Louis asked permission to go and assist at the proclamation of the
Commune, which was to be read at the Hôtel de Ville.
There was a platform built in front of the façade, which was decorated with many red flags and covered with a red carpet, and all the new members of the committee wore the symbolical red sashes over their worthy shoulders. The statue of Henry II. was duly draped with red flags and ragged boys. Louis stood first and foremost among many of his old comrades, the famous and plucky Zouaves. Henri d'Assy read the proclamation out in a loud voice, and informed the public that the Commune (this new and charming infant) was baptized in the name of Liberté, Égalité, and Fraternité. There was great enthusiasm, and a salvo of artillery underlined the big words, and there arose a mighty shout of "Vive la Commune!" from thousands of hoarse throats which shook the very earth. Louis's account was worth hearing; but mine is only the truth with variations. He was most impressed, and I fancy it would not have taken much persuasion to have made him a red-hot Communist then and there.
Great excitement prevailed all Sunday. The Communists remained in possession of all the public buildings. The red flag was hoisted everywhere, even from the palace of the Princess Mathilde, who, as you know, lives directly opposite us. The Princess had left Paris last September. All the world knows how our clever American dentist, Dr. Evans, helped the Empress safely out of Paris, and of her flight; and after the catastrophe of Sedan it would have been dangerous for any member of the Imperial family to have remained here. As I look from my window across to the Princess's palace, and see all the windows open and the courtyard filled with shabby soldiers, I realize that we are en pleine Commune, and wonder when we shall come out of all this chaos, and how it will all end.
To-day there was a great demonstration in the streets.
A young fellow named Henri de Pène thought if he could collect enough people to follow him he would lead them to the barricades in the Place Vendôme, in order to beg the Communards, in the name of the people, to restore order and quiet in the city. He sent word beforehand that they would come there unarmed.
De Pène started at a very early hour from the distant Boulevards, calling to every one and beckoning to them, in order to make them come from their balconies and from their work, and shouting to all in the streets, managed to assemble a large crowd to join in his courageous undertaking.
I happened to go at one o'clock to Worth's, in the Rue de la Paix, and, finding the street barred, I left my coupé in the Rue des Petits Champs, telling Louis to wait for me in the Rue St.-Arnaud (just behind the Rue de la Paix), and I walked to No. 7.
I wondered why there were so few people in the streets. The Place Vendôme was barricaded with paving-stones, and cannon were pointing down the Rue de la Paix. I walked quietly along to Worth's, and hardly had I reached his salon than we heard distant, confused sounds, and then the shouting in the street below made us all rush to the windows.
What a sight met our eyes!
This handsome young fellow, De Pène, his hat in his outstretched hand, followed by a crowd of men, women, and children, looked the picture of life, health, and enthusiasm.