An anonymous writer, who is no other, it is said, than the citizen
Delescluze, has just published the following:—
“The Commune has assured to itself the receipt of a sum of 600,000
francs a day—eighteen millions a month.”
There was once upon a time a French forger, named Collé, celebrated for
the extent and importance of his swindling, and who possessed, it was
said, a very large fortune. When questioned upon the subject, he used
to answer: “I have assured to myself a receipt of a hundred francs a
day—three thousand francs a month.”
Between Collé and the Commune there exists a difference, however: in
the first place, Collé affected a particular liking for the clergy,
whose various garbs he used frequently to assume, and the Commune
cannot endure _curés_ and secondly, while Collé, in assuring himself a
receipt of three thousand francs a month, had done all that was
possible for him to do, the Commune puts up with a miserable eighteen
millions, when it might have ensured to itself a great deal more. It is
astounding, and, I may add, little in accordance with its dignity, that
it should be satisfied with so moderate an allowance. You show too much
modesty; it is not worth while being victorious for so little. Eighteen
millions—a mere nothing! Your delicacy might be better understood were
you more scrupulous as to the choice of your means. Thank Heaven! you
do not err on that score. Come! a little more energy, if you please.
“But!” sighs the Commune, “I have done my best, it seems to me. Thanks
to Jourde,[70] who throws Law into the shade, and to Dereure,[71] the
shoemaker—Financier and Cobbler of La Fontaine’s Fable—I pocket daily
the gross value of the sale of tobacco, which is a pretty speculation
enough, since I have had to pay neither the cost of the raw materials
nor of the manufacture. I have besides this, thanks to what I call the
‘regular income from the public departments,’ a good number of little
revenues which do not cost me much and bring me in a good deal. Now
there’s the Post, for instance. I take good care to despatch none of
the letters that are confided to me, but I manage to secure the price
of the postage by an arrangement with my employés. This shows
cleverness and tact, I think. Finally, in addition to this, I get the
railway companies to be kind enough to drop into my pockets the sum of
two millions of francs: the Northern Railway Company will supply me
with three hundred and ninety-three thousand francs; the Western, with
two hundred and seventy-five thousand; the Eastern, three hundred and
fifty-four thousand francs; the Lyons Railway Company, with six hundred
and ninety-two thousand francs; the Orleans Railway, three hundred and
seventy-six thousand francs. It is the financial delegate, Monsieur
Jourde, who has the most brains of the whole band, who planned this
ingenious arrangement. And, in truth, I consider that I have done all
that is in my power, and you are wrong in trying to humiliate me by
drawing comparisons between myself and Collé, who had some good, in
him, but who was in no way equal to me.” My dear, good Commune, I do
not deny that, you have the most excellent intentions; I approve the
tobacco speculation and the funds drawn from the public service money,
in which you include, I suppose, the profits made in your nocturnal
visits to the public and other coffers, and your fruitful rounds in the
churches. As to the tax levied on railways, it inspires me with an
admiration approaching enthusiasm. But, for mercy’s sake, do not allow
yourself to stop there. Nothing is achieved so long as anything remains
to be done. You waste your time in counting up the present sources of
your revenues, while so many opportunities remain of increasing them.
Are there no bankers, no stock-brokers, no notaries, in Paris? Send a
few of these honest patriots of yours to the houses of the
reactionaries. A hundred thousand francs from one, two hundred thousand
francs from another; it is always worth the taking. From small streams
come great rivers. In your place I would not neglect the shopkeepers’
tills either, or the money-chests of the rich. They are of the
_bourgeoisie_, those people, and the _bourgeois_ are your enemies. Tax
them, _morbleu!_ Tax them by all means. Have you not all your friends
and your friends’ friends to look after? Is it false keys that fail
you? But they are easily made, and amongst your number you will
certainly find one or two locksmiths quite ready to help you. Take
Pilotel, for instance: a sane man, that! There were only eight hundred
francs in the escritoire of Monsieur Chaudey, and he appropriated the
eight hundred francs. Thus, you see, how great houses and good
governments are founded. And when there is no longer any money, you
must seize hold of the goods and furniture of your fellow-citizens. You
will find receivers of stolen goods among you, no doubt. They told me
yesterday that you had sent the Titiens and Paul Veroneses of the
Louvre to London, in order to be able to make money out of them. A most
excellent measure, that I can well explain to myself, because I can
understand that Monsieur Courbet must have a great desire to get rid of
these two painters, for whom he feels so legitimate and profound a
hatred. But, alas! it was but a false report. You confined yourselves
to putting up for sale the materials composing the Column of the Place
Vendôme; dividing them into four lots, two lots of stone and cement,
and two lots of metal. Two lots only? Why! you know nothing about
making the best of your merchandise. There is something better than
stone and metal in this column. There is that in it which a number of
silly people used to call in other times the glory of France. What a
pretty spectacle—when the sale by auction is over—to see the buyers
carrying away under their arms—one, a bit of Wagram; another, a bit of
Jena; and some, who had thought to be buying a pound or two of bronze,
having made the acquisition of the First Consul at Arcole or the
Emperor at Austerlitz. It is a sad pity that you did not puff up the
value and importance of your sale to the bidders. Your speculation
would then have turned out better. You have managed badly, my dear
Commune; you have not known how to take advantage of your position.
Repair your faults, impose your taxes, appropriate, confiscate! All may
be yours, disdain nothing, and have no fear of resistance; everyone is
afraid of you. Here! I have five francs in my own pocket, will you have
them?