OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Records of the Federal Convention of 1787/Volume 3/Appendix A/CCC

​ⅭⅭⅭ. Jonathan Dayton in the United States Senate.
November 24, 1803.
Mr. Dayton believed it would come to this, that when the question came to be discussed, and the rights of the small States maintained, the large States would threaten us with their power. The same threats had been heard in the old Congress, but they were laughed at, for the votes of the States were equal; they were heard in the Convention, but they were spurned at, for the votes were equal there also; the large States must be cautious here, for in this body, too, the votes are equal. The gentleman had talked of a classification of States as a novelty, but he would ask if that gentleman pretended to be wiser than the Constitution? Look through that instrument from beginning to end, and you will not find an article which is not founded on the presumption of a clashing of interests. Was this fine process instituted for nothing? Was developing the election in particular circumstances in the House of Representatives intended for nothing? Was nothing meant by the provision of the Constitution, that no amendment should ever deprive the States of the equality of votes in this House? Yet, it was that jealous caution which foresaw the necessity of guarding against the encroachments of large States. The States, whatever was their relative magnitude, ​were equal under the old Confederation, and the small States gave up a part of their rights as a compromise for a better form of government and security; but they cautiously preserved their equal rights in the Senate and in the choice of a Chief Magistrate. The same voice that now addresses you made the solemn claim, and declared there was no safety in association unless the small States were protected here. The warning was taken and you find in that part, as in all others, a classification governs every line of the Constitution.
# The Records of the Federal Convention of 1787/Volume 3/Appendix A/CCCIV

​ⅭⅭⅭⅣ. Gouverneur Morris to Henry W. Livingston.
Morrisania, December 4th, 1803.
A circumstance, which turned up in conversation yesterday, has led me again to read over your letter of the third of November, and my answer of the twenty-eighth. I perceive now, that I mistook the drift of your inquiry, which is substantially whether the Congress can admit, as a new State, territory, which did not belong to the United States when the Constitution was made. In my opinion they cannot.
I always thought that, when we should acquire Canada and Louisiana it would be proper to govern them as provinces, and allow them no voice in our councils. In wording the third section of the fourth article, I went as far as circumstances would permit to establish the exclusion. Candor obliges me to add my belief, that, had it been more pointedly expressed, a strong opposition would have been made.
* ↑ Jared Sparks, Life of Gouverneur Morris, Ⅲ, 192.
* ↑ See ⅭⅭⅭⅠ above.
# The Records of the Federal Convention of 1787/Volume 3/Appendix A/C

​C. Edmund Randolph to Beverley Randolph.
Phila., Sept. 2, 1787.
I expect to leave this place on Saturday, Seven night.
# The Records of the Federal Convention of 1787/Volume 3/Appendix A/CCCIX

​ⅭⅭⅭⅨ. Governor Lewis to —— .
I will conclude this long epistle by a concise account of a conversation had with Hamilton, which may not be deemed uninteresting, since it exhibits him as a statesman who looked beyond the present to the far future interests of his country. It is well known that he never was in the habit of concealing or disguising his sentiments on the subject of government.
Openly denouncing, on all occasions, the assertion ‘that the best administered was best’, as a political heresy, maintaining the superior aptitude to a good administration of some systems over others, and giving the preference, abstractedly considered, to a well-balanced and limited monarchy, he was at the same time undeviating from the opinion that such a government could not be established in the United States, because a necessary ingredient in its composition, a privileged order, would be sought for in vain among a people whose favourite motto was ‘Liberty and Equality.’ When, therefore, the paragraphists of the day announced that he had proposed in the convention of the states a monarchic form of government, I was satisfied it was the effect of misconception or designed misrepresentation.
A second version, that he proposed a presidency for life, I thought more probable, but determined to suspend my opinion until I should have an interview with him. This was afforded to me soon after his return to the city of New-York. The monarchic proposition, as I expected, he explicitly denied. The other he admitted, with ​the qualification, a president during good behaviour, or for a competent period, subject to impeachment, with an ineligibility forever thereafter.
“My reasons,” he said, “were, an exclusion, as far as possible, of the influence of executive patronage in the choice of a chief magistrate, and a desire to avoid the incalculable mischief which must result from the too frequent elections of that officer.” In conclusion, he made the following prophetic observation: “You nor I, my friend, may not live to see the day, but most assuredly it will come, when every vital interest of the state will be merged in the all-absorbing question of who shall be the next president?”
# The Records of the Federal Convention of 1787/Volume 3/Appendix A/CCCII

