The French have acted nobly, splendidly; there has been no
brutality, plundering, or stealing. . . . I did not like the
French before; but in this respect they are the finest people in
the world. I am so glad to have been here.'
And there one could wish to stop with this apotheosis of liberty
and order read with the generous enthusiasm of a boy; but as the
reader knows, it was but the first act of the piece. The letters,
vivid as they are, written as they were by a hand trembling with
fear and excitement, yet do injustice, in their boyishness of tone,
to the profound effect produced. At the sound of these songs and
shot of cannon, the boy's mind awoke. He dated his own
appreciation of the art of acting from the day when he saw and
heard Rachel recite the 'MARSEILLAISE' at the Francais, the
tricolour in her arms. What is still more strange, he had been up
to then invincibly indifferent to music, insomuch that he could not
distinguish 'God save the Queen' from 'Bonnie Dundee'; and now, to
the chanting of the mob, he amazed his family by learning and
singing 'MOURIR POUR LA PATRIE.
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