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By Root 1685 0

He preempted her question about his response to the balloon by saying, “You are correct. I have been distracted, and our host’s words were the cause of it—specifically, his account of the bargain he struck for the rifles taken from the so-called Paris Commune. I was in Paris during the Commune. I’d come in with the second or third shipment of food Great Britain sent after the Prussians lifted their siege of the city. I’d thought I might write a series of articles about the state of the capital, which during the siege had become a focus of international attention and sympathy. It was a project for which I was well suited. Not only was I fluent in the language, but I had visited Paris several times during my youth, and I had maintained my correspondence with several of the friends I had made during those trips. One of these friends helped me secure lodgings in the Vaugirard district, and I settled down to work.

“I was staying at the edge of the city, so each morning, I set out to walk into it. While I was cautious at first, I soon became more confident and was ranging far and wide. Some parts of the city seemed hardly to have been affected at all, others—I can recall my shock at seeing the Ministry of Finances, which had been pounded almost entirely into rubble by the Prussian guns, so that what remained resembled an antique ruin. Towards the end of the day, I would return home and record my experiences. Once a week, I would write a short essay detailing my impressions, which I sent off to Rupert Cook at Howell’s. He liked the pieces well enough, although he paid the bare minimum for them. To be frank, I did not expect Cook would continue to purchase my essays for very long, once their novelty wore off. For the moment, however, I was in Paris, gathering details for my next novel, which (I hoped) would meet with more success than either of my previous attempts had. If I harbored my resources, I judged I might be able to extend my stay by as much as another year.

“In the wake of the French defeat, the city—the country—was in tumult. Indeed, the new government chose to convene in Versailles, for fear of the Parisian crowds. One of President Thiers’s first moves was to pass the Law of Maturities, whose ostensible purpose was to refill the coffers depleted by the war, but whose not-so-secret intent was to bring Paris, which was to provide an undue share of the revenue, to heel. The Commune arose as an attempt by the residents of the city to administer their own affairs more justly. For the two months of the Commune’s rule, Paris was—it was no less turbulent, but the daily chaos was shot through with optimism, with excitement. There was a significant population of foreigners living in the city, exiles, many of them, from more repressive states—and perhaps because of this, what was taking place felt as if its implications went far beyond the city’s borders. I filled all of one notebook and most of a second.

“There had been some skirmishes between the forces defending Paris and those loyal to the national government, but nothing of consequence, or so I judged. How naïve do I sound if I say that I did not believe the dispute between the city and the country would be settled through force of arms? Yet the morning of May twenty-first, I awakened to the sound of the first of the national government’s forces marching through the streets. I had not appreciated the unhappiness the residents of the city’s western districts felt towards the Commune. This included one of my oldest correspondents, a former professor of the classics who I later learned had been passing information along to the president’s agents. In fact, he was among those to suggest the route by which the French army might gain access to the city, and to offer reassurance that the soldiers would receive a warm welcome when they arrived.

“Which they did: the avenue outside my window was lined with men, women, children, there to greet the troops as liberators. I stared down at the ranks of men in their blue jackets and red trousers, their kepi caps perched on their heads,