May conciliation be hoped for yet? Alas! I can scarcely think so. The
bloody fight will have a bloody end. It is not alone between the
Commune of Paris and the Assembly of Versailles that there lies an
abyss which only corpses can fill. Paris itself, at this moment—I mean
the Paris sincerely desirous of peace—is no longer understood by
France; a few days of separation have caused strange divisions in men’s
minds; the capital seems to speak the country’s language no longer.
Timbuctoo is not as far from Pekin, as Versailles is distant from
Paris. How can one hope under such circumstances, that the
misunderstanding, the sole cause of our misfortunes, can be cleared
away? How can one believe that the Government of Monsieur Thiers will
lend an ear to the propositions carried there by the members of the
Republican Union of the rights of Paris,[53] by the delegates of
Parisian trade and by the emissaries of the Freemasons;[54] when the
principal object of all these propositions is the definitive
establishment of the Republic, and the fall and entire recognition of
our municipal liberties. The National Assembly is at the same point as
it was on the eve of the 18th of March; it disregards now, as it did
then, the legitimate wishes of the population, and, moreover, it will
not perceive the fact that the triumphant insurrection—in spite of the
excesses that everyone condemns—has naturally added to the validity of
our just revendications. The “Communists” are wrong, but the Commune,
the true Commune, is right; this is what Paris believes, and,
unhappily, this is what Versailles will not understand; it wants to
remain, as to the form of its government, weakly stationary; it makes a
municipal law that will be judged insufficient; and, as it obstinately
persists in errors which were worn out a month ago and are rotten now,
they will soon consider the “conciliators” whose ideas have progressed
from day to day, as the veritable agents of the insurrection, and send
them, purely and simply, about their business.
Nevertheless, the desire of seeing this fratricidal war at an end, is
so great, so ardent, so general, that convinced as we are of the
uselessness of their efforts, we admire and encourage those who
undertake the almost hopeless task of pacification with persistent
courage. True Paris has now but one flag, which is neither the crimson
rag nor the tricolour standard, but the white flag of truce.