Paris under the Commune Part 18

Do you know what the Abbaye de Cinq-Pierres is, or rather what it was?

Mind, not Saint-Pierre, but Cinq-Pierres (Five Stones). Gavroche,[55]

who loves puns and is very fond of slang, gave this nickname to a set of huge stones which stood before the prison of La Roquette, and on which the guillotine used to be erected on the mornings when a capital punishment was to take place. The executioner was the Abbe de Cinq-Pierres, for Gavroche is as logical as he is ingenious. Well! the abbey exists no longer, swept clean away from the front of the Roquette prison. This is splendid! and as for the guillotine itself, you know what has been done with that. Oh! we had a narrow escape! Would you believe that that infamous, that abominable Government of Versailles, conceived the idea, at the time it sat in Paris, of having a new and exquisitely improved guillotine, constructed by anonymous carpenters? It is exactly as I have the honour of telling you. You can easily verify the fact by reading the proclamation of the "_sous-comite en exercice._"

What is the "active under-committee?" I admit that I am in total ignorance on the subject; but, what does it matter! In these times when committees spring up like mushrooms, it would be absurd to allow oneself to be astonished at a committee--and especially a sub-committee--more or less. Here is the proclamation:--

"CITIZENS,--Being informed that a guillotine is at this moment in course of construction,..." Dear me, yes, while you were fast asleep and dreaming, with no other apprehension than that of being sent to prison by the members of the Commune, a guillotine was being made. Happily, the sub-committee was not asleep. No, not they! "... a guillotine ordered and paid for ...". Are you quite sure it was paid for, good sub-committee? For that Government, you know, had such a habit of cheating poor people out of their rights. "... by the late odious government; a portable and rapid guillotine." Ha! What do you say to that? Does not that make your blood run cold? Rapid, you understand; that is to say, that the guillotining of twelve or fifteen hundred patriots in a morning would have been play to the Abbe of Cinq-Pierres.

And portable, too! A sort of pocket guillotine. When the members of the Government had a circuit to make in the provinces, they would have carried their guillotine with their seals of office, and if, at Lyons, Ma.r.s.eilles, or any other great town, they had met a certain number of scoundrels--Snip, snap! In the twinkling of an eye, no more scoundrels left. Oh! how cunning! But let us go on reading. "The sub-committee of the eleventh arrondiss.e.m.e.nt ..." Oh! so there is a sub-committee for each arrondis.e.m.e.nt, is there? "... has had these infamous instruments of monarchical domination ..." One for you, Monsieur Thiers! "... seized, and has voted their destruction for ever." Very good intentions, sub-committee, but you can't write grammar. "In consequence, they will be burnt in front of the _mairie_, for the purification of the arrondiss.e.m.e.nt and the preservation of the new liberties." And accordingly, a guillotine was burnt on the 7th of April, at ten o'clock in the morning, before the statue of Voltaire.

The ceremony was not without a certain weirdness. In the midst of a compact crowd of men, women, and children, who shook their fists at the odious instrument, some National Guards of the 187th Battalion fed the huge flames with broken pieces of the guillotine, which crackled, blistered, and blazed, while the statue of the old philosopher, wrapped in the smoke, must have sniffed the incense with delight. When nothing remained but a heap of glowing ashes, the crowd shouted with joy; and for my own part, I fully approved of what had just been done as well as of the approbation of the spectators. But, between you and me, do you not think that many of the persons there had often stationed themselves around the guillotine with rather different intentions than that of seeing it burnt? And then, if in reducing this instrument of death to ashes, they wished to prove that the time is past when men put men to death, it seems to me that they ought not to stop at this. While we are at it, let us burn the muskets too,--what say you?

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 53: The citizens, united under the denomination of the League of Republican Union of the Rights of Paris, had adopted the following programme, which seemed to them to express the wishes of the population:--

"Recognition of the Republic.

"Recognition of the rights of Paris to govern itself, to regulate its police, its finances, its public charities, its public instruction, and the exercise of its religious liberty by a council freely elected and all-powerful within the scope of its action.

