was the first to unharness one of the horses of the
hearse of General Lamarque. I passed the day in shouting, 'Long live
Lafayette!' and I passed the night in making barricades. The next
morning we were attacked by the regulars. In the evening, towards four
o'clock, we were blocked, cannonaded, swept with grape-shot, and crushed
back into the Church of Saint-Mery. I had a bullet and three
bayonet-stabs in my body when I was picked up by the soldiers from the
stone floor of a little chapel to the left--the Chapel of St. John. I
have often gone back to that little chapel--not to pray, I wasn't
brought up with such ideas--but to see the stains of my blood which
still remain on the stones.

"On account of my youth I received a ten-year sentence. I was sent to
Mont Saint-Michel. That was why I didn't take part in the riots of 1834.
If I had been free I should have fought in Rue Transnonian as I had
fought in Rue Saint-Mery--'against the Government--always, always,
always!' It was my father's last word; it was my gospel, my religion. I
call that my catechism in six words. I came out of prison in 1842, and I
again began to wait.

"The revolution of '48 was made without effort. The shopkeepers were
stupid and cowardly. They were neither for nor against us. The municipal
guards alone defended themselves. We had a little trouble in taking the
guard-house of the Chateau d'Eau. On the evening of February 24th I
remained three or four hours on the square before the Hotel de Ville.
The members of the Provisional Government, one after another, made
speeches to us--said that we were heroes, great citizens, the foremost
nation in the world, that we had broken the bonds of tyranny. After
having fed us on these fine speeches, they gave us a republic which
wasn't any better than the monarchy we had overthrown.

"In June I took up my musket again, but on that occasion we were not
successful. I was arrested, sentenced, and sent to Cayenne. It seems
that I behaved well there. One day I saved a captain of marines from
drowning. Observe that I should most certainly have shot at that captain
if he had been on one side of a barricade and I on the other; but a man
who is drowning, dying--in short, I received my pardon, I came back to
France in 1852, after the Coup d'Etat; I had missed the insurrection of
1851.

"At Cayenne I had made friends with a tailor named Barnard. Six months
after my departure for France, Barnard died. I went to see his