almost without a breath of opposition,
that on the morning of Sept. 5, 1870, the Empire was voted at an
end, and a Republic put in its place. The duty of governing was
at once confided to seven men, called the Committee of Defence. Of
these, Arago, Cremieux, and Gamier-Pages had been members of the
Provisional Government in 1848, while Leon Gambetta, Jules Favre,
Jules Ferry, and Jules Simon afterwards distinguished themselves.
Rochefort, the insurrectionist, made but one step from prison to
the council board, and was admitted among the new rulers. But the
two chief men in the Committee of Defence were Jules Favre and
Gambetta.

Gambetta, who before that time had been little known, was from
the South of France, and of Italian origin. He was a man full of
enthusiasm, vehement, irascible, and impulsive. The day came when
these qualities, tempered and refined, did good service to France,
when he also proved himself one of those great men in history who
are capable of supreme self-sacrifice. At present he was untried.

Jules Favre was respected for his unstained reputation and perfect
integrity, his disinterestedness and civic virtues, as also for
his fluency of speech. In person he was a small, thin man, with
a head that was said to resemble the popular portraits of General
Jackson.

General Jules Trochu, who was confirmed as military commander of
Paris, had written a book, previous to the war, regarding the
inefficiency of the French army; he had been therefore no favorite
with the emperor. His chief defect, it was said, was that he talked
so well that he was fond of talking, and too readily admitted many
to his confidence.

The Council of Regency had in the night melted away. A mob was
surging round the Tuileries. Where had the empress-regent fled?

When disasters had followed fast upon one another, the empress
had in her bewilderment found it hard to realize that the end of
the empire was at hand. Bazaine was the man whom she relied on.
She had no great liking for Marshal MacMahon, and she does not
appear to have been conscious that all was lost till, on the night
of September 4, she found M. Conti, the emperor's secretary, busy
destroying his private papers. To burn them was impossible; they
were torn into small bits and put in a bath-tub, then hot water
was poured over them, which reduced them to pulp. Vast quantities,
however, remained undestroyed, some of them compromising to their
writers.

When the trut