"The protection of Paris exclusively confided to the National Guard, formed of all citizens fit to serve.

"It is to the defence of this programme that the members of the League wish to devote their efforts, and they appeal to all citizens to aid them in the work, by making known their adhesion, so that the members of the League, thereby strengthened and supported, may exercise a powerful mediatory influence, tending to bring about the return of peace, and to secure the maintenance of the Republic.

"Paris, 6th April, 1871."

Here follow the signatures of former representatives, _maires_, doctors, lawyers, literary men, merchants, and others.]

[Footnote 54: MANIFESTO OF THE FREEMASONS.

"In the presence of the fearful events which make all France shudder and mourn, in the sight of the precious blood that flows in streams, the Freemasons, who represent the sentiments of humanity and have spread them through the world, come once more to declare before you, government and members of the a.s.sembly, and before you, members of the Commune, these great principles which are their law and which ought to be the law of every one who has the heart of a man.

"The flag of the Freemasons bears inscribed upon it, the n.o.ble device--Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, Union. The Freemasons uphold peace among men, and, in the name of humanity, proclaim the inviolability of human life. The Freemasons detest all wars, and cannot sufficiently express grief and horror at civil warfare. Their duty and their right are to come between you and to say:

"'In the name of humanity, in the name of fraternity, in the name of the distracted country, put a stop to this effusion of blood; we ask of you, we implore of you, to listen to our appeal.'"]

[Footnote 55: Gavroche is a street boy of Paris, a _gamin_ immortalized by Victor Hugo in "Les Miserables," a master of Parisian _argot_ (slang).]

XLIV.

I have just witnessed a horrible scene. Alas! what harrowing spectacles meet our eyes on every side, and will still before all this comes to an end. I accompanied a poor old woman to a cemetery in the east of Paris.

Her son, who had engaged himself in a battalion of Federal guards, had not been home for five days. He was most likely dead, the neighbours said, and one bade her "go and look at the Cimetiere de l'Est, they have brought in a load of bodies there." Imagine a deep trench and about thirty coffins placed side by side. Numbers of people came there to claim their own among the dead. To avoid crowding, the National Guards made the people walk in order, two or three abreast, and thus they were marshalled among the tombs and crosses. The poor woman and I followed the others. From time to time I heard a burst of sobs; some one amongst the dead had been recognised. On we go slowly, step by step, as if we were at the doors of a theatre. At last we arrive before the first coffin. The poor mother I have come with is very weak and very sad; it is I who lift up the thin lid of the coffin. A grey-haired corpse is lying within it, from the shoulders downwards nothing but a heap of torn flesh, and clothes, and congealed blood. We continue on. The second coffin also contains the body of an old man; no wounds are to be seen; he was probably killed by a ball. Still we advance. I observe that the old men are in far greater number than the young. The wounds are often fearful. Sometimes the face is entirely mutilated. When I had closed the lid of the last coffin the poor mother uttered a cry of relief; her son was not there! For myself, I was stupefied with horror, and only recovered my senses on being pushed on by the men behind me, who wanted to see in their turn. "Well! when will he have done?" said one. "I suppose he thinks that it is all for him."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Burning the Guillotine. April]

XLV.

What is absolutely stupefying in the midst of all this, is the smiling aspect of the streets and the promenades. The constantly increasing emigration is only felt by the diminution in the number of depraved women and dissipated men; enough, however, remain to fill the cafes and give life to the boulevards. It might almost be said that Paris is in its normal state.

Every morning, from the Champs Elysees, Les Ternes, and Vaugirard, families are seen removing into the town, out of the way of the bombardment, as at the time when Jules Favre anathematised the barbarity of the Prussians. Some pa.s.s in cabs, others on foot, walking sadly, with their bedding and household furniture piled on a cart. If you question these poor people, they will all tell you of the sh.e.l.ls from the Versailles batteries, destroying houses and killing women and children.

