THE MOST IMPRESSIVE 
SIGHT I EVER SAW. 
I. — Mme. Sarah Bernhardt. 
II. — Father Bernard Vaughan. 
III. — Field-Marshal Sir Evelyn Wood, V.C. 
In the following striking series of articles a number of eminent men and 
women have consented to describe "the most impressive sight" they have 
ever seen. Their stones, as will be realized by the opening examples, will 
be of the most varied and exciting kind. On the principle of " place aux 
dames," we commence with Mme. Sarah Bernhardt's graphic description 
of an incident she witnessed during the siege of Paris. 
I. 
THE BOMBARDMENT OF PARIS. 
By MME. SARAH BERNHARDT. 
Illustrated by J. E. Sutcliffe. 
pleading tones, “ Do try to take one or two 
more in.” Although, as I have said, our 
house was already full of the severely wounded, 
such a request I could not refuse, and I 
replied, “ Very well, I will take two more,” 
for Mme. Guerard and I had our own beds, 
which we gladly gave up. 
All night long bombarding continued, until 
close on six in the morning the mournful cry 
of “ Ambulance ! ambulance ! ” once more 
reached our ears. Mme. Guerard and I went 
down to meet the sad procession. We 
encountered the sergeant at the door. “ Take 
this man,” he said. “He is losing all his 
blood, and if I take him any farther he will 
not arrive living.” The new arrival proved 
to be a German, one Frantz Mayer, who said 
that he was a soldier of the Silesian Landwehr, 
As he told me his name he fainted from 
weakness caused by loss of blood. He 
soon came to, however, and I had him 
carried into a room where there was a young 
Breton suffering from a bad fracture of the 
skull. Before leaving, one of my friends, an 
excellent German linguist, approached Frantz 
Mayer’s bed, and asked him in his own tongue 
whether he could do anything for him. 
“ I thank you, no, sir,” he replied, bravely, 
“ and although I suffer much I am happy in 
the thought that Paris cannot hold out two 
SIGHT I witnessed during the 
bombardment of Paris in the 
Franco-Prussian War I shall 
never forget as long as I live. 
Indeed, although many years 
have passed since thoseterrible 
days, the memory of this 
particular incident is as fresh to me as though 
it had happened but yesterday. For days 
past food had been getting scarcer and 
scarcer. Bitter cold enveloped the city, and 
the army of the enemy was daily holding the 
French capital in a still closer grip. 
Towards the end of December hope had 
been slowly fading from many a gallant heart, 
and, speaking for myself, I may say that I was 
living in the expectation of I knew not what, 
and of something, some dread thing, that 
I dare not let my mind dwell on. Every 
night I used to hear a mournful cry of 
“ Ambulance ! ambulance ! ” underneath the 
windows of the Ode on. My friends and I 
would then creep softly down the stairs to 
meet the sad procession, and to see whether 
we could possibly prove of any assistance. 
Our refuge, I need scarcely say, soon 
became full of these brave, wounded soldiers, 
who so proudly gave up their lives for the 
honour of France. At last, when our house 
was quite full, the sergeant said to me, in 
