"When the first head shall have fallen:

"When abomination and desolation shall have spread over all France--

"Oh! then you will know what we mean by a social revolution:

"A mult.i.tude let loose, arms in hand, mad with revenge and fury:

"Soldiers, pikes, empty homes, knives and crowbars:

"The city, silent and oppressed; the police in our very homes, opinions suspected, words noted down, tears observed, sighs counted, silence watched; spying and denunciations:

"Inexorable requisitions, forced and progressive loans, paper money made worthless:

"Civil war, and the enemy on the frontiers:

"Pitiless proconsuls, a supreme committee, with hearts of stone--

"This would be the fruits of what they call democratic and social revolution."

Who wrote this admirable page?--Proudhon.

O all-merciful Providence! Take pity on France, for she has come to this.

LXVII.

A balloon! A balloon! Quick! A balloon! There is not a moment to be lost. The inhabitants of Brive-la-Gaillarde and the mountaineers of Savoy are thirsting for news; let us shower manna on them. Write away!

Pierre Denis! Pump in your gas, emulators of G.o.dard! And may the four winds of heaven carry our "Declarations" to the four quarters of France!

Ah! ah! The Versaillais--band of traitors that they are!--did not calculate on this. They raise soldiers, the simpletons; they bombard our forts and our houses, the idiots! But we make decrees, and distribute our proclamations throughout the country by means of an unlimited number of revolutionary aeronauts. May they be guided by the wind which blows across the mountains! How the honest labourers, the good farmers, the eager workers of the departments will rejoice when they receive, dropping, from the sky, the pages on which are inscribed the rights and duties of the man of the present day! They will not hesitate one single instant. They will leave their fields, their homes, their workshops, and cry, "A musket! a musket!" with no thought that they leave behind them women without husbands, and children without fathers! They will fly to us, happy to conquer or die for the glory of Citizen Delescluze and Citizen Vermorel! What ardour! What patriotism! Already they are on their way; they are coming, they are come! Those who had no fire-arms have seized their pickaxes or pieces of their broken ploughs! Hurrah!

Forward! March! To arms, citizens, to arms! Hail to France, who comes to the rescue of Paris!

All to no purpose. I tell you the people of Brive-la-Gaillarde and the mountaineers of Savoy have not once thought of taking up arms. They have never been more tranquil or more resolute on remaining in peace and quiet than now. When they see one of your balloons--always supposing that it has any other end in view than of depositing repentant communists in safe, snug corners, pa.s.s the lines of the Versailles troops--when they see one of your balloons, they simply exclaim, "Hulloa! Here's a balloon! Where in the world can it come from?" If some printed papers fall from the sky, the peasant picks them up, saying, "I shall give them to my son to read, when he returns from school." The evening comes, the son spells them out, while the father listens. The son cannot understand; the father falls asleep. "Ah! those Parisians!" cries the mother. Can you wonder? These people are born to live and die without knowing all that is admirable in the men of the Hotel de Ville. They are fools enough to cling to their own lives and the lives of those near them. They do not go to war amongst themselves; they are poor ignorant creatures, and you will never make them believe that when once they have paid their taxes, worked, fed their wives and children, there still remains to them one duty to fulfil, more holy, more imperative than all others,--that of coming to the Porte-Maillot to receive a ball or a fragment of sh.e.l.l in their skulls.

But these balloons might be made of some use, nevertheless. Pick out one, the best made, the largest in size, the best rigged; put in Citizen Felix Pyat--who, you may be sure, will not be the last to sit down--and Citizen Delescluze too, nor must we omit Citizen Cluseret, nor any of the citizens who at the present moment const.i.tute the happiness of Paris and the tranquillity of France! Now inflate this admirable balloon, which is to bear off all your hopes, with the lightest gases. Then blow, ye winds, terrifically, furiously, and bear it from us! Balloons can be capricious at times. Have you read, the story of Hans Pfaal? Good Heavens! if the wind could only carry them away, up to the moon, or even a great deal further still.

LXVIII.

I'm surprised myself, as I re-read the preceding pages, at the strange contradictions I meet with. During the first few days I was almost favourable to the Commune; I waited, I hoped. To-day all is very different. When I write down in the evening what I have seen and thought in the day, I allow myself to blame with severity men that inspired me formerly with some kind of sympathy. What has taken place? Have my opinions changed? I do not think so. Besides, I have in reality but one opinion. I receive impressions, describing these impressions without reserve, without prejudice. If these stray leaves should ever be collected in a volume, they will at least possess the rare merit of being thoroughly sincere. Is it then, that my nature is modified? By no means. If I were indulgent a month ago, it was that I did not know those of whom I spoke, and that I am of a naturally hopeful and benevolent disposition: if I now show myself severe, it is that--like the rest of Paris--I have learned to know them better.

