Alfred de Rosann by G.W.M. Reynolds — page 100: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Alfred de Rosann. 79 ‘¢ Tam an old soldier myself,” said the peasant, after a long pause, during which two more plates were laid on the table, and the soup was poured out into each; “ and I confess that the history of the Chinese monarch somewhat startled me; for I have served under Napoleon— had the supreme honour of fighting beneath the banners of the greatest warrior that ever the world produced— and never do I seek my humble couch without offering up a prayer, imploring the Divine Majesty to suffer the ashes of the departed hero to be one day cradled in that soil for the glories of whose people he fought and conquered.” ‘And I sincerely hope that your prayer may be eventually granted, my brave fellow,’ cried De Rosann, partaking of the other’s enthusi- asm: “ but alas! 1 am afraid many years will yet pass away ere that last act of justice be done to Napoleon and to France !” This was a favourite topic; and the conversation soon became gene- ral. The old woman mingled in it with warmth and ardour; she related many anecdotes of Bonaparte, and displayed an extraordinary tenacity of memory, while Jeannette listened in reverential silence to the various eulogiums that were uttered in praise of the mighty war- rior. Thus is it still to-day—and thus will it be for centuries to come— that the superstitious and unlearned peasant, whose opaque mind will recelve an improbable tale as an infallible truth, and whose ignorance relative to the history of his country is more deplorable and profound than imagination can possibly fancy it, will cherish the name of Napo- leon as he would the memory of his own child; wil] describe his bat- tles—enumerate his victories—detail his campaigns ; and will conclude the glowing picture with a variety of anecdotes, all bearing reference to the one grand topic, and all to be found in the biographies, which have been from time to time published, of the illustrious commander. The father of Jeannette was enthusiastic in favour of Napoleon; and as he spoke, his blood appeared to boil with a fanatic frenzy, his eye flashed fire, his nostril dilated. De Rosann and Belle-Rose listened even to that peasant with respect; for the subject of his discourse com- manded veneration and inspired awe: and they were not annoyed when he called upon his daughter to sing them a song in praise of the land which had given birth to the mighty hero. Jeannette had no false pride, no coquetry: she did not wait to be solicited several times; but, in obedience to the wishes of her sire, she sang, in rather a melodious voice, the following air: FRANCE. Know ye the land where the warriors of story Were the pride of the nation, and boast of their king? Where the fame of Rolando, and Oliver’s glory, Were a theme well adapted for minstrels to sing? Know ye the land of the great and the brave, Whose heroes are mighty to conquer and save; Where dwell the undaunted, the bold, and the free ?— O this is the nation for love and for me! Know ye the land of the bard and the lover— The clime of the bright, and the courteous, and gay ?— Go-—search through the East, and the universe over— Go, Frenchman, and languish in lands far away ; COMRnIClooo (GO) SS