tly
necessary that we should continue our publications. A printer, who had
formerly been a publisher of several democratic journals, M. Boule, had
offered me his services on the preceding evening. In June, 1848, I had
protected his printing-office, then being devastated by the National
Guards. I wrote to him: I enclosed our judgments and our decrees in the
letter, and the Representative Montaigu undertook to take them to him.
M. Boule excused himself; his printing-presses had been seized by the
police at midnight.

Through the precautions which we had taken, and thanks to the patriotic
assistance of several young medical and chemical students, powder had
been manufactured in several quarters. At one point alone, the Rue
Jacob, a hundred kilogrammes had been turned out during the night. As,
however, this manufacture was principally carried out on the left bank
of the river, and as the fighting took place on the right bank, it was
necessary to transport this powder across the bridges. They managed
this In the best manner they could. Towards nine o'clock we were warned
that the police, having been informed of this, had organized a system
of inspection, and that all persons crossing the river were searched,
particularly on the Pont Neuf.

A certain strategical plan became manifest. The ten central bridges
mere militarily guarded.

People were arrested in the street on account of their personal
appearance. A sergent-de-ville, at the corner of he Pont-au-Change,
exclaimed, loud enough for the passers-by to hear, "We shall lay hold
of all those who have not their beards properly trimmed, or who do not
appear to have slept."

Notwithstanding all this we had a little powder; the disarming of the
National Guard at various points had produced about eight hundred
muskets, our proclamations and our decrees were being placarded, our
voice was reaching the people, a certain confidence was springing up.

"The wave is rising! the wave is rising!" exclaimed Edgar Quinet, who
had come to shake my hand.

We were informed that the schools were rising in insurrection during
the day, and that they offered us a refuge in the midst of them.

Jules Favre exclaimed joyfully,--

"To-morrow we shall date our decrees from the Pantheon."

Signs of good omen grew more numerous. An old hotbed of insurrection,
the Rue Saint-Andre-des-Arts, was becoming agitated. The association
called La Presse du Travail gave signs of life. Some brave workme