from what you do now. You will stand upon an isthmus, between the
_things that have been, and the things that are_. On one hand, will come
up the waves of memory, bold and strong; on the other, the little
billows of hope, like such bubbles as children play with. Experience
will be there, gathering riches even from rocks and quicksands. Then,
when you look back, like me, and find your dear parents gone, you will
wish that you might for one moment recall them from the grave, to render
them your undying offering of gratitude, not for that indulgence which
blinded their eye to your faults, and gave you the weak gratification of
an hour, perhaps, at the expense of an eternity, but for that salutary
discipline which uprooted error, established good habits, and taught
that 'fear of God which maketh wise unto salvation.'"
The Old Watch.
My Father's watch! Thy face is dear,
And still thou speak'st to me
The self-same words that met my ear,
When in old times of joyous cheer
I gladly climb'd his knee.
For oft as to his side I clung,
Thou wert mine own to hold,
Though to my simple mind, thy tongue
Uttering "_tick, tick_", to old and young
Seem'd mystery untold.
And still thy wondrous movements too
Amaz'd my gazing eye,
Thy hands that to their purpose true
Their undeclining circles drew,
Were magic strange and high.
But thou from days of toil and care,
That manhood's powers employ,
Didst duly point him home to share
The garden-walk, the fireside chair,
The feast of social joy.
When those whom most he loved were nigh,
And with beguiling flight,
The downy-pinioned hours swept by,
Thou, with a calm, unswerving eye
Didst note their numbers right.
And he, who knew so well to test
Of time, the fleeting prize,
Did on thy meek monitions rest
And take their wisdom to his breast,
And gird him for the skies.
But now, no more serenely sweet
He turns to thee for aid,
Yet still thy bloodless heart doth beat.
Though summon'd to a lone retreat
His own in dust is laid.
My Father's Friend! what memories bless'd
Thy lingering accents wake,
Here, in my sacred casket rest,
Or slumber on my filial breast,
Most honour'd for his sake.
Entertaining Books.
The age in which we live abounds with entertaining books. Stories of
every description, some of them containing good lessons, are exceedingly
numerous. Those of the better class furnish food for fancy and feeling.
Fiction has its peculiar attractions, and so has truth. Imagination can
scarcely devise more strange events, more striking characters, or more
romantic results, than occur on the pages of history. The entertainment
derived from true books is the most valuable, because it is the most
worthy of being remembered. The mind rests upon it with satisfaction. It
accords with its native tastes. The child as soon as it can speak, says,
"Please to tell me a _true_ story." Those who are most familiar with
unfolding infancy, agree, that incidents simplified from the Scriptures,
delight it, though they may be frequently repeated.
So, from the great storehouse of history, the young may entertain and
enrich themselves at the same time. By extending their acquaintance
through past ages and distant nations, the powers of thought expand
themselves, an acquaintance with illustrious characters is formed, and
knowledge gained which will be profitable through life, both for
reflection and conversation.
Some have objected, that a wide range of history may give the young
mind a premature introduction to the vices and follies that disgrace
mankind. Yet thus to study them on the map of man, and to form a correct
opinion of good and evil, and to deepen the love of virtue, and the
hatred of vice, by the force of selected examples, might prepare the
young better to understand character, and resist temptation, in the
actual struggle of life. The entertainments of history may be as safe as
those of fiction, and more salutary. If they sometimes reveal the
whirlpools of ambition or the abysses of cruelty, they change the scene,
and present the quiet waters of peace fertilizing the valleys, and the
pure rose of virtue blooming in the wilderness. Examples of true
greatness, generosity, and piety, if less frequent than those of an
opposite nature, borrow force from contrast, and may therefore make a
deeper impression, and awaken a stronger desire of imitation.
The entertainments of history aid in acquiring a knowledge of human
nature. We there see what man has been from the beginning, and what
motives or temptations have moved him to good or to evil. Great care
should be taken to form a correct judgment, and to measure by a true
standard of excellence those whom the world has called illustrious.
