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P, ;B. CONN, PUBLISHER,
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Z. RAGAN, Editor and Proprietor.
Translated for the True American.
;. , THE PEICE OF LITE.
I , FROM TUK i'RKNCII OF EUGENE SCRIBE.
j3'. Joseph opening the drawing-room door,
ame to tell us that the post-ehase was
ready. My mother and sisters threw them
selves into ray arms.
'There is yet time,' said they,.'renounce
this journey and remain with us.'
I am a man of noble descent, mother;
I am twenty years of age; I must be talk
ed of in the country; I must make my way
either to the army or to the Court.'
'Tell mo, Bernard, when you are gone,
what will become of me ?'
'You will be happy and proud in learn
ing the success of your son.'
'And if you should be killed in some
'What docs it matter? What is life?
Do people think only of it? A man thinks
only of glory when he is twenty years old,
. and of noble descent. And shall you not
see me, mother, return to you in a few
i years, a colonel or marechal tie camp, or
j eke With a high station nt Versailles ?'
Well, what will come from this ?'
Tt. will rtnniA ti nnoo tliat T altoll .A
garded and respected here.'
And after that?'
'That everybody will take off his hat to
' 'And after that?'
Thai I shall marry my cousin tlcnriclte,
hnttgive in marriage my young sisters; and
that we shall all livo with you, tranquil
and happy, on my Brctagne lands.'
'And what prevents you from cominenC'
ing so to-day ? Has not your father left
;Vou the richest fortune of the country ?
Ts there, for ten leagues around, a richer
domain, and a more magnificent castle than
that of la Roche-Bernard ? Have you not
thought of your tenants? fa there one
who will neglect to salute you, and to take
off his hat to you, when you pai-s through
the village? Do not quit us, my son; re
main with your friends, with your sisters,
with your old mother, whom, perhaps, you
will not find at your return. Do not spend
in vain glory, or shorten by cares, or tor
ments of every kind, days which' already
are passing away so fast. Life is sweet,
and the sun of Brctnguc is so beautiful !'
Saying this, she showed mo through the
drawing-room windows, the beautiful walks'
of my park, the old chestnut trees in bloom,
the lilacs, the honey-suckles, whose per
fume made fragrant the air, and whose ver
dure sparkled in the sun. In the ante
chamber were the gardener and his whole
family, who, sad and silent, seemed also to
ay to me, 'Do not depart, our young mas
ter, do not depart 1' Hortense, my elder
sister, clasped me in her arms, and Amelia,
my little Bister, who was in a cornor of the
drawing-room, looking at the engravings
in a volume of La Fontaine, approached'
me and handed me the book.
'Read, read, my brother said she,
It was the fable of the TwoPigcolis!
I rose up hastily and pushed them all back.
. 'I am twenty years old; I am of noble
descent I must have honor and glory.
Let me set out.'
.1 rushed into the poet-chaise, when a
womnn appeared on the stairway steps. It
was Ilcnrictte! She wept not, she spoke
jiot a word but, pais and trembling, she
j with difficulty stood up. With her white
handkerchief, which sho held in her hand,
he made mc a latit sign of adieu, and fell
consciouslcss. I ran to her, raised her up;
I clasped her in my arms, I swore to her
tuy love for life; and, at the moment con
sciousness was returning, leaving her to
tho care of my mother and sister, I ran to
my conveyance without stopping, without
turning around my head. If I had looked
at Honrictte, I would not havo loft.
.A few minutes after the post-chaise roll
ed along tho high-road. For a long time,
I thought only upon my fiisters, upon Ilcn
rictte, upon my mother, and upon nil the
happiness which I had left.bchind me; but
these thoughts were effaced as tho turrets
ot la Roche-Bernard disappeared from my
sltht. and soon dreams of ambition and
fOmx trmk THiFsewinn of mv mind. What
; "SBethlg : $0itrnal, JleWcb. lo mm itlenstst literate, ncnce, anb
projects !. what air castles ! what glorious
deeds, I created fot myself in my post
ohaise 1 Riches, Slonors, dignities, success
in everything, I denied myself nothing ;
I deserved and granted myself all. At
last, elevating myself in rank, as I advanc
ed on the way, I became duke and peer,
provincial governor, and marshal of France.
