Behold the gulf! If from financial questions we pass to political institutions, oh! there the neo-Bonapartists flourish abundantly, there are the creations! Good heavens, what creations! A Constitution in the style of Ravrio,--we have been examining it,--ornamented with palm-leaves and swans' necks, borne to the Elysee with old easy-chairs in the carriages of the _garde-meuble_; the Conservative Senate restitched and regilded, the Council of State of 1806 refurbished and new-bordered with fresh lace; the old Corps Legislatif patched up, with new nails and fresh paint, minus Laine and plus Morny! In lieu of liberty of the press, the bureau of public spirit; in place of individual liberty, the ministry of police.

All these "institutions," which we have passed in review, are nothing more than the old salon furniture of the Empire.

Beat it, dust it, sweep away the cobwebs, splash it over with stains of French blood, and you have the establishment of 1852.

This bric-a-brac governs France.

These are the creations! 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.