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a side-look at his visibly anxious favorite: | which enabled him to meet with fortitude "It shall be so, cousin," said he, "but inevitable evils, arose courageously, and with one stipulation: you must answer to walking up to the Mayor almost with an me with your honor for the safety of the air of pride: head of the Marquis de Giac."

"I answer for his life, sire," said the Constable. Then turning to the Marquis:

"My Lord Marquis," said he," you are my prisoner."

A few hours after the visit of the Constable to King Charles, the Marquis de Giac was a prisoner in Bourges, on the charge of having squandered the money belonging to the royal treasury. This at least, was the form under which the Constable had proposed to himself to retaliate upon the Marquis, for a long list of offenses he had been for some time committing with impunity, feeling himself safe under the especial protection of the King. The prisoner was fully aware of the danger of the position in which he was placed, although the word of the King, as well as that of the Constable, was undoubted security for his life. But are there not punishments infinitely more painful than death? Are there not tortures insufficient to destroy the thread of life, yet in comparison with which death itself would be And what was there to hope from the protection of a weak and frivolous King, at the time when the will of the Constable was of greater weight than that of his master?

a boon ?

Giving himself up to these reflections, his head resting on his two hands, the Marquis sat in a corner of his dark and dismal prison, awaiting the arrival of the messenger who was to make known to him his fate; for in those days no lengthened process was necessary for the condemnation of one who had fallen under the displeasure of the Constable. It was, therefore, that same evening that the door of the prison opened, and the Mayor of Bourges, attended by two sheriffs, appeared before the Marquis. A long roll of paper in the hand of the former announced to him that his fate was decided.

"My Lord Marquis de Giac," said the Mayor, after clearing his throat, and unrolling the paper, "draw near, and hear the sentence which the good city of Bourges, according to right and conscience, passes upon you."

The prisoner, by nature not timid, and endowed with a certain strength of soul

"Let me hear it!" said he. "But, pray, use not many words."

"As you command," replied the Mayor, bowing low as he spoke; and then he proceded to read, with all the pomposity of his office, as follows: "The supreme administrator of the laws of the good and true city of Bourges decrees, according to right and conscience, that Arthur Phobus Charles, Marquis de Giac, be held guilty of having improperly and fraudulently squandered the royal treasure, and that he be accordingly attained of high treason, and condemned to suffer death by the sword."

"How? Death?" cried the prisoner, more in anger than in terror.

"Allow me to proceed, my Lord Marquis; I have not yet done," said the Mayor; and he read on: "In consideration, however, of its having pleased his Majesty, our most gracious king and master, to pardon with his own royal word the said Marquis de Giac, and to grant him his life, so shall the sentence pronounced upon him be commuted and changed to a penance; which commutation, however, can only be obtained by the condemned declaring in his own handwriting that he is willing to undergo the sentence of death, and to renounce the favor of the royal pardon offered him."

"And what is the penance which I am to prefer to death-in what does it consist ?" asked the prisoner, turning pale.

"It is as follows," said the Mayor, reading further: "That Arthur Phoebus Charles, Marquis de Giac, shall bind himself to put to death with the sword tomorrow morning before sunrise, in the open market-place of Bourges, one of the criminals at present convicted of murder."

Uttering a cry of rage and horror, the prisoner sank on the bench of his cell, and the door immediately closed upon the retiring Mayor and his attendants.

When we consider the degradation attached to the office of public executioner in the middle ages, the contempt in which the man who filled it was held, and his low position in a civil community, we shall be able to form some idea of the refined cruelty contained in the so-called penance inflicted on the Marquis de Giac. To come in contact, even in the remotest

degree, with that administrator of crim- | formed by the crowd, a picket of soldiers inal justice, was held to be a disgrace approached the fatal ring; surrounded by which not even the royal authority was these soldiers was a miserable cart, in sufficient entirely to obliterate; and the which sat the executioner, and by his meanest citizen would have preferred side a haggard-looking man, who was death to that act which the authorities of evidently about to suffer the death of a Bourges had imposed, under the name of malefactor. a penance, upon a man of ancient and honorable race, and one who had long stood high in the favor of a crowned head.

