glance plaintively at the marc d'argent
which makes so many citizens passive, they, over in the Mother-Society,
ask, being henceforth themselves 'neither Bretons nor Angevins but
French,' Why all France has not one Federation, and universal Oath of
Brotherhood, once for all? (Reports, &c. (in Hist. Parl. ix. 122-147).)
A most pertinent suggestion; dating from the end of March. Which
pertinent suggestion the whole Patriot world cannot but catch, and
reverberate and agitate till it become loud;--which, in that case, the
Townhall Municipals had better take up, and meditate.

Some universal Federation seems inevitable: the Where is given; clearly
Paris: only the When, the How? These also productive Time will give; is
already giving. For always as the Federative work goes on, it perfects
itself, and Patriot genius adds contribution after contribution. Thus,
at Lyons, in the end of the May month, we behold as many as fifty, or
some say sixty thousand, met to federate; and a multitude looking on,
which it would be difficult to number. From dawn to dusk! For our Lyons
Guardsmen took rank, at five in the bright dewy morning; came pouring
in, bright-gleaming, to the Quai de Rhone, to march thence to the
Federation-field; amid wavings of hats and lady-handkerchiefs; glad
shoutings of some two hundred thousand Patriot voices and hearts;
the beautiful and brave! Among whom, courting no notice, and yet the
notablest of all, what queenlike Figure is this; with her escort of
house-friends and Champagneux the Patriot Editor; come abroad with the
earliest? Radiant with enthusiasm are those dark eyes, is that strong
Minerva-face, looking dignity and earnest joy; joyfullest she where
all are joyful. It is Roland de la Platriere's Wife! (Madame Roland,
Memoires, i. (Discours Preliminaire, p. 23).) Strict elderly Roland,
King's Inspector of Manufactures here; and now likewise, by popular
choice, the strictest of our new Lyons Municipals: a man who has gained
much, if worth and faculty be gain; but above all things, has gained to
wife Phlipon the Paris Engraver's daughter. Reader, mark that queenlike
burgher-woman: beautiful, Amazonian-graceful to the eye; more so to the
mind. Unconscious of her worth (as all worth is), of her greatness, of
her crystal clearness; genuine, the creature of Sincerity and Nature,
in an age of Artificiality, Pollution and Cant; there, in her still
completeness, in her still invincibility, she, if thou knew it, is t