"Attend to this officer," said Napoleon; "he is Captain! one moment, gentlemen; wait!" And detaching the cross of honor from his neck, he put it on that of the wounded officer, who seized the hand of the Emperor, pressed it to his lips, and said in a faint voice, “Ah! sire! I die happy. I said well to your majesty, nine years since, at Saint Cloud, that I should one day merit the cross." Then striving to collect his strength, he attempted to rise; cried “Vive l'Empereur!" and expired. During this time, Napoleon had observed him attentively, as if seeking to recall something to his recollection; the last words of the young aid-de-camp had startled him. "Yes, yes, I recollect," said he, at length, in a voice quite choked with emotion, " pauvre enfant!" and turning his head to brush off a tear, he put foot into the stirrups, and mounted his horse. Then passing a troop of his own guard, he exclaimed, "Out of the saddle, grenadiers! the battle is won!" and he continued his route, followed by his ètat-major, to the prolonged cries of vive l'Empereur. The following morning, Achille was buried with the honors of those who die for their country. Original. SEBASTIAN BACH AND HIS FAMILY.* BY MRS. E. F. ELLET. PART 1. Ir was on Sylvester night of the year of 1736, that a man, closely wrapped in his mantle, and his hat drawn over his brow, was leaning against the wall of the castle at Dresden, looking upward at the illuminated windows of a mansion opposite. Music sounded within, and the burst of trumpet and the clash of kettle drum accompanied, ever and anon, the announcement of some popular toast. A moment of silence at length intervened, as if one of the guests were speaking aloud; 'till, suddenly, in a jovial shout, the name “Natalia" was uttered, and every voice and instrument joined in tumultuous applause. The listener in the street turned to depart, but the next instant felt himself seized by the hand, and looking up, saw the royal Page M. Scherbitz. "Bon soir-mon ami!" cried the page, pressing cordially the hand he had taken. "I am right glad to have met you; I have sought you the whole evening, but never dreamed of finding you here. What are you "doing?" Two days afterwards, and while Napoleon was making arrangements to take Rheims from the allies, who occupied that city, he perceived General Nand sent for him. "Philosophizing !" answered the other, with some "General," said he, your son is dead on the field of thing between a laugh and a sigh. honor." "Sire, I know it." "He has left a sister, has he not?" "Yes, sire, she had but him and myself—" "And me!" replied quickly, Napoleon; "you forget me, General. I have signed her admission to my Imperial Institution at Ecouen. I take upon myself to provide her trousseau and marriage portion. I have already decorated her brother! General, I have, this morning, made you grand cordon de la Légion d' Honneur; come, embrace your Emperor." And Napoleon extended to him his arms, into which the General rushed, giving free course to his tears. I see from time to time the daughter of General N, who entered at Ecouen, and passed from thence to the Maison royale de Saint Denis. Napoleon had not time to provide her marriage portion, as he had promised, having been sent to languish in exile on the rock of Saint Helena. The remembrance of her brother is ever present to her heart, and it is but a few days since that she pointed out to me, in a picture-frame, placed over the fire-place, a crown of laurel, the leaves of which were yellow and dried, and which was the first that Achille had received from the academy. A child's sabre, the same that was given him by Josephine at Saint Cloud, and the cross of the Legion of Honor, which the Emperor had detached from his own breast at Craonne, to lay upon the then palpitating heart of her brother. THE difference between a rich man and a poor man, is this the former eats when he pleases, and the latter when he can get it.-Sir W. Raleigh. "Bon!" cried the page-" and just here, opposite the Lord premier's mansion, is the best occasion, I grant, but not exactly the best place for it. Besides it is terribly cold! You will have the goodness, mon ami, to come with me to Seconda's cellar? We shall not fail there of some capital hot punch, and excellent company." And taking his friend's arm, he walked with him to a then celebrated Italian house of refreshment, on the corner of Castle Street and the old market. Signor Seconda received his guests with many compliments, and officiously begged to know with what he should have the happiness and honor to serve milord, the page, and milord, the court organist. The page ordered hot punch, and passed, with his friend, into an inner apartment, which, to the surprize of both, they found quite