Frankel, a Member of the Commune. (Prussian.)

Giorok, Commandant of the Fort d'Issy. (Valachian.)

Grejorok, Commandant of the Artillery at Montmartre.(Valachian.)

Kertzfeld, Chief Manager of Field Hospitals. (German.)

Iziquerdo, Surgeon of the 88th Battalion. (Pole.)

Jalowski, Surgeon of the Zouaves de la Republique. (Pole.)

Kobosko, Despatch Bearer.

La Cecilia, General. (Italian.)

Landowski, Aide-de-Camp of General Dombrowski. (Pole.)

Mizara, Commandant of the 104th Battalion. (Italian.)

Maratuch, Surgeon's mate of the 72nd Battalion. (Hungarian.)

Moro, Commandant of the 22nd Battalion. (Italian.)

Okolowicz and his brothers, General and Staff Officers. (Poles.)

Ostyn, a Member of the Commune. (Belgian.)

Olinski, Chief of the 17th Legion. (Pole.)

Pisani, Aide-de-Camp of Flourens. (Italian.)

Potampenki, Aide-de-Camp of General Dombrowski. (Pole.)

Ploubinski, Staff Officer. (Pole.)

Pazdzierswski, Commandant of the Fort de Vanves. (Pole.)

Piazza, Chief of Legion. (Italian.)

Pugno, Music-manager at the Opera-house. (Italian.)

Romanelli, Manager of the War Offices. (Italian.)

Rozyski, Surgeon of the 144th Battalion. (Pole.)

Rubinowicz, Surgeon of the Marines. (Pole.)

Syneck, Surgeon of the 151st Battalion. (German.)

Skalski, Surgeon of the 240th Battalion. (Pole.)

Soteriade, Surgeon. (Spaniard.)

Thaller, Under Governor of the Fort de Bicetre. (German.)

Van Ostal, Commandant of the 115th Battalion. (Dutch.)

Vetzel, Commandant of the Southern Forts. (German.)

Wroblewski, General Commandant of the Southern Army. (Pole.)

Witton, Surgeon of the 72nd Battalion. (American.)

Zengerler, Surgeon of the 74th Battalion, (German.)]

[Footnote 24: The Prussians and the Commune, see Appendix 3.]

XX.

Who can help being carried away by the enthusiasm of a crowd? I am not a political man, I am only an observer who sees, hears, and feels.

I was on the Place de l'Hotel de Ville at the moment when the names of the successful candidates were proclaimed, and the emotion is still fresh upon me.[25] There were perhaps a hundred thousand men there, a.s.sembled from all quarters of the city. The neighbouring streets were also full, and the bayonets glittering in the sun filled the Place with brilliant flashes like miniature lightning. In the centre of the facade of the building a platform was erected, over which presided a statue of the Republic, wearing a Phrygian cap. The bronze ba.s.so-relievo of Henry IV. had been carefully hidden with cl.u.s.ters of flags. Each window was alive with faces. I saw several women on the roof, and the _gamins_ were everywhere, hanging on to the sculptured ornaments, or riding fearlessly on the shoulders of the marble busts. One by one the battalions had taken up their position on the Place with their bands. When they were all a.s.sembled they struck up the Ma.r.s.eillaise, which was re-echoed by a thousand voices. It was grand in the extreme, and the magnificent hymn, which late defeats had shorn of its glory, swelled forth again with all its old splendour revived. Suddenly the cannon is heard, the voices rise louder and louder; a sea of standards, bayonets, and human heads waves backwards and forwards in front of the platform. The cannon roars, but we only hear it between the intervals of the hymn. Then all the sounds are confounded in one universal shout, that shout of the vast mult.i.tude which seems to have but one heart and one voice. The members of the Committee, each with a tricolor scarf across his breast, have taken their places on the platform. One of them reads out the names of the elected councillors. Then the cannon roars once more, but is almost drowned by the deafening huzzas of the crowd. Oh! people of Paris, who on the day of the "_Crosse en l'air_"[26] got tipsy in the wine-shops of Montmartre, whose ranks furnished the murderers of Thomas and Lecomte, who in the Rue de la Paix shot down unconscious pa.s.sengers, who are capable of the wildest extravagance and most execrable deeds, you are also in your days of glory, grand and magnificent, when a volcano of generous pa.s.sions rages within, and the hearts even of those who condemn you most, are scorched in the flames.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 25: The result of the voting was made known at four o'clock on the 28th March. The papers devoted to the Commune a.s.serted, on the following day, that _two hundred and fifteen_ battalions were a.s.sembled on that day, and that the average strength of each corps was one thousand men. Who could have believed that the Place de l'Hotel de Ville was capable of accommodating so many! This farcical a.s.sertion of the two hundred and fifteen battalions has pa.s.sed into a proverb.]

[Footnote 26: When they turned the b.u.t.t-ends (_crosses_) of their guns in the air, as a sign they would not fight.]

XXI.

"Citizens," says the _Official Journal_ this morning, "your Commune is const.i.tuted." Then follows decree upon decree. White posters are being stuck up everywhere. Why are they at the Hotel 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 n.o.ble patriotism which is imbibed in the cabarets at so much a gla.s.s. 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 Poe 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 ign.o.bly 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 a.s.siduous attendance at the Munic.i.p.al 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 chateaux 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 p.a.w.n 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 cla.s.s 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 embarra.s.sed. 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!