What matters it? Paris goes her usual round of business and pleasure.

The Commune suppresses journals and imprisons journalists. Monsieur Richardet, of the _National_, was marched off to prison yesterday, for the sole crime of having requested a pa.s.sport of the savage Monsieur Rigault; the Commune thrusts the priests into cells, and turns out the young girls from the convents, imprisons Monsieur O'yan, one of the directors of the Seminary of St. Sulpice; hurls a warrant of arrest at Monsieur Tresca, who escapes; tries to capture Monsieur Henri Vrignault, who however, succeeds in reaching a place of safety; the Commune causes perquisitions to be made by armed men in the banking houses, seizes upon t.i.tle deeds and money; has strong-boxes burst open by willing locksmiths; when the locksmiths are tired, the soldiers of the Commune help them with the b.u.t.t-ends of their muskets. They do worse still, these Communists--they do all that the consciousness of supreme power can suggest to despots without experience; each day they send honest fathers of families to their death, who think they are suffering for the good cause, when they are only dying for the good pleasure of Monsieur Avrial and Monsieur Billioray. Well! and what is Paris doing all this time? Paris reads the papers, lounges, runs after the last news and e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.es: "Ah! ah! they have put Amouroux into prison! The Archbishop of Paris has been transferred from the Conciergerie to Mazas! Several thousand francs have been stolen from Monsieur Denouille! Diable!

Diable!" And then Paris begins the same round of newspaper reading, lounging, and gossiping again. Nothing seems changed. Nothing seems interrupted. Even the proclamation of the famous Cluseret, who threatens us all with active service in the marching regiments, has not succeeded in troubling the tranquillity and indifference of the greater number of Parisians. They look on at what is taking place, as at a performance, and only bestow just enough interest upon it to afford them amus.e.m.e.nt. This evening the cannonading has increased; on listening attentively, we can distinguish the sounds of platoon-firing; but Paris takes its gla.s.s of beer tranquilly at the Cafe de Madrid and its Mazagran at the Cafe Riche. Sometimes, towards midnight, when the sky is clear, Paris goes to the Champs Elysees, to see things a little nearer, strolls under the trees, and smoking a cigar exclaims: "Ah! there go the sh.e.l.ls." Then leisurely compares the roar of the battle of to-day to that of yesterday. In strolling about thus in the neighbourhood of the sh.e.l.ls, Paris exposes itself voluntarily to danger; Paris is indifferent, and use is second nature. Then bed-time comes, Paris looks over the evening papers, and asks, with a yawn, where the devil all this will end? By a conciliation? Or the Prussians perhaps? And then Paris falls asleep, and gets up the next morning, just as fresh and l.u.s.ty as if Napoleon the Third were still Emperor by the grace of G.o.d and the will of the French nation.

XLVI.

An insertion in the _Journal Officiel_ of Versailles has justly irritated the greater part of the French press. This is the paragraph.

"False news of the most infamous kind has been spread in Paris where no independent journal is allowed to appear." From these few lines it may be concluded, that in the eyes of the Government of Versailles the whole of the Paris newspapers, whose editors have not deserted their posts, have entirely submitted to the Commune, and only think and say what the Commune permits them to think and say. This is an egregious calumny. No, thank heaven! The Parisian press has not renounced its independence, and if no account is taken (as is perfectly justifiable) of a heap of miserable little sheets which no sooner appear than they die, and of some few others edited by members of the Commune, one would be obliged to acknowledge, on the contrary, that since the 18th of March the great majority of journals have exhibited proofs of a proud and courageous independence. Each day, without allowing themselves to be intimidated, either by menaces of forcible suppression or threats of arrest, they have fearlessly told the members of the Commune their opinion without concealment or circ.u.mlocution. The French press has undoubtedly committed many offences during the last few years, and is not altogether irresponsible for the troubles which have overwhelmed the unhappy country; but reparation is being made for these offences in this present hour of danger, and the fearless att.i.tude which it has maintained before these men of the Hotel de Ville, atones n.o.bly for the past. It has const.i.tuted itself judge; condemns what is condemnable, resists violence, endeavours to enlighten the ma.s.ses. Sometimes too--and this is perhaps its greatest crime in the eyes of the Versailles Government--it permits itself to disapprove entirely of the acts of the National a.s.sembly; some journals going as far as to insinuate that the Government is not altogether innocent of the present calamities. But what does this prove? That the press is no more the servant of the a.s.sembly than it is the slave of the Commune; in a word, that it is free.

