The French Revolution: A History, Part 1

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Wiley and Putnam, 1846
 

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Page 187 - Blood flows; the aliment of new madness. The wounded are carried into houses of the Rue Cerisaie; the dying leave their last mandate not to yield till the accursed Stronghold fall. And yet, alas, how fall? The walls are so thick! Deputations, three in number, arrive from the Hotel-deVille; Abbe Fauchet (who was of one) can say, with what almost superhuman courage of benevolence.
Page 189 - The poor Invalides have sunk under their battlements, or rise only with reversed muskets: they have made a white flag of napkins; go beating the chamade, or seeming to beat, for one can hear nothing. The very Swiss at the Portcullis look weary of firing; disheartened in the fire-deluge: a porthole at the drawbridge is opened, as by one that would speak. See Juisser Maillard, the shifty man!
Page 185 - Monsieur," said Thuriot, rising into the moralsublime, "what mean you? Consider if I could not precipitate both of us from this height," say only a hundred feet, exclusive of the walled ditch! Whereupon De Launay fell silent. Thuriot shows himself from some pinnacle, to comfort the multitude becoming suspicious, fremescent; then descends; departs with protest; with warning addressed also to the invalides, on whom, however, it produces but a mixed indistinct impression.
Page 179 - Freedom reach us ; when the long-enthralled soul, from amid its chains and squalid stagnancy, arises, were it still only in blindness and bewilderment, and swears by Him that made it, that it will be free ! Free ? Understand that well, it is the deep commandment, dimmer or clearer, of our whole being, to be free. Freedom is the one purport, wisely aimed at, or unwisely, of all man's struggles, toilings and sufferings, in this Earth. Yes, supreme is such a moment (if thou have known it) : first vision...
Page 188 - Hulin rage in the midst of thousands. How the great Bastille Clock ticks (inaudible) in its Inner Court there, at its ease, hour after hour; as if nothing special, for it or the world, were passing!
Page 191 - O evening sun of July, how, at this hour, thy beams fall slant on reapers amid peaceful woody fields ; on old women spinning in cottages ; on ships far out in the silent main...
Page 133 - Yes, Reader, that is the Type-Frenchman of this epoch; as Voltaire was of the last. He is French in his aspirations, acquisitions, in his virtues, in his vices; perhaps more French than any other man; — and intrinsically such a mass of manhood too. Mark him well. The National Assembly were all different without that one; nay, he might say with the old Despot: "The National Assembly? I am...
Page 19 - hast done evil as thou couldst ;' thy whole existence secrns one hideous abortion and mistake of Nature ; the use and meaning of thee not yet known. Wert thou a fabulous Griffin, devouring the works of men ; daily dragging virgins to thy cave ; clad also in scales that no spear would pierce : no spear but Death's ? A Griffin not fabulous, but real ! Frightful, O Louis, seem these moments for thee. — We will pry no further into the horrors of a sinner's deathbed.
Page 184 - Old De Launay, as we hinted, withdrew "into his interior" soon after midnight of Sunday. He remains there ever since, hampered, as all military gentlemen now are, in the saddest conflict of uncertainties. The H6tel-de-Ville "invites" him to admit National Soldiers, which is a soft name for surrendering.
Page 133 - Which of these Six Hundred individuals, in plain white cravat, that have come up to regenerate France, might one guess would become their king? For a king or leader they, as all bodies of men, must have: be their work what it may, there is one man there who, by character, faculty, position, is fittest of all to do it; that man, as future not yet elected king, walks there among the rest. He with the thick black locks, will it be? With the hure, as himself calls it, or black boars-head, fit to be 'shaken

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