centuries, are reduced to ashes—blood flows in torrents—your work is complete.
"The affliction which oppresses every French mind ought not to obscure one's reason, which has the right to demand from you an account of the disasters which you have accumulated.
"The 4th September—the armistice discussed at Ferrières—the defence of Paris—the preliminaries of Versailles—the 18th March—the peace of Frankfort—the burning of the metropolis;—such are your ill-omened dates. History will call you l'homme fatal, and will find in you only one motive—hate for the name of Napoleon.
"The disastrous war commenced the 19th July, 1870, by the Empire, terminated on the 10th of May by the government without name, to which you belong. What is that régime? Is it the national defence? No;—for you only capitulated. Is it a national restoration? No; for disorganization and anarchy have seized on France. Is it a Monarchy? No. Is it a Republic? Still less. Is it liberty? Certainly not. Look at the elections oppressed by decrees of ostracism, withdrawn at the last hour, after having perverted the choice of the citizens.
"All those are the evils accumulated on one another by the absence of order, security, liberty, and strength.
"Let us go over the steps by which you conducted us to the bottom of the abyss.
"On the 4th September you proposed the deposition of the Emperor. The insurrection, led on by you, drove away your colleagues; you violated your oath, and you usurped power at the Hôtel de Ville against universal suffrage.
"The Empire had committed faults, our defeats were great, but our disasters date from you—to each, his share. Doubtless the error was most unfortunate to count too much on the forces of France, and to commit in 1870 the