Especially, should opinions be cautiously formed, of those whose fame
rests only upon military exploits. Though the pride, cruelty, and
revenge, that stain many of those whom the Old World applauded as
heroes, are in a measure palliated because they were heathen, still _we_
are bound to judge of right and wrong, as Christians. When we think of
the misery, mourning, and death, that marked their course upon the
earth, we cannot but wonder by what rule of equity, "_one_ murder should
make a _villain_, and _many, a hero_!"
To purchase a single conquest, how many eyes have wept, how many bosoms
been pierced, how many hearts broken. If victories, and triumphs, and
trophies, dazzle the eye, look at their dark reverse: torrents of blood
flowing, widows and orphans plunged in despair, throngs of unprepared
souls driven into the presence of their Maker.
The patriotism that dares danger for the preservation of liberty, the
firmness that repels the encroachments of tyranny, the courage that
protects those whose lives are entrusted to its care, differ from the
ambition that is willing to build its glory on contention, suffering,
and death. This spirit is at war with His precepts, at whose birth the
harps of angels breathed the song of "Peace on earth, and good-will to
men."
History may be read by the young with a resolution of transcribing into
their own character, whatever it exhibits that is "just, lovely, and of
good report." Thus will its pages not only afford rational
entertainment, but be subservient to usefulness and piety in this life,
and to the happiness of that which is to come.
The New Year.
Who, with smiles, and wishes fair,
Through drifted snows and branches bare,
Comes, and liberal-handed brings
Countless gifts, and pleasant things,
Many a cake, and many a kiss,
Gilded toys, and sports of bliss,
Pictured books, with covers gay:
Who thus crowns our holiday?
While the sleigh-bells' merry peal
Rings, and glides the skater's heel?
The glad New Year.
Who, a tablet in his breast
Hides, with characters impress'd,
Mystic signs, and tints that show
Chance, and change of joy and woe,
Wreaths of hope in darkness laid
Boasted wealth a winged shade,
Brows that fade in youthful bloom,
Empty cradle, open tomb:
Who, alas! such course shall tread
Ere his farewell words are said?
The sad New Year.
Who, of those that never stray
Wilfully, from Duty's way,
Seek for knowledge, prize the truth,
Wisdom gain in early youth,
With a pure, and peaceful mind
Live in love with all mankind,
And a Saviour's precepts dear,
Treasure in His holy fear:
Who, of such leaves record high
On the pages of the sky?
The bless'd New Year.
Cyrus.
Cyrus is among the most interesting characters described in ancient
history. He seemed fitted by nature, as well as by education, for the
exalted sphere that was allotted him. He is usually considered as the
founder of the Persian empire, and was born about 600 years before the
Christian era. He was beautiful in person, and still more admirable for
the amiable qualities of his mind. His early training inured him to
study, the endurance of fatigue, and the control of his appetites and
passions. In his first twelve years of life, he was said to surpass all
of his own age in knowledge, and a frank, noble dignity of carriage.
At this early period, he was sent to the court of his grandfather,
Astyages, the Median king, where he remained for five years. There, the
temptations of luxury and self-indulgence, by which he was surrounded,
had no power to draw him from temperance and simplicity. He was ever
anxious to make peace between those who differed, and to obtain pardon
for such as had offended. So gentle, generous, and beneficent was he, as
to become the idol of the people among whom he dwelt.
In his expedition into Assyria with his father, though still but a
youth, he discovered great judgment, courage, and presence of mind.
Military talents and skill, were in those times held essential to every
illustrious man, and these he eminently possessed. After his conquest of
Babylon and marriage with a Median princess, three kingdoms were united
under his sway: Persia, Media, and Assyria. When he was peacefully
settled in his great empire, he busied himself with framing laws for its
prosperity and repose. "For a king," said he, "should be the shepherd of
his people, and exercise vigilance and care over his flock."
This sentiment reminds us of the prophecy of Isaiah, uttered more than a
century before the birth of this prince, and 170 years before the fall
of Babylon, which it also predicts: "That saith of Cyrus, he is my
shepherd, and shall perform all my pleasure."
Prosperity crowned his efforts for the good of his people; and unbroken
health, the reward of temperance and tranquillity of spirit, enabled him
to persevere in these efforts. Yet he kept in his secret heart, a fear,
founded on the changes of this mortal life, and the frailty of man,
which restrained all pride, and kept him as humble as he was active and
powerful. Of him it might have been said, as it was of our own
Washington, that true merit was the foundation of his greatness.
