of resistance would obtain unanimity.  That as for himself, having always considered the Constitution worthless, having contended against it from the first in the Constituent Assembly, he would not defend it at the last, that he assuredly would not give one drop of blood for it.  That the Constitution was dead, but that the Republic was living, and that we must save, not the Constitution, a corpse, but the Republic, the principle!

Remonstrances burst forth.  Bancel, young, glowing, eloquent, impetuous, overflowing with self-confidence, cried out that we ought not to look at the shortcomings of the Constitution, but at the enormity of the crime which had been committed, the flagrant treason, the violated oath; he declared that we might have voted against the Constitution in the Constituent Assembly, and yet defend it to-day in the presence of an usurper; that this was logical, and that many amongst us were in this position.  He cited me as an example.  Victor Hugo, said he, is a proof of this.  He concluded thus:  “You have been present at the construction of a vessel, you have considered it badly built, you have given advice which has not been listened to.  Nevertheless, you have been obliged to embark on board this vessel, your children and your brothers are there with you, your mother is on board.  A pirate ranges up, axe in one hand, to scuttle the vessel, a torch in the other to fire it.  The crew are resolved to defend themselves and run to arms.  Would you say to this crew, ’For my part I consider this vessel badly built, and I will let it be destroyed’?”

“In such a case,” added Edgar Quinet, “whoever is not on the side of the vessel is on the side of the pirates.”

They shouted on all sides, “The decree!  Read the decree!”

I was standing leaning against the fire place.  Napoleon Bonaparte came up to me, and whispered in my ear,—­

“You are undertaking,” said he, “a battle which is lost beforehand.”

I answered him, “I do not look at success, I look at duty.”

He replied, “You are a politician, consequently you ought to look forward to success.  I repeat, before you go any further, that the battle is lost beforehand.”

I resumed, “If we enter upon the conflict the battle is lost.  You say so, I believe it; but if we do not enter upon it, honor is lost.  I would rather lose the battle than honor.”

He remained silent for a moment, then he took my hand.

“Be it so,” continued he, “but listen to me.  You run, you yourself personally, great dancer.  Of all the men in the Assembly you are the one whom the President hates the most.  You have from the height of the Tribune nicknamed him, ‘Napoleon the Little.’  You understand that will never be forgotten.  Besides, it was you who dictated the appeal to arms, and that is known.  If you are taken, you are lost.  You will be shot on the spot, or at least transported.  Have you a safe place where you can sleep to-night?”