fitter for the rabble. He told
them that there was a conspiracy on foot to massacre the patriots of
Paris; that the troops from the provinces were coming, by order of the
king, to put man, woman, and child to the sword; that the fete at
Marseilles was given to the vanguard of the army to pledge them to this
terrible purpose; that the governors of the provinces were all in the
league of blood; and that the bakers of Paris had received an order from
Versailles to put poison in all their loaves within the next twenty-four
hours. 'Frenchmen,' exclaimed this livid villain, tearing his hair, and
howling with the wildness of a demoniac, 'do you love your wives and
children? Will you suffer them to die in agonies before your eyes? Wait,
and you will have nothing to do but dig their graves. Advance, and you
will have nothing to do but drive the tyrant, with his horde of priests
and nobles, into the Seine. Pause, and you are massacred. Arm, and you
are invincible.' He was answered by shouts of vengeance.

"I remained that night at the headquarters of the staff of Paris, the
Hotel de Ville. I was awakened before daybreak by the sound of a drum;
and, on opening my eyes, was startled by lights flashing across the
ceiling of the room where I slept. Shots followed; and it was evident
that there was a conflict in the streets. I buckled on my sabre hastily,
and, taking my pistols, went to join the staff. I found them in the
balcony in front of the building, maintaining a feeble fire against the
multitude. The night was dark as pitch, cold and stormy, and except for
the sparkle of the muskets from below, and the blaze of the torches in
the hands of our assailants, we could scarcely have conjectured by whom
we were attacked. This continued until daylight; when we at last got
sight of our enemy. Never was there a more tremendous view. Every avenue
to the Place de Greve seemed pouring in its thousands and tens of
thousands. Pikes, bayonets on poles, and rusty muskets, filled the eye
as far as it could reach. Flags, with all kinds of atrocious
inscriptions against the king and queen, were waving in the blast;
drums, horns, and every uncouth noise of the raging million filled the
air. And in front of this innumerable mass pressed on a column of
desperadoes, headed by a woman, or a man disguised as a woman, beating a
drum, and crying out, in the intervals of every roar, 'Bread, bread!'

"To resist was evidently hopeless, or only to provoke ma