  Next morning, the 19th of March, I was in haste to know the events of last night, what attitude Paris had assumed after her first surprise. The night, doubtless, had brought counsel, and perhaps settled the discord existing between the Government and the Central Committee. Early in the morning things appeared much as usual; the streets were peaceful, servants shopping, and the ordinary passengers going to and fro. In passing I met a casual acquaintance to whom I had spoken now and then, a man with whom I had served during the siege when we mounted guard on the ramparts. “Well,” said I, “good morning, have you any news?”—“News,” replied he, “no, not that I know of. Ah I yes, there is a rumour that something took place yesterday at Montmartre.” This was told me in the centre of the city, in the Rue de la Grange-BateliÈre. Truly there are in Paris persons marvellously apathetic and ignorant. I would wager not a little that by searching in the retired quarters, some might be found who believe they are still governed by Napoleon III., and have never heard of the war with Prussia, except as a not improbable eventuality. On the boulevards there was but little excitement. The newspaper vendors were in plenty. I do not like to depend upon these public sheets for information, for however impartial or sincere a reporter may be, he cannot represent facts otherwise than according to the impression they make upon him, and to value facts by the impression they make upon others is next to impossible. I directed my steps to the Rue Drouot in search of placards, and plentiful I found them, and white too, showing that Paris was not without a government; for white is the official colour even under a red Republic.[14] Taking out a pencil I copied hastily the proclamation of the new masters, and I think that I did well, for we forget very quickly both proclamations and persons. Where are they now, the official bills of last year? “RÉPUBLIQUE FRANÇAISE. “Citizens,—The people of Paris have shaken off the yoke endeavoured to be imposed upon them.” What yoke, gentlemen—I beg pardon, citizens of the Committee? I assure you, as part of the people, that I have never felt that any one has tried to impose one upon me. I recollect, if my memory serves me, that a few guns were spoken of, but nothing about yokes. Then the expression “People of Paris,” is a gross exaggeration. The inhabitants of Montmartre and their neighbours of that industrious suburb are certainly a part of the people, and not the less respectable or worthy of our consideration because they live out of the centre (indeed, I have always preferred a coal man of the ChaussÉe Clignancourt to a coxcomb of the Rue Taitbout); but for all that, they are not the whole population. Thus, your sentence does not imply anything, and moreover, with all its superannuated metaphor, the rhetoric is out of date. I think it would have been better to say simply— “Citizens,—The inhabitants of Montmartre and of Belleville have taken their guns and intend to keep them.” But then it would not have the air of a proclamation. Extraordinary fact! you may overturn an entire country, but you must not touch the official style; it is immutable. One may triumph over empires, but must respect red tape. Let us read on: “Tranquil, calm in our force, we have awaited without fear as without provocation, the shameless madmen who menaced the Republic.” The Republic? Again an improper expression, it was the cannons they wanted to take. “This time, our brothers of the army....” Ah! your brothers of the army! They are your brothers because they fraternised and threw up the butt-ends of their muskets. In your family you acknowledge no brotherhood except those who hold the same opinion. “This time, our brothers of the army would not raise their hands against the holy ark of our liberty.” Oh! So the guns are a holy ark now. A very holy metaphor, for people not greatly enamoured of churchmen. “Thanks for all; and let Paris and France unite to build a Republic, and accept with acclamations the only government that will close for ever the flood gates of invasion and civil war. There is one reproach that the new Parisian Revolution could not be charged with; it is that of having placed at the head men of proved incapacity. Those who dared to assert that each of the persons named above had not more genius than would be required to regenerate two or three nations would greatly astonish me. In a drama of Victor Hugo it is said a parentless child ought to be deemed a gentleman; thus an obscure individual ought, on the same terms, to be considered a man of genius. But on the walls of the Rue Drouot many more proclamations were to be seen. “RÉPUBLIQUE FRANÇAISE. “CITIZENS,—You had entrusted us with the charge of organising the defence of Paris and of your rights.” Oh! as to that, no; a thousand times, no! I admit—since you appear to cling to it—that Cannon are an ark of strength, but under no pretext whatever will I allow that I entrusted you with the charge of organising anything whatsoever. I know nothing of you; I have never heard you spoken of. There is no one in the world of whom I am more ignorant than Ferrat, Babick, unless it be Gaillard and Pougeret (though I was national guard myself, and caught cold on the ramparts for the King of Prussia[16] as much as anyone else). I neither know what you wish nor where you are leading those who follow you; and I can prove to you, if you like, that there are at least a hundred thousand men who caught cold too, and who, at the present moment, are in exactly the same state of mind concerning you “We are aware of having fulfilled our mission.” You are very good to have taken so much trouble, but I have no recollection of having given you a mission to fulfil of any kind whatever! “Assisted by your courage and presence of mind!...” Ah, gentlemen, this is flattery! “We have driven out the government that was betraying you. Always this same mandate which we gave you, eh? “We now return it to you, for we do not pretend to take the place of those which the popular breath has overthrown. Placarded up also is another proclamation[17] signed by the citizens Assy, Billioray, and others, announcing that the Communal elections will take place on Wednesday next, 22nd of March, that is to say in three days. This then is the result of yesterday’s doings, and the revolution of the 18th March can be told in a few words. There were cannon at Montmartre; the Government wished to take them but was not able, thanks to the fraternal feeling and cowardice of the soldiers of the Line. A secret society, composed of several delegates of several battalions, took advantage of the occasion to assert loudly that they represented the entire population, and commanded the people to elect the Commune of Paris—whether they wished or not. What will Paris do now between these dictators, sprung from heaven knows where, and the Government fled to Versailles? NOTES:
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