At the dawn of day, on the 15th of June, 1456, an agitation began on the market-place of Bourges, which announced that something, as unusual as it was important, was about to take place. Out of all the houses, streets, and alleys streamed inen and women of all ages, who assembled round a circle marked out with posts in the middle of the market-place, the entrance to which was strongly guarded by well-armed soldiers. Although the morning twilight did not afford a clear sight of what was prepared upon the inclosed spot, still there was a general idea of what was to follow, and those that stood nearest could discern a lightly erected stage, the sight of which left no doubt as to its object. It was a scaffold, which awaited its victim.

At a little distance from the cart, followed a clergyman, accompanied by a man, whose face was perfectly pale, but whose carriage was firm and proud, and his aspect imposing. His dress, richly embroidered with gold, but to which the armorial ornaments were nevertheless wanting, showed him to be of high rank. It was the Marquis de Giac. When he appeared, a suppressed exclamation of sympathy ran through the crowd.

In the mean time five members of the judicial body of Bourges had approached the scaffold from an opposite direction, and after laying several rolls of paper down upon a table, awaited earnestly and silently the approach of the condemned. A few moments after, the victims appeared upon the place of execution. The clergyman drew near to the culprit who had been convicted of murder, prayed with him for a short time, and then led him to the fatal seat; after which, amidst the breathless stillness which prevailed, the senior of the five judicial officers proceded to read aloud, first the sentence of the murderer, and then that of the Marquis de Giac, to whom he turned at the conclusion with these words:

"I demand of you, Arthus Phoebus Charles, Marquis de Giac, whether you are willing, under your own handwriting and signature, to give yourself up to the royal mercy, and thus escape the sentence of death which hangs over you?"

The expectation and the interest depicted on the countenances of the constantly increasing mass, was very decidedly different from that which was usually observed on like occasions. This difference had its rise in the circumstance that the present occasion was not one of a common execution, but, as was already known to the inhabitants of Bourges, an example of the administration of justice hitherto altogether without precedent. Besides this, the unusual time of day, as well as the place, contributed much to lend solemnity to the whole; for a gallows had never before been known to be erected within the precincts of the dwelling-houses" of the citizens of Bourges; and added to this, the sword of justice was now to be seen in the hand of a man who, although he had not been particularly beloved by the people, had at least always been looked up to by them with respect.

As at length, during the continuation of that rustling and confused noise which is inseparable even from a silent multitude, the daylight increased by degrees, and announced the approaching rising of the sun in the east, a deep and awful stillness suddenly prevailed. Through a passage

VOL. XLII.-NO. III.

"No," answered the Marquis, in a firm voice.

"Then," continued the officer of justice, you will have to perform the penance imposed on you, and do the part of executioner to the delinquent who has been adjudged to suffer death at the hands of the headsman."

Saying this, he made a sign to the executioner, who drew from under his cloak a sword, which he presented to the Marquis de Giac.

An indescribable expression of anxiety was depicted on every countenance. After a short pause, the Marquis, pale as death, seized the sword with a firm grasp, bared his right arm, and A shriek of hor

24

ror burst from the crowd-he had cut off his right hand by a desperate stroke of the weapon which he held in his left.

Returning the sword to the executioner, and turning to the judicial authorities, whilst the blood streamed from his arm, he said: "Go, tell the Constable, gentlemen, that the Marquis de Giac has no

hand with which to perform the duty of executioner

He could say no more, but fell fainting from loss of blood.

Before the expiration of an hour, the Marquis received the pardon of the Constable, who admired courage still more than he hated political crime.*

MISS TALBOT'S LETTER TO A VERY YOUNG PERSON.*

You are heartily welcome, my dear little cousin, into this unquiet world; long may you continue in it, in all the happiness it can give, and bestow enough on all your friends to answer fully the impatience with which you have been expected. May you grow up to have every accomplishment that your good friend, the Bishop of Derry, can already imagine in you; and in the mean time may you have a nurse with a tunable voice, that may not talk an immoderate deal of nonsense to you. You are at present, my dear, in a very philosophical disposition; the gayeties and follies of life have no attraction for you, its sorrows you kindly commiserate! but, however, do not suffer them to disturb your slumbers, and find charms in nothing but harmony and repose. You have as yet contracted no partialities, are entirely ignorant of party distinctions, and look with a perfect indifference on all human splendor. You have an absolute dislike to the vanities of dress; and are likely for many months to observe the Bishop of Bristol's first rule of conversation, Silence; though tempted to transgress it by the novelty and strangeness of all objects round you. As you advance further in life, this philosophical temper will by degrees wear off: the first object of your admiration will probably be the candle, and thence (as we all of us do) you will contract a taste for the gaudy and the glaring, without making one moral reflection upon the danger of such false admiration, as leads people many a time to burn their fingers. You will then begin to show great partiality for some

