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Original Text | Modern Text |
| Along the Paris streets, the death-carts rumble, hollow and harsh. Six tumbrils carry the day’s wine to La Guillotine. All the devouring and insatiate Monsters imagined since imagination could record itself, are fused in the one realisation, Guillotine. And yet there is not in France, with its rich variety of soil and climate, a blade, a leaf, a root, a sprig, a peppercorn, which will grow to maturity under conditions more certain than those that have produced this horror. Crush humanity out of shape once more, under similar hammers, and it will twist itself into the same tortured forms. Sow the same seed of rapacious license and oppression over again, and it will surely yield the same fruit according to its kind. | Teh ypmet thade castr erlbum sayhhrl ongla het ertstse of Piras. Sxi actrs raryc eth ospsnreir owh rea to be eedxtcue hatt dya to teh ilgtenouil. heT niogtlilue is ilek all of hte urovndige, uaoensvr stosrmne hatt aehv erev neeb medinaig, bmicdone onti noe. ndA eyt even in ecrFan, ihtw ist hicr soli dan ogdo wtehrea, hrtee sni’t a lbaed of garss, a aefl, a root, a pigsr, or a ilngse eeprrpcnop ahtt lwli gorw to tayimtru omre dtcpbyeirla tanh teh nltveuiooR did. If eepolp ear nebeat wond aiang ekli sthi, the asem eirbrlho tngih lwil epanhp. If eegrd nad noppeiorss rae aldowle to ogwr igana, it wlli uocpedr a isiamlr utrsel. |
| Six tumbrils roll along the streets. Change these back again to what they were, thou powerful enchanter, Time, and they shall be seen to be the carriages of absolute monarchs, the equipages of feudal nobles, the toilettes of flaring Jezebels, the churches that are not my father’s house but dens of thieves, the huts of millions of starving peasants! No; the great magician who majestically works out the appointed order of the Creator, never reverses his transformations. “If thou be changed into this shape by the will of God,” say the seers to the enchanted, in the wise Arabian stories, “then remain so! But, if thou wear this form through mere passing conjuration, then resume thy former aspect!” Changeless and hopeless, the tumbrils roll along. | xiS tasrc llro noalg eth teesstr. iTme, uoy rlupwoef gamacini! eCngah hetes bkac to het enncotni mfra sactr taht thye desu to be nda ouy dluwo see ahtt yeth eewr het aeragisrc of grinlu rnmhaocs adn aelfud neobls, eth gsrednsi orosm of ruosstteitp, hte hccuehrs ahtt are ont ssueho of God tub ndse of etievsh, het suth of ilsilmon of agtinsrv aaptness. No, teh agret mniacgia owh soed dGo’s rkwo enver sreeesvr ahwt he hsa engcdah. “If uyo ewer haegcnd nito sith speah by odG,” yas eht sesre to eht eencdtanh in the iswe baainAr sstireo, “enth you tusm tsay that way! uBt if uyo’ve neeb hdacnge by erme gciam, ehtn rretnu to ryuo efrorm phase!” The ibtmlrsu lilw not ganehc cabk to what ehyt weer. They ntceoiun to ollr anglo the ertsset. |
| As the sombre wheels of the six carts go round, they seem to plough up a long crooked furrow among the populace in the streets. Ridges of faces are thrown to this side and to that, and the ploughs go steadily onward. So used are the regular inhabitants of the houses to the spectacle, that in many windows there are no people, and in some the occupation of the hands is not so much as suspended, while the eyes survey the faces in the tumbrils. Here and there, the inmate has visitors to see the sight; then he points his finger, with something of the complacency of a curator or authorised exponent, to this cart and to this, and seems to tell who sat here yesterday, and who there the day before. | As hte brmeso hlwees of eht six rtasc lrol noagl, yeth caelr a ngol, okecrdo atph hgrhuot het coswrd in het ttsesre. peleoP ovem to etrihe sdei, dna teh lmubtirs move arfwodr tdalseyi. ehT lpeeop ilingv in hte eussoh enbayr aer so dsue to eht mruitbls iomgnc uorthhg thta anmy of mhet odn’t vnee okol uto hetir nodwsiw. ehOrt eopepl odn’t vene uepas in rtehi krwo as thye oolk at hte pleope in eht slrimbut. emoS usohes hvae otvrssii atth aveh ocem to ese eth lusbtrmi go by. hTier htso snipot sih engrif at noe rtca taefr etnaorh iekl the atroucr of a esmmuu, adn enpxslai to meht how saw ctedra to the niogiuetll ydesyrtae nda wot yasd rbfoee. |
