They ambitious?  Nonsense!  They are gluttons.  To govern is to gamble.  This does not prevent betrayal.  On the contrary, they spy upon each other, they betray each other.  The little traitors betray the great traitors.  Pietri looks askance at Maupas, and Maupas at Carlier.  They all lie in the same reeking sewer!  They have achieved the coup d’etat in common.  That is all.  Moreover they feel sure of nothing, neither of glances, nor of smiles, nor of hidden thoughts, nor of men, nor of women, nor of the lacquey, nor of the prince, nor of words of honor, nor of birth certificates.  Each feels himself fraudulent, and knows himself suspected.  Each has his secret aims.  Each alone knows why he has done this.  Not one utters a word about his crime, and no one bears the name of his father.  Ah! may God grant me life, and may Jesus pardon me, I will raise a gibbet a hundred yards high, I will take hammer and nails, and I will crucify this Beauharnais called Bonaparte, between this Leroy called Saint-Arnoud, and this Fialin called Persigny!

And I would drag you there also, all of you accomplices!  This Morny, this Romieu, this Fould, the Jew senator, this Delangle, who bears on his back this placard:  JUSTICE! and this Troplong, this judicial glorifier of the violation of the laws, this lawyer apologist of the coup d’etat, this magistrate flatterer of perjury, this judge panegyrist of murder, who will go down to posterity with a sponge filled with mud and with blood in his hand.

I begin the battle therefore.  With whom?  With the present ruler of Europe.  It is right that this spectacle should be given to the world.  Louis Bonaparte is the success, is the intoxicated triumph, is the gay and ferocious despotism, opening out under the victory, he is the mad fulness of power, seeking limits and finding none, neither in things nor in men; Louis Bonaparte holds France, Urbem Roman habit; and whoever holds France holds the world; he is master of the votes, master of the consciences, master of the people; he nominates his successor, reigns forever over future electoral scrutinies, disposes of eternity, and places futurity in an envelope; his Senate, his Legislative Body, his Council of State, with heads lowered and mingled confusedly behind him, lick his feet; he drags along in a leash the bishops and cardinals; he tramples on the justice which curses him, and on the judges who adore him, thirty correspondents inform the Continent that he has frowned, and every electric telegraph vibrates if he raises his little finger; around him is heard the rustling of sabres, and the drums beat the salute; he sits under the shadow of the eagle in the midst of bayonets and of citadels, the free nations tremble and hide their liberties for fear that he should steal them, the great American Republic herself falters in his presence, and dares not withdraw her Ambassador from him; the kings, surrounded by their armies, look at him smilingly, with their hearts full of fear.  Where will he begin?  With Belgium?  With Switzerland?  With Piedmont?  Europe expects to be overrun.  He is capable of all, and he dreams of all.