"All morning since nine there has been a cry every where: To the Bastile! Repeated 'deputations of citizens' have been here, passionate for arms; whom De Launay has got dismissed by soft speeches through port-holes. Towards noon elector Thuriot de la Rosière gains admittance; finds De Launay indisposed for surrender; nay, disposed for blowing up the place rather. Thuriot mounts with him to the battlements: heaps of paving stones, old iron, and missiles lie piled; cannon all duly levelled; in every embrasure a cannon--only drawn back a little! But _outwards_, behold how the multitude flows on, swelling through every street: tocsin furiously pealing, all drums beating the _générale_: the suburb Saint Antoine rolling hitherward wholly as one man! "Woe to thee De Launay, in such an hour, if thou canst not, taking some one firm decision, _rule_ circumstances! Soft speeches will not serve, hard grape-shot is questionable; but hovering between the two is _un_questionable. Ever wilder swells the tide of men; their infinite hum waxing even louder into imprecations, perhaps into crackle of stray musketry--which latter, on walls nine feet thick, cannot do execution. The outer drawbridge has been lowered for Thuriot; new _deputation of citizens_ (it is the third and noisiest of all) penetrates that way into the outer court: soft speeches producing no clearance of these, De Launay gives fire; pulls up his drawbridge; a slight sputter--which has _kindled_ the too combustible chaos; made it a roaring fire-chaos. Bursts forth insurrection at sight of its own blood, (for there were deaths by that sputter of fire,) into endless rolling explosion of musketry, distraction, execration. The Bastile is besieged!