empty. They will be here presently," observed Von Scherbitz. "Meantime, we will take our ease, and thaw ourselves a little. Parbleu! there is no place on earth so delicious; and I thank fortune, so far as I am concerned, that I can spend the night here! Eh bien! make yourself at home, friend.” The other threw off his hat and cloak, and stood revealed a handsome man, of about five and twenty, of a figure tall, symmetrical, and bold in carriage, and a countenance, whose paleness rendered more striking the effect of his regular, noble, and somewhat haughty features. About his finely chiselled mouth lurked a satirical something whenever he spoke; there was a fierce brightness in his large dark eyes, which some * A tale from the German. times, however, gave place to a wild and melancholy || obeyed, and set before him a cup and a flask of burexpression, particularly when he fixed them on the ground, suffering the long lashes to shade them. "You are very dull to-night, mon ami!" said the page, while he pressed his friend to a seat next him "Has any thing happened? Non? Well then, banish your ill humor, and be merry, for life, you know, is short, at best." "Never fear," replied his friend. "My resolution is taken, to live while I live, in this world. Yet have patience with me, that I cannot go all lengths with you at all times. You know I am but a two years' disciple." "Pah! one year sufficed to spread your fame in music through Europe! Who knows not the name of Friedemann Bach? You have but one rival, the admirable Sebastian, your father!" Friedemann colored deeply as he replied, "How durst I think of comparing myself with my father? If my name is celebrated, whom have I to thank but my father? Beside him, I feel, with pride as well as pain, his greatness, and my own insignificance. Ah! my love for him elevates me; his love crushes me to the dust, for I know myself unworthy of it!" "Nay, you are too conscientious," observed Scher bitz. gundy. "The poor fellow," observed Scherbitz, in a low tone to Friedemann, " dismisses the old year with an' Alas!' and greets the new with an Ah, me!' tout comme chez nous! If he drink much to-night, 'tis all in honor of his fair Faustina. Well-" he lifted his glass, to drink with Freidmann. "I am sorry for him," replied Bach; "but why not separate himself from the wife no longer worthy his esteem and love? They say it is out of gratitude for her having taken care of him when an unknown youth; but this gratitude is weakness, and will be the destruction not only of the man, but of the artist. All his works show too well what is wanting in him—namely: strength. In every thing he writes there is a softness, the offspring of deep, hidden sorrow. But not the grief of a man; it is, if not thoroughly womanish, the sorrows of a stripling!" "Is it not on this account that he is the favorite composer in our world of fashion?" "Very possibly; but I am sure he would give much not to be so, on this acount!" Their discourse was here interrupted; for many newly arrived guests took their places at the table. "Too conscientious!" repeated Friedemann, with a The glasses were rapidly emptied and replenished; the bitter smile. "Yes!" returned Scherbitz, "I know not how other wise to express it. What is the head and front of the matter? The old gentleman is, in a certain respect, a little strict; pourquoi? because he is old! you are young, impetuous; have your adventures, and your liberal views, and conceal them from him, not, mark out of apprehension, but because things he has no power to change, might cause him chagrin. Enfin me, where is the harm in all this?" Friedemann was sitting with his head resting on his open palm. At the last question he sighed deeply, and seemed about to make a quick reply, but on a second thought, only said, passing his hand over his brow, "Let it alone, Scherbitz; it is as silly as useless to discuss certain matters. Enough, that I have strength, or, if you will have it-perverseness, to enjoy life after my own heart. Let us be merry, for here comes the punch!" conversation became general, and assumed more and more a jovial character. An elegant groom of the chambers, whom a mischievous lieutenant of the guard had enticed thither, and introduced, before he was aware, into the midst of the company, occasioned infinite amusement among the guests, whose unbridled festivity he endeavored to awe, by a mien of importance. His efforts, however, produced a contrary effect from that which he intended; and after he had joined the revellers in pledging a few toasts, he was, himself, the merriest of all. He laughed, he strode about-he clapped applause. Friedemann watched the scene with secret pleasure; it nourished the scorn which he, in common with others who stand ill with