PARIS.
I.
Paris. -- Powerlessness and discords of the authorities. -- The people， king.
THE powerlessness， indeed， of the heads of the Government， and the lack of discipline among all its subordinates， are much greater in the capital than in the provinces. -- Paris possesses a mayor， Bailly； but "from the first day， and in the easiest manner possible，"[1] his municipal council， that is to say， "the assembly of the representatives of the commune， has accustomed itself to carry on the government alone， overlooking him entirely." There is a central administration， the municipal council， presided over by the mayor； but， "at this time， authority is everywhere except where the preponderating authority should be； the districts have delegated it and at the same time retained it；" each of them acts as if it were alone and supreme. -- There are secondary powers， the district-committees， each with its president， its clerk， its offices， and commissioners； but the mobs of the street march on without awaiting their orders； while the people， shouting under their" windows， impose their will on them； -- in short， says Bailly again， "everybody knew how to command， but nobody knew how to obey.""Imagine，" writes Loustalot[2] himself； "a man whose feet， hands， and limbs possessed each its own intelligence and will， whose one leg would wish to walk when the other one wanted to rest， whose throat would close when the stomach demanded food， whose mouth would sing when the eyelids were weighed down with sleep； and you will have a striking picture of the condition of things in the capital"There are "sixty Republics"[3] in Paris； each district is an independent， isolated power， which receives no order without criticizing it， always in disagreement and often in conflict with the central authority or with the other districts. It receives denunciations， orders domiciliary visits， sends deputations to the National Assembly， passes resolutions， posts its bills， not only in its own quarter but throughout the city， and sometimes even extends its jurisdiction outside of Paris. Everything comes within its province， and particularly that which ought not to do so. -- On the 18th of July， the district of Petits-Augustins[4] "decrees in its own name the establishment of justices of the peace，" under the title of tribunes， and proceeds at once to elect its own， nominating the actor Molé. On the 30th， that of the Oratoire annuls the amnesty which the representatives of the commune in the H？tel-de-Ville had granted， and orders two of its members to go to a distance of thirty leagues to arrest M. de Bezenval. On the 19th of August， that of Nazareth issues commissions to seize and bring to Paris the arms deposited in strong places. From the beginning each assembly sent to the Arsenal in its own name， and "obtained as many cartridges and as much powder as it desired." Others claim the right of keeping a watchful eye over the H？tel-de-Ville and of reprimanding the National Assembly. The Oratoire decides that the representatives of the commune shall be invited to deliberate in public. Saint-Nicholas des Champs deliberates on the veto and begs the Assembly to suspend its vote. -- It is a strange spectacle， that of these various authorities each contradicting and destroying the other. To-day the H？tel-de-Ville appropriates five loads of cloth which have been dispatched by the Government， and the district of Saint-Gervais opposes the decision of the H？tel-de-Ville. To-morrow Versailles intercepts grain destined for Paris， while Paris threatens， if it is not restored， to march on Versailles. I omit the incidents that are ridiculous：[5] anarchy in its essence is both tragic and grotesque， and， in this universal breaking up of things， the capital， like the kingdom， resembles a bear-garden when it does not resemble a Babel.