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Our venerable colleague, Lamennais, did not come, but he remained three
days without going to bed, buttoned up in his old frock coat, his thick
boots on his feet, ready to march. He wrote to the author these three
lines, which it is impossible not to quote:--"You are heroes without me.
This pains me greatly. I await your orders. Try, then, to find me
something to do, be it but to die."
In these meetings each man preserved his usual demeanor. At times one
might have thought it an ordinary sitting in one of the bureaux of the
Assembly. There was the calm of every day, mingled with the firmness of
decisive crises. Edgar Quinet retained all his lofty judgment, Noël
Parfait all his mental vivacity, Yvan all his vigorous and intelligent
penetration, Labrousse all his animation. In a corner Pierre Lefranc,
pamphleteer and ballad-writer, but a pamphleteer like Courier, and a
ballad-writer like Béranger smiled at the grave and stern words of
Dupont de Bussac. All that brilliant group of young orators of the Left,
Baneel with his powerful ardor, Versigny and Victor Chauffour with their
youthful daring. Sain with his coolheadedness which reveals strength,
Farconnet with his gentle voice and his energetic inspiration, lavishing
his efforts in resisting the coup d'état, sometimes taking part in the
deliberations, at others amongst the people, proving that to be an
orator one must possess all the qualifications of a combatant. De
Flotte, indefatigable, was ever ready to traverse all Paris. Xavier
Durrieu was courageous, Dulac dauntless, Charamaule fool-hardy. Citizens
and Paladins. Courage! who would have dared to exhibit none amongst all
these men, of whom not one trembled? Untrimmed beards, torn coats,
disordered hair, pale faces, pride glistening in every eye. In the
houses where they were received they installed themselves as best they
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