themselves, cherished for the whole human race. He could not refrain, now and then, from stealing a glance at the corner where Hasse sat, apparently indifferent to all that was passing about him. Signor Seconda entered, followed by two attendants," carrying the hot punch, with glasses, serving his guests at the round table in the midst of the apartment, and providing for the new comers, who entered one after another. These consisted of several officers, and some of the most distinguished musicians and painters then living in the capital. The groom winked at him with a smile, pursed up his mouth, and said, "Monsieur Scherbitz, at your service the poem runs in this way'On earth's warm breast the pensile beams fall goldenly and bright mountain gales, the merry flowers-are swelling with delight; mine, “Said I not—mon frère ?" whispered Scherbitz, to The his companion, "said I not, they would be here presently? See: Monsieur Hasse," he said aloud, as he But nothing can such rapture yield, unto this heart of rose to greet a distinguished looking man, who just then came in. Hasse returned his salutation, and after a rapid glance round the company, seated himself at a distant corner table, and motioned to an attendant to take away the light just placed on it. The man As-oh, Faustina Hasse, that radiant neck of thine!'"' "Ah! c'est bien dit, sur mon honneur !" cried Scherbitz. "Is it not?" returned the groom, self-complacently; "it is composed by our best poet, and I paid for it five || gait, and his self-possession. The youthful vigor of his August d'ors, besides a tun of stadt beer." "Here's to the 'radiant neck,'" cried out one of the guests with a laugh. All joined in the toast, and the glasses crashed. Hasse rose from his seat, and approaching the table, said, with a courtly bow "Messieurs! I commend myself to your remembrance and all! To-morrow, early, I leave Dresden, to return to Italy, perhaps for ever." The company were astonished. An officer askedHow, Monsieur Hasse-you leave us? And your lady-?" "Remains here," interrupted Hasse, with a smile of bitterness. There was universal silence. Hasse, turning to Friedemann, and offering him his hand, said mildly, though earnestly-"Farewell, Bach! Present my adieus to your esteemed father, and tell him he may depend on hearing something good, one day, of the disciple of Scarlatti. May Heaven keep you from all evil!" He then, visibly affected, left the room. Friedemann looked after him with much emotion, and murmured, “Poor wretch! and yet, would I not exchange with him? I might be the gainer!" Peals of laughter interrupted him; they were occasioned by the comical groom, who, scarcely master of his wits, was going over the secret chronique scandaleuse, to the amusement of his auditors, relating the most suprizing events, in all which he had been the hero, though few of them redounded to his honor. From these he went on to others; from the chronique scandaleuse to the disputes of the artists; in all matters of gossip, proving himself thoroughly at home, and,|| finally, as the crown of all his merits, avowing himself a devoted adherent of Voltaire, whose epoch had then just commenced. The chamberlain received a full tribute of applause; the clapping of hands, cries of "bravo!" and fresh toasts, attested the approbation of the spectators at his speech, not the less, that the speech was unintelligible. At length he fell back in his seat quite overcome, and was asleep in a few moments. This was just what his mischievous friends desired. They stripped him of his gay court dress, and put on a plain one; some wild young men then carried him out of the house, and delivered him into the custody of the watch, as a drunken fellow whom no one knew, to be taken to the great guard house. The company then amused themselves with imagining the terror and despair of the poor groom, when, awakening on newyear's morning, he should find himself in his new quar ters. The last hour of the old year struck, like a warning, amid the mirth and festivity of those guests; they heeded it not. Clamorous revelry filled up that awful interval between the departing and the coming time; revelry echoed the stroke of the first hour in the new year, mingled with the tumult of the storm that raged without; nor was the bacchanalian feast at an end, 'till the morning broke, troubled and gloomy. The revellers, then, one after another, reeled homewards; Friedemann Bach alone retained the steadiness of his frame enabled him to withstand the effects of a night's festivity; but the bitter contempt with which he had early learned to look upon the ordinary efforts and impulses of men, had found sufficient to nourish its growth. On the morning of the new year, Friedemann, pale and disturbed, was