Figaro yesterday published a "correspondence from Orleans." The Official Gazette of this morning publishes an official note from the Prefect of Police stating that this correspondence is "a lie, such as those which the Figaro invents every day."
Afternoon.
I have just returned from the Place de l'Hôtel de Ville. When I got there at about two o'clock six or seven thousand manifesters had already congregated there. They were all, as is the nature of Frenchmen in a crowd, shouting their political opinions into their neighbours' ears. Almost all of them were Nationaux from the Faubourgs, and although they were not armed, they wore a kepi, or some other distinctive military badge. As well as I could judge, nine out of ten were working men. Their object, as a sharp, wiry artizan bellowed into my ear, was to force the Government to consent to the election of a Commune, in order that the Chassepots may be more fairly distributed between the bourgeois and the ouvriers, and that Paris shall no longer render itself ridiculous by waiting within its walls until its provisions are exhausted and it is forced to capitulate. There appeared to be no disposition to pillage; rightly or wrongly, these men consider that the Government is wanting in energy, and that it is the representative of the bourgeoisie and not of the entire population. Every now and then, some one shouted out "Vive la Commune!" and all waved their caps and took up the cry. After these somewhat monotonous proceedings had continued about half an hour, several bourgeois battalions of National Guards came along the quay, and drew up in line, four deep, before the Hôtel de Ville. They were not molested except with words. The leading ranks of the manifesters endeavoured by their eloquence to convince them that they ought not to prevent citizens peacefully expressing their opinions; but the grocers stood stolidly to their arms, and vouchsafed no reply. At three o'clock General Trochu with his staff rode along inside the line, and then withdrew. General Tamisier then made a speech, which of course no one could hear. Shortly afterwards there was a cry of "Voilà Flourens—Voilà nos amis," and an ouvrier battalion with its band playing the Marseillaise marched by. They did not halt, notwithstanding the entreaties of the manifesters, for they were bound, their officers explained, on a sacred mission, to deposit a crown before the statue of Strasburg. When I left the Place the crowd was, I think, increasing, and as I drove along the Rue Rivoli I met several bourgeois battalions marching towards the Hôtel de Ville. I presume, therefore, that General Trochu had thought it expedient to send reinforcements. "We will come back again with arms," was the general cry among the ouvriers, and unless things mend for the better I imagine that they will keep their word. The line of demarcation between the bourgeois and the ouvrier battalions is clearly marked, and they differ as much in their opinions as in their appearance. The sleek, well-fed shopkeeper of the Rue Vivienne, although patriotic, dreads disorder, and does not absolutely contemplate with pleasure an encounter with the Prussians. The wild, impulsive working man from Belleville or La Villette dreads neither Prussians without, nor anarchy within. If he could only find a leader he would blow up himself and half Paris rather than submit to the humiliation of a capitulation. Anything he thinks is better than this "masterly inactivity." Above the din of the crowd the cannon could be heard sullenly firing from the forts; but even this warning of how near the foe is, seemed to convey no lesson to avoid civil strife. Unless General Trochu is a man of more energy than I take him to be, if ever the Prussians do get into the town they will find us in the condition of the Kilkenny cats.
October 9th.
The representative of the Republic of Columbia, to whom I had given my letter of yesterday, has returned it to me, as he was afraid to cross the lines with it. The Briton who has paid for a place in a balloon is still here, and he imagines that he will start to-morrow, so I shall give him my Columbian letter and this one. I understand that any one who is ready to give assurances that he will praise everything and every one belonging to the Government, is afforded facilities for sending out letters by the Post-office balloons, but I am not prepared to give any other pledge except that I shall tell the truth without fear or favour.
The Journal Officiel of this morning, and the Moderate papers, boast that the Ultra manifestation of yesterday was a complete failure. As usual, they cry before they are out of the wood. After I left the Place it appears that there was a counter manifestation of bourgeois National Guards, who arrived in military order with their arms. Jules Favre addressed them. Now as far as I can make out, these battalions went to the Hôtel de Ville on their own initiative. No one, however, seems to see any incongruity in the friends of the Government making an armed demonstration as a protest against armed and unarmed demonstrations in general. The question of the municipal elections will lie dormant for a few days, but I see no evidence that those who were in favour of it have altered their minds. As far as yesterday's proceedings were concerned, they only go to prove the fact, which no one ever doubted, that the bourgeoisie and their adherents are ready to support the Government, but they have also proved to my mind conclusively that the working men as a body have entirely lost all confidence in the men at the head of affairs.
