om France produced a sensation throughout England totally
indescribable at the present day. Every tongue and every heart was full
of it. It offered something for every mind of the million to seize on.
Like a waterspout, such as I have seen sweeping over the bosom of the
Atlantic, half-descending from the skies, and half-ascending from the
deep; every second man whom one met gave it credit for a different
origin, some looking at the upper portion and some at the lower; while,
in the mean time, the huge phenomenon was blackening, gathering, and
rushing onward, threatening to turn all above into darkness and all
below into storm. It made the grand subject of parliamentary eloquence,
and parliament was never more eloquent; it filled the speeches of the
factious, it was hailed by the shouts of the multitude, and it disturbed
the fireside with fear and hope, with wishing and wonder. It must be
acknowledged that a vast quantity of this excitement was absolute folly;
but, at the same time, there was a sincerity in the folly which redeemed
it from ridicule. Nothing could be more evident than that this French
patriotism was as theatrical, in the countless majority of instances, as
the loves and sorrows of its stage. Yet, however the speeches might be
got by heart, or the frippery and actors hired, the _drame_ was
powerfully performed; and all Europe sat by, giving it the tribute of
its tears and its terrors. Even we of England, with all our more sober
recollections that the heroes were ragamuffins, and the heroism
imaginary, gave ourselves up to the illusion. I shall not say that I was
wiser than the rest of mankind. I liked excitement, wherever it was to
be found. The barriers to distinction were still too firmly closed
against the youngest son of an embarrassed family, not to suggest many a
wish for whatever chance might burst the gate, or blow up the rampart;
and my first effort in political life was a harangue to the rabble of
the next borough, conceived in the most Gallic style. Yet this act of
absurdity had the effect of forwarding my views more rapidly than if I
had become an aristocratic Demosthenes. My speech was so much applauded
by the mob, that they began to put its theories in practice, though with
rather more vigour than I had dreamed of. There were riots, and even
some attempts at the seizure of arms; and the noble duke, our neighbour,
had received a threatening letter, which sent him at full gallop to the
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