It is to the columns of the _Daily News_,[4] that we must turn for the most authentic account of the way in which Paris took the news of Sedan. Although Labouchere was not yet the official correspondent from Paris, he nevertheless sent letters to Fleet Street dealing with matters connected with the crisis, which were published above the signature of a "Parisian Resident." "The news of the Emperor's capture," he writes on September 4, "reached the foreign embassies here at ten yesterday morning. At about 8 o'clock it began to be rumoured that the Emperor and Macmahon's army had surrendered. I saw a crowd of about 2000 men going down the Boulevard, and shouting '_La déchéance_.' I took the arm of a patriot, and we all went together to the Louvre to interview General Trochu. He came out after we had shouted for him about half-an-hour, and a deputation had gone in to him. There was a dead silence as soon as he appeared, so what he said could be distinctly heard. He told us that the news of the capture of the Emperor was true, and that as for arms he could not give more than he had, and he regretted to say that the millions on paper were not forthcoming." In the course of the next twenty-four hours a bloodless revolution was accomplished in Paris. On Sunday afternoon Labouchere got into a carriage and drove about the city, noting everything he saw. "The weather was {126} beautiful," he wrote; "it was one of the most glorious early September days ever seen. I drove slowly along the quay parallel with the Orangerie of the Tuileries before the Palace. The Tuileries gardens were full of people. I learned that, in the morning, orders had been given to close the gates, but that, half-an-hour before I passed, the people had forced them open, and that neither the troops nor the people made any resistance. My coachman, who, I dare say, was an Imperialist yesterday, but was a very strong Republican to-day, pointed out to me several groups of people bearing red flags. I told him that the tricolour, betokening the presence of the Empress, still floated from the central tower of the Tuileries. While I was speaking, and at exactly twenty minutes past three, I saw that flag taken down. That is an event in a man's life not to be forgotten. Crossing over the Pont de Solferino to the Quai d'Orsay, I witnessed an extraordinary sight indeed. From the windows of those great barracks, formerly peopled with troops, every man of whom was supposed to be ready to die for his Emperor, I saw soldiers smiling, waving handkerchiefs, and responding to the cries of '_Vive la République_.' Nay, strangers fell on each other's necks and kissed each other with 'effusion.' In the neighbourhood of the Pont Neuf, I saw people on the tops of ladders busily pulling down the Emperor's bust, which the late loyalty of the people had induced them to stick about in all possible and impossible places. I saw the