Here, gentlemen, is a portfolio filled with the opinions of all the literary men of our time upon the work with which we are engaged, among whom are some of the most distinguished, expressing their astonishment upon reading this new work, at once so moral and so useful!

Now, how has it come about that a work like this can incur a process of law?  If you will permit me, I will tell you.  The Revue de Paris, whose reading committee had read the work in its entirety, for the manuscript was sent long before it was published, evidently found nothing to criticise.  When it came time to print the copy of December 1st, 1856, one of the directors of the Revue became affrighted at the scene in the cab.  He said:  “This is not conventional, we must suppress it.”  Flaubert was offended by the suppression.  He was not willing that it should be made unless a note to that effect were placed at the bottom of the page.  It was he who exacted the note.  It is he who, on account of his self-respect as an author, neither wishing to have his work mutilated nor, on the other hand wishing to make trouble for the Revue, said:  “You may suppress it if it seems best to you, but you will state that you have suppressed something.”  And they agreed upon the following note: 

“The directors have seen the necessity of suppressing a passage here which did not seem fitting to the Revue de Paris; we give notice of it to the author.”

Here is the suppressed passage which I am going to read to you.  We have only a proof, which we had great difficulty in procuring.  The first part has not a single correction; one word is corrected in the second part.

“‘Where to, sir?’ asked the coachman.

“‘Where you like,’ said Leon, forcing Emma into the cab.

“And the lumbering machine set out.  It went down the Rue Grand-Pont, crossed the Place des Arts, the Quai Napoleon, the Pont Neuf, and stopped short before the statue of Pierre Corneille.

“‘Go on,’ cried a voice that came from within.

“The cab went on again, and as soon as it reached the Carrefour Lafayette, set off down-hill, and entered the station at a gallop.

“‘No, straight on!’ cried the same voice.

“The cab came out by the gate, and soon having reached the Cours, trotted quietly beneath the elm-trees.  The coachman wiped his brow, put his leather hat between his knees, and drove his carriage beyond the side alley by the meadow to the margin of the waters.

“It went along by the river, along the towing-path paved with sharp pebbles, and for a long while in the direction of Oyssel, beyond the isles.

“But suddenly it turned with a dash across Quatre-mares, Sotteville, La Grande-Chaussee, the Rue d’Elbeuf, and made its third halt in front of the Jardin des Plantes.

“‘Get on, will you?’ cried the voice more furiously.

“And at once resuming its course, it passed by Saint-Sever, by the Quai des Curandiers, the Quai aux Meules, once more over the bridge, by the Place du Champ de Mars, and behind the hospital gardens, where old men in black coats were walking in the sun along the terrace all green with ivy.  It went up the Boulevard Bouvreuil, along the Boulevard Cauchoise, then the whole of Mont-Riboudet to the Deville hills.