Next morning, the 19th of March, I was in haste to know the events of
last night, what attitude Paris had assumed after her first surprise.
The night, doubtless, had brought counsel, and perhaps settled the
discord existing between the Government and the Central Committee.
Early in the morning things appeared much as usual; the streets were
peaceful, servants shopping, and the ordinary passengers going to and
fro. In passing I met a casual acquaintance to whom I had spoken now
and then, a man with whom I had served during the siege when we mounted
guard on the ramparts. “Well,” said I, “good morning, have you any
news?”—“News,” replied he, “no, not that I know of. Ah I yes, there is
a rumour that something took place yesterday at Montmartre.” This was
told me in the centre of the city, in the Rue de la Grange-Batelière.
Truly there are in Paris persons marvellously apathetic and ignorant. I
would wager not a little that by searching in the retired quarters,
some might be found who believe they are still governed by Napoleon
III., and have never heard of the war with Prussia, except as a not
improbable eventuality.
On the boulevards there was but little excitement. The newspaper
vendors were in plenty. I do not like to depend upon these public
sheets for information, for however impartial or sincere a reporter may
be, he cannot represent facts otherwise than according to the
impression they make upon him, and to value facts by the impression
they make upon others is next to impossible.
I directed my steps to the Rue Drouot in search of placards, and
plentiful I found them, and white too, showing that Paris was not
without a government; for white is the official colour even under a red
Republic.[14]
Taking out a pencil I copied hastily the proclamation of the new
masters, and I think that I did well, for we forget very quickly both
proclamations and persons. Where are they now, the official bills of
last year?
“RÉPUBLIQUE FRANÇAISE.
“Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité.”
_To the People_.
“Citizens,—The people of Paris have shaken off the yoke endeavoured
to be imposed upon them.”
What yoke, gentlemen—I beg pardon, citizens of the Committee? I assure
you, as part of the people, that I have never felt that any one has
tried to impose one upon me. I recollect, if my memory serves me, that
a few guns were spoken of, but nothing about yokes. Then the expression
“People of Paris,” is a gross exaggeration. The inhabitants of
Montmartre and their neighbours of that industrious suburb are
certainly a part of the people, and not the less respectable or worthy
of our consideration because they live out of the centre (indeed, I
have always preferred a coal man of the Chaussée Clignancourt to a
coxcomb of the Rue Taitbout); but for all that, they are not the whole
population. Thus, your sentence does not imply anything, and moreover,
with all its superannuated metaphor, the rhetoric is out of date. I
think it would have been better to say simply—
“Citizens,—The inhabitants of Montmartre and of Belleville have
taken their guns and intend to keep them.”
But then it would not have the air of a proclamation. Extraordinary
fact! you may overturn an entire country, but you must not touch the
official style; it is immutable. One may triumph over empires, but must
respect red tape. Let us read on:
“Tranquil, calm in our force, we have awaited without fear as
without provocation, the shameless madmen who menaced the
Republic.”
The Republic? Again an improper expression, it was the cannons they
wanted to take.
“This time, our brothers of the army....”
Ah! your brothers of the army! They are your brothers because they
fraternised and threw up the butt-ends of their muskets. In your family
you acknowledge no brotherhood except those who hold the same opinion.
“This time, our brothers of the army would not raise their hands
against the holy ark of our liberty.”
Oh! So the guns are a holy ark now. A very holy metaphor, for people
not greatly enamoured of churchmen.
“Thanks for all; and let Paris and France unite to build a Republic,
and accept with acclamations the only government that will close for
ever the flood gates of invasion and civil war.
“The state of siege is raised.
“The people of Paris are convoked in their sections to elect a
Commune. The safety of all citizens is assured by the body of the
National Guard.
“Hôtel de Ville of Paris, the 19th of March, 1871.
“The Central Committee of the National Guard:
“Assy, Billioray, Ferrat, Babick, Ed. Moreau, Oh. Dupont, Varlin,
Boursier, Mortier, Gouhier, Lavallette, Fr. Jourde, Rousseau, Ch.
Lullier, Blanchet, G. Gaillard, Barroud, H. Geresme, Fabre,
Pougeret.”[15]
There is one reproach that the new Parisian Revolution could not be
charged with; it is that of having placed at the head men of proved
incapacity. Those who dared to assert that each of the persons named
above had not more genius than would be required to regenerate two or
three nations would greatly astonish me. In a drama of Victor Hugo it
is said a parentless child ought to be deemed a gentleman; thus an
obscure individual ought, on the same terms, to be considered a man of
genius.
But on the walls of the Rue Drouot many more proclamations were to be
seen.
“RÉPUBLIQUE FRANÇAISE.
“LIBERTÉ, EGALITÉ, FRATERNITÉ,
“To the National Guards of Paris.
“CITIZENS,—You had entrusted us with the charge of organising the
defence of Paris and of your rights.”
Oh! as to that, no; a thousand times, no! I admit—since you appear to
cling to it—that Cannon are an ark of strength, but under no pretext
whatever will I allow that I entrusted you with the charge of
organising anything whatsoever. I know nothing of you; I have never
heard you spoken of. There is no one in the world of whom I am more
ignorant than Ferrat, Babick, unless it be Gaillard and Pougeret
(though I was national guard myself, and caught cold on the ramparts
for the King of Prussia[16] as much as anyone else). I neither know
what you wish nor where you are leading those who follow you; and I can
prove to you, if you like, that there are at least a hundred thousand
men who caught cold too, and who, at the present moment, are in exactly
the same state of mind concerning you “We are aware of having fulfilled
our mission.”
You are very good to have taken so much trouble, but I have no
recollection of having given you a mission to fulfil of any kind
whatever!
“Assisted by your courage and presence of mind!...”
Ah, gentlemen, this is flattery!
“We have driven out the government that was betraying you.
“Our mandate has now expired...”
Always this same mandate which we gave you, eh?
“We now return it to you, for we do not pretend to take the place
of those which the popular breath has overthrown.
“Prepare yourselves, let the Communal election commence forthwith,
and give to us the only reward we have ever hoped for—that of
seeing the establishment of a true republic. In the meanwhile we
retain the Hôtel de Ville in the name of the people.
“Hôtel de Ville, Paris, 19th March, 1871.
“The Central Committee of the National Guards:
“Assy, Billioray, and others.”
Placarded up also is another proclamation[17] signed by the citizens
Assy, Billioray, and others, announcing that the Communal elections
will take place on Wednesday next, 22nd of March, that is to say in
three days.
This then is the result of yesterday’s doings, and the revolution of
the 18th March can be told in a few words.
There were cannon at Montmartre; the Government wished to take them but
was not able, thanks to the fraternal feeling and cowardice of the
soldiers of the Line. A secret society, composed of several delegates
of several battalions, took advantage of the occasion to assert loudly
that they represented the entire population, and commanded the people
to elect the Commune of Paris—whether they wished or not.
What will Paris do now between these dictators, sprung from heaven
knows where, and the Government fled to Versailles?