Newspaper Page Text
398
(Educational,
NATIONAL CONVENTION OF THE
FRIENDS OF COMMON SCHOOLS.
The undersigned, deeming that the great
cause of Popular Education in the United
States may be advanced, and the exertions
of its friends strengthened and systematized,
by mutual consultation and deliberation, re
spectfully request the friends of Common
Schools, and of Universal Education.through
out the Union, to meet in Convention, at the
city of Philadelphia, on Wednesday, the 22d
day of August next, at 10 o'clock, A. M.j for
the promotion of this paramount'interest of
our Republican Institutions.
We have only room for the following influ
ential names, from among the large number
of warm friends of Popular Education, who
have signified their acquiescence in this call.
Rt. Rev. Alonzo -Potter, D. D., Philadel
phia.
George M. Wharton, Esq., President of
Board of Controllers of Public Schools, Cos. of
Philadelphia.
Hon. Joseph R. Chandler, President of
Board of Directors of Girard College, Phila
delphia.
John S. Hart, A. M., President Central
High School, Philadelphia.
Alfred E. Wright, Editor of “Wright’s
Casket” and “Paper,” Philadelphia.
Asa D. Lord, Esq., Editor of Ohio School
Journal.
D. L. Swain, A. M., President of the Uni
versity of North Carolina.
Prof. J. H. Ingraham, Nashville, Tenn.
Judge E. Lane, Sandusky, Ohio.
A. Church, D. D., President of University,
Athens, Georgia.
Robert J. Breckenridge, D. D., Superin
tendent of Public Schools, Kentucky.
Hon. Horace Mann, for 12 years Secretary
of Board of Education, Mass.’
Dr. T. F. King, State Superintendent of
# Public Schools of New Jersey.
H. B. Underhill, Principal Natchez Insti
tute, Miss.
James L. Enos, Editor of North Western
Educator, Chicago, 111.
Edward Cooper, Esq., Editor of District
School Journal, Albany, N. Y.
Philip Lindsey, D. D., President of Univer
sity of Nashville
A. D. Bache, LL. D., Sup’t of U. S. Coast
Survey, Washington.
11. W. Heath,’ LL. D., Maryland College
of Teachers.
Local Committee of Arrangements.
The following named gentlemen have con
sented to act as a Committee of Arrangement,
for the “National Common School Conven
tion
Hon. Joseph R. Chandler, Chairman.
Alfred E. Wright, Cor. Secretary.
James J. Barclay, William Martin,
George Emlen, jr., John Miller,
Daniel M. Fox, Mordecai L. Dawson,
Joseph Cowperthwait, S. S 4 Randall,
Edward C. Biddle, J. Engle Negus.
State Common School Conventions.
The Committee of Arrangements for the
National Common School Convention, which
is to assemble in Philadelphia on the 22d of
August next, beg leave, respectfully and ear
nestly, to recommend to the friends of Com
mon School Education in the several States
of the Union, to assemble in State Convention,
at their respective capitals, or at some central
location, on or before the FOURTH DAY OF
JULY next, for the purpose of appoiniing
delegates to the