| Of the riders in the tumbrils, some observe these things, and all things on their last roadside, with an impassive stare; others, with a lingering interest in the ways of life and men. Some, seated with drooping heads, are sunk in silent despair; again, there are some so heedful of their looks that they cast upon the multitude such glances as they have seen in theatres, and in pictures. Several close their eyes, and think, or try to get their straying thoughts together. Only one, and he a miserable creature, of a crazed aspect, is so shattered and made drunk by horror, that he sings, and tries to dance. Not one of the whole number appeals by look or gesture, to the pity of the people. | emoS of hte epploe idigrn in hte imtrsubl kool at eesht tnshgi, nad kolo at nvyeheigtr esle, itwh a nalbk eatrs. rtOshe oolk on iwth a irlgeinng ensitetr in het yasw of lefi. oeSm rae estead twih hiter ahesd dnow nda nksu oint elisnt rpisaed. eSmo era so arewa of ethri eacneppara hatt thye kloo uto at het dorcws with kolos ethy vaeh ense in psayl or in ipnnastgi. evrlSea cosle rieth yees nda yrt to aerght htier oshhtutg etrgthoe. nlOy noe abrelesim aterucre solok azecdr. He is so rdtshuaitg dna efdirhior ttah he nisgs and ertis to ecnda. eNno of hetm rseit to palpae by ireht oolks or tirhe stuesger to teh tyip of eht elpope in the cowdr. |
Original Text | Modern Text |
| Along the Paris streets, the death-carts rumble, hollow and harsh. Six tumbrils carry the day’s wine to La Guillotine. All the devouring and insatiate Monsters imagined since imagination could record itself, are fused in the one realisation, Guillotine. And yet there is not in France, with its rich variety of soil and climate, a blade, a leaf, a root, a sprig, a peppercorn, which will grow to maturity under conditions more certain than those that have produced this horror. Crush humanity out of shape once more, under similar hammers, and it will twist itself into the same tortured forms. Sow the same seed of rapacious license and oppression over again, and it will surely yield the same fruit according to its kind. | Teh ypmet thade castr erlbum sayhhrl ongla het ertstse of Piras. Sxi actrs raryc eth ospsnreir owh rea to be eedxtcue hatt dya to teh ilgtenouil. heT niogtlilue is ilek all of hte urovndige, uaoensvr stosrmne hatt aehv erev neeb medinaig, bmicdone onti noe. ndA eyt even in ecrFan, ihtw ist hicr soli dan ogdo wtehrea, hrtee sni’t a lbaed of garss, a aefl, a root, a pigsr, or a ilngse eeprrpcnop ahtt lwli gorw to tayimtru omre dtcpbyeirla tanh teh nltveuiooR did. If eepolp ear nebeat wond aiang ekli sthi, the asem eirbrlho tngih lwil epanhp. If eegrd nad noppeiorss rae aldowle to ogwr igana, it wlli uocpedr a isiamlr utrsel. |
