Nous avions tort, la chose est par trop claire
Et vos fusils ont prouve cette affaire
Liberator of two worlds, flower of the Aga's janissaries, Phoenix of the alguazils-majors, Don Quixote of the Capets and of the two chambers, constellation of the white horse! I am taking advantage of the instant when I have touched the land of freedom to send you my resignation both as journalist and national censor, something which you have long desired and which I now place at the feet of M. Bailly and his red flag. I realize that my voice is too weak to be heard above your 30,000 stool pigeons and so many of your hangers on; above the racket of your 400 drums and your cannons loaded with grapeshot.
Would that my presumptions were wrong! because I have distanced myself from this town just as Camille, my patron, has exiled himself from an ungrateful country whilst still wishing it every prosperity! I don't need to have been an emperor like Diocletian to know that the fine lettuces of Salone which are worth more than the empire of the East are well worth the sash in which the municipalities dresses itself, and the anxieties felt by a Jacobin journalist returning at night to his home, constantly fearing that he will fall prey to an ambush by the enemies of a free press or the general's knee cappers.
Nevertheless, it pains me to abandon my pen! What if all the patriot writers kept quiet! For me there is no point in substituting Decemvirs for royalty, nor committees for ministers, nor a M. Barnave or d'Andre for the chief ministers, nor the prohibitions of La Fayette of Lameth for lettres de cachets. I didn't become the first to wear the national cockade so that we could establish a bi-cameral system; neither was it for that we suffered beatings from the cops, piecing us with the bayonets of our fellow citizens, and we didn't storm the Bastille and free opponents of the ancien regime to allow the shooting and disembowelment of those who, submissive to the new regime, merely signed a petition.