he rags that serve the greater
number of them for uniforms, in spite of the drunken gait of some, as a
whole they are superb! And the reason of the coldest partisan of order
at any price, struggles in vain against the admiration which these men
inspire as they march to their death.

It must be admitted, too, that there is much less disorder in the
command than might be expected. The battalions all know whom they are to
obey. Some go to the Hotel de Ville, others to the Place Vendome, many
to the forts, a few to the advanced posts; marches and counter-marches
are managed without confusion, and the combatants are in general well
provided with ammunition, and supplied with provisions. Far as one is
from esteeming the chiefs of the Federals, one is obliged to admit that
there is something remarkable in this rapid organisation of a whole army
in the midst of one of the most complete political convulsions. Who,
then, directs? Who commands? The members of the Commune, divided as they
are in opinion, do not appear capable, on account of their number and
lamentable inexperience, of taking the sole lead in military affairs. Is
there not some one either amongst them or in the background, who knows
how to think, direct, and act? Is it Bergeret? Is it Cluseret? The
future perhaps will unravel the mystery. In the meantime, and in spite
of the reverses to which the Federals have had to submit during these
last days, the whole of Paris unites in unanimous surprise at the
extreme regularity with which the administrative system of the war seems
to work, the surprise being the greater that, during the siege, the
"legitimate" chiefs with much more powerful means, and having
disciplined troops at their command, did not succeed in obtaining the
same striking results.

But would it not have been better far that that order had never existed?
Better a thousand times that the command had been less precise than that
those commanded should have been led to a death without glory? For the
last few days Neuilly, so joyous in times gone by with its busy shops,
its frequented _restaurants_ and princely parks; Neuilly, with the
Versailles batteries on one side and the Paris guns on the other, under
an incessant rain of shells and _mitraille_ from Mont Valerien; Neuilly,
with her bridge taken and re-taken, her barricades abandoned and
re-conquered, has been for the last few days like a vast abyss, into
which the Federal battalions, seized with mortal gi