​ⅭⅭⅭⅡ. Jonathan Dayton in the United States Senate.
November 29, 1803.
Every member who had spoken on this subject seemed to have admitted, by the very course and pointing of their arguments, even though they may have denied it in words, that this was really a question between great and small States, and disguise it as they would the question would be so considered out of doors. The privilege given by the Constitution extended to five, out of which the choice of President should be made; and why should the smaller, ​for whose benefit and security that number was given, now wantonly throw it away without an equivalent? As to the Vice President, his election had no influence upon the number, because the choice of President in the House of Representatives was as free and unqualified as if that subordinate office did not exist. Nay, he said, he would venture to assert that, even if the number five were continued, and the Vice Presidency entirely abolished, there would not be as great a latitude of choice as under the present mode, because those five out of whom the choice must eventually be made, were much more likely hereafter to be nominated by the great States, inasmuch as their electors would no longer be compelled to vote for a man of a different State. The honorable gentleman from Maryland (Mr. Smith) has said, he was not surprised that those who had seats in the old Congress, should perplex themselves with the distinctions; but he could tell that gentleman, that it was not in the old Congress he had learnt them, for there he had seen all the votes of the States equal, and had known the comparatively little State of Maryland controlling the will of the Ancient Dominion. It was in the Federal Convention that distinction was made and acknowledged; and he defied that member to do, what had been before requested of the honorable gentleman from Virginia, viz: to open the Constitution, and point out a single article, if he could, that had not evidently been framed upon a presumption of diversity (he had almost said, adversity) of interest between the great and small States.
# The Records of the Federal Convention of 1787/Volume 3/Appendix A/CCCL

​ⅭⅭⅭⅬ. James Madison to Edward Livingston.
Montpellier April 17. 1824.
I have read your observations with a due perception of the ability which pervades and the eloquence which adorns them; and I must add, not without the pleasure of noticing that you have pruned from the doctrine of some of your fellow labourers, its most luxuriant branches—I cannot but think at the same time, that you have left the root in too much vigour. This appears particularly in the question of Canals. My impression with respect to the authority to make them may be the stronger perhaps, (as I had occasion to remark as to the Bank on its original discussion,) from my recollection that the authority had been repeatedly proposed in the Convention, and negatived, either as improper to be vested in Congress, or as a power not likely to be yielded by the States. My impression is also very decided, that if the construction which brings Canals within the scope of commercial regulations, had been advanced or admitted by the advocates of the constitution in the State Conventions, it would have been impossible to overcome the opposition to it. It is remarkable that Mr. Hamilton himself, the strenuous patron of an expansive meaning in the text of the Constitution, with the views of the Convention fresh in his memory, and in a Report contending for the most liberal rules of interpretation, was obliged by his candour to admit that they could not embrace the case of canals.…
It cannot be denied without forgetting what belongs to human nature, that in consulting the contemporary writings, which vindicated and recommended the Constitution, it is fair to keep in mind that the authors might be sometimes influenced by the zeal of advocates: But in expounding it now,—is the danger of bias less, from the influence of local interests, of popular currents, and even from an estimate of national utility.
# The Records of the Federal Convention of 1787/Volume 3/Appendix A/CCCLI

