Then he set forth that this extraordinary enterprise was an easy matter; that the Army was undecided; that in the Army the African Generals counterpoised the President; that the National Guard favored the Assembly, and in the Assembly the Left; that Colonel Forestier answered for the 8th Legion; Colonel Gressier for the 6th, and Colonel Howyne for the 5th; that at the order of the Sixteen of the Left there would be an immediate taking up of arms; that my signature would suffice; that, nevertheless, if I preferred to call together the Committee, in Secret Session, we could wait till the next day; that on the order from the Sixteen, a battalion would march upon the Elysee; that the Elysee apprehended nothing, thought only of offensive, and not of defensive measures, and accordingly would be taken by surprise; that the soldiers would not resist the National Guard; that the thing would be done without striking a blow; that Vincennes would open and close while Paris slept; that the President would finish his night there, and that France, on awakening, would learn the twofold good tidings:  that Bonaparte was out of the fight, and France out of danger.

He added,—­

“You can count on two Generals:  Neumayer at Lyons, and Lawoestyne at Paris.”

He got up and leaned against the chimney-piece; I can still see him there, standing thoughtfully; and he continued: 

“I do not feel myself strong enough to begin exile all over again, but I feel the wish to save my family and my country.”

He probably thought he noticed a movement of surprise in me, for he accentuated and italicized these words.

“I will explain myself.  Yes; I wish to save my family and my country.  I bear the name of Napoleon; but as you know without fanaticism.  I am a Bonaparte, but not a Bonapartist.  I respect the name, but I judge it.  It already has one stain.  The Eighteenth Brumaire.  Is it about to have another?  The old stain disappeared beneath the glory; Austerlitz covered Brumaire.  Napoleon was absolved by his genius.  The people admired him so greatly that it forgave him.  Napoleon is upon the column, there is an end of it, let them leave him there in peace.  Let them not resuscitate him through his bad qualities.  Let them not compel France to remember too much.  This glory of Napoleon is vulnerable.  It has a wound; closed, I admit.  Do not let them reopen it.  Whatever apologists may say and do, it is none the less true that by the Eighteenth of Brumaire Napoleon struck himself a first blow.”

“In truth,” said I, “it is ever against ourselves that we commit a crime.”

“Well, then,” he continued, “his glory has survived a first blow, a second will kill it.  I do not wish it.  I hate the first Eighteenth Brumaire; I fear the second.  I wish to prevent it.”

He paused again, and continued,—­