A despatch was published, and universally accepted with confidence
and enthusiasm, announcing that three German army corps had been
overthrown at the Quarries of Jaumont. There are no quarries at
Jaumont, there were no Prussians anywhere near the spot, and none
had been defeated; but the Parisians were well satisfied.

After the first panic caused by the despatch that Paris must prepare
for defence, means were taken for provisioning the city. Clément
Duvernois, an ex-radical, an ex-Bonapartist, and one of the members
of the Ministry of Defence, gave ignorant and reckless orders for
supplies, which, in spite of the gravity of the situation, amused
the Parisians immensely.

Droves of cattle passed all day along the Boulevards, going to
be pastured in the Bois de Boulogne, where they were tended by
Gardes Mobiles from the rural districts. The cattle, the camps,
and the fortifications attracted crowds of curious spectators.

The tap of the drum was wellnigh incessant in the city; and while
the enemy was drawing near, and bloody defeats followed each other
in rapid succession, the Parisians seemed chiefly stimulated to
write fresh libels in the newspapers, and to amuse each other with
caricatures and satires.

Among other foolish measures was that of ordering all firemen from
the departments up to Paris. They remained in the city a week,
and were then sent home. In their absurd and heavy uniforms, and
with nothing whatever to do, the poor country fellows presented
a miserable appearance as they sat in rows along the curbstones
of the avenues, with their helmets glittering in the August sun,