,

Mr. George Buckham of New York. The Franco-German War was over; Paris

had capitulated; and this unwonted condition of things presented

attractions peculiarly calculated to tempt William Nelson to witness for

himself the novel scene. Happily some interesting reminiscences of the

adventure are recoverable from notes furnished by both of his

fellow-travellers.

 

They met in London on the 16th of March, and on learning that the German

army had evacuated Paris, they resolved to avail themselves of the

opportunity of witnessing the devastations of war, while the city still

wore the aspect due to its prolonged siege. They started accordingly the

following day. On reaching the suburbs of Paris they were struck with

the wretched condition of the numerous soldiers of the besieging army,

still bivouacked there in dirty, tattered uniforms, little calculated to

suggest the idea of proud conquerors. They put up at the Hôtel Chatham;

and on their way from the railway station their attention was drawn to

the excited crowds in the streets and boulevards. It was soon apparent

that the terrors of the siege had been succeeded by revolutionary

revolt. Many wounded and dying were being carried past on stretchers.

The streets were filled with citizens and soldiers gesticulating in an

angry manner, and evidently ripe for violence. The very few shops that

were open looked dreary and deserted; and the inhabitants had a

careworn, anxious look, as though they dreaded a renewal of the terrible

experiences of the siege.

 

About noon the travellers set out to explore the scenes still bearing

evidence of the conflict so recently ended. They reached the Champ de

Mars in time to see several regiments of the National Guard arrive and

pitch their tents. They were survivors of the army of General Chanzy,

which had suffered so terribly; and Mr. Buckham notes of them: “All were

scarcely older than mere boys. They were in a dreadfully ragged and

distressed condition.” Everywhere, indeed, the pride and glory of war

had given place to its most forbidding aspects. At Pont de Jour the

shells had made terrible havoc, almost totally destroying every house in

the place. At St. Cloud it was the same. The palace which the Emperor

left on the 18th of July 1870, at the head of the Grande Armée, to march

to Berlin, was almost completely demolished; and a street of once

beautiful mansions near it was a mere pile of ruins. This was the work

of the besieged, in their efforts to dislodge the Germans, who were

carousing in the magnificent halls of the imperial palace. Everywhere

the travellers were struck with the evidences of the blind fury of the

populace. The “N,” the “E,” and every symbol of the emperor, had been

effaced or broken. Statues of the First Napoleon, and a beautiful

statue of the Empress Josephine that adorned the avenue which bore her

name, had been thrown down and flung into the river. Even the heads of

the bronze eagles on the Grand Opera House had been broken off.

 

They sought in vain for a conveyance to hire. At every livery stable

they were told that the horses had all been killed and eaten. Towards

evening the excitement became intense, under the apprehension that the

Red Republicans, who were evidently gaining ground, would take complete

possession of Paris. The landlord of the Hôtel Chatham was greatly

excited, and cautioned his guests against venturing out of doors. But an

old citizen of Edinburgh, Mr. Nimmo, who was well known to Mr. Nelson,

undertook to be their guide. He had himself been a leader in the

political movements of the old Scottish reformers at a time when such

proceedings imperilled his safety; and so, taking refuge in Paris, he

had resided there for forty-nine years, and now found himself at home in

the _furor_ of a fresh revolution. Under his escort they traversed the

deserted and gloomy thoroughfares, till they reached the Place Vendôme,

where a military guard arrested their progress, and compelled them to

pursue a different route. When they passed the end of the Louvre, and

turned in the direction of the boulevard leading towards the Place

Vendôme, they suddenly became involved in a disorderly mass of

soldiers; and within half an hour after they reached their hotel, the

Place Vendôme was captured by the mob. A little later the Hôtel de Ville

was in the hands of the Communists, the government fled from Paris, and

the revolution was an accomplished fact. The Grande Armée disappeared.

On the Saturday night, March 18th, there was fighting going on in

several parts of the city; and when, on the following day, Mr. and Mrs.