​ⅭⅭⅭⅬⅠ. James Madison to Henry Lee.
Montpellier, June 25, 1824.
What a metamorphosis would be produced in the code of law if all its ancient phraseology were to be taken in its modern sense! And that the language of our Constitution is already undergoing interpretations unknown to its founders will, I believe, appear to all unbiased inquirers into the history of its origin and adoption. Not to look farther for an example, take the word “consolidate,” in the Address of the convention prefixed to the Constitution. It there and then meant to give strength and solidity to the union of the States. In its current and controversial application, it means a destruction of the States by transfusing their powers into the government of the Union.
# The Records of the Federal Convention of 1787/Volume 3/Appendix A/CC

​ⅭⅭ. Charles Pinckney: Letter in State Gazette of South Carolina.
Charleston, May 2d, 1788.
Mr. Martin’s long mischievous detail of the opinions and proceedings of the late general convention, … with all his colourings and uncandid insinuations, in regard to General Washington and Doct. Franklin, …
What pity the salutary caution of Doct. Franklin, just previous to his signing the constitution recommended by the convention, had not been strictly attended to! If we split, it will in all probability happen in running headlong on the dangerous rock he so ​prophetically (as it were) warded us from, “That the opinions of the errors of the constitution born within the walls of the convention, should die there, and not a syllable be whispered abroad.” This Hint is full of that foresight and penetration the Doctor has always been remarkable for.
When the general convention met, no citizen of the United States could expect less from it than I did, so many jarring interests and prejudices to reconcile! The variety of pressing dangers at our doors, even during the war, were barely sufficient to force us to act in concert and necessarily give way at times to each other. But when the great work was done and published, I was not only most agreeably disappointed, but struck with amazement. Nothing less than that superintending hand of Providence, that so miraculously carried us through the war (in my humble opinion), could have brought it about so complete, upon the whole.
# The Soul Of A Century/We too must die

Poem no. XXXVII from the collection Cosmic Songs (Písně kosmické)
WE TOO MUST DIE (Cosmic Songs)
The prophets’ never dying words That even we must die . . . Oh yes, oh yes, we know it well, The World we can’t defy.
Whatever blooms must wither too; What grows must rot someday. Even the Earth with all its men Like a rose will fade away.
We will not grieve our beating hearts With thoughts of death’s last deed. We’ll live our life and live it well To give the world a lead.
We’ll seek the origin of worlds, The mystic force of sages, We’ll reach down to the base of time And count the flight of ages.
No mystery . . no unknown force Can halt our forward march, Our souls will ring in clarion tones Against the heavens’ highest arch.
We’ll die, but first we’ll steep our graves With glory for our bed, The whole wide world must come to mourn And stand with a bowed head.
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# The Soul Of A Century/Vitezslav Halek

VITEZSLAV HALEK
(1835–1874)
Vitezslav Halek is justly called the “nightingale of Czech poetry” for in all his works he sings with joyous abandon of the beauties and splendor of nature. Halek was born April 5, 1835, and died at the height of his fame in Prague, October 8th, 1874. Although philosophy claimed Halek’s early interest, he soon gave it up to plunge headlong into the fomenting literary currents of his time. Halek worked feverishly in all branches of the belles-lettres, but at all times his lyricism crops forth, even in his heavy tragedies and epic poems. In his lyrical poetry Halek shows traces of the influence of Heine, but free from the latter’s cynicism and irony. Halek’s complete works, comprising eleven volumes, were published in Prague during the years 1879–87.
* In nature
* Out of my songs
* Evening songs
* Evening songs
* A loveless world
* Evening songs
* Evening songs
* In nature
* In nature
* Tales from our village
# The Soul Of A Century/What's a tear?