When I. arrived at my inn in the evening,
the voice of my servant, who modestly
called me monsieur le chevalier, alone for
ced me to abdicate and return to myself.
The next and following days, I bird the
same dreams, the same intoxication, for
my journey was long. I was going to the
environs of Sedan, to the residence of the
Duke of C , an old friend of my father
and protector of my family. Ho was to
take me with him to Paris, where he was
expected, at the end of the month, to pre
sent me at Versailles, and procure for me
a company of dragoons, through the credit
of his sister, the mnrchioness de F , a
young and charming woman, designated
by general opinion for the survivorship of
Madume de Pompadour a place tho title
of which she claimed with so much the
more of justice, as she had for a longtime
fulfilled its honorable functions. I arrived
at Sedan in the evening, and not being
able, at that hour to go to the castle of my
protector, I put off my visit till tho next
day, and weut to lodge at the Armes tie
France, the finest hotel of the town, and
the ordinary rendezvous of all officers, for
Sedan is a garrisoned town a strong place.
The streets have a warlike aspect, and tho
citizcus a martial tottrnure, which seems to
say to strangers, 'wo are compatriots of the
great Turenne.' I supped at the ordinary,
and inquired the way to the castle of the
Duke de C , situated three leagues
from the town.
They answered me: 'Every person can
point it out to you; it is so well known in
the country. It was in this castle died a
great warrior, a celebrated man Marshal
The conversation turned on Marshal
Fabert. Among young soldiers it was
very natural. They spoke of his bat
tles, of his exploits, of his modesty,
which caused him to refuse letters of no
bility, which Louis XIV. tendered him.
Above everything they talked of tho in
conceivable happiness, which, from a sim
ple soldier, had brought him to the rank of
Marshal of France ; him, a man of ho fam
ily, and the son of a printer. This was
the only example they could then cite, of
a like fortune, which, even in the time of
Fabert, appeared so extraordinary, that the
common people did not hesitate to ascribe
bis elevation to supernatural causes. It
waB said that from his infancy, he applied
himself to magio and sorcery; that he had
made a compact with the devil. And our
innkeeper,who, to tho silliness of a Cham
penois, joined the credulity of our peasants
of Bretagnc, averred to us with great cool
ness, that at the castle of the Duke de
C , where Fabert died, a black man,
whom no person knew, had been seen to
penetrate his chamber and disappear, car
rying away with him tho soul of the Mar
shal, which he had hitherto purchasod,
and which bolonged to him; and that even
now in the month of May, the epoch ot
Fabert's death, there might bo seen in tho
evening, a small light carried by the black
- This story enlivened our dessert, and
we drank a bottle of Champagne to the fa
miliar demon of Fabert, beseeching it to
tako us also under its protection, and to
gain for us battles like those of Colliourc
and La Marfee. -
The next dayI arose at an early hour,
and went to the castle of the Duke de C ,
an immense Gothic manor, which at any
other time, I would not have remarked,
but which I regarde'd, I acknowledge with
a curiosity mingled with emotion, recalling
to 'memory.the story which, the evening
before, the innkeepcrabf the Arme de
France had told ui. The valet to whom
I spoke, replied that he did not know
whether his master was to be seen, and es
pecially whether no could receive mc. . I
gavo him my name and he went out, leav
ing mo nlono in a kind of fencing-school
room, ducorated with the emblems of the
chase and- with family portraits. I Waited
some time and no one came. ' This career
of glory and honor of which I had dream
ed, commences then through the ante
chamber! said, I to myself;, and, a dissat
isfied solicitor, impatience overcame me.
I had already counted two or three times
all the family portraits and all the beams
of the ceiling, when I heard a slight noise
in the wainscoting. It was a door badly
shut, which the wind had just blown open.
I lot ked and I perceived a very pretty
boudoir, lighted by two large windows and
a glass door which looked out upon a mag
nificent park. I made some steps into this
apartment, and stopped at the sight of a
spectacle which had not at first struck my
eyes. A man with his back turned to
wards the door through which I had just
entered, was lying upon a sofa. He rose
up, and without perceiving mc, ran quickly
to the window. Tears were trickling down
his cheeks and. a deep despair appeared to
be imprinted on his features. For some
time he remained motionless, with his face
hid in his hands; then he commenced to
promenade the apartment with hasty strides.
