Come, let us understand each other. Who are you, members of the
Commune? Those among you who are in some sort known to the public do
not possess, however, enough of its confidence to make up for the want
of knowledge it has of the others. Have a care how you excite our
mistrust. You have published decrees that certainly are open to
criticism, but that are not entirely obnoxious, for their object is to
uphold the interests of that portion of the population, which you most
particularly represent, and from whom you hold your commission. We will
forgive the decrees if you do nothing worse. Yesterday, the 30th March,
during the night (why in the night?) some men wearing a red scarf and
followed by several others with arms, presented themselves at the Union
Insurance Company. On the porter refusing to deliver up the keys of the
offices he was arrested. They then proceeded to break open the doors
with the butt-end of their muskets, and put seals on the strong box.
What can this portend? Have you been elected to break open private
offices and put seals on cash-boxes? That same night, a friend of mine
who happened to be passing across one of the bridges on his way home,
noticed that the windows of the Hôtel de Ville were brilliantly
lighted. Could they be having a ball already? he wondered. He made
inquiries and discovered that it was not a ball, but a banquet; three
or four hundred National Guards from Belleville had invaded the
apartments and had ordered a dinner to be served to them. They were
accompanied by a corresponding number of female companions, and were
drinking, talking, and singing to their hearts’ content. What do you
mean by that, members of the Commune? Have you been elected to keep
open-house, and do you propose to inscribe over the entrance of the
municipal palace: “Ample accommodation for feasts and banquets,” as a
companion to your motto of “Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity?”