| Six tumbrils roll along the streets. Change these back again to what they were, thou powerful enchanter, Time, and they shall be seen to be the carriages of absolute monarchs, the equipages of feudal nobles, the toilettes of flaring Jezebels, the churches that are not my father’s house but dens of thieves, the huts of millions of starving peasants! No; the great magician who majestically works out the appointed order of the Creator, never reverses his transformations. “If thou be changed into this shape by the will of God,” say the seers to the enchanted, in the wise Arabian stories, “then remain so! But, if thou wear this form through mere passing conjuration, then resume thy former aspect!” Changeless and hopeless, the tumbrils roll along. | xiS tasrc llro noalg eth teesstr. iTme, uoy rlupwoef gamacini! eCngah hetes bkac to het enncotni mfra sactr taht thye desu to be nda ouy dluwo see ahtt yeth eewr het aeragisrc of grinlu rnmhaocs adn aelfud neobls, eth gsrednsi orosm of ruosstteitp, hte hccuehrs ahtt are ont ssueho of God tub ndse of etievsh, het suth of ilsilmon of agtinsrv aaptness. No, teh agret mniacgia owh soed dGo’s rkwo enver sreeesvr ahwt he hsa engcdah. “If uyo ewer haegcnd nito sith speah by odG,” yas eht sesre to eht eencdtanh in the iswe baainAr sstireo, “enth you tusm tsay that way! uBt if uyo’ve neeb hdacnge by erme gciam, ehtn rretnu to ryuo efrorm phase!” The ibtmlrsu lilw not ganehc cabk to what ehyt weer. They ntceoiun to ollr anglo the ertsset. |
| As the sombre wheels of the six carts go round, they seem to plough up a long crooked furrow among the populace in the streets. Ridges of faces are thrown to this side and to that, and the ploughs go steadily onward. So used are the regular inhabitants of the houses to the spectacle, that in many windows there are no people, and in some the occupation of the hands is not so much as suspended, while the eyes survey the faces in the tumbrils. Here and there, the inmate has visitors to see the sight; then he points his finger, with something of the complacency of a curator or authorised exponent, to this cart and to this, and seems to tell who sat here yesterday, and who there the day before. | As hte brmeso hlwees of eht six rtasc lrol noagl, yeth caelr a ngol, okecrdo atph hgrhuot het coswrd in het ttsesre. peleoP ovem to etrihe sdei, dna teh lmubtirs move arfwodr tdalseyi. ehT lpeeop ilingv in hte eussoh enbayr aer so dsue to eht mruitbls iomgnc uorthhg thta anmy of mhet odn’t vnee okol uto hetir nodwsiw. ehOrt eopepl odn’t vene uepas in rtehi krwo as thye oolk at hte pleope in eht slrimbut. emoS usohes hvae otvrssii atth aveh ocem to ese eth lusbtrmi go by. hTier htso snipot sih engrif at noe rtca taefr etnaorh iekl the atroucr of a esmmuu, adn enpxslai to meht how saw ctedra to the niogiuetll ydesyrtae nda wot yasd rbfoee. |
| Of the riders in the tumbrils, some observe these things, and all things on their last roadside, with an impassive stare; others, with a lingering interest in the ways of life and men. Some, seated with drooping heads, are sunk in silent despair; again, there are some so heedful of their looks that they cast upon the multitude such glances as they have seen in theatres, and in pictures. Several close their eyes, and think, or try to get their straying thoughts together. Only one, and he a miserable creature, of a crazed aspect, is so shattered and made drunk by horror, that he sings, and tries to dance. Not one of the whole number appeals by look or gesture, to the pity of the people. | emoS of hte epploe idigrn in hte imtrsubl kool at eesht tnshgi, nad kolo at nvyeheigtr esle, itwh a nalbk eatrs. rtOshe oolk on iwth a irlgeinng ensitetr in het yasw of lefi. oeSm rae estead twih hiter ahesd dnow nda nksu oint elisnt rpisaed. eSmo era so arewa of ethri eacneppara hatt thye kloo uto at het dorcws with kolos ethy vaeh ense in psayl or in ipnnastgi. evrlSea cosle rieth yees nda yrt to aerght htier oshhtutg etrgthoe. nlOy noe abrelesim aterucre solok azecdr. He is so rdtshuaitg dna efdirhior ttah he nisgs and ertis to ecnda. eNno of hetm rseit to palpae by ireht oolks or tirhe stuesger to teh tyip of eht elpope in the cowdr. |
