to examine the point for myself, I strayed towards the
palace. All there was tranquil; a few lights were scattered through the
galleries, but every sound of life, much less of watchfulness and
preparation, was still. The only human beings in sight were some
dismounted cavalry, and a battalion of the national guard, lounging: about
the square. As I found it impossible to think of rest until the truth or
falsehood of my information was settled, I next wandered along the
Boulevarde, in the direction of the Faubourg St Antoine, the focus of all
the tumults of Paris; but all along this fine avenue was hushed as if a
general slumber had fallen over the city. The night was calm, and the air
was a delicious substitute for the hot and reeking atmosphere of this
populous quarter in the day. I saw no gathering of the populace; no
hurrying torches. I heard no clash of arms, nor tramp of marching men; all
lay beneath the young moon, which, near her setting, touched the whole
scene with a look of soft and almost melancholy quietude. The character of
my Israelite friend began to fall rapidly in the scale, and I had made up
my mind that insurrection had gone to its slumbers for that night; when,
as I was returning by the _Place de Bastile_, and was passing under the
shadow of one of the huge old houses that then surrounded that scene of
hereditary terror, two men, who had been loitering beside the parapet of
the fosse, suddenly started forward and planted themselves in my way. I
flung one of them aside, but the other grasped my arm, and, drawing a
dagger, told me that my life was at his mercy. His companion giving a
signal, a group of fierce-looking fellows started from their
lurking-places; and of course further resistance was out of the question.
I was ordered to follow them, and regarding myself as having nothing to
fear, yet uneasy at the idea of compulsion, I remonstrated, but in vain;
and was finally led through a labyrinth of horrid alleys, to what I now
found to be the headquarters of the insurrection. It was an immense
building, which had probably been a manufactory, but was now filled with
the leaders of the mob. The few torches which were its only light, and
which scarcely showed the roof and extremity of the building, were,
however, enough to show heaps of weapons of every kind--muskets, sabres,
pikes, and even pitchforks and scythes, thrown on the floor. On one side,
raised on a sort of desk, was a ruffianly figure flinging p