*From Miss Talbot to a new-born child, daughter of Mr. John Talbot, son of the Lord Chancellor.

very good aunts, who will contribute all they can towards spoiling you; but you will be equally fond of an excellent mamma, who will teach you, by her example, all sorts of good qualities; only let me warn you of one thing, my dear, and that is, not to learn of her to have such an immoderate love of home, as is quite contrary to all the privileges of this polite age, and to give up so entirely all those pretty graces of whim, flutter, and affectation, which so many charitable poets have declared to be the prerogative of our sex: O my poor cousin! to what purpose will you boast this prerogative, when your nurse tells you, with a pious care to sow the seeds of jealousy and emulation as early as possible, that you have a fine little brother come to put your nose out of joint? There will be nothing to be done then but to be mighty good, and prove what, believe me, admits of very little dispute, (though it has occasioned abundance,) that we girls, however people give themselves airs of being disap pointed, are by no means to be despised; but the men unenvied shine in public; it is we must make their homes delightful to them; and if they provoke us, no less uncomfortable. I do not expect you to answer this letter yet awhile; but, as I dare say you have the greatest interest with your papa, will beg you to prevail upon him that we may know by a line (before his time is engrossed by another secret committee) that you and your mamma are well. In the mean time, I will only assure you, that all here rejoice in your existence extremely, and that I am, my very young correspondent, most af fectionately yours, etc.

From the German of Schubar

1857.]

From the Eclectic Review.

BIOGRAPHIES OF DISTINGUISHED SCIENTIFIC MEN.*

SCIENTIFIC men are so prominently associated with the discovery of natural agencies and phenomena, and the promulgation of physical truths, that when reviewing their lives we are apt to forget their individual characters, and are comparatively indifferent to the manner in which they performed those duties common to every member of society. It is true that a class of special duties rise out of the pursuits in which a man is engaged, and we are so critical in our judgment of the manner in which they are performed as to be comparatively indifferent to his behavior in the incidental positions of life, if the code of morals be not broken, and his character be unstained by selfishness and an indifference to the welfare of those who have a claim on his affections. If a man be a lover of natural science, we follow his wanderings, participate in his research, and revel in the scenery to which he introduces us, without inquiring whether he is employing his talents in the best way, or whether he may not be neglecting some imperative duty. If he be a physicist, we do not tire of watching his experiments, and when his calculations intimate the correctness of his conjectures relative to some physical law, or to its exhibition in a previously unobserved phenomenon, we participate in his joy without asking whether such a mind might not have been more usefully employed in the resolution of some great social question, or whether the rectification of a public wrong-doing, or the establishment of a better principle of government in a prison, a poor-house, or a state, would not have been more honorable to him, and more beneficial to his neighbor.

The biographies of scientific men, however, are too often avoided by the reading public as though they were literary

* Biographies of Distinguished Scientific Men. By François Arago. Translated by Admiral W. H. Smyth, D.C.L., F.R.S., the Rev. Baden Powell, M.A., F.R.S., and Robert Grant, M.A., F.R.S. London: Longman & Co. 1857.

deserts where human affections can find
no object for their sympathy. Research,
discovery, and the applause of academies,
we are told, engross the thoughts of the
man of science, and separate him from the
habits and feelings of his neighbors and
kindred. His name is honorably associ-
ated with scientific journals and unintel-
ligible pages of learned phraseology, mys-
tic emblems, and cabalistic formulæ, but
has no place in the discussion of social
affairs, and questions of political moment.
If the popular notion of the history and
character of eminent scientific men could
be trusted, we might write a brief de-
scription applicable to them as a class. Po-
verty of birth, the opposition of parents,
struggles for existence, seclusion from the
world, accumulation of knowledge, great
discoveries, renown, poverty, and a ne-
glected grave-such would be the table of
contents descriptive of the lives of all.
A scientific man in the opinion of the
world is one who refuses to conform to
the conventionalities of society, rejects its
enticements, and is indifferent to its
scorn-one who lives out of the area of
the amenities of life, too wise to be loved,
too poor to be respected. Can he be
thought capable of the ordinary pursuits
of life who voluntarily abandons that hope
of wealth which maddens the life of other
men, and follows that which other men
We know a man of science
despise ?
who spends every night in looking
through a strange combination of mirrors
and lenses, constructed by his own hands,
and is as anxious at his work as if all
mankind had an irrepressible longing to
explore the stellar spaces, and, like the
unfortunate, were oppressed by the idea
that some distant place might be found
where they could shake off care and be
happy. Till light stealthily creeps from
the east, and covers the sky with an im-
penetrable luminosity, the enthusiastic
observer keeps his vigil in the silence of
the awful heavens, as once the watchful
eye rested on the serene summit of Sinai

