Still there was no apparent approach of danger.  The drums had almost ceased beating, and as I reached the Carrousel, on my way back to the Rue St. Dominique, I saw nothing in the streets to justify all this alarm, which was either the result of a panic, or was calculated for political effect; artifice acting on apprehension.  A few people were beginning to collect on the bridges and quays, and there was evidently a greater movement towards the Pont Neuf, than in the lower parts of the town.  As I crossed the Pont Royal, a brigade of light artillery came up the quays from the Ecole Militaire, the horses on the jump, and the men seated on the carriages, or mounted, as belongs to this arm.  The noise and hurry of their passage was very exciting, and it gave an impulse to the shopkeepers of the Rue du Bac, most of whom now began to close their windows.  The guns whirled across the bridge, and dashed into the Carrousel, on a gallop, by the guichet of the Louvre.

Continuing down the Rue du Bac, the street was full of people, chiefly females, who were anxiously looking towards the bridge.  One garcon, as he aided his master in closing the shop-window, was edifying him with anathemas against “ces messieurs les republicains,” who were believed to be at the bottom of the disturbance, and for whom he evidently thought that the artillery augured badly.  The next day he would be ready to shout vive la republique under a new impulse; but, at present, it is “vive le commerce!”

On reaching the hotel, I gave my account of what was going on, pacified the apprehensions that had naturally been awakened, and sallied forth a second time, to watch the course of events.

By this time some forty or fifty National Guards were collected on the quay, by the Pont Royal, a point where there ought to have been several hundreds.  This was a sinister omen for the government, nor was the appearance of the crowd much more favourable.  Tens of thousands now lined the quays, and loaded the bridges; nor were these people rabble, or sans culottes, but decent citizens, most of whom observed a grave, and, as I thought, a portentous silence.  I make no manner of doubt that had a thousand determined men appeared among them at that moment, headed by a few leaders of known character, the government of Louis-Philippe would have dissolved like melting snow.  Neither the National Guard, the army, nor the people were with it.  Every one evidently waited the issue of events, without manifesting much concern for the fate of the present regime.  Indeed it is not easy to imagine greater apathy, or indifference to the result, than was nearly everywhere visible.  A few shopkeepers alone seemed troubled.