LXIX.

The Commune has naturally brought an infinite number of journals into existence. Try, if you will, to count the leaves of the forest, the grains of sand on the seash.o.r.e, the stars in the heavens, but do not, in your wildest dreams, attempt to enumerate the newspapers that have seen the light since the famous day of the 18th of March. Felix Pyat has a journal, _Le Vengeur_; Vermorel has a journal, _Le Cri du People_; Delescluze has a journal, _Le Reveil_; there is not a member of the Commune but indulges in the luxury of a sheet in which he tells his colleagues daily all the evil he thinks of them. It must be acknowledged that these gentlemen have an extremely bad opinion one of the other. I defy even the _Gaulois_ of Versailles--yes, the _Gaulois_ itself--to treat Felix Pyat as Vermorel treats him, and if it be remembered on the other hand what Felix Pyat says of Vermorel, the _Gaulois_ will be found singularly good-natured. Napoleon cautioned us long ago "to wash our dirty linen at home," but good patriots cannot be expected to profit by the counsels of a tyrant. So the columns of the Commune papers are devoted to the daily and mutual pulling to pieces of the Commune's members. But where will these ephemeral sheets be in six months, in one month, or in a week's time perhaps? The wind which wafts away the leaves of the rose and the laurel, will be no less cruel for the political leaves. Let us then, for the sake of posterity, offer a specimen of what is--or as we shall soon say, what was--the Communalist press of to-day.

Be they edited by Marotteau, or d.u.c.h.esne, or Paschal Grousset, or by any other emulator of Paul-Louis Courier, these worthy journals are all much alike, and one example will suffice for the whole.

[Ill.u.s.tration: VERMESCH (PeRE d.u.c.h.eSNE).[72]]

First of all, and generally in enormous type, stand the LATEST NEWS, the news from the Porte Maillot where the friends of the Commune are fighting, and the news from Versailles where the enemies of the country are sitting. They usually run somewhat in this style:--

"It is more and more confirmed that the a.s.sembly of Versailles is surrounded and made prisoner by the troops returned from Germany.

The generals of the Empire have newly proclaimed Napoleon: the Third, Emperor. After a violent quarrel about two National Guards whom Marshal MacMahon had had shot, but had omitted to have cooked for his soldiers, Monsieur Thiers sent a challenge to the Marshal, by his two seconds. These seconds were no other than the Comte de Chambord and the Comte de Paris. Marshal MacMahon chose the ex-Emperor and Paul de Ca.s.sagnac. The duel took place in the Rue des Reservoirs, in the midst of an immense crowd. The Marshal was killed, and was therefore obliged to renounce the command of the troops. But the a.s.sembly would not accept his resignation.

"We are in the position to a.s.sert that a company of the 132nd Battalion has this morning surrounded fifteen thousand gendarmes and sergents-de-ville, in the park of Neuilly. Seeing that all resistance was useless, the supporters of Monsieur Thiers surrendered without reserve. Among them were seventeen members of the National a.s.sembly, who, not content with ordering the a.s.sa.s.sination of our brothers, had wished also to be present at the ma.s.sacre.

[Ill.u.s.tration: PASCHAL GROUSSET, DELEGATE FOR FOREIGN AFFAIRS.][73]

"A person worthy of credit has related to us the following fact:--A _cantiniere_ of the 44th Battalion (from the Batignolles quarter), was in the act of pouring out a gla.s.s of brandy for an artilleryman of the Fort of Vanves, when suddenly the artilleryman was out in two by a Versailles sh.e.l.l; the brave _cantiniere_ drank off the contents of the gla.s.s just poured out for the dead man who lay in bits at her feet, and took his place at the guns. She performed her new part of artilleryman so bravely, that ten minutes later there was not a single gun uninjured in the Meudon battery. As to those who were serving the pieces there, they were all hurled to a distance of several miles, and amongst them were said to have been recognised--we give this news however with great reserve--Monsieur Ollivier, the ex-minister of the ex-Emperor, and Count von Bismarck, who wished to verify for himself the actual range of the guns that he had lent to his good friends of Versailles."

