“Citizens,” says the _Official Journal_ this morning, “your Commune is
constituted.” Then follows decree upon decree. White posters are being
stuck up everywhere. Why are they at the Hôtel de Ville, if not to
publish decrees? The conscription is abolished. We shall see no more
poor young fellows marching through the town with their numbers in
their caps, and fired with that noble patriotism which is imbibed in
the cabarets at so much a glass. We shall have no more soldiers, but to
make up for that we shall all be National Guards. There’s a glorious
decree, as Edgar Poë says. As to the landlords, their vexation is
extreme; even the tenants do not seem so satisfied as they ought to be.
Not to have to pay any rent is very delightful, certainly, but they
scarcely dare believe in such good fortune. Thus when Orpheus, trying
to rescue Eurydice from “the infernal regions,” interrupts with “his
harmonious strains” the tortures of eternal punishment, Prometheus did
not doubtless show as much delight as he ought to have done, on
discovering that the beak of the vulture was no longer gnawing at his
vitals, “scarcely daring to believe in such good fortune.” Orpheus is
the Commune; Eurydice, Liberty; “the infernal regions,” the Government
of the 4th September; “the harmonious strains,” the decrees of the
Commune; Prometheus, the tenant; and the vulture, the landlord!
In plain terms, however—forgive me for joking on such a subject—the
decree which annuls the payment of the rents for the quarters ending
October 1870, January 1871, and April 1871, does not appear to me at
all extravagant, and really I do not see what there is to object to in
the following lines which accompany it:—
“In consideration of the expenses of the war having been chiefly
sustained by the industrial, commercial, and working portion of the
population, it is but just that the proprietors of houses and land
should also bear their part of the burthen....”
Let us talk it over together, Mr. Landlord. You have a house and I live
in it. It is true that the chimneys smoke, and that you most
energetically refuse to have them repaired. However, the house is
yours, and you possess most decidedly the right of making a profit by
it. Understand, once for all, that I never contest your right. As for
me, I depend upon my wit, I do not possess much, but I have a tool—it
may be either a pen, or a pencil, or a hammer—which enables me, in the
ordinary course of things, to live and to pay with more or less
regularity my quarter’s rent. If I had not possessed this tool, you
would have taken good care not to let me inhabit your house or any part
or portion thereof, because you would have considered me in no position
to pay you your rent. Now, during the war my tool has unquestionably
rendered me but poor service. It has remained ignobly idle in the
inkstand, in the folio, or on the bench. Not only have I been unable to
use it, but I have also in some sort lost the knack of handling it; I
must have some time to get myself into working order again. While I was
working but little, and eating less, what were you doing? Oh! I do not
mean to say that you were as flourishing as in the triumphant days of
the Empire, but still I have not heard of any considerable number of
landlords being found begging at the corners of the streets, and I do
not fancy you made yourselves conspicuous by your assiduous attendance
at the Municipal Cantines. I have even heard that you or many of your
brother-landlords took pretty good care not to be in Paris during the
Prussian siege, and that you contented yourselves with forming the most
ardent wishes, for the final triumph of French arms, from beneath the
wide-spreading oaks of your châteaux in Touraine and Beauce, or from
the safe haven of a Normandy fishing village; while we, accompanied it
is true by your most fervent prayers, took our turn at mounting guard,
on the fortifications during the bitter cold nights, or knee-deep in
the mud of the trenches. However, I do not blame those who sought
safety in flight; each person is free to do as he pleases; what I
object to is your coming back and saying, “During seven or eight months
you have done no work, you have been obliged to pawn your furniture to
buy bread for your wife and children; I pity you from the bottom of my
heart—be so kind as to hand me over my three quarters’ rent.” No, a
thousand times no; such a demand is absurd, wicked, ridiculous; and I
declare that if there is no possible compromise between the strict
execution of the law and his decree of the Commune, I prefer, without
the least hesitation, to abide by the latter; I prefer to see a little
poverty replace for a time the long course of prosperity that has been
enjoyed by this very small class of individuals, than to see the last
articles of furniture of five hundred thousand suffering wretches, put
up to auction and knocked down for one-twentieth part of their value.
There must, however, be some way of conciliating the interests of both
landlords and tenants. Would it be sufficient to accord delays to the
latter, and force the former to wait a certain time for their money? I
think not; if I were allowed three years to pay off my three quarters’
rent, I should still be embarrassed. The tool of the artisan is not
like the peasant’s plot of ground, which is more productive after
having lain fallow. During the last few sad months, when I had no work
to do, I was obliged to draw upon the future, a future heavily
mortgaged; when I shall perhaps scarcely be able to meet the expenses
of each day, will there be any possibility of acquitting the debts of
the past? You may sell my furniture if the law gives you the right to
do so, but I shall not pay!
The only possible solution, believe me, is that in favour of the
tenants, only it ought not to be applied in so wholesale a fashion.
Inquiries should be instituted, and to those tenants from whom the war
has taken away all possibility of payment an unconditional receipt
should be delivered: to those who have suffered less, a proportionate
reduction should be allowed; but those whom the invasion has not ruined
or seriously impoverished—and the number is large, among provision
merchants, café keepers, and private residents—let those pay directly.
In this way the landlords will lose lees than one may imagine, because
it will be the lowest rents that will be forfeited. The decree of the
Commune is based on a right principle, but too generally applied.
The new Government—for it is a Government—does not confine itself to
decrees. It has to install itself in its new quarters and make
arrangements.[27]
In a few hours it has organized more than ten committees—the executive,
the financial, the public-service, the educational, the military, the
legal, and the committee of public safety. No end of committees and
committeemen: it is to be hoped that the business will be promptly
despatched!