[Translation.] 34 TAITBOUT STREET, April 29, 1865. DEAR SIR: I should have written to you sooner in expression of my feelings at the horrid news, but I was sick when I first received it; yet, sick as I was, I lectured last Thursday, on Franklin, at the Conservatory of Arts and Trades, and spoke of President Lincoln. Never in my life, as a professor, have I found so much sympathy. The audience applauded three times with great enthusiasm, not for the speaker, but for the noble victim of a base assassination. You should see how general the excitement is in Paris; it is much greater than I expected. Cochin, Broglie, and myself are drawing up an address, which I am sure will be signed by the most important men in France. What more can we do? If I can be of any service to you, dispose of me, and consider me one of your best friends. Do not take the trouble to answer this unless you have some important communication to make, for you must have many letters to write; but when you write to Washington, assure Mr. Seward how much I am interested in his situation, and that I wish his speedy recovery. Mr. Seward is now more necessary to America and to the whole world. Adieu. Your very devoted, [Translation.] ED. LABOULAYE. PARIS, May 20, 1865. SIR: I have the honor of sending you with this letter several copies of an ode I have composed in honor of Abraham Lincoln, and two letters, one for the widow of the great man, and the other for Mr. Johnson, now President of the United States. I shall be infinitely obliged to you if you will send them to their destinations in the shortest possible time. You will also do me the favor to fix a day when I can have a brief interview with you. Accept my sympathy for your glorious country, and the assurance of my most distinguished consideration. To Mr. BIGELOW, PAUL THOUZERY. Minister Plenipotentiary of the United States of America. [Translation.] PARIS, May 20, 1865. MR. PRESIDENT: To one whom Abraham Lincoln loved and associated with him in his great work, I send an ode addressed to the memory of that great man. May my verses find an echo in every American heart! May your worthy citizens aid you in the labor you have undertaken! You only were worthy to succeed Lincoln. The ode I send you to-day will prove, I hope, that the sympathy of the world is with you. To eulogize the dead in presence of the living is honoring the latter, by showing them that we confide in their genius and in their impartiality. I am, with respect, Mr. President, your humble admirer, To Mr. JOHNSON, President of the United States of America. PAUL THOUZERY. À ABRAHAM LINCOLN. ODE. I. Oui, ce n'est que trop vrai, la fatale nouvelle, S'est confirmée, et tout nous pient son affreux sort; Disent en pleurs: LINCOLN EST MORT! Il est mort, ce héros digne des temps antiques Il vous a surpassés, vieux Nestors de la Grèce ! Il est mort, mais du moins son œuvre est immortelle ; Comme le Christ, il a gravi son Golgotha, Et son sang répandu sur un nouveau Calvaire, Les rêves d'or, qu'il enfanta. Il est mort, avec lui périra l'esclavage, Il est mort, mais du moins sa tâche fut complète, Puisque l'âme ne périt pas! II. O toi dont l'aveugle furie, A semé la terre de deuil, Monte vers la céleste sphère, Sortant de nos cœurs atterrés. Ton audace égala ta rage, Mais ton projet avortera. Et l'Amérique, avec courage, Et ton nom, maudit-d'âge en âge, Sera cloué, sur une page, Au pilori des assassins. II. Et toi noble martyr que le monde révère, Quelle étoile jamais fut pareille à la tienne? Comme John Brown, ce Christ de l'humanité noire Les siècles à venir encor te bèniront, Et, plus vil fut celui qui t'arracha la vie, Plus belles, désormais, malgré l'infâme envie, Dors en paix, dors en paix dans tes langes funèbres, De ces rudes fléaux nous chasserons la race, AVRIL, 1965. Salut, salut à vous, martyrs de la pensée, Depuis celui qui prit, sans trembler, la ciguë, Oui par voys notre terre où tout se renouvelle Et l'homme comprenant enfin le grand dictame, Au grand nom de fraternité! PAUL THOUZERY. [Translation.] 9 VILLA ST. MICHEL, (BATIGNOLLES,) Paris, May 17, 1865. The triumph of the federal cause, or rather of justice, in America made every heart friendly to liberty palpitate with joy. Why should sorrow come in such a tragic manner to change the sentiments of harmony and concord that seemed to surround this generous successor of Washington at a time when his moderation and tranquil virtues promised a perpetuity of peace? What a grand and noble duty he had to perform after what he had done already with such calm energy. In sacrificing such a man, blind passion, we have no doubt, consecrated his memory while it conquered and killed forever the worst of causes. are the sentiments I have endeavored to express in the language of my adopted country in honor of that beautiful American republic of which I would like to bave the glory of being a citizen, and to the eminent magistrate for whom the world now mourns. Such You will honor me much, sir, by accepting the dedication of this ode, and bestowing upon its author a benevolent regard. I have the honor to be, with the most profound respect, your very humble and obedient servant, Hon. Mr. BIGELOW, F. CAMPADELLI, United States Minister at Paris. ODE. Abraham Lincoln, ou le triomphe de l'Union Américaine, dédié a l'honorable Monsieur Bigelow, Ministre des Etats Unis. Le monde gémissait de cette lutte immense Des destins que n'ont pas les conquètes du glaive De Washington pour eux louvre serait chimère- Il groupa sans effort, par un lien intime, Des Etats fraternels sous un même drapeau. Et ce labeur, scellé du sang de tant de braves, A constamment fleuri près d'un siècle prospère, Donnant à l'Univers l'exemple salutaire Du saint respect des lois qui fait les peuples grands. Si l'Europe se plaît à se faire une idole De tout usurpateur sans frein qui les immole, Là, ce n'est pas en vain que tout mortel l'implore: Aussi, quelle grandeur au vieux monde inconnue Eh quoi! des héritiers de ce plan magnifique Mais le droit s'est levé dans sa virile force: Il a vaincu-laissant toute haine assoupie Quand ont mis l'arme bas ses aveugles soutiens. Gloire, honneur à LINCOLN! homme d'une foi pure, Ils atteignaient déjà l'heure de la concorde- O crime! ô trahison! dans ton revers suprême Tu glisses dans le sang et l'ignoble blasphème En vouant pour jamais à l'immortalité Un champion du droit clément, dont la grande âme PARIS, ce 1er Mai, 1865. F. CAMPADELLI, |