I was then near him; he perceived me and
started up; I, myself, grieved and com
pletely stunned by my indiscretion, stam
mering some words of excuse, wished to
'Who are you? What do you want?'
said he to mc iu a loud voice, holding mc
by the arm.
. 'I am Chevalier Bernard, of la Roche
Bernard, and I come from Bretaguc '
'I know, I know,' said he to me, and he
threw himself into my arms, made me be
seated at his side, talked to me lively of
my father and of my whole family, whom
he knew so well, that I did not doubt but
that he was the liege-lord of the castle.
'Arc you M. do C ?' Baid I to him.
He rose up and looking at me with
pride, replied: 'I was, but Lam no longer;
I am nought;' and seeing my astonishment,
he cried: 'Not one word more, young man;
do not interrogate me.' ,
'Yes, Monsieur; I have, been a witness
of your chagrin and grief, without desiring
it; and if my devotion and friendship can
bring you some relief '
'Yes, yes, you are right; not that you
can in any thing change my destiny, but
you Will rcceine at least my last will and
my last wishes. This is the only service
I expect from you.'
He closed the door and seated himself
near me. Agitated and trembling, I a
waited his words, which Wert grave and
solemn. His physiognomy especially, wore
an expression which I had never before
seen on any person. His brow, which I
had attentively examined, seemed marked
by fatality. His face was pale; his black
eyes darted lightning, and from time to
time, his features, although altered by suf
fering, were contracted by an ironical and
'What I am about to tell you,' said he,
'will confound your reason. You will
doubt you will not believc--oftentimes I
doubt it myself I would wish so, at least;
but the proofs are here, and there is in
everything which surrounds us, in our or
ganization, many other mysteries, which
we are obliged to undergo, without being
able to comprehend them.'
He stopped an instant, as if to collect
his thoughts, passed his hand over his
brow, and continued:
'I was born in this castle; I have two
brothers older than myself, to whom must
revert the possessions and honors of our
family.' I had nothing to expect but the
mantle of the priest; yet thoughts of am
bition and glory fermented in my brain,
and made my heart beat. Rendered un
happy by my obscurity, and greedy of
fame, I dreamed only of the means of ac
quiring it, and this idea rendered mc in
sensible to all tho pleasures and comforts
of life. The present was nought to me; I
existed only in the future, and this future
was presented to me under the most som
bre aspect. I was near thirty years of age,
and was still nothing. Then, and from all
sides, some literary reputations were rising
in tho capital, the glory of which resound
ed even to our province Ah ! I often said
to myself, if I could only mako myself a
namo in tho career of letters ! This will
alwavs belong to my fame, and it only is
'For a confidant of my chagrins, I had
an old servant, an old negro, who lived in
this castle hnp before my birth. He was
OHIO, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY. 8, 1855.
certainly the oldt about the house; for
no ono recollect&r the'tfrhe when he first
entered it. The people of the country
even pretended that he knew Marshal Fa
bert, and assisted at his death '
At this moment my interlocutor made a
gesture of surprise; he paused and asked
me what ailed me.
'Nothing,' I replied. But in spite of
myself I thought upon the black man, of
whom our innkeeper had spoken the pre
Monsieur de C continued:
'One day, iu the presence of Yago that
was the name of tho negro I gave up to
my despair on my obscurity and the inu
tility of my days, and I exclaimed : I will
give ten years of my life to bo placed in
the first rank of our authors.' .
'Ten years 1' said he coldly, 'it is a great
deal; it is to pay dear for a very little thing.
It matters not, I accept your ten years. I
will take them; recollect your promise, and
I will keep mine.'
'I will not portray to you my surprise at
hearing him speak thus. I believed that
years had impaired his reason; I shrugged
my shoulders. r.d I quit, a few days after,
this castle, to make a journey to Paris.
There I found myself cast into the society
of men of learning. Their examples en
couraged me, and I published several works,
the success of which I. will not relate to
you here. All Paris was eager to applaud
them; the journals re-echoed my praises ;
the new name which I had taken became
celebrated, and yesterday, young man, you
admired it.' ' " ...
