On Sunday, the 4th of September, 1870, Paris was en fÊte. The Parisians had a new revolution, and were delighted with it. The whole population had turned out, men, women, and children, in their holiday clothes. They filled the beautiful Place de la Concorde, the finest in the world; they swarmed across the bridge and into the Palais Bourbon, where the Corps LÉgislatif was in session. The soldiers who guarded the imperial legislators melted away, the cocked hats of the truculent gendarmes vanished miraculously. The Conscript Fathers did not exactly imitate the Roman Senators when they too were invaded by the Gauls, but disappeared as quickly as the gendarmes. These were the gentlemen who had howled for war, and called Mr. Thiers traitor when he pleaded for peace. The people were gay, good-humored, happy; in short, it was a Sunday fÊte, and in half an hour Paris, and consequently France, was a republic.

From the Palais Bourbon the crowd went to the Tuileries, where the Empress was awaiting the progress of events. There was no anger then felt toward her, and she was not in danger; but a mob, and especially a French mob, is a capricious creature. It may be in the gayest of humors; a trifle turns its mood, and it becomes blood-thirsty as a tiger. The Empress sent for Trochu, the Governor of Paris. He had sworn on his faith as a soldier, a Catholic, and a Breton, to stand by her to the end. He kept his word by sending an aid-de-camp to her assistance. Of all the creatures of the court whom the favor of the Emperor had raised from obscurity, not one came near her. Jerome Bonaparte—the American Bonaparte—had been Governor of the Palace. Fortunately he had been appointed to the command of a regiment of cavalry; for had he still been Governor there would probably have been a fight, and it was as well that there should be no bloodshed. Happily for the Empress, two foreigners remembered her. The Embassador of Austria and the Minister of Italy went to her aid. They found every sign of demoralization at the palace, the servants deserting, and pilfering as they went. They persuaded her, much against her will, to fly. They traversed the whole length of the Louvre to the door in the rear. Metternich opened the door, but, seeing the crowd, closed it again. "Ce n'est que l'audace qui sauve," said the Empress, and ordered it opened. They passed into the crowd. A gamin recognized her, and cried, "L'ImpÉratrice! l'ImpÉratrice!" "I'll teach you to cry 'Vive la Prusse!'" said Nigra, and pinched his ear till he howled. Metternich went for his carriage. While he was gone, a fiacre passed, Nigra hailed it, and the Empress and Madame Le Breton entered. It was agreed that they should meet at the house of a noted Bonapartist. She went there, and was refused admission. She went to another; he was out of town. In this emergency she thought of Dr. Evans, her American dentist, and drove to his residence. He was expecting two American ladies on a visit to his family, and every thing was prepared for them. When the servant announced two ladies, the doctor was at dinner. Excusing himself to his guests, he went out to receive them, and found the Empress. The next day he took her and Madame Le Breton in his carriage to Trouville, on the coast, near Havre. There was a sort of guard kept at the gates of Paris, though not a very strict one. The doctor said, "You know me, Dr. Evans. I am taking this poor lady to the asylum here at Neuilly." They passed, and arrived safely at Trouville, where the doctor's family were spending the summer.

In the mean time a little English yacht of fifty tons was lying in dock at Trouville. Her owner, Sir John Burgoyne, great-nephew of General Burgoyne, who commanded the British troops at Saratoga, had intended to sail that day for England; but at the suggestion of an American lady, a friend of his wife's, had decided to remain another day, and make an excursion to the ruins of the castle of William the Conqueror. In the evening Dr. Evans went on board, and stated who he was, and what he had come for. As soon as he was satisfied that the Empress was really at Trouville, Sir John said that he would gladly take her across the Channel, and it was agreed that she should come on board in the morning, when the tide served. That evening the gendarmes visited the yacht, for it was rumored that the Empress was at Trouville. In the morning she came on board, and the yacht sailed. The voyage was very rough, and the little vessel was obliged to lie to. She arrived safely at Hyde, however, and the Empress proceeded at once to Hastings, where she met her son. Thus she had escaped by the aid exclusively of foreigners—an Austrian and an Italian, an American and an Englishman.

The new Government, the "National Defense" they called it—the French attach great importance to names—was duly inaugurated at the HÔtel de Ville. Had it not been inaugurated there, and proclaimed from the historic window, the Parisians would scarcely have looked upon it as a legitimate Government. General Trochu was placed at its head, and Jules Favre made Minister of Foreign Affairs. The appointment of Trochu was unfortunate. He was an honorable man, intelligent, a student, and a good military critic, but utterly valueless in active service. He coddled the mob, treating them as if they were the purest of patriots; whereas they were the marplots of the Defense. He was selected probably because he was the only Republican among the French generals of prominence, and not for any peculiar fitness for command in those troublous times.

Shortly after the inauguration of the Government of the National Defense, Mr. Washburne had occasion to go to the HÔtel de Ville. Jules Simon, now Minister of the Interior, seized the opportunity to make us an oration. What particular object he had in view, unless it were to convince the Minister of the United States that Jules Simon was a great orator, I have been unable to discover. If that was his object, he succeeded. Whether it was worth while to occupy his and our valuable time for this purpose only, may be doubted.