before the cloud covered it, and the voice of God was heard. Another is seen playing with sunbeams, turning them through prisms, reflecting them from mirrors, watching their courses, measuring the angles of their incidents and refraction, breaking white light into colored rays, and ensnaring them in the net-work of geometry. A third is more hazardously occupied in drawing towards him the active agency of a thunder-storm from a black surcharged cloud, or extracting the same potent force from drops of water that he may discover the motive energies of nature, or apply them to some doubtful purpose which he considers an object of utility. What have such men to do with the engrossing interests of commerce, the jealousies of competition, the contentions of social politics, or the movements of the national will?

It is not our intention, at present, to discuss the compatibility of scientific pursuits and an active interest in, and performance of, social duties and commercial engagements, nor shall we long dwell upon the question, whether the possession of scientific knowledge is an impediment to the performance of those duties and services which the state has a right to demand of every citizen. The volume before us proves by examples, that it is possible to be eminently successful in the prosecution of science without neglecting the ordinary duties of life or the claims of country. Six of the nine celebrated men of science whose biographies are contained in this volume, were Frenchmen, living in the times of the Republic and Empire servants of the state, filling efficiently stations of public trust, and acting with more than average ability and self-denial. They were men who, while they pursued the most occult subjects of scientific research, were, for good or evil, foremost in the political movements of their age, lovers of freedom who suffered with their country, while they strove to protect her from anarchy by a prudent and courageous opposition to the lawless impatience and wrong-doing of a debased populace. A brief relation of some of the events in their lives will prove the accuracy of this assertion, and appropriately introduce a few remarks upon the progress, in their times, of at least one of the sciences they cultivated.

Silvain Bailly, the pupil and friend of

the Abbé Lacaille, and a member of the French Academy of Sciences, is best known to the English public as the author of a voluminous history of astronomy, which, in spite of many fanciful and absurd hypotheses, and an omnivorous credulity, frequently allied with religious skepticism, has a merit sufficient to redeem in part its follies. His ability as a man of science was not more highly esteemed by his contemporaries, than his character as a politician; but as in one capacity he was loaded with honors, so in the other he suffered the unmitigated penalty of being the favorite of a fickle populace. It is a painful spectacle to see such a man drawn into the vortex of a sanguinary revolution, for his sympathies were with honorable and benevolent acts, and his ambition was confined to the distinctions he won by his intelligence and learning. When offered a decoration and title of nobility by the government of Louis XVI., he made this proud reply: "I thank you, but he who has the honor of belonging to the three principal academies of France is sufficiently decorated-sufficiently noble in the eyes of rational men; a cordon or a title could add nothing to him." This man, who was the son of the keeper of the King's pictures, valued his science and its honors more than the titles kings give; but he could refuse no invitation, whatever its danger, when society demanded his time. When Laplace, Lavoisier, Coulomb, and other members of the Academy of Sciences, were appointed to investigate the charges made against the administration of the Hôtel Dieu, the great hospital of Paris, Bailly was elected secretary to the commission; and a fitting choice it was, for he had a cool head, a warm heart, and a ready pen. With a stern and indignant energy he described the horrors of that lazaretto and slaughter-house, and by his successful struggle with the abuses he witnessed, proved how little the benevolent feelings had suffered from the severe exercise of the intellect in the application of mathematical science to astronomical phenomena. In the great hospital of Paris, which would have been pointed to as the evidence of the civilization of France, the diseased, the dying, and the dead were lying side by side, and in the smallpox ward, six men or eight children were packed in the same bed. Operations were performed in the presence of men who, in

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