* related portals: Czech literature.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, quotes, Wikidata item.
WHAT’S A TEAR?
What’s a tear? It is a splendid garnet Shining through the night with mystic light, With its glare destroying night’s deep shadows Whose oppresive fears it puts to flight.
What’s a tear? It is a cooling dew drop A hemlock’s burning leaf so oft collects, Yet this dew drop, like an ocean billow, The splendor of the skies above reflects.
What’s a tear? It is a milky path-way, A silvery light steeped in the skies’ blue flame, In its facets linger lights uncounted, Countless, timeless lights without a name.
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# The Soul Of A Century/White Mountain

* related portals: Czech literature.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
WHITE MOUNTAIN
The Battle’s lost, the ranks flee past recall - - - Only three hundred heroes stand and fight. “Surrender now, but futile further spite!” Three hundred men still stand along the wall.
Regiments fore and aft and around them all - - - Only beyond them, the blue tinged mountain forts Their native brownish huts with snow white courts! Not one of them would yield along the wall.
The muskets roared, - - - men worked each pointed halberd, - - - The aged oaks above them shook and fell Man after man fell dead along the rampart, Man after man kept standing in death’s Hell. The King escaped - - - the coward saved his head. A Nation defeated . . lives proudly in her dead.
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# The Soul Of A Century/Winter

WINTER
Winter speeds across the plain, Thunders drum the marching strain, And what once within me blossomed Will not bear new fruit again.
Winter settles in the park Where the trees stand bleak and stark; With a merry song who’ll cheer me When it’s cold and when it’s dark?
Winter roams about the grove, Silenced birds leave in a drove; ’Twill be hard to dream of Maytime And of roses that once throve.
Winter hastens towards the field Where frosts have cast their chilling shield. And I fear that what once pained me Will again new anguish yield.
Winter grips the forest’s wreath, Blows across the moss and heath; And I know not how I can live When my song no more shall breathe.
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# The Soul Of A Century/Your wasted heat

YOUR WASTED HEAT
(Graveyard Blossoms)
II
It seems that Spring will not arrive this year. Though it is April, we still welcome the hearth’s heat. While outdoors icy winds blow far and near, And a drizzling rain spreads o’er the slippery street. I am seated near a breath-fogged window pane And gaze into the ever changing fire, Into its flaming orange-tinted chain. Within the stove, sparks fly up to the hood; Perhaps they are the dreams and the desire Of by-gone springs that slumbered in the wood. Their light paints roses on the window haze And conjures May and Youth within the blaze.
Old weathered man, why stand you in the sleet? The biting frost blows through your aged bones And in your beard, the rain drops pearly stones. Are you afraid to ask for a night’s retreat? Surely there are good people on this earth To whom true kindness is an inborn trait; Who curse the world for its poverty and dearth And the thankless poor, who rebel at their fate. Yes, you do well that you ask not for love And firmly bear the lot willed from above. Why should you bow your head of silver hair; Oh yes … your hair … it does appear in truth, Like a sudden illness that strikes one in his youth. Perhaps you have not lived your youth’s full share, And some great worry, rather than old age Deepened the furrow on your cheeks, old sage? Your eyes gazed at me and I shook in fright, As if but recently they had lost their sight, As if to pierce the darkness it had tried; Glittered once more and then forever died. Your lip as pale as a violet’s faded bloom, Perhaps had just been blushing like a rose And lately gave its burning kiss to whom? A kiss as warm as only young love knows. And now, a tooth cuts in your lip with pain, Go aged man and do not sadden me, My tender heart is tempting me to be Like kind St. Martin and to play his role again.
Here! Take my cloak and hide your nakedness, Here’s silver; drink; Why think of wretchedness? His shriveled lips are curved in ridicule, A feeble smile forces his lips to part; “Why, don’t you know me any more, you fool? I am your own, your ailing withered heart.”
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# The Soul Of A Century/Wasted youth