On the pure merits of the question, I think that the working men have reason on their side. They know clearly what they want—to make sorties and to endeavour to destroy the enemy's works; if this fails—to make provisions last as long as possible by a system of rationing—and then to destroy Paris rather than surrender it. The Government and their adherents are waiters on Providence, and, except that they have some vague idea that the Army of the Loire will perform impossibilities, they are contented to live on from day to day, and to hope that something will happen to avert the inevitable catastrophe. I can understand a military dictatorship in a besieged capital, and I can understand a small elected council acting with revolutionary energy; but what I cannot understand is a military governor who fears to enforce military discipline, and a dozen respectable lawyers and orators, whose sole idea of Government is, as Blanqui truly says, to issue decrees and proclamations, and to make speeches. The only practical man among them is M. Dorian, the Minister of Public Works, M. Dorian is a hard-headed manufacturer, and utterly ignoring red tape, clerks, and routine; he has set all the private ateliers to work, to make cannon and muskets. I have not yet heard of his making a single speech, or issuing a single proclamation since the commencement of the siege, and he alone of his colleagues appears to me to be the right man in the right place. I do not take my views of the working men from the nonsense which is printed about them in official and semi-official organs. They are the only class here which, to use an Americanism, is not "played out." The Government dreads them as much as the Empire did; but although they are too much carried away by their enthusiasm and their impulsiveness, they are the only persons in Paris who appear to have a grain of common sense. "As for the Army of the Loire," said one of them to me this morning, "no one, except a fool or a Government employé, can believe that it will ever be able to raise the siege, and as for all these bourgeois, they consider that they are heroes because once or twice a week they pass the night at the ramparts; they think first of their shops, then of their country." "But how can you imagine that you and your friends would be able to defeat the Prussians, who are disciplined soldiers?" I asked. "We can at least try," he replied. I ventured to point out to my friend that perhaps a little discipline in the ouvrier battalions might not be a bad thing; but he insisted that the indiscipline was caused by their distrust of their rulers, and that they were ready to obey their officers. "Take," he said "Flourens' battalions. They do not, it is true, march as regularly as the bourgeois, and they have nothing but kepis and old muskets; but, as far as fighting goes, they are worth all the bourgeois put together." I do not say that Trochu is not wise to depend upon the bourgeois; all I say is, that as the Empire fell because it did not venture to arm any except the regular soldiers, so will Paris render itself the laughing stock of Europe, if its defence is to depend upon an apocryphal Army of the Loire, marines from the Navy, peasants from the provinces, and the National Guards of the wealthy quarters. To talk of the heroic attitude of Paris, when the Parisians have not been under fire, is simply absurd. As long as the outer forts hold out, it is no more dangerous to "man the ramparts" than to mount guard at the Tuileries. I saw to-day a company of mounted National Guards exercising. Their uniforms were exquisitely clean, but I asked myself of what earthly use they were. Their commander ordered them to charge, when every horse butted against the one next to him. I believe a heavy gale of wind would have disconnected all these warriors from their chargers. I fully recognise the fact that the leaders of the ouvriers talk a great deal of nonsense, and that they are actuated as much by personal ambition as by patriotism; but it is certain that the individual working man is the only reality in this population of corrupt and emasculated humbugs; everyone else is a windbag and a sham.
A decree has been issued, informing all who have no means of subsistence that they will receive a certain amount of bread per diem upon application at their respective mairies. We are also told that if we wish to make puddings of the blood of oxen, we must mix pigs' blood with it, otherwise it will be unwholesome.
It has been showery to-day, and I never have witnessed a more dismal Sunday in Paris. A pigeon from. Gambetta's balloon has returned, but this foolish bird lost en route the message which was attached to its neck.