He effaces the republican inscriptions; he cut down the trees of liberty, and makes firewood of them.

There was on Place Bourgogne a statue of the Republic; he puts the pickaxe to it; there was on our coinage a figure of the Republic, crowned with ears of corn; M.Bonaparte replaces it by the profile of M.Bonaparte.He has his bust crowned and harangued in the market-places, just as the tyrant Gessler made the people salute his cap.

The rustics in the faubourgs were in the habit of singing in chorus, in the evening, as they returned from work; they used to sing the great republican songs, the Marseillaise, the Chant du Depart; they were ordered to keep silent; the faubourgers will sing no more; there is amnesty only for obscenities and drunken songs.

The triumph is so complete, that they no longer keep within bounds.

Only yesterday they kept in hiding, they did their shooting at night; it was shocking, but there was still some shame; there was a remnant of respect for the people; they seemed to think that it had still enough life in it to revolt, if it saw such things.