Nelson and their friend visited two Protestant churches, they found them

closed, and all attempt at public worship abandoned. They were

successful at length in securing a hired vehicle, and making their way

to the Jardin des Plantes, where they found, to their surprise, that

nearly all the animals had survived the siege. There had been

sensational newspaper paragraphs concerning the novel dishes which the

national menagerie supplied; and William Nelson’s fancy was greatly

taken with the idea of a hippopotamus steak, a giraffe ragout, a dish of

devilled tiger, or some other equally _recherché_ entertainment; but

instead of the beasts being devoured, it had been found possible to

provide them with something to eat. Eighty-four shells had fallen within

the garden enclosures, but the damage was slight; while seven of the

poor invalids in a large hospital adjoining had been killed in their

beds. While walking through the Jardin des Plantes, a stranger

approached Mr. Nelson, and addressing him, told him he was a professor

in the University of Dublin, had been shut up in Paris during the siege,

and reduced to the direst straits. He was anxious to get away, but he

had no money. Mr. Buckham, who witnessed the interview, adds: “In such

cases Mr. Nelson never hesitated. I have seen many other instances of

his benevolence. He relieved this gentleman at once.” Mr. Buckham adds

that he learned from Mr. Nimmo of many instances of suffering and

distress, as the results of the siege, which had been reported by him to

Mr. Nelson. He did not stop to inquire more, but helped the needy, and

relieved the distressed and suffering, without any idea that his good

deeds were ever known to any one but Mr. Nimmo, who had the pleasant

duty of acting as his almoner.

 

The entire scene abounded in strange and exciting novelty. They drove to

the Hôtel de Ville, and there had to abandon their conveyance. The grand

square was filled with soldiers. Men and boys were tearing up the

paving-stones and constructing barricades. The flag of the Red

Republicans was flying on the hotel, and the soldiers were shouting,

“_Vive la République!_” and fraternizing with the mob. So alarming grew

the situation that the idea gained favour with many of the citizens to

invite the return of the Prussians to Paris as the only escape from a

reign of terror. Proclamations were issued by the Government, and

counter proclamations by the Red Republicans. The travellers were

warned by their landlord not to venture out; but it was useless to visit

Paris at such a time merely to be immured in their hotel. So at noon

they started for Versailles, under the guidance of Mr. Nimmo, and paid a

visit there to M. Giacomelli, Mr. Nelson’s artist friend. He had had

several Prussian officers quartered on him, and the account he gave of

the insolent brutality of those representatives of the victorious army

seems to have been abundantly confirmed by the condition in which they

left the artist’s beautiful château. Mr. Buckham thus writes:--

 

“Monsieur and Madame Giacomelli are people of the highest refinement and

culture, and it was impossible to listen to a recital of their wrongs

unmoved. The walls of their _salons_ were hung with most beautiful

paintings, many of which had been cut from their frames. The beautiful

draperies of the windows were stained with tobacco juice; and the rich

satin coverings of their furniture, which the officers had lounged on

with spurs, were hanging in ribbons.”

 

The calm self-control and fearlessness in danger which have already been

noted among the characteristics of William Nelson, were repeatedly noted

by his travelling companion under the most trying circumstances during

this sojourn in Paris. Mr. Buckham thus writes:--“In the exciting scenes

of these few days, in which Mr. Nelson mingled freely and fearlessly,

no one was so calm as he. The writer accompanied him through scenes in

which we were often menaced with the insane violence of armed men, so

that it was deemed the height of madness to expose ourselves to it. On

one occasion, in the Marché St. Honoré, which we entered suddenly, not

knowing what was going on, we found it crowded with armed men and women

almost foaming with rage at our intrusion. Three words uttered by Mr.

Nelson in a low tone restored me to self-control. ‘Take my arm,’ he said

quietly, and we passed unharmed, with muskets and bayonets pointed at

us. While traversing the Rue de Rivoli, for a long distance we did not

see a human being, until we were suddenly confronted by a Communist

doing sentinel duty. Mr. Nelson said to me in his calm tone of voice,

‘Say nothing; I’ll manage this fellow.’ So on we went, and the sentinel

brought down his musket from his shoulder. Our pace was not changed. Mr.

Nelson gave the military salute; he again shouldered his musket, and we

passed on.”

 

The season was early, but a succession of days of brilliant sunshine,

with the trees putting forth their fresh spring leaves and early

blossoms, and the songs of the birds already building their nests, all

tended to intensify the desolation of the scene and the misery of the

populace. In the ruined villages around Paris they saw men, women, and

children who gazed as if stupified at the wreck of their humble

dwellings, while they seemed only involved in worse dangers by the

withdrawal of the invaders. A revolution was at its height. The National

Assembly was sitting at Versailles, while the Red Republicans held

Paris; and the army was taking sides, and divided between the rival