e? Was he meditating some gigantic
enterprises the dictatorship that Cluseret had dreamed of and Rossel
disdained, was he about to assume it for the good of the Republic? I
have no idea; but whatever he has been doing, I have seen him again at
the club held in the church of Saint Jacques.

[Illustration: GENERAL LA CECILIA.[89]]

Ha! ha! Worthless hypocrites and inquisitors, who for the last eighteen
hundred years have crushed, degraded, and tortured the poor; you thought
our turn was never to come, you monks, priests, and archbishops! Thanks
to the Commune you now preach in the prisons of the Republic; you may
confess, if you like, the spiders of your dungeons, and give the holy
viaticum to the rats which play around your legs! You can no longer do
any harm to patriots. No more churches, no more convents! Those who
have not houses in the Champs Elysees shall lodge in your convents; in
your churches shall be held honest assemblies, which will give the
people their rights; as to their duties, that is an invention of
reactionists. No more of your sermons or speeches: after Bossuet,
Napoleon Gaillard!

[Illustration: THE CHURCH OF SAINT EUSTACHE. Used as a Red Club. Partly
destroyed by fire.]

On entering the church of Saint Eustache yesterday, I was agreeably
surprised to find the font full of tobacco instead of holy-water, and to
see the altar in the distance covered with bottles and glasses. Some one
informed me that was the counter. In one of the lateral chapels, a
statue of the Virgin had been dressed out in the uniform of a
vivandiere, with a pipe in her mouth. I was, however, particularly
charmed with the amiable faces of the people I saw collected there. The
sex to which we owe the _tricoteuses_ was decidedly in the majority. It
was quite delightful not to see any of those elegant dresses and
frivolous manners, which have for so long disgraced the better half of
the human race. Thank heaven! my eyes fell with rapture on the heroic
rags of those ladies who do us the honour of sweeping our streets for
us. Many of these female patriots were proud to bear in the centre of
their faces a rubicund nose, that rivalled in colour the Communal flag
on the Hotel de Ville. Oh, glorious red nose, the distinguished sign of
Republicanism! As to the men, they seemed to have been chosen among the
first ranks of the new aristocracy. It was charming to note the military
elegance with which their caps were slightly inclined over on