Yesterday it was a tragedy. A worthy soul of a father drowned himself
because he could not support his family. To-morrow is a comedy; some
youngster will try to rehearse the scene of M. Dimanche, brought up to
date. You have heard the people extol the eloquence of our latter day
preachers; now and again I have wasted my time by going to hear them;
they produced a change in my opinions, but in my conduct (as somebody
said, I can't recollect his name), in my conduct--never!--Well, well;
these good priests and your Mirabeaus and Vergniauds and the rest of
them, are mere stammering beginners compared with these orators of
mine.

"'Often it is some girl in love, some gray-headed merchant on the
verge of bankruptcy, some mother with a son's wrong-doing to conceal,
some starving artist, some great man whose influence is on the wane,
and, for lack of money, is like to lose the fruit of all his labors
--the power of their pleading has made me shudder. Sublime actors such
as these play for me, for an audience of one, and they cannot deceive
me. I can look into their inmost thoughts, and read them as God reads
them. Nothing is hidden from me. Nothing is refused to the holder of
the purse-strings to loose and to bind. I am rich enough to buy the
consciences of those who control the action of ministers, from their
office boys to their mistresses. Is not that power?--I can possess the
fairest women, receive their softest caresses; is not that Pleasure?
And is not your whole social economy summed up in terms of Power and
Pleasure?

"'There are ten of us in Paris, silent, unknown kings, the arbiters
of your destinies. What is life but a machine set in motion by money?
Know this for certain--methods are always confounded with results; you
will never succeed in separating the soul from the senses, spirit from