* related portals: Czech literature.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
WASTED YOUTH
In one lone refrain melted our youth’s romance. At twilight’s gleam, Our gazes met and kissed, in one embrace two forms nervously shook, With rapture I breathed the scent of your being, and in the garden of dreams, Like one seeking a lover, my soul sought you at the murmuring brook.
To us spoke yearning and passion, power and dread and sin The veiled mysteries of stony nature spoke to us not in vain, In the features of my thought and yours, set the same frigid grin, The same contraction of muscles, the same cramping pain.
The splendor of the night I absorbed and inhaled with our two souls The delicate fluid of music I gathered with dual nervous strands And the miracle of beauty imprisoned with dual sight, mournfully stole Over me, like rays of light passing through a prism to burn with fiery brands.
You fogs of smouldering days, who cast sadness over the souls of men! Glowing, briny fumes of the unknown oceans of forgotten dead Within whom wither the groves of blossoming moods as when Corrosive ashes fall upon the billowy scent of crimson red.
Who melted two lights flown together? Who darkened my smile on your cheeks? Who gave to our voice the strange sound that from our soul escapes? Who stunned the gentle quiver of caress? Who threw in with a shriek A ferment, disturbing the intoxicant flames of our grapes?
Why did the summer’s waste wither your lillies upon my garden embankment? Like a floating Island cast off the shore, you are drifting, shattered and torn. In the scent of my memories bitters the essence of your enchantment, Wherein are submersed the stars of spent nights, and the lights of a risen morn.
And like a woman whose pleasures one has tasted, strange now your longing seems My eyes no longer shed your tears in a brotherly unified beat. And only above the graves of bygone Springs, in the graveyard of wasted dreams Like a loved one’s lifeless phantom, our souls again will meet.
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# The Soul Of A Century/White glow of light...

* related portals: Czech literature.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
WHITE GLOW OF LIGHT . . .
A white glow of light you poured into my soul’s lamp ’Til in an agony of red it bled into the dark. I walked in thought, beneath the day’s ceiling cold and damp As in the dreaded melancholies of a darkened park,
Where on the frescoed walls, the twilight’s billows fall And long forgotten legends gaze through the darkened frames Like windows that open onto the centuries’ mystic hall And gaze on the darkened horizon of Mysteries without names . . .
Yon in the smoking distance, where roll the fogs of grey Above the rooftops of palaces and over the boulevards’ flight, Victorious life tosses and bubbles o’er with a maddening play In the bizzare foams of Passions and longing and might . . .
As women’s fiery looks rain with sparks into the bodily desires The burned out strengths of nerves beneath the skull decay, And the joys and fears and sorrows in countless illusory fires, Upon the taut stretched strings of The Secret, quiver away.
A white glow of light you poured into my soul’s lamp, ’Til in an agony of red it bled into the dark. I walked in thought beneath the day’s ceiling, cold and damp As in the dreaded melancholies of a darkened park.
And I list to the Clocks of The Night, as through the dark they toll ’Til on the tower of the City Eternal the metallic tears will awake An angelic Rhapsody, falling upon my waiting soul; Striking my final hour, the Secret’s Angelus will quake . . . .
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# The Soul Of A Century/We know not...

WE KNOW NOT . . .
How came we to this world, which was then as it is now We know not. About the cold black clod that some day will fill our grave We know not. Though half of our life in dreams we live, true throbbing life We know not. What we were before we came, it matters not that
We know not. Then why worry what we'll be, when no longer we shall be? We know not.
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# The Soul Of A Century/Torcello

TORCELLO
Torcello, you distant island, Longing drew me to your shores, In your groves I want to linger Here man! Throw away the oars!
Here at last I want to linger In the shade of swaying trees, While my thoughts turn to my country, To my home beyond the seas.
And I rested . . . the trees obove me Showered leaves unto my bed, And each floweret ’twixt the grasses Waved at me its nodding head.
Thence I gazed far in the distance, Listening to the ocean’s sound, To whose elemental beauty, No one yet the answer found.
And while gazing, thinking, dreaming, Something stirred my soul again, Like young birds . . . these sweet songs fluttered Longing for their native plain.
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