Therefore, he affected no self-importance, but was affable to all, and
repaid by cordial attachment. Cicero asserts that during the whole
period of his reign, he was never heard to speak a rough or angry word.
Xenophon speaks of him, as exhibiting the "model of a perfect
government." Herodotus modifies this praise, and charges him with some
faults. But the most exalted characters are subject to error, and the
purest may be misunderstood or misrepresented. Even patriarchs,
prophets, and apostles, have taught us by their own failings, the
infirmity of our nature, and we should not require or expect perfection
in others, until we are able to give an example of it ourselves.
When Cyrus approached death, he called around him his children and chief
officers, gave them solemn and excellent advice by which to regulate
their future conduct, and, thanking Heaven for all its blessings, calmly
resigned his breath.
Cambyses, his successor, supplied mournful proof of the contrast that
may exist between the son and the father. He was barbarous both at home
and abroad, and put to death his own brother, from malignant envy,
because he was able to shoot with a larger bow than himself. We will
turn from the contemplation of such wickedness, to some of the last
words of the great Cyrus to his children, which are here presented in a
poetical garb:
Behold, I die! Restore my form
To dust, to darkness, and the worm:
For from the earth it first arose.
And there, at last, it finds repose.
Yet when this breath forsakes the clay,
Think ye the spirit shall decay?
No, no, my sons! Its mystic flight
Hath ever mock'd your keenest sight,
Even when it deign'd with mortal care
This prison of the flesh to share:
So, when stern Death my frame shall blot,
It lives, though you perceive it not.
Believe you trace through yonder sky
Your disembodied father's eye,
And be your motives pure and high:
But dread the ages yet unborn
Who stamp your deeds with praise or scorn:
Dread more than all, the Powers who seal
That sentence, man can ne'er repeal.
Rome and its Rulers.
The magnificent city of Rome was at first a rude hamlet of ruder people.
Its earliest buildings were upon the Palatine Hill, near the Tiber. In
process of time, it extended itself over the six adjacent eminences.
Hence the name that it sometimes bears of the "seven-hilled city."
Two brothers, Romulus and Remus, were its founders, 752 years before the
birth of Christ. They were twins, and trained up in the humble and hardy
habits of a shepherd's life. But from feeding their peaceful flocks they
aspired to rule men.
Romulus reared a wall around a portion of the new settlement, in which
he took pride. Remus, in sport, or contempt, jumped over it, saying that
he had given proof it would afford no protection against invaders.
Romulus, forgetting the love he should have borne to his twin-brother,
in a transport of rage struck him dead upon the spot. Thus, to the first
king of Rome, as to the first-born of Eden, might have been said, "The
voice of thy brother's blood crieth unto thee from the ground." He who
gave his own name to the Mistress of the World, left that name stained
with the crime of fratricide.
The kings of Rome were the same in number as the hills on which she
seated herself. The seventh, and last, was Tarquinius Superbus. After
the abolition of the royal sway she had various forms of government.
Sometimes her rulers bore the title of Consuls, Dictators, Tribunes,
Ediles, and Questors. Then the supreme power was vested in Emperors, of
whom there were fifty-five. Some of these were fearful examples of every
vice. The excess of luxurious indulgence and pitiless cruelty darken
their names in history.
Among this mass of shameless rulers, five appeared in regular
succession, who, by their comparatively virtuous course, have obtained
the honourable distinction of the "good Emperors." The first of this
line was Nerva, who began his reign in the year 96 after the Christian
era, when he was himself quite advanced in age. He was a native of
Spain, and the first foreigner who had been permitted to wear Rome's
imperial purple. He was welcomed with great joy, for the people had just
been suffering from the monstrous barbarities of Domitian. Nerva was a
man of gentle temper, and like Numa Pompilius, the second king, who had
reigned about eight centuries before him, a true lover of peace. With
paternal care he used the public money for the public good, instead of
wasting it in mad extravagance, like his predecessors. Unfortunately,
his sway was short, only about sixteen months, when he fell a victim to
a sudden fever, at the age of sixty-six. His memory was gratefully
embalmed, for his justice and generosity, and the tranquillity he had
given to the empire.
