Martinsburg herald. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1881-1920, 1892-11-19

A spectator of street-ighting during
the Paris Commune QS7D, Archibald
Forbes, the celebrated correspondent, re-
'lates the following dramatic incident
"For another hour or more my neigh
bors the Communists, who had been re.
inforced, gave pause to the Versaillist
effort to descend the Boulevard Hauss-
mann, and were holding their own
against the Versaillist fire from the
Church of the Trinity and the barricade
on the rise of the Rue Lafayette. The
house at the right-hand corner of the
Rue de la Chaussee d'Autiu and the Rue
Lafayette-the house whose projecting
gable was my shelter-had caught fire,
TO my disquietude and discomfort; but
before the fire should seriously trouble
me the impending crisis would probably
be over. Furious and more furious
waxed the firing all around. About the
Opera House it was especially fierce. l
had glimpses of fighting at close quarters
In the open space before its rear front,
and l could discern men shutting along
behind the low parapet of its roof. They
carried packs, but could not see their
breeches, aud was not therefore wholly
certain that they were Versaillists. A
woman had joined me in my position
behind the gabie-a woman who seemed
to have charmed life. Over and over
again she walked out into the fire, looked
deliberately about her, aud came back
TO recount to me with excited volubility
10 ~ hot Oh ho1
She was convinced the soldiers On the
roof were Versaillists; yet, as pointed
out to her, the drapeau rouge still waved
above the statue on the summit of the
iofty building. The people of the hotel
in our rear clearly shared her belief
Gathered timidIy in the porte cochere,
they were crying 'Bravop aud clapplng
their hands, because they hoped and
believed the Versaillsts were winning.
"Ihe woman was right; they were
Versaillist linesmen whom we saw on the
parapet Of the Opera House. There was
a cheer; the people OF the hotel ran out
into the fire, waving handkerchiefs and
clapping their hands. The tricolor was
waving above the hither portico. The
red flag waved still on the farther eleva-
ton. a LADDER ladder to reach it,
was the excited cry from the group be-
hind me; but for the moment no ladder
was proCurable. As we waited, there
darted down the boulevard to the corner
of the Rue Halevy little grig of a
fellow in red breeches-one of the old
French linesmen breed. He was all
alone, and appeared to enjoy the loneli-
ness as he took up his post behind a
tree, and fired his first shot at Com
munard lodging about the intersection
of the Rue Taitbout. When is a French
man not dramatic2 lie fired with an
air; he reloaded with an air; he fred
again with flourish, aud was greeted
with cheering and handclapping from
the gallery behind me, to which the
little fellow was playing. Then he
becko1ed us back dramatically, for his
next shot was to be sped up the Rue
lafayette, at a little knot of Com
munists who, from a fragment of shelter
at the intersection of the Rue LATTE,
were taking him for their target. Then
he faced about and waved his comrades
on with exaggerated gestures which re-
called those one sees in blood and
thunder melodrama, the Communist
bullets all the while cutting the bark
and branches of the tree which was his
cover. All he was down. Well, he
had enjoyed his fash of recklessness.
The woman by my side and l darted
across and carried him in. We might
have spared ourselves the trouble and
risk; he was dead, with bullet through
his head"