pacing up and down his chamber, when Scherbitz came in. "The compliments of the season to you!" cried the ever merry page. "Health, contentment, fortune, and all imaginable blessings!" "The blessing is here!" sighed Friedemann, handing his friend an open letter. Scherbitz read it through, and said, with some appearance of emotion—“ Mon ami! your papa is a dear, charming old gentleman, whose whole heart is full of kindness for his Friedemann; every line of this letter expresses it. May he have a long and happy life! But I pray you, for the thousandth time, to recollect that it is quite impossible to satisfy, honestly, all the claims of such distinguised virtue of the olden time. Believe me, mon ami, the time will come when we, madcaps as we now are, shall be pointed out as wigblocks that frown upon the disorderly behavior of our juniors. The wheel of time rolls on, and no mortal hand can check its course; it should suffice that we keep ourselves from falling, and being crushed in the dust beneath it." "Can we do that?" "Mon ami!" Do I not stand, albeit I am a page forty years old? And look you, I know that I shall remain so, as long as I serve my lord faithfully. I might have opposed the all powerful minister, and the country would have glorified me; yet I am a page, no captain, at forty years of age! I have been the talk of the capital, yet I stand firm!" "And your consolation ?" "A knowledge that it has always gone thus in the world; that I am not the first whose life is a failure; that I shall not be the last; a perverse determination to live through a life which a thousand others would end in despair; in fine, curiosity to see what will be the end of the whole matter. Be reasonable, mon ami! I am really something of a hero! Were I an artist, as you are, I should have nobler consolations, than perverseness and curiosity. Enough, of my own insignificance; but let me ask you, have you forgotten the heroic Handel, whom, three years ago, you welcomed here in the name of your father?" "How could I forget that noble being?" "Ah, there I would have you, friend! You tell me yourself, Händel is not, as an artist, like your father; his fantasy is more powerful, his force more fully developed; he soars aloft, a mighty eagle in the blaze of eternal light, while your father, a regal swan, sails majestically over the blue waters, and sings of the wonders of the deep. Well! we all know Monsieur Händel an honorable man-a man comme il faut ; yet, how different is he from your father! What the one, in limited circles, with calm and earnest thought, labors after, what he accomplishes in his silent activity-the other reaches amidst the tumult of a stormy life; amid | chair, more composed, if not more cheerful, than he a thousand strifes and victories. Yet your father honors had gone there. Just as he was going out, he felt and loves him, and blames him not for the path by which himself clasped in a pair of vigorous arms; and looking he travels towards the goal. It is also your path, and up, with a joyful cry of" Ah, my father!" flung himis not the worst that you might take. So-en avant-self on the bosom of Sebastian Bach. mon ami!" "You forget," said Friedemann, gloomily, "you forget that Händel, in all his wild and agitated life, never lost himself; and that his belief was such as he might acknowledge even to my inflexible father." "That, I well remember, friend; and also that if Händel had been born in 1710, instead of 1687, he must have had more liberal views of certain things than he now has, if he thought it worth while to spend time upon matters of belief at all. He is a mighty musician; he lives and lets live; and credit me, did, as others do, before he was your age; Faustina Hasse could tell you many pretty stories thereof, if she placed not so much stress upon outward demeanor." "He never played the hypocrite to his father!" "Because it was not worth while to lie to the old dupe; and now, mon ami, do not flatter yourself you can mislead a page forty years old! To speak fairly and honestly, your repentance and your-pour ainsi dire-profligacy, have a cause very different from that you have chosen to assign. I tell you, between us, there is another secret, whose discovery you dread far more than the unmasking of your petty hypocrisy." Friedemann reddened as he asked, "What do you mean, Von Scherbitz?" “Ha, ha!" laughed the page," you need not look so gloomy, because I have guessed the truth. Non, non, cher ami, if you really wish to keep your secret, you must govern your eyes better, when the name, 'Natalia' is uttered. Parbleu! your last night's behavior opposite the minister's palace, was not necessary to convince me, that you have looked too deeply into the dark eyes of the little countess." The flush