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While we were deliberating, our colleague, Napoleon Bonaparte, son
of the ex-King of Westphalia, came in. He listened. He spoke. He
energetically blamed, in a tone of sincere and generous indignation, his
cousin's crime, but he declared that in his opinion a written protest
would suffice. A protest of the Representatives, a protest of the
Council of State, a protest of the Magistracy, a protest of the Press,
that this protest would be unanimous and would enlighten France, but
that no other form 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
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