And what false news is this of which the _Journal Officiel_ of Versailles complains, and against which it seems to warn us? Does it think it likely that we should be silly enough to give credence to the shouts of victory that are recorded each morning, on the handbills of the Commune? Does it suppose that we look upon the deputies as nothing but a race of anthropophagi who dine every day off Communists and Federals at the _tables d'hote_ of the Hotel des Reservoirs? Not at all. We easily unravel the truth, from the entanglement of exaggerations forged by the men of the Hotel de Ville; and it is precisely this just appreciation of things that we owe to those papers which the _Journal Officiel_ condemns so inconsiderately.

But it is not of fake news alone, probably, that the Versailles a.s.sembly is afraid. It would not perhaps be sorry that we should ignore the real state of things, and I wager that if it had the power it would willingly suppress ill-informed journals--although they are not Communist the least in the world--who allow themselves to state that for six days the sh.e.l.ls of Versailles have fallen upon Les Ternes, the Champs Elysees and the Avenue Wagram, and have already cost as many tears and as much bloodshed, as the Prussian sh.e.l.ls of fearful memory.

XLVII.

Wednesday, 12th April.--Another day pa.s.sed as yesterday was, as to-morrow will be. The Versaillais attack the forts of Vanves and Issy and are repulsed. There is fighting at Neuilly, at Bagneux, at Asnieres.

In the town requisitions and arrests are being made. A detachment of National Guards arrives before the Northern railway-station. They inquire for the director, but director there is none. Embarra.s.sing situation this. The National Guards cannot come all this way for nothing. Determined on arresting some one, they carry off M. Felix Mathias, head of the works, and M. Coutin, chief inspector. An hour later other National Guards imprison M. Lucien Dubois, general inspector of markets, in the depot of the ex-Prefecture of Police. Here and there a few journalists are arrested without cause, to serve as examples; some priests are despatched to Mazas, among others M. Lartigues, _cure_ of _Saint Leu_. Yesterday the following was placarded on the shut doors of the church at Montmartre:

"Since priests are bandits and churches retreats where they have morally a.s.sa.s.sinated the ma.s.ses, causing _France to cower beneath the clutches of the infamous Bonapartes, Favres, and Trochus_, the delegates of the stone masons at the ex-Prefecture of Police give orders that the church of Saint-Pierre (not Cinq-Pierres this time) shall be closed, and decrees the imprisonment of its priests and its _Freres Ignorantins_. Signed by Le Mousau."

To-day it is the turn of the church of Notre Dame de Lorette. A considerable number of worshippers had a.s.sembled in the holy place. The National Guards arrive, headed by men in plain clothes. Under the Empire such men were called spies. The women found praying are turned out, those who do not obey promptly enough, with blows. This done, the guards retire. What they had come there for is not known. But what we are certain of is, that they will begin again to-morrow in this same church, or in another. The days resemble each other as the children of an accursed family. What frightful catastrophe will break this shameful monotony?

XLVIII.

Eh! What? It is impossible! Are your brains scattered? I speak figuratively, awaiting the time when they will be scattered in earnest.

It must be some miserable jester who has worded, printed, and placarded this unconscionable decree. But no, it is in the usual form, the usual type. This is rather too much, Gentlemen of the Commune; it outsteps the bounds of the ridiculous; you count a little too much this time on the complicity of some of the population, and on the patience of others.

Here is the decree:

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE COLUMN IN THE PLACE VENDoME.

Erected by the first Napoleon to commemorate his German campaign of 1805.