On the 26th of March, the distant roaring of artillery was heard at intervals on the boulevards of Paris; and the alarm began to be violent.  On the 27th (Sunday) Joseph Buonaparte held a review in the Place Carousel; and the day being fine, and the uniforms mostly new, the confidence of the spectators rose, and the newspapers expressed their wishes that the enemy could but behold what forces were ready to meet and destroy them.  That same evening the Allies passed the Marne at various points; at three in the morning of the 28th, they took Meaux; and at daybreak, “the terrified population of the country between Meaux and Paris came pouring into the capital,” says an eye-witness, “with their aged, infirm, children, cats, dogs, live-stock, corn, hay, and household goods of every description.  The boulevards were crowded with waggons, carts, and carriages thus laden, to which cattle were tied, and the whole surrounded with women.”  The regular troops now marched out of the town, leaving all the barriers in charge of the National Guard.  The confusion that prevailed everywhere was indescribable.

On the 29th, the Empress, her son, and most of the members of the Council of State, set off, attended by 700 soldiers, for Rambouillet—­from which they continued their journey to Blois—­and in their train went fifteen waggons laden with plate and coin from the vaults of the Tuileries.  The spectators looked on their departure in gloomy silence:  and King Joseph published the following proclamation; “Citizens of Paris!  A hostile column has descended on Meaux.  It advances; but the Emperor follows close behind, at the head of a victorious army.  The Council of Regency has provided for the safety of the Empress and the King of Rome.  I remain with you.  Let us arm ourselves to defend this city, its monuments, its riches, our wives, our children—­all that is dear to us.  Let this vast capital become a camp for some moments; and let the enemy find his shame under the walls which he hopes to overleap in triumph.  The Emperor marches to our succour.  Second him by a short and vigorous resistance, and preserve the honour of France.”  No feeling favourable to Napoleon was stirred by this appeal.  The boulevards continued to be thronged with multitudes of people; but the most part received the proclamation with indifference—­not a few with murmurs.  Some officers urged Savary to have the streets unpaved, and persuade the people to arm themselves with the stones, and prepare for a defence such as that of Zaragossa.  He answered, shaking his head, “the thing cannot be done.”

All day, waggons of biscuit and ammunition were rolling through the town; wounded soldiers came limping to the barriers; and the Seine heaved thicker and thicker with the carcases of horses and men.  That night, for once, the theatres were deserted.