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lowed it to the Federalists :—and as the Federal Party was broken up, and there was no possibility of transmitting it further on this side the Atlantic, he seems to have discovered that it has gone off, collaterally, though against all the canons of descent, into the Ultras of France, and finally became extinguished, like exploded gas, among the adherents of Don Miguel.
This, sir, is an abstract of the gentleman's history of Federalism. I am not about to controvert it. It is not, at present worth the pains of refutation, because, sir, if at this day any one feels the sin of Federalism lying heavily on his conscience, he can easily obtain remission. He may even have an indulgence, if he is desirous of repeating the same transgression. It is an affair of no difficulty to get into this same right line of patriotic descent. now-a-days, is at liberty to choose his political parentage. He may elect his own father. Federalist, or not, he may, if he choose, claim to belong to the favoured stock, and his claim will be allowed.
He may carry back his pretensions just as far as the honourable gentleman himself; nay, he may make himself out the honourable gentleman's cousin, and prove satisfactorily, that he is descended from the same political great grandfather. All this is allowable. We all know a process, sir, by which the whole Essex Junto could, in one hour, be all washed white from their ancient Federalism, and come out, every one of them, an original Democrat, dyed in the wool! Some of them have actually undergone the operation, and they say it is quite easy. The only inconvenience it occasions, as they tell us, is a slight tendency of the blood to the face, a soft suffusion, which, however, is very transient, since nothing is said calculated to deepen the red on the cheek, but a prudent silence observed, in regard to all the past. Indeed, sir, some smiles of approbation have been bestowed, and some crumbs of comfort have fallen, not a thousand miles from the door of the Hartford Convention itself. And if the author of the ordinance of 1787, possessed the other requisite qualifications, there is no knowing, notwithstanding his Federalism, to what heights of favour he might not
BERTUCCIO FALIERO_DOGE.....Lord Byron.
Bertuccio Faliero. I cannot but
and even To them, as being your subjects.
Doge. Oh! that the Saracen were in St. Mark's !
For the sake
'Tis not well
If you forget
Doge. (interrupting him.) There is no such thing~
Ber. The law, my prince
Doge. (interrupting him.) You see what it has doneI ask'd no remedy but from the lawI sought no vengeance but redress by law1 callid no judges but those named by law, As sovereign, I appealed unto my subjects,
The very subjects who had made me sovereign,
I say not that :-
Doge. Appeal again! art thou my brother's son ?
Ber. My princely uncle! you are too much moved :
Doge. I tell thee-must I tell thee—what thy father Would have required no words to comprehend? Hast thou no feeling save the external sense Of torture from the touch ? hast thou no soulNo pride—no passion-no deep sense of honour?
Ber. 'Tis the first time that honour has been doubted, And were the last, from
other sceptic. Doge. You know the full offence of this born villain, This creeping, coward, rank, acquitted felon, Who threw his sting into a poisonous libel, And on the honour of—Oh God !-my wife, The nearest, dearest part of all men's honour, Left a base slur to pass from mouth to mouth Of loose mechanics, with all coarse foul comments, And villanous jests, and blasphemies obscene; While sneering nobles, in more polish'd guise, Whisper'd the tale, and smiled upon the lie Which made me look like them-a courteous wittol, Patient-ay, proud, it may be, of dishonour.
And what redress Did you expect as his fit punishment ?
Doge. Death! Was I not the sovereign of the state-
Ber. Your wishes are my law; and yet I fain
Doge. Fear not; you shall have time and place of proof.
Why, that's my uncle !
Ay, think upon the cause-
And better would it suit thy rev'rend age,
My present aim
The sword of Athol
Dar’st thou to my face
Not yet so low
Swift hie thee to them,
Forgive, my prince,
Not with you,
O wretched plea!