[Illustration: "Continue the command of your passions; make virtue the
scope of all your actions."--p. 98]
Trajan, his successor, was also born in Spain. In his youth he had been
the pupil of Plutarch, the philosopher, who after his elevation thus
addressed him in an affectionate speech "Continue the command of your
passions. Make virtue the scope of all your actions. You have it in
your power to render me the most honoured of men, by continuing your
present course of conduct. If you follow my instructions, I shall glory
in having given them. If you neglect them, this address shall be my
testimony, that you have not erred through the counsel or authority of
Plutarch."
The Emperor did not disregard the motives set before him by his revered
teacher. The principles that had been impressed on his boyhood, were as
a guiding helm amid the cares of state. He carefully improved his time,
was moderate in expense, and modest amid pomp and power. Among his
public works was a noble bridge over the Danube, whose massy ruins are
still seen by the traveller. He adorned the city of Rome with splendid
and substantial buildings, and delighted to draw men of merit from
obscurity. His faults were, great fondness for war, and persecuting the
Christians, which his strong attachment to the heathen ritual in which
he had been educated made him consider as a duty, or a proof of
sincerity. He died, during an absence from home, of apoplexy, at the age
of sixty-three, having reigned nineteen years.
Adrian, the fifteenth Roman Emperor, began his reign in 117. He had
received an excellent education. He was an eloquent speaker, and wrote
well, both in prose and poetry. One of his greatest virtues was, that he
truly loved peace. He treated those who were in humble stations with
kindness. He said that the chief ruler of a nation should be "like the
sun, giving warmth to the lowly vales as well as to the mountains." He
travelled to France, to Germany, and to Holland; not to make war, but to
show himself friendly to their inhabitants. From thence he went to
England, and built a wall from Cumberland to Northumberland, to assist
in protecting that part of the island from the natives of the north,
who were unfriendly and barbarous. He visited Spain and Athens, showing
kindness to the people, and went also to many parts of Asia and Africa.
He made just laws, and favoured men of learning. He had so remarkable a
memory, that he could repeat the substance of a book after once reading
it, and he knew the name of every soldier in the Roman army. Though he
had so many virtues, he had also great faults. He committed some acts of
cruelty, and was very unkind to the Jews. He banished them from their
beloved city Jerusalem, and forbade them to come even in sight of it, or
to enter it, except one day in the year. In his last sickness he became
impatient of pain, and even entreated those around him to take away his
life. He cried out, "How miserable a thing it is to seek death and not
to find it!" Being a heathen, he had not the comfort of hope in another
life. Just before he expired, he composed some verses addressed to his
soul, expressing uncertainty with regard to its immortality. He died at
the age of sixty-two, having reigned twenty-two years.
Titus Antoninus Pius was one of the most faultless of the good emperors.
As his father died in his childhood, his mother and grandfather
conducted his education. To them, as well as to all aged persons, he
habitually paid great respect. In his youth, his temper was so mild and
affectionate, that he gained the love of all with whom he associated.
After he became Emperor, he distributed among the poor the greater part
of the revenue from his own estates. He completed a magnificent tomb for
his predecessor Adrian, repaired many of the edifices of ancient Greece,
and built a wall in Britain, between the rivers Esk and Tweed. He
laboured to prevent wars, and uttered the noble sentiment,
"I had rather save the life of one citizen than to destroy a thousand
enemies."
He was friendly to the Christians, and showed them favour. He sought to
be a peace-maker between all contending persons, and to set a consistent
example of moral excellence. In these respects he has been compared both
to Nerva and to Numa, the latter of whom preserved the blessings of
peace to the people during his whole reign of forty-three years. Marcus
Antoninus reigned somewhat more than half as long, namely, twenty-two
years. During a residence at one of his country-seats, he was attacked
by a fever which proved fatal to him at the age of seventy-four. He was
loved and lamented by the whole empire, over which he had ruled as a
father, seeking the welfare of his children.
