attention of
the inattentive and the anxieties of the careless. Like the fabulous
music of the spheres, once allowed to break sonorously upon the human
ear, it would render us deaf to all other sounds. Heard or not heard,
however, marked or not marked, the rate of our advance is more and
more portentous. Old things are passing away. Every year carries us
round some obstructing angle, laying open suddenly before us vast
reaches of fresh prospect, and bringing within our horizon new
agencies by which civilization is henceforth to work, and new
difficulties against which it is to work; other forces for
co-operation, other resistances for trial. Meantime the velocity of
these silent changes is incredibly aided by the revolutions, both
moral and scientific, in the machinery of nations; revolutions by
which knowledge is interchanged, power propagated, and the methods of
communication multiplied. And the vast aerial arches by which these
revolutions mount continually to the common zenith of Christendom, so
as to force themselves equally upon the greatest of nations and the
humblest, express the aspiring destiny by which, already and
irresistibly, they are coming round upon all other tribes and families
of men, however distant in position, or alien by system and
organization. The nations of the planet, like ships of war
man[oe]uvring prelusively to some great engagement, are silently
taking up their positions, as it were, for future action and reaction,
reciprocally for doing and suffering. And, in this ceaseless work of
preparation or of noiseless combination, France and England are seen
for ever in the van. Whether for evil or for good, they _must_ be in
advance. And if it were possible to see the relative positions of all
Christendom, its several divisions, expressed as if on the monuments
of Persepolis by endless evolutions of cities in procession or of
armies advancing, we should be awakened to the full solemnity of our
duties by seeing two symbols flying aloft for ever in the head of
nations--two recognizances for hope or for fear--the roses of England
and the lilies of France.

Reflections such as these furnish matter for triumphal gratulation,
but also for great depression: and in the enormity of our joint
responsibilities, we French and English have reason to forget the
grandeur of our separate stations. It is fit that we should keep alive
these feelings, and continually refresh them, by watching the
everlasting mot