« ForrigeFortsæt »
FROM A SPKECH BEFORE THE NATIONAL CONVENTION OF FRANCE, 1789.
I HEAR much said of patriotism, appeals to patriotism, transports of patriotism. Gentlemen, why prostitute this noble word? Is it so very magnanimous to give up a part of your income in order to save your whole property? This is very simple arithmetic; and he that hesitates, deserves contempt rather than indignation.
2. Yes, gentlemen, it is to your immediate self-interest, to your most familiar notions of prudence and policy, that I now appeal. I say not to you now, as heretofore, beware how you give the world the first example of an assembled nation untrue to the public faith. I ask you not, as heretofore, what right you have to freedom, or what means of maintaining it, if, at your first step in administration, you outdo in baseness all the old and corrupt governments. I tell you, that unless you prevent this catastrophe, you will all be involved in the general ruin; and that you are yourselves the persons most deeply interested in making the sacrifices which the government demands of you.
3. I exhort you, then, most earnestly, to vote these extraordinary supplies; and God grant they may prove sufficient! Vote them. I beseech you; for, even if you doubt the expediency of the means, you know perfectly well that the supplies are necessary, and that you are incapable of raising them in any other way. Vote them at once, for the crisis does not admit of delay; and, if it occurs, we must be responsible for the consequences.
4. Beware of asking for time. Misfortune accords it never. While you are lingering, the evil day will come upon you. Why, gentlemen, it is but a few days since, that upon occasion of some foolish bustle in the Palais Royal, some ridiculous insurrection that existed nowhere but in the heads of a few weak or designing individuals, we were told with emphasis, " Catiline is at the gates of Rome, and yet we deliberate/' We know, gentlemen, that this was all imagination. We are far from being at Rome; nor is there any Catiline at the gates of Paris. But now are we threatened with a real danger; bankruptcy, national bankruptcy, is before you; it threatens to swallow up your persons, your property, your honor,—and yet you deliberate.
LXVIIL— THE BRIDAL OF MALAHIDE.
THE joy-bells are ringing in gay Malahidc,
The words are repeated, the bridal is done,
As wakes the good shepherd, the watchful and bold,
"Son, husband, and brother, arise to the strife,
Hurrah! to the battle! they form into line—
The shields, how they rattle! the spears, how they shine!
Soon, soon shall the foeman his treachery rue—
On, burgher and yeoman, to die or to do!
The eve is declining in lone Malahide,
Ye saw him at morning how gallant and gay!
Ye maidens attending, forbear to condole!
LXIX.—THE LARK IN THE GOLD-FIELDS.
"rpOM, I invite you to a walk."
1 "Well, George, a walk is a great temptation, this beautiful day."
2. It was the month of January in Australia. A blazinghot day was beginning to glow through the freshness of morning. The sky was one cope of pure blue, and the southern air crept slowly up, its wings clogged with fragrance, and just tuned the trembling leaves,—no more.
3. "Is not this pleasant, Tom ?—is n't it sweet?"
"I believe you, George! and what a shame to slander such a country as this! There they come home and tell you that the flowers have no smell, but they keep dark about the trees and bushes being haystacks of flowers. Snuff the air as we go, it is a thousand English gardens in one. Look at those tea-scrubs, each with a thousand biossqms on it as sweet as honey; and the golden wattles on the other side. and all smelling like seven o'clock."
4. "Ay, lad! it is very refreshing; and it is Sunday, and we have got away from the wicked for an hour or two. But in England there would be a little white church out yonder. and aspire like an angel's forefinger pointing from the grrs.to heaven, and the lads in their clean frocks like snow, am the lasses in their white stockings and new shawls, and the old women in their*scarlet cloaks and black bonnets, all going one road, and a tinkle-tinkle from the belfry, that would turn all these other sounds and colors and sweet smells holy, as well as fair, on the Sabbath morn. Ah, England! Ah!"
5. "You will see her again,—no need to sigh. Prejudice be hanged, this is a lovely land."
6. "So it is, Tom, so it is. But I'1l tell you what puts me out a little bit;—nothing is what it sets up for here. If you see a ripe pear and go to eat it, it is a lump of hard wood. Next comes a thing, the very sight of which turns your stomach, and that is delicious,—a loquot, for instance. There, now, look at that magpie! well, it is Australia, so that magpie is a crow and not a magpie at all. Everything pretends to be some old friend or other of mine, and turns out a stranger. Here is nothing but surprises and deceptions. The flowers make a point of not smelling, and the bushes, that nobody expects to smell, or wants to smell, they smell lovely."
7. "What does it matter where the smell comes from, so that you get it."
8. "Why, Tom," replied George, opening his eyes, "it. makes all the difference. I like to smell a flower,—a flower is not complete without smell; but I don't care if I never smell a bush till I die. Then the birds,—they laugh and talk like Christians; they make me split my sides, bless their little hearts! but they won't chirrup. It is Australia! where everything is inside-out and topsy-turvy. The animals have four legs, so they jump on two. Ten-foot square