y,
1871, Jules Favre arrived from the Central Committee in Paris to
announce, with shame and grief, that resistance was over: Paris
had capitulated to the Prussians; and it only remained to elect a
General Assembly which should create a regular government empowered
to make peace with the enemy.

For a few hours that night the fate of France hung trembling in
the scales. Thiers was in Bordeaux. He was known to think that
France could only save what was left by accepting the armistice.
Gambetta was known to be for _No Surrender!_ Which should prevail?
Would the dictator lay aside his power without a struggle?

Gambetta rose to the occasion during the night; but here the histories
of Thiers and Gambetta run together; therefore, before I tell of what
happened the next day, let me say a few words about the personal
history of Leon Gambetta. He was only thirty-three years old at
this time, having been born in 1838, when Thiers was forty-one
years of age.

Gambetta's birthplace was Cahors, that city in the South of France
stigmatized by Dante as the abode of usurers and scoundrels. His
family was Italian and came from Genoa, but he was born a Frenchman,
though his Italian origin, temperament, and complexion were constantly
cast up against him. In his infancy he had been intended for the
priesthood, and was sent, when seven years old, to some place where
he was to be educated and trained for it. He soon wrote to his
father that he was so miserable that if he were not taken away
he would put out one of his eyes, which would disqualify him for
the priestly calling. His father took no notice of the childish
threat, and Gambetta actually plucked out one of his own eyes.

In 1868 he was a young lawyer in Paris; but his eloquence and ability
were known only at the Cafe Procope to a circle of admiring
fellow-Bohemians. On All Saints Day, 1868, the Press, presuming
on the recent relaxation of personal government by the emperor,
applauded the crowds who went to cover with funeral wreaths the grave
of Baudin at Pere la Chaise. Baudin had been the first man killed on
Dec. 2, 1851, when offering resistance to the _coup d'etat._ The
Press was prosecuted for its utterances on this occasion. Gambetta
defended one of the journals. Being an advocate, he could say what
he pleased without danger of prosecution, and all Paris rang with
the bitterness of his attack upon the Empire. From that moment he
was a power in France. In person he was d