When the bombardment of Paris came, père Cavaillé padded the exterior of his home, covering the walls with planks. The American flag flew over his door, since Gabriel Reinburg who lived there was Alsatian; like all Alsatians who had not opted for the French regime, he was still under American protection.

During the Commune, I often went in the evening to check on them. From the top of the roof we had a view that stretched over all of Paris. At the time, the Commune newspapers were talking about the demolition of the Vendôme column. We watched it for a number of evenings from the top of our observatory, but suddenly one evening we could no longer see it—it had fallen [May 16, 1871].

Towards the end of the Commune, when Paris was taken by the Versailles Army, I was living in the old Hôtel de Sourdéac, 8 rue Garancière. Every Monday, early in the morning, the cook of a friend from Lyon came to my door and asked me for her week's wages. One Monday morning, she rang my doorbell loudly and exclaimed: “The Versailles troops are in Paris!” From my window, I saw the Trocadéro, black with troops. She continued, “Don't go out, they say we’re going to fight in Paris! I won't be back for about a week.” A quarter of an hour later, I heard a bell-ringing such as I have never heard since: all the bells of the capital were sounding the alarm. As we know, the battle raged for eight days. At night, from the top of my roof, I could see only fires. One evening, I was filled with amazement; I saw the spire of Sainte-Chapelle surrounded by wreaths of flames and I thought I would not see it again the next day. Fortunately, it was only an optical illusion, and Sainte-Chapelle escaped destruction.

Some time later, all the windows in the neighborhood were broken by the explosion of a powder magazine that had been set up in the Luxembourg Garden. General Ernest Courtot de Cissey came with his army corps to occupy the Luxembourg on Thursday. It was only on that day that I was able to leave my house.