ions!

Where is common sense? where is reason? where is truth? Not a sound
side of contemporary intelligence that has not received a shock, not a
just conquest of the age that has not been thrown down and broken. All
sorts of extravagance become possible. All that we have seen since the
2nd of December is a gallop, through all that is absurd, of a
commonplace man broken loose.

These individuals, the malefactor and his accomplices, are in
possession of immense, incomparable, absolute, unlimited power,
sufficient, we repeat, to change the whole face of Europe. They make
use of it only for amusement. To enjoy and to enrich themselves, such
is their "socialism." They have stopped the budget on the public
highway; the coffers are open; they fill their money-bags: they have
money,--do you want some, here you are! All the salaries are doubled or
trebled; we have given the figures above. Three ministers, Turgot (for
there is a Turgot in this affair), Persigny and Maupas, have a million
each of secret funds; the Senate a million, the Council of State half a
million, the officers of the 2nd of December have a Napoleon-month,
that is to say, millions; the soldiers of the 2nd of December have
medals, that is to say, millions; M. Murat wants millions and will have
them; a minister gets married,--quick, half a million; M. Bonaparte,
_quia nominor Poleo_, has twelve millions, plus four millions,--sixteen
millions. Millions, millions! This regime is called Million. M.
Bonaparte has three hundred horses for private use, the fruit and
vegetables of the national domains, and parks and gardens formerly
royal; he is stuffed to repletion; he said the other day: "all my
carriages," as Charles V said: "all my Spains," and as Peter the Great
said: "all my Russias." The marriage of Gamache is celebrated at the
Elysee; the spits are turning day and night before the fireworks;
according to the bulletins published on the subject, the bulletins of
the new Empire, they consume there six hundred and fifty pounds of meat
every day; the Elysee will soon have one hundred and forty-nine
kitchens, like the Castle of Schoenbrunn; they drink, they eat, they
laugh, they feast; banquet at all the ministers', banquet at the Ecole
Militaire, banquet at the Hotel de Ville, banquet at the Tuileries, a
monster fete on the 10th of May, a still more monster fete on the 15th
of August; they swim in all sorts of abundance and intoxication. And
the man of the people,