VI.
Paris, April 19, 1832.
I will not borrow from the workshops of political parties their common vulgar rule wherewith to measure men and things, still less will I determine their greatness or value by dreamy private feelings, but I will contribute as much as possible impartially to the intelligence of the present, and seek the solution of the stormy, noisy enigma of the day in the past. Saloons lie, graves speak the truth. But ah! the dead, those cold reciters of history, speak in vain to the raging multitude, who only understand the language of passion.
Yet certainly the saloons do not lie with deliberate intention. The society of those in power really believes in its eternal duration, when the annals of universal history, the fiery Mene tekel of the daily journals, and even the loud voice of the people in the streets, cry aloud their warnings. Nor do the coteries of the Opposition utter predetermined falsehoods; they believe that they are sure to conquer, just as men always believe in what they most desire; they intoxicate themselves with
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