on Friedemann's cheeks gave place to a deadly paleness; but mastering his emotions by a violent effort, he said, in a husky voice "You have discovered all; but you will be silentwill you not?" “O ma foi! said I not, mon enfant, that I only|| warned you to be cautious before others? I will be silent, as a matter of course, and so, no more of it. Farewell! I am going to the guard-house, to see the happy waking of our noble chamberlain! You go to church, to edify the faithful with your organ-playing; come afterwards to Seconda's, where the groom shall give a splendid breakfast as his ransom. Courage! be not too philosophical! I hate the old Italian who made you so melancholy!" The page departed, and Friedemann, having dressed himself, left his house to go to the church of Saint Sophia. The service was at an end; the organ's last tones died tremulously along the vast arches, like the sighs of a suppliant angel. All was still again, and the worshippers departed from the sanctuary. Friedemann, too, arose, closed the instrument, and descended from the" 66 God's grace be with thee, on this new year's morn," cried Sebastian, clasping his son to his heart. "And my best blessing! Yea, a thousand, Friedemann ! You made my heart leap, ere yet I saw you, with pure joy! Truly, you have bravely-greatly acquitted yourself, in this morning's work! Ay, you know, to make others skilful in our sacred art, was ever my pride; Heaven will not reckon with me for presumption! nor must you take it for such, when I say-that as you were always my dearest pupil, you have become my best! Now conduct me to your lodgings, Master Court-organist; Philip is already there, and unpacking; for eight days I purpose to tarry with my Friedemann. We have been long separated, and though you wrote me charming letters, that, as you know, between father and son, is not like discoursing face to face, with hand in hand!" So saying, he took Friedemann's arm with affectionate pleasure, and walked with him towards his dwelling, talking all the while. A new surprize awaited Friedemann there; for his younger brother, Philip Emanuel, in the three years that had flown since his departure from Leipzig, had grown a stately youth, and, as his father testified, a ripe scholar in his art. He was a gay, light-hearted boy, a little subtle upon the organ," as his father observed, with a smile, "and certainly more at home on the piano; but a true and pious spirit, that scorned disguise." Friedemann suppressed a sigh at the last remark of Sebastian, and gave his brother a heartfelt welcome. A servant in a rich livery interrupted the conversation. He presented a note to Friedemann, and said he was ordered to wait for an answer. Friedemann colored as he took the billet, opened it, glanced at the contents, and said briefly, "I will be there at the appointed hour." The servant bowed and disappeared. "Ha!" observed Sebastian, with a smile, "it seems our court-organist has to do with very distinguished people." "It was the livery of the lord Premier," said, Philip. Sebastian started, and asked, “ Eh, Friedemann, is it so? A domestic of his excellency, the Count von Bruhl, comes to your house?" "He was sent," replied Friedemann, with some embarrassment, "only by the niece of His Excellency, the Countess Natalia." "Eh? you are acquainted with the young lady, then ?" "She is my pupil. This billet instructs me to come to her this afternoon, to arrange a concert she wishes to give, on her aunt's birth-day." "Eh? how come you to such an honor? I thought those matters were under the jurisdiction of M. Hasse ?" "My dear father, as the young lady's music-master, I cannot well decline commissions of the sort, especially as they here promote one's reputation. With regard to M. Hasse, he departed hence early this morning; we shall no more have the pleasure of hearing new songs from him." "You will, my boy!" said Sebastian, tenderly. "I find much that is excellent in your Fughetten. Be not too severe with yourself; and remember that the fresh, "Hasse gone hence ?" repeated Sebastian, with|| free impulses of a young heart, are ever accordant with astonishment "the excellent, amiable Hasse ? Eh? the dictates of justice and truth." where is he gone? Tell me, Friedemann !" "They are, "It is a long story," replied his son, with a meaning || ly. glance at his young brother. indeed!" murmured Friedemann, gloomi His father continued-" Since we are permitted, my The father understood the hint. "You may go 'till boy, to meet on this new-year's morning, allow me to meal-time, Philip," he said, "and amuse yourself by ask how it stands with you in other respects? Eh, seeing the city." Philip bowed obediently, gave his || Friedemann, will you not soon seek out a wife among hand to his