Certainly I nursed no vain illusions. What you had done, gentlemen of
the Commune, had enlightened me as to your value, and as to the purity
of your intentions. Seeing you lie, steal, and kill, I had said to you,
“You are liars, robbers, and murderers;” but truly, in spite of Citizen
Félix Pyat, who is a coward, and Citizen Miot, who is a fool; in spite
of Millière, who shot _réfractaires_, and Philippe, whose trade shall
be nameless; in spite of Dacosta, who amused himself with telling the
Jesuits at the Conciergerie, “Mind, you are to be shot in an hour,” and
then an hour afterwards returning to say, “I have thought about it, and
it is for tomorrow;” in spite of Johannard, who executed a child of
fifteen guilty of selling a suppressed newspaper; in spite of Rigault,
who, chucking the son of Chaudey under the chin, laughingly said to
him, “Tomorrow, little one, we shall shoot papa;” in spite of all the
madmen and fools that constituted the Commune de Paris, who after being
guilty of more extravagances than are necessary to get a man sent to
the Madhouse of Charenton, and more crimes than are sufficient to shut
him up in prison at Sainte-Pélagie, had managed, by means of every
form, of wickedness and excess, to make our beloved Paris a frightened
slave, crouching to earth under their abominable tyranny; in spite of
everything, I could not have dreamed that even their demoniac fury
could have gone so far as to try to burn Paris, after having ruined it!
Nero of the gutter! Sardanapalus drunk with vitriol! So your vanity
wanted such a volcano to engulf you, and you wished to die by the light
of such an _auto-da-fé_. Instead of torches around your funeral car,
you wished the Tuileries, the library of the Louvre, and the Palace of
the Legion of Honour burnt to ashes, the Rue Royale one vast
conflagration, where the walls as they fell buried alive women and
children, and the Rue de Lille vomiting fire and smoke like the crater
of Vesuvius.
[Illustration: Palais de Justice, Partly Destroyed. Sainte Chapelle,
Saved.]
It has pleased you that thousands of families should be ruined, their
savings scattered in the ashes of the vanished papers of the burnt
Ministère des Finances and the _Caisse des dépôts_. In seeing that the
art-galleries of the Louvre had remained intact, only its library
burnt, you must have been seized with mad rage. How! Notre Dame not yet
in flames? Sainte-Chapelle not on fire? Have you no more petroleum, no
more flaming torches? The cry “To Arms!” is not enough, you must shout
“To Fire!” Would you consume the entire city, and make of its ruins a
horrible monument to your memory?
Do not say, “We have not done this; it is the people who are working
out their own revenge, and we stand for nothing, we are as gentle as
lambs. Ranvier would not hurt a fly.” Away with all this pretence; were
you not on the balcony of the Hôtel de Ville with your blood-red
scarfs, uttering your commands? The populace, deceived and blinded,
have but obeyed you. Do not all the circumstances leading to this
stupendous catastrophe, reveal an elaborate and digested plan,
determined long beforehand? Did we not read this notice, daily, in your
official journal: “All those who have petroleum are requested
immediately to declare the quantities in their possession?” Was there
not a quick-match extinguished in the quarter of the Invalides that was
to have communicated the flames to barrels of powder placed, long ago,
in the great sewers? Yes, what has taken place you had decreed. If the
disasters have not been more terrible, is it not, that, surprised at
the sudden arrival of the troops, you had not the time to finish your
preparations? Yes, you are the criminals! It was Eudes who gave out the
petroleum to the _Pétroleuses_; it was Felix Pyat who laid the train of
gunpowder. It is Tridon who said: “Take care that the phials be not
uncorked.” The public incendiary committee has well performed its duty!
Wicked criminals! Execrable madmen! May Heaven bear me witness that my
heart abhors revenge, is always inclined to pardon—but for these! What
chastisement can be great enough to appease the wrath of justice! What
vow of repentance could be offered up fervent enough to be received in
Heaven, even at the moment when, struck down by balls, they offer their
lives as expiation? Misguided humanity!
[Illustration: Ministère Des Finances, Rue de Rivoli:
POLICE OF PARIS.
Au citoyen Lucas,
Faites de suite flamber Finances et venez nous retrouver.
4 prairial, an 79. Th: Ferré.]
[Illustration: Ferré[107]]