On the 7th of September came our instructions to recognize the Republic if it seemed to us to be firmly established. Mr. Washburne sent me to make an appointment with Jules Favre. It was made for that afternoon. While Washburne prepared his address, I read up in the archives of the Legation to learn what was done under similar circumstances in 1848. I found that we had been the first to recognize the Republic at that date, but that Lamartine, in his report, had taken no notice of the fact, for fear, it was said, of wounding the susceptibilities of Great Britain. Washburne told me to mention this circumstance to Favre: he did not intend that we should be ignored a second time, if he could prevent it. I mentioned it to Favre, and he replied, substantially, that Great Britain had not treated France so well that they need have any particular anxiety about wounding her susceptibilities; and added that Great Britain was now of very little consequence.

Mr. Washburne's address was an admirable document. Favre replied to it very happily. He said that the recognition of the "young Republic" by the United States was a "grand appui;" that he "felt gratitude and profound emotion." Jules Favre is a master of the French language. It is a great treat to hear him, even in ordinary conversation, roll out in a charming voice and impressive manner the most perfectly harmonious words of that beautiful language. French does not rise to the sublimity of poetry. Shakspeare is absurd in French. But for charm in conversation, and precision in science, it is simply perfect.

The next day the interview was reported in full in the Officiel. Washburne's address was very well translated, except where he quoted from the Declaration of Independence, and spoke of the right of every man to "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." Here the translator had made him say that every man had a right "de vivre en travaillant au bonheur de tous." Rather a liberal translation, and thoroughly French both in language and sentiment. But I have not remarked that the French Republicans labor more for the happiness of their neighbors than other nationalities, or than their own countrymen. If there be a political party in France which does more in charities than another, it is the Orleanist.

Favre was very anxious that Mr. Washburne should intervene to make peace. When he found that under our instructions we could not join with other European powers in political matters purely European (advice left us by Washington, and wisely followed by Mr. Fish), he begged Mr. Washburne to intervene in his private capacity. But he replied very sensibly that it was impossible for him to separate his private from his public capacity; he must always be the Minister of the United States.

But what Washburne felt compelled to decline, another American gentleman, Mr. O'Sullivan, formerly our Minister at Lisbon, undertook. He asked Mr. Washburne for a letter to Bismarck, but this he did not feel authorized to give. He then begged for a letter of introduction to Sheridan, who was at the King's head-quarters. This he received. Jules Favre, who clutched eagerly at any thing that might possibly lead to peace, gave him a safe-conduct, and he started for the Prussian lines. But he never got to head-quarters. That long-headed Bismarck had anticipated some such outside benevolent efforts, and had given orders to the outlying corps that if any distinguished gentlemen came along desiring to make peace, they should be treated with all possible courtesy, but not allowed to approach head-quarters without permission of the King. O'Sullivan was stopped, and his letter forwarded to Sheridan. Bismarck sent for the General, and asked if he knew O'Sullivan. He said he did not. He then asked if he was anxious to see him. Sheridan replied that he should be happy to make his acquaintance, but that he saw no pressing haste in the matter. "Then he sha'n't come," said Bismarck; and O'Sullivan returned to Paris. But the French did not treat him so well as the Germans. As he approached Paris, walking quietly along the high-road, a carpet-bag in one hand and an umbrella in the other, a detachment of the vigilant National Guard rushed across a field and covered him with their loaded pieces. As he made no resistance, they simply took from him his bag and umbrella, and led him before their commander blindfolded. That officer sent him under guard to one of those wretched dens scooped out of the barrier where they sometimes confined smugglers temporarily, but which were oftener used for more unsavory purposes. There they kept him all night. In the morning Jules Favre sent to his assistance, and he was released.

O'Sullivan afterward left Paris in the general exodus of Americans. He went, as they did, to Versailles; but he staid there some three weeks, talking peace to the German princes quartered at the HÔtel des RÉservoirs, some of whom he had previously known. He had a plan, not at all a bad one in itself, but under the circumstances entirely impracticable. It was to neutralize a strip of territory lying between France and Germany, annex part of it to Belgium, and part to Switzerland, and put it under the protection of the Great Powers. One evening O'Sullivan dined with the Crown Prince. He sat next to Bismarck, and discoursed upon his pet neutral-strip theory. As they parted, Bismarck shook his hand, and said that he was charmed to make his acquaintance. "But, Mr. O'Sullivan, a curious thing sometimes happens to me: I make the acquaintance of a most agreeable gentleman in the afternoon, and in the evening I find myself reluctantly compelled to order him out of Versailles." O'Sullivan mentioned this to friends he was visiting in the evening, but did not see its application to himself. They did, however. He went to his hotel, and found a Prussian officer at his door with orders for him to leave Versailles that night. He remonstrated, and it was finally agreed that he should start at eight o'clock in the morning. A sentry was placed at the bedroom door, who thought that a proper discharge of his duty required him to open it every five minutes during the night, to make sure that his prisoner had not escaped. Mrs. O'Sullivan did not quite appreciate the situation.