This is absurd, for I hear that neither
the General nor any of his staff have been fired upon or arrested during
the last week. The French military mind is unable to understand that the
world will rather credit the testimony of impartial neutrals than
official bulletins. As far as correspondents are concerned, they are
worse off under the Republic than even under the Empire.

M. Louis Blanc's appeal to the people of England is declamatory and
rhetorical in tone, and I am inclined to think that the people of
England are but a Richard Doe, and that in reality it is addressed to
the Parisians. M. Blanc asks the English in Paris to bear witness that
the windows of the Louvre are being stuffed with sandbags to preserve
the treasures within from the risks of a bombardment. I do so with
pleasure. I cannot, however, bear him out in his assertions respecting
the menacing calm of Paris, and the indomitable attitude of its National
Guards. M. Blanc, like most of his countrymen, mistakes the wish for the
will, words for deeds, promises for performance. What has happened here,
and what is happening? The forts are manned with sailors, who
conscientiously fire off their cannon. A position has been lost. Two
sorties consisting of troops and armed peasants have been driven back.
The National Guards do duty on the ramparts, drill in the streets, offer
crowns to the statue of Strasburg, wear uniforms, and announce that they
have made a pact with death. I sincerely trust that they may distinguish
themselves, but they have not had an opportunity to do so. Not one of
them has as yet honoured his draft on death. Behind their forts, their
troops, their crowd of peasants, and their ramparts, they boast of what
they will do. If they do really bury themselves beneath the ruins of
their capital they will be entitled to the admiration of history, but as
yet they are civilians of the present and heroes of the future. Noisy
blusterers may be brave men. I have no doubt there are many in Paris
ready to die for their country. I can, however, only deal with facts,
and I find that the Parisians appear to rely for safety upon everything
except their own valour. One day it is the Army of the Loire; another
day it is some mechanical machine; another day dissensions among the
Prussian generals; another day the intervention of Russia or Austria. In
the meantime, clubs denounce the Government; club orators make absurd
and impracticable speeches, the Mayor chang