brother, and quitted the room. "Now, my the daughters of the land? I warrant me, the courtson," said Sebastian, "we are alone; what has hap-organist need not seek long, to find a comely and wilpened to M. Hasse ?" ling damsel. Eh? speak, boy!" Friedemann gave him an account of Hasse's departure of his contemplated journey to Italy, and the well known cause of his disquiet and exile. Bach listened attentively; when his son had ended, he said, confidentially-"It was right that Philip should not hear such a tale-and that you suggested it to me, to send him away. Hem! at court, indeed, all is not as it should be; there is much said in our Leipzig, as I could tell you, about it. Well, one must not listen to every thing; our most gracious elector and sovereign means well with his subjects, and whoever is a faithful subject, will acknowledge that, and speak not of things which he who commits them has to answer for. We will say no more about it; you will go this afternoon to her gracious ladyship, and I warrant me, know how to demean yourself. I have cared enough, methinks, for your manners." Friedemann pressed his father's hand, and looked fondly on the good old man. "Tell me, now, sir court-organist," continued the elder Bach, "what you have been doing of late. You have sent me but little for a long while; I hope you have not been idle." "Surely not, my father! I have worked assiduously, but have done little that satisfied me; and what does not satisfy me, I would rather destroy, than venture before the world. In art, one should accomplish the best, or nothing at all." "That is very certain, and I am sure you would not take it precipitately; but I pray you, dear son, do it speedily. How merry a grandfather I shall be! and if the child is a boy, he must be named after me; and I will teach him his first notes. Ay, 'tis very true, marriage is no child's play; I can tell you, son, I have toiled unweariedly, oft oppressed with care, to furnish you, my boys and girls, with your daily bread. Yet, has not the Almighty blessed my labors? Have I not brought you all up happily, to be brave men, and skilful musicians? It is singular, Friedemann, that from my great grandfather down, all the sons of the Bach family have had taste and talent for music. Friedemann, do me a favor, and take a wife with all speed; if your boys have the hereditary genius-ha! how delighted I shall be! Look you as I wrote down my last fugue, I thought of my sons, and of you, particularly, and confessed myself happy! I used often to think I might write something, like the old masters, which, centuries hence, could edify and delight men"No, no!" cried Sebastian, interrupting his son; that they would love my memory. May I be forgiven "that would be, indeed, a hard condition for many, for if there was aught of worldly arrogance in the thought. the greatest number among those who earnestly and Now, however, I have become less ambitious; but I honestly devote themselves to art, who find therein, have one vision, in which my fancy will revel as long as often, the only consolation and happiness of their lives. I live! It is this-how rapturous will it be-when all The chosen are few-the called are many! And trust the Bachs meet together in the Kingdom of Heaven, me, Friedemann, the called are not held in less esteem and unite in singing to the glory of God-their 'hallefor the sake of the chosen, if they prove themselves truelujahs' resounding for ever and ever in the presence of laborers! Art is like love. We all bear and cherish the Uncreate-who was, and is, and shall be! Friedelove in our hearts, and whether the bosom is covered by mann! child of my heart! let me not miss you there!” a regal mantle, or by a beggar's cloak, love, which "Father!" cried the young man, and sank overpowdwells within, owns but one home-Heaven. Couldered at Sebastian's feet. the highest and the best alone avail in art, how should we and our equals stand? I can do little, but my will is honest, and vast is my reward! Yes! I am, as regards earthly good, like the poor man in the Evangelist; || yet I would not exchange with a monarch! I rejoice in humility over my success, great or small, as it may be, and for the rest, I submit me to the will of God!" "Oh, that all had your apprehension of Art, my dear Father; that all would strive to practise it as you do!" The elder Bach, unacquainted with the wo that struggled in his son's breast, saw only, in his agitation, a burst of filial feeling. He laid both hands on the head of the kneeling youth, and said, devoutly, “ God's peace be with you, my Friedemann, now and ever, amen!" Friedemann arose, pale, but with a smile on his face. He kissed his father's hand, and slowly withdrew from the apartment; but scarcely was the door closed |