Marcus Aurelius is a favourite with historians, and has been ranked
among the greatest of the good emperors. He made his predecessor, who
was his father-in-law, his model in the affairs of government. He took
pleasure in praising his virtues, and thus affectionately mentions some
of them, in a work of which he was the author:
"I have much observed his meekness, and his constancy without wavering,
in those things which after due deliberation he had determined. I
remember his freedom from all vanity, his patient industry, his
readiness to hear any man that had aught to say tending to the common
good. How readily and impartially would he give every man his due. How
modestly would he condescend to other men, as though he was an ordinary
man himself. How accurately would he examine and consult, and how
patiently would he hear others. Neither would he hastily give over the
search of difficult matters, or be easily satisfied with sudden notions
and opinions. How carefully would he preserve his friends, never
treating them with neglect, or growing weary of them.
I love to remember his contented mind, his cheerful countenance, his
care to foresee things afar off, and to give orders without noise or
clamour. How was all flattery repressed by him, and how carefully did he
observe all things necessary to the government, and keep an account of
all the common expenses. And when he was reproached by some for this
very strictness, how patiently did he bear it. He was neither studious
to please men, nor ambitious of popular applause, but sober in all
things, every where observant of that which was fitting. In those things
which conduce to ease and convenience, of which his great fortune
allowed him a plentiful supply, he was without pride or boasting. He
freely enjoyed them when they were present, and when they were absent,
was never uneasy for the want of them. He was commended as a man that
could not endure to be flattered, but was able to govern both himself
and others. He honoured all true philosophers, without upbraiding those
who were not so. In his conversation he was sociable and delightful. How
gently would he yield to those who had any peculiar talent, such as
eloquence, or knowledge of the laws, or ancient customs, and how
heartily he endeavoured that everyone might, according to their
excellence, be regarded and esteemed. How constant was he in his
attention to business; and after his great fits of headache, how fresh
and vigorous would he return to his wonted affairs. In all things having
respect unto men, only as men, and to the equity of things, and not unto
the glory that might follow."
Marcus Aurelius still further evinced his gratitude and reverence for
Antoninus Pius, by erecting to his memory a beautifully sculptured
marble column, more than a hundred feet in height, and surmounted by
his statue, which may still be seen at Rome, though more than 1700 years
old.
He was a lover of knowledge. Through his whole life he laboured to
obtain it. After he became an emperor, he used to go, and sometimes on
foot, to the house of a man of wisdom, named Apollonius, that he might
take lessons of him. He valued intellectual riches more than gold or
power. Among all the cares of state, he found time for it, saying that
it was his desire to learn as long as he lived.
He was particularly attached to the study of philosophy, and used to
call it his mother, to prove his affection. He established schools for
it, both at Rome and Athens. He often gave lectures in that science to
the people, deeming it no derogation from imperial dignity to instruct
and elevate the public mind. Especially, when about to be absent from
the city, for any length of time, he thus addressed his people, that if
he never returned, their last remembrance of him might be connected with
precepts of virtue.
His principal faults were allowing the Christians to be persecuted, and
being often engaged in war, though his principles revolted against it,
and he considered it a calamity. He died at Vindobona, where the city of
Vienna, in Austria, now stands, after the sickness of a week, on March
17th, 180; having lived fifty-nine years, and reigned nineteen. He was
so much beloved, that many kept his image or statue in their houses,
offering it flowers and incense, as one of their heathen gods.
The two last of these Emperors were called Antonines. Their united
periods of sway amounted to forty-one years, and Rome never enjoyed
greater happiness than during their sovereignty. Afterwards, it declined
both in prosperity and virtue.
The reigns of the five good Emperors extended over a period of
eighty-four years, just the length of one of the revolutions of the
planet Herschel around the sun. With a single one of his years he
measured out the earthly span of all these mighty monarchs. Ere he
returned to his annual goal, they had risen, and flourished, and fallen.
A hoary-headed man might have seen the whole of their imperial sway. An
aged English statesman, Sir John Mason, outlived five of his own
sovereigns. In looking back upon so long a life, he said that he had
received favours from them all, and been promoted to many honours, but
that religion and hope in heaven were the truest riches, and all things
else forsook him, but his God, his duty, and his prayers.