the Place de la Concorde before one o'clock were absolutely unarmed. At
that hour, however, a large force of them, equivalent to a couple of
battalions or thereabouts, came marching down the Rue Royale from the
Boulevards, and these men (who were preceded by a solitary drummer)
carried, some of them, chassepots and others _fusils-a-tabatiere,_ having
moreover, in most instances, their bayonets fixed. They belonged to the
north of Paris, though I cannot say precisely to what particular
districts, nor do I know exactly by whose orders they had been assembled
and instructed to march on the Palais Bourbon, as they speedily did. But
it is certain that all the fermentation of the morning and all that
occurred afterwards was the outcome of the night-work of the secret
Republican Committees.

As the guards marched on, loud cries of "Decheance! Decheance!" arose
among them, and were at once taken up by the spectators. Perfect
unanimity, indeed, appeared to prevail on the question of dethroning the
Emperor. Even the soldiers who were scattered here and there--a few
Linesmen, a few Zouaves, a few Turcos, some of them invalided from
MacMahon's forces--eagerly joined in the universal cry, and began to
follow the guards on to the Place de la Concorde. Never, I believe, had
that square been more crowded--not even in the days when it was known as
the Place Louis Quinze, and when hundreds of people were crushed to death
there whilst witnessing a display of fireworks in connection with the
espousals of the future Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, not even when it
had become the Place de la Revolution and was thronged by all who wished
to witness the successive executions of the last King and Queen of the old
French monarchy. From the end of the Rue Royale to the bridge conducting
across the Seine to the Palais Bourbon, from the gate of the Tuileries
garden to the horses of Marly at the entrance of the Champs Elysees,
around the obelisk of Luxor, and the fountains which were playing as usual