After the LATEST NEWS come the reports of the day, the _bulletin du jour_ as it is called now, and it is in this that the editor, a member of the Commune, reveals his talent. We trust that the following example is not quite unworthy of the pen of Monsieur Felix Pyat, or the signature of Monsieur Vermorel:--

"Paris, 29th April, 1871.

"They are lying in wait for us, these tigers athirst for blood.

"They are there, these Vandals, who have sworn that in all Paris not a single man shall be spared, nor a single stone, left standing.

"But we are not in their power yet. No, nor shall we ever be.

"The National Guard is on the watch; victorious and sublime, their soldierly b.r.e.a.s.t.s are not of flesh and blood, but of bronze, from which the b.a.l.l.s rebound as they stand, dauntless, before the enemy.

"Ah! so these lachrymose Jules Favres, these fat Picards, these hungry Jules Ferrys, said amongst themselves, 'We will take Paris, we will tear it up, and its soil shall be divided after the victory between the wives of the _sergents de ville!_' They are beginning to understand all the insanity of their plan. Why, it is Paris that will take Versailles, that will take all those blear-eyed old men who, because they cannot look steadily at Monsieur Thiers' face, fancy that it is the sun.

"It is in vain that they gorge with blood and wine their deceived soldiers; the moment is approaching when these men will no longer consent to march against the city which is fighting for them.

Already, yesterday, the melee of a battle could be distinguished from the fort of Vanves; the line had come to blows with the _gendarmes_ of Valentin and Charette's Zouaves. Courage, Parisians!

A few more days and you will have triumphed over all the infamy that dares to stop the march of the victorious Commune!

"But it is not enough to vanquish the enemies without, we must get rid also of the enemies that are within.

"No more pity! no more vacillation! The justice of the people is wearied of formalities, and cries out for vengeance. Death to spies!

Death to the _reactionaires_! Death to the priests! Why does the Commune feed this collection of malefactors in your prisons, while the money they cost us daily would be so useful to the women and children of those who are fighting for the cause of Paris? We are a.s.sured that one of the prisoners ate half a chicken for his dinner yesterday; how many good patriots might have been saved from suffering with the sum which was taken from the chests of the Republic for this orgie! There is no longer time to hesitate; the Versaillais are shooting and mutilating the prisoners; we must revenge ourselves! We must show them such an example, that in perceiving from afar the heads of their infamous accomplices, the traitors of Versailles, stuck upon our ramparts, confounded by the magnanimity of the Commune, they will lay down their arms at last, and deliver themselves up as prisoners.

"As to the refractory of Paris, we cannot find words to express the astonishment we experience at the weakness that has been shown with regard to them.

"What! we permit that there should still be cowards in Paris? I thought they were all at Versailles. We allow still to remain amongst us men who are not of our opinion? This state of things has lasted too long. Let them take their muskets or die. Shoot them down, those who refuse to go forward. They have wives and children, they are fathers of families, they say; a fine reason indeed! The Commune before everything! And, besides, there must be no pity for the wives of _reactionaires_ and the children of spies!"

The _bulletins du jour_ are sometimes set forth in gentler terms; but we have chosen a fair average specimen between the lukewarm and the most violent.

Then comes the solid, serious article, generally written by a pen invested with all due authority, by the man who has the most head in the place. The subject varies according to circ.u.mstances; but the main point of the article is generally to show that Paris has never been so rich, so free, nor so happy, as under the government of the Commune; and this is a truth that is certainly not difficult to prove. Is not the fact of being able to live without working the best possible proof that people are well off? Well! look at the National Guards; they have not touched a tool for a whole month, and they have such a supply of money that they are obliged to make over some of it to the wineshop-keepers in exchange for an unlimited number of litres and sealed bottles. Then, who could say that we are not free? The journals that allowed themselves to a.s.sert the contrary have been prudently suppressed. Besides, is it not being free to have shaken off the shameful yoke of the men who sold France; to be no longer subjected to the oppression of sn.o.bs, _reactionaires_, and traitors? And as to the most perfect happiness, it stands to reason, since we are both free and rich, that we must be in the incontestable enjoyment of it. Finally, after the official dispatches edited in the style you are acquainted with, and after the accounts of the last battles, come the miscellaneous news, the _faits divers_; and here it is that the ingenuity of the writers displays itself to the greatest advantage.