Hero a new gesture of surprise interrup
ted the story.
'You are not, then, the Duke de C ?'
'No,' he answered coldly.
And I said to myself: 'A celebrated
man of learning is it Marmoutcl? Is it
d'Alembert?. Is it Voltaire?'
My unknown interlocutor sighed; a smile
of regret and contempt ran lightly over his
lips, and he resumed his story:
'The literary reputation which I had cov
eted, was soon insufficient for a soul as
jealous and greedy as mine. I aspired to
more noble success, and I said to Yago,
who had accompanied mc to Paris and
would not leave me: 'There is no real glo
ry, no truo fame, except that acquired in
the career of arms. What is a man of
learning, a poet? Nothing. Talk to mc
of a great captain, of a general, of an ar
my: this is tho destiny which I covet, and
for a great military reputation, I would
give ten of the rcmainingycars of my life.'
'I accept them,' responded Yago; 'I will
takd them; they belong to me; don't forget.'
At this part of the story, the unknown
man again paused; and seeing a Fpecies of
trouble and hesitation depicted in all my
features) he continued:
'I have told you truly, young man; you
can not believe it; it seems to you a dream,
a chimera ! and to myself also. And yet
the rank which I have obtained was not
an illusion; tho soldiers whom I have led
to battle, the redoubts taken, the standards
conquered, the victories with which Franco
has resounded all this was my work, all
this glory belonged to me.'
While he was Walking with hasty strides,
and spoke thus with warmth and enthusi
asm, surprise had chilled all my senses,
and I said to myself : 'Who, then, is this
near me? IsitCoiguy? Is it Richlicu?
Is it Marshal de Saxc ?'
From this Btato of exaltation my un
known interlocutor had relapsed into des
pondency, and approaching me he said,
with a sombre look :
Yago spoke tho truth; and when later,
disgusted with this vain smoke of military
glory, I aspired to that which is alone real
and positive in this world; when at the
price of five or six years of existence, I
desired gold and riches, he granted them
to me. Yes, young man, yes, I have seen
fortune Becond and surpass all my wishes ;
lands, forests, castles-. This morning
all these wero in my power; and if you
doubt me, if you doubt Yagowait wait
he will come and yotl shall go and see
yourself, with your own eyes, that that
which confounds your reason and mine, is
unhappily too real.'
The unknown man then approached the
chimney, looked fit the clock, made a ges
ture of affright, and said to me in a low
'This morning at the break of day, I felt
myself so despondent and feeble, that I
could scarcely rise. I rang for my valet
de rhambre. Yago appeared.
'What is this I feel,' said I to him.
'Master, nothing but that which is very
natural. The hour is approaching, the
moment in at hand.'
'What? said I to him.'
'Do you not guess it 1 Heaven has des
tined you sixty years as the term of your
life: you had lived thirty of them when I
commenced to serve you.'
'Yago, said I to him with terror, do you
speak seriously ?'
'Yes, master, in five years you have spent
twenty-five years of your existence in glory!
You have given them to me, they belong
to me; and those days of which you have
been deprived, shall be added to mine.'
'What ! is this the price of yottl1 ser
'Others have paid dearer. Witness Fa
bert,, whom I also protected.'
'Be silent, be silent, said I to him. -It
is not possible; it is not possible.'
'Very well ! But prcparo yourself, for
there remains to you but ono half hour
'You are making sport of me, you are
'By no means: calculate yourself. You
have actually lived thirty-five years, and
twenty-five years you have lost! Total,
sixty. This is your number; to each one
'He wished to go out, and I felt my
strength diminishing; I felt my life escap
ing from me.'
'Yago, Yago, give me a few hours, a few
'No, no,' answered he; 'that would be to
take them from my number, and I know
better than you the price of life. There
is no treasure which can pay for two hours
'I could scarcely speak; my eyes were
veiled, and a deathly coldness chilled my
'Well, said I to him, making an effort:
take these possessions, for which I have
sacrificed everything. Four hours more,
and I renounce my gold, my riches, this
opulence which I have so much desired.'
'Be it so. You have been a good mas
ter, and I wish to do somo good for you.
'I felt my strength reanimated, and I
exclaimed: 'Four hours! it is so little a
thing! Yago! Yago! four hours more,
and I renounce my literary glory, all my
works, to him who has placed mo so high
in the esteem of the world.'
