|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 17
After a speech from Mr. Ewart, M.P., in French, and another from Mr.
Cobden in the same language, the Convention was brought to a close for
the day. I spent the morning yesterday, in visiting some of the lions of
the French capital, among which was the Louvre. The French Government
having kindly ordered, that the members of the Peace Congress should be
admitted free, and without ticket, to all the public works, I had
nothing to do but present my card of membership, and was immediately
admitted.
The first room I entered, was nearly a quarter of a mile in length; is
known as the "Long Gallery," and contains some of the finest paintings
in the world. On entering this superb palace, my first impression was,
that all Christendom had been robbed, that the Louvre might make a
splendid appearance. This is the Italian department, and one would
suppose by its appearance that but few paintings had been left in Italy.
The entrance end of the Louvre was for a long time in an unfinished
state, but was afterwards completed by that master workman, the Emperor
Napoleon. It was long thought that the building would crumble into
decay, but the genius of the great Corsican rescued it from ruin.
During our walk through the Louvre, we saw some twenty or thirty artists
copying paintings; some had their copies finished and were going out,
others half done, while many had just commenced. I remained some minutes
near a pretty French girl, who was copying a painting of a dog rescuing
a child from a stream of water into which it had fallen.
I walked down one side of the hall and up the other, and was about
leaving, when I was informed that this was only one room, and that a
half-dozen more were at my service; but a clock on a neighbouring church
reminded me that I must quit the Louvre for the Salle de St. Cecile.
* * * * *
This morning the Hall was filled at an early hour with rather a more
fashionable looking audience than on any former occasion, and all
appeared anxious for the Congress to commence its session, as it was
understood to be the last day. After the reading of several letters from
gentlemen, apologising for their not being able to attend, the speech of
Elihu Burritt was read by a son of M. Coquerel. I felt somewhat
astonished that my countryman, who was said to be master of fifty
languages, had to get some one to read his speech in French.
The Abbe Duguerry now came forward amid great cheering, and said that
"the eminent journalist, Girardin, and the great English logician, Mr.
Cobden, had made it unnecessary for any further advocacy in that
assembly of the Peace cause--that if the principles laid down in the
resolutions were carried out, the work would be done. He said that the
question of general pacification was built on truth--truth which
emanated from God--and it were as vain to undertake to prevent air from
expanding as to check the progress of truth. It must and would
prevail."
A pale, thin-faced gentleman next ascended the platform (or tribune, as
it was called) amid shouts of applause from the English, and began his
speech in rather a low tone, when compared with the sharp voice of
Vincent, or the thunder of the Abbe Duguerry. An audience is not apt to
be pleased or even contented with an inferior speaker, when surrounded
by eloquent men, and I looked every moment for manifestations of
disapprobation, as I felt certain that the English delegation had made a
mistake in applauding this gentleman who seemed to make such an
unpromising beginning. But the speaker soon began to get warm on the
subject, and even at times appeared as if he had spoken before. In a
very short time, with the exception of his own voice, the stillness of
death prevailed throughout the building. The speaker, in the delivery of
one of the most logical speeches made in the Congress, and despite of
his thin, sallow look, interested me much more than any whom I had
before heard. Towards the close of his remarks, he was several times
interrupted by manifestations of approbation; and finally concluded amid
great cheering. I inquired the gentleman's name, and was informed that
it was Edward Miall, editor of the _Nonconformist_.
After speeches from several others, the great Peace Congress of 1849,
which had brought men together from nearly all the governments of
Europe, and many from America, was brought to a final close by a speech
from the President, returning thanks for the honour that had been
conferred upon him. He said, "My address shall be short, and yet I have
to bid you adieu! How resolve to do so? Here, during three days, have
questions of the deepest import been discussed, examined, probed to the
bottom; and during these discussions, counsels have been given to
governments which they will do well to profit by. If these days'
sittings are attended with no other result, they will be the means of
sowing in the minds of those present, gems of cordiality which must
ripen into good fruit. England, France, Belgium, Europe, and America,
would all be drawn closer by these sittings. Yet the moment to part has
arrived, but I can feel that we are strongly united in heart. But before
parting I may congratulate you and myself on the result of our
proceedings. We have been all joined together without distinction of
country; we have all been united in one common feeling during our three
days' communion. The good work cannot go back, it must advance, it must
be accomplished. The course of the future may be judged of by the sound
of the footsteps of the past. In the course of that day's discussion, a
reminiscence had been handed up to one of the speakers, that this was
the anniversary of the dreadful massacre of St. Bartholomew: the rev.
gentleman who was speaking turned away from the thought of that
sanguinary scene with pious horror, natural to his sacred calling. But
I, who may boast of firmer nerve, I take up the remembrance. Yes, it was
on this day, two hundred and seventy-seven years ago, that Paris was
roused from slumber by the sound of that bell which bore the name of
_cloche d'argent_. Massacre was on foot, seeking with keen eye for its
victim--man was busy in slaying man. That slaughter was called forth by
mingled passions of the worst description. Hatred of all kinds was there
urging on the slayer--hatred of a religious, a political, a personal
character. And yet on the anniversary of that same day of horror, and in
that very city whose blood was flowing like water, has God this day
given a rendezvous to men of peace, whose wild tumult is transformed
into order, and animosity into love. The stain of blood is blotted out,
and in its place beams forth a ray of holy light. All distinctions are
removed, and Papist and Huguenot meet together in friendly communion.
(Loud cheers.) Who that thinks of these amazing changes can doubt of the
progress that has been made? But whoever denies the force of progress
must deny God, since progress is the boon of Providence, and emanated
from the great Being above. I feel gratified for the change that has
been effected, and, pointing solemnly to the past, I say let this day be
ever held memorable--let the 24th of August, 1572, be remembered only
for the purpose of being compared with the 24th of August, 1849; and
when we think of the latter, and ponder over the high purpose to which
it has been devoted--the advocacy of the principles of peace--let us not
be so wanting in reliance on Providence as to doubt for one moment of
the eventful success of our holy cause."
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|