I painted the picture in four words: the Constitution thrown into the gutter; the Assembly driven to prison with the butt-end of a musket, the Council of State dispersed; the High Court expelled by a galley-sergeant, a manifest beginning of victory for Louis Bonaparte, Paris ensnared in the army as though in a net; bewilderment everywhere, all authority overthrown; all compacts annulled; two things only remained standing, the _coup d'etat_ and ourselves.
"Ourselves! and who are we ?" "We are," said I, "we are Truth and Justice! We are the supreme and sovereign power, the People incarnate--Right!" I continued,-- "Louis Bonaparte at every minute which elapses advances a step further in his crime.

For him nothing is inviolable, nothing is sacred; this morning he violated the Palace of the Representatives of the Nation, a few hours later he laid violent hands on their persons; to-morrow, perhaps in a few moments, he will shed their blood.

Well then! he marches upon us, let us march upon him.

The danger grows greater, let us grow greater with the danger." A movement of assent passed through the Assembly.

I continued,-- "I repeat and insist.