That Shakspeare spake; the faith and morals hold [This lesson is written by Jean Paul Friedrich Richter (1763-1825), a well-known German humorist and sentimental writer.] 1. It was New-Year's night. An aged man was standing at a window. He raised his mournful eyes toward the deep blue sky, where the stars were floating, like white lilies, on the surface of a clear calm lake. Then he cast them on the earth, where few more hopeless beings than himself now moved toward their certain goal-the tomb. 2. Already he had passed sixty of the stages which lead to it, and he had brought from his journey nothing but errors and remorse. His health was destroyed, his mind vacant, his heart sorrowful, and his old age devoid of comfort. 3. The days of his youth rose up in a vision before him, and he recalled the solemn moment when his father had placed him at the entrance of two roadsone leading into a peaceful, sunny land, covered with a fertile harvest, and resounding with soft sweet songs; the other leading the wanderer into a deep, dark cave, whence there was no issue, where poison flowed instead of water, and where serpents hissed and crawled. 4. He looked toward the sky, cried out in his agony : 'O youth return! O my father, place me once more at the entrance to life, that I may choose the better way!' But the days of his youth and his father had both passed away. 5. He saw wandering lights floating away over dark marshes, and then disappear. These were the days of his wasted life. He saw a star fall from heaven, and vanish in darkness. This was an emblem of himself; and the sharp arrows of unavailing remorse struck home to his heart. Then he remembered his early companions, who entered on life with him, but who, having trod the paths of virtue and of labour, were now honoured and happy on this New-Year's night. 6. The clock in the high church tower struck, and the sound, falling on his ear, recalled his parents' early love for him, their erring son; the lessons they had taught him; the prayers they had offered up on his behalf. Overwhelmed with shame and grief, he dared no longer look toward that heaven where his father dwelt; his darkened eyes dropped tears, and with one despairing effort, he cried aloud: 'Come back, my early days! come back!' 7. And his youth did return; for all this was but a dream which visited his slumbers on New-Year's night. He was still young; his faults alone were real. He thanked God fervently, that time was still his own; that he had not yet entered the deep, dark cavern, but that he was free to tread the road leading to the peaceful land, where sunny harvests wave. 8. Ye who still linger on the threshold of life, doubting which path to choose, remember that, when years are passed, and your feet stumble on the dark mountain, you will cry bitterly, but cry in vain: 'O youth, return! O give me back my early days!' Re-morse', bitter regret. Lit. it From Ser'-pents. creep. Jean Paul Richter. From Lat. serpo, I Em'-blem, likeness. un, not, and avail. Avail is THE MEAN SIDE OF NAPOLEON'S CHARACTER. [The following extract is from the writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson, the famous American essayist (1803-1882).] 1. Napoleon had the virtues of the masses of his constituents: he had also their vices. I am sorry that the brilliant picture has its reverse. But that is the fatal quality which we discover in our pursuits of wealth, that it is treacherous, and is bought by the breaking or weakening of the sentiments; and it is inevitable that we should find the same fact in the history of this champion, who proposed to himself simply a brilliant career, without any stipulation or scruple concerning the means. 2. Napoleon was singularly destitute of generous sentiments. The highest-placed individual in the most cultivated age and population of the world, he has not the merit of common truth and honesty. He is unjust to his generals; egotistic and monopolising; meanly stealing the credit of their great actions from Kellermann, from Bernadotte; intriguing to involve his faithful Junot in hopeless bankruptcy, in order to drive him to a distance from Paris, because the familiarity of his manners offends the new pride of his throne. 3. He is a boundless liar. The official paper, his 'Moniteurs,' and all his bulletins, are proverbs for saying what he wished to be believed; and worsehe sat, in his premature old age, in his lonely island, coldly falsifying facts and dates and characters, and giving to history a theatrical éclat. 4. Like all Frenchmen, he has a passion for stage effect. Every action that breathes of generosity is poisoned by this calculation. His star, his love of glory, his doctrine of the immortality of the soul, are all French. 'I must dazzle and astonish. If I were to give the liberty of the press, my power could not last three days.' 5. To make a great noise is his favourite design. 'A great reputation is a great noise: the more there is made, the farther off it is heard. Laws, institutions, monuments, nations, all fall; but the noise continues, and resounds in after ages.' His doctrine of immortality is simply fame. His theory of influence is not flattering. 6. There are two levers for moving men-interest and fear. Love is a silly infatuation, depend upon it. Friendship is but a name. I love nobody. I do not even love my brothers: perhaps Joseph, a little, from habit, and because he is my elder; and Duroc, I love him too, but why? Because his character pleases me: he is stern and resolute, and I believe the fellow never shed a tear. For my part, I know very well that I have no true friends. As long as I continue to be THE MEAN SIDE OF NAPOLEON'S CHARACTER. 185 what I am, I may have as many pretended friends as I please. Leave sensibility to women; but men should be firm in heart and purpose, or they should have nothing to do with war and government.' 7. He was thoroughly unscrupulous. He would steal, slander, assassinate, drown, and poison, as his interest dictated. He had no generosity, but mere vulgar hatred. He was intensely selfish; he was perfidious; he cheated at cards; he was a prodigious gossip; and opened letters; and listened after the hurrahs and the compliments of the street, incognito. 8. His manners were coarse. He had the habit of pulling the ears and whiskers of men, and of striking and horse-play with them, to his last days. It does not appear that he listened at key-holes, or, at least, that he was caught at it. In short, when you have penetrated through all the circles of power and splendour, you were not dealing with a gentleman at last, but with an impostor and a rogue; and he fully deserves the epithet of a sort of Scamp Jupiter. Con-stit'-u-ents, supporters, the Re-verse', the other side, the dark not be avoided. From Lat. in, not, e, out, and vito, I avoid. Cham'-pl-on, a successful combatant. Through the Fr. from Lat. campus, a plain, a place for games. Stip-u-la'-tion, condition, term. Emerson. ing to be the only seller of a thing, from Gr. monos, alone, and pōleō, I sell. Kel'-ler-man, and Ber'-na-dotte, Ju'-not were all distinguished generals of the first Napoleon. Bank'-rupt-cy, breaking or failing in business. From bank, a bench, and Lat. ruptus, broken. It is said that the moneychangers had their bench or table broken, when they were unable to pay their debts. Mon-i-teur', the official newspaper of Napoleon. Bul'-le-tins, proclamations. Lone'-ly is'-land, St Helena, where he was banished. |