'Four hours for this!' exclaimed the ne
gro with disdain. 'It is a great deal ; it
matters not, I will not refuse you your last
'No, not the last, said t to him. Yago !
Yago ! I beseech you, give me uutil this
evening, the twelve hours, the whole day,
and let my exploits, my victories, my mil
itary fame, let all be effaced forever from
the memory of men, and let notning of
them longer remain on tho carthi This
day, Yago ! this entire day, and I Shall be
'You abuse my goodness,' said he, 'and
are making a dupe's bargain. It matters
nothing, I give you until the setting of the
sun. After that ask nothing more. This
evening, then! I will como and take you.'
'lie departed,' continued the unknown
man with despair, 'and this day is tho last
which remains to me !' Then approaching
tho glass door which was open, arid which
looked out upon the park, he cried' out, 'I
shall no more behold this beautiful sky,
this green turf, thoso spouting waters; I
shall no more brcatho the fragrant air of
spring ! Foolish that I was ! . Those pos
sessions which God has given to all, those
possessions to which I was insensible, and
the pleasure of which I only now can com
prehend, I could havo enjoyed for twenty
five years! And I have consumed my
days, I have sacrificed them for a vain
chimera, for a sterilo glory which has not
rendered mo happy and has died before
mo. Here, here,' said lie, showing mo
some peasants who wero crowing the park
and wero going to work singing, 'what
would I hot give now to ehare their labors
and their misery! But I hate no longer
any thiug to glve- Jor any tbipg to hope
for here below, Bothing--not even misfor
At that moment a ray of the sun, a sun
of the month of May illumined his pale
and bewildered features; he seized me by
the arm with a kind of delirium, and said:
'See, see ! how beautiful is the sun! and
I must quit all this ! Ah ! that at least I
could see it once more ! How completely
I relish this day, so pure and beautiful
which for mc has no to-morrow !'
ne rushed into the park; and, at the
turning of a walk, he disappeared, before
I could get hold of him again. Indeed I
had not the strength to do it ; I had fallen
hack upon the sofa, stunned and prostra
ted with what I had just seen and heard.
I arose, I walked to convince myself that
I was aWakc, that I was not under the in
fluence of a dream. At this moment a
door of the boudoir was opened, and a ser
vant said to me!
'Here is my master, the Duke de C .'
A man of sixty years and of marked
physiognomy advanced, and extending to
me his hand, asked my pardon for having
kept me so long in waiting.
'I was not at the castle,' said he, 'I have
just come from the city, where I have been
to consult for the health of my younger
brother, the Count de C ."
'Is his life in danger?' said I.
'No, Monsieur, thanks to heaven,' an
swered the Duke; 'but in his youth ideas
of ambition and glory had worked upon
his imagination, and a very severe disease
which he had lately, and of which he
thought he would die, has left in his mind
a species of delirium and alienation, which
continually persuade him that he has but
one day more to live. This is his mad
Everything was explained to me !
'Now,' continued the Duke, 'let us come
to yourselfyoung man, and let us see what
we can do for your advancement. We will
set out at the end of this month for Ver
sailles. I must present you there.'
'I know your kind disposition towards
me, Monsieur It Due, and I thank you
'What ! havo you renounced tho court
and the advantages you may expect from it?'
'But think then that you will there make
a rapid way, and that with a little assiduity
and patience, you can in ten years henc
'Ten years lost !' I exclaimed.
'Well,' he replied with astonishment, 'is
this paying too dear for glory, fortune, and
honors ? Come, young man, we will set
out for Versailles.'
'2io, Monsieur le Due, I will set out
again for Bretagne, and I pray you again
to accept my thanks and those of my
'This is madness,' exclaimed the Duke
And I, thinking upon what I had just
seen and heard, said to myself, 'It is good
The next day I was cn route; and with
what pleasure I again saw my magnificent
castle of la Roche-Bernard, the old trees
of my park, and the beautiful sun of Bre
tagne! I found again my tenants, my
sisters, my mother and happiness ! which
has not since abandoned me, for eight days
after I married nenriette.
Maxims. Wrongs arc
marble, benefits on sand.
All things are artificial, for nature is the
art of God. .
One cannot always bo a hero, but one
may always bo a inan.
He declares himself guilty, who justifies
himself before accusation
Somo run headlong into danger, because
they have no courage to wait for it
Tho injuries wo do and those we suffer,
are seldom weighed In the same balance.
Praying will make tis lcate off sinning,
and Binning make us leave off pray!ng.
There aro no faults truly fatal but those
which we neither acknowledge nor repair.
There is no such injury as revenge, and
no such revenge as the contempt of an in
Wholesome sentiment is rain, which
makes tho field of duily life fresh and odo
rous. Love is a Weapon that will conquer men,
when all other weapons fail.
If you would not have affliction visit you
twice, lwten t once to what it tocbe.
NN U M ;
HTVAfilABLT IN ADVANCE. ! '
VOLUME I.-NUMBER . 6.
Rather AMrsisOA correspondent
of the N. Y. Spirit of the Times gives the
following amusing yarn: y
I heard a good story the other day, which
will give you. A distinguished member
of the Legislature was addressing a Tern
pcrance Society and he got prosy, but show
ed no disposition to 'let up,' though the
audience waxed thinner and thinner.
Finally the presiding officer got excited,
and repairing to a friend of the speaker's,
inquired how much longer he might he
Reasonably expected to speak. Whereupon
the friend answered that he didn't exactly
know when he got on that branch of the
subject, he- generally spoke a couple of
That'll never do I've got a few remarks
to make myself,' said the president, 'how
can I stave him off?'
'Well, I don't know. In the first place
I would pinch his left leg; and then if he
wouldn't stop, I'd stick a pin in it.' !
The President returned to his seat, tnd,
his head was invisible for a moment.
Soon after, he returned to the brother who
had recommended the pin style of troa-r
ment, and said: '
'I pinched him, and he didn't take tb
least notice at all; I stuck a pin in hisiJejr,
he didn't seem to care a curse; I crooked
it in, and he kept on spouting as hard
'Very likely,' laid the wag,
13?'An old acquaintance of ours (Billy
Kemp) was a house, sign and ornamental
painter in fact, dabbled in an immensity.,
of artistic pursuits. His genius not only t
extraordinary, but versatile, givingevidence
of tho latter in one particular instance. A
grocery-keeper, desirous to make a splurga
in the outside embellishments of his store' '
engaged Billy to paint some signs. Among
them was one on which were the words
'sperm oil,' and underneath the represen
tation of a whale. Well, the sign was fin- .
ished and brought home. The whale didn't
suit the grocery-keeper didn't exactly
come up to his ideas of one of the monsters
of the salty deep.
'Look here, Billy, what do yon call this?'
'Call that? why I call that a whale, and
a first rate himitation, too!' said Billy.
' Whaio I Nocscnao 1 It looks more like
'Yes, a regular hog I'
'Docs it, though? Well, then, I'll
maht a hog of it ! Old Porkey, tho butch
er, wants a hog painted, and I'll just take
this 'ere feller here and put legs on him
and let him have It.'
And half an hour afterwards the whale
had legs attached to it, and was sold, for a
perfect representation of a Porker. ' . ;
There's genius as is genius.
A Critic. A good judge of paintings
was shown a picture executed by very
Indifferent hand, hut much commended,
and asked his opinion of it. j
'Why, truly said he, 'the painter is 'N
very good one, and observes the Lord's
'Why so?.' asked ofl.
'Why, I think,' answered he, 'that ha
hath not made to himself 'the liktness of
anything that is in heaven above, or that
is iu (he earth beneath, or that is ia the
waters under the earth.'
B.An Indian had gone to Albany oner
cold winter day, and got very druok, 0
his way home, he become completely ever
come, lay down and was frozen to death.
His tribe was at that time much disposed
to imitate the habits of white men, and.
accordingly held an inquest over the dead ,
body. After a long pow-wow, they finally
agreed to the verdict, that the deceased
came to his death by mixing too rruoh
water in his whiskey, which had froten iu
him and killed bim 1
4iA yonhg lady who had not received
bo much attention from tho beaux as her
female assoiatcs, said to her lorer,"!
told them I would wait until the chaff had
hjown off, and then I would pick, op the