It was an effective display of the lusty manhood of France, of the pick of the Grand Army in its prime; not yet made _chair au canon_ to gratify the ambition of one man. A curious commingling, too, of fighting costumes did the review present for the general spectators; those of yesterday side by side with those of the coming time. Three-fourths of the soldiers went by wearing the stiff Republican garb of the expiring _régime_, as adopted hastily at the outset of the Revolution: the long-skirted coat, cut after the old Royal Army fashion, but blue in colour instead of white, and with white lapels and turn-backs; long-flapped white waistcoats, white breeches, and high black-cloth gaiters above the knee, such as their ancestors had worn in the days of Marshal Saxe; the old-style big cocked hat, worn cross-wise, or “en bataille,” as the soldiers called it, with a flaunting tricolor cockade in front. The new Napoleonic style was represented by the Imperial Guard and Oudinot’s Grenadier Division from Arras and the Light Infantry battalions, whose turn out in smartly cut coatees faced with red and green, with the tall broad-topped shakos pictures of the time make us familiar with as the normal presentment of the soldiers of the Empire, attracted special attention.[6] During the March Past, Frimaire suddenly reasserted itself, and brought about the regrettable incident that was to wind up the day. The parade was three parts through, when, all of a sudden, a tremendous downpour of cold rain set in, discomfiting and scattering all who were looking on. With the drenching effect of a shower-bath the rain commenced to pour down in torrents, causing an immediate stampede among the general public. The rearmost columns of the soldiers had to pass before empty benches, tramping along stolidly through the mud, “splashing ankle-deep through a sea of mud,” as an officer put it. [Sidenote: THE SPECTATORS DISAPPEAR] The spectators one and all disappeared. The immense crowd of sightseers left the benches on the embankment round the Champ de Mars, and fled home _en masse_. The seat-holders on the open stands in front of the Ecole Militaire scurried off in like manner. The occupants of the pavilions and galleries, half drowned by the water that streamed down on them through the awnings, quitted their places in haste to seek shelter within the building. The downpour saturated the canopy of the Imperial Pavilion and dripped through. It compelled Josephine to get up from her throne and hurry indoors. The Princesses promptly followed the Empress’s example, all except one--Napoleon’s youngest sister, Caroline Murat. Caroline sat the March Past out to the end, together, of course, with Napoleon himself and the Marshals, and those Court officials who had to stay where they were. Soaked through, she smilingly remarked that she was “accustoming herself to endure the inconveniences inseparable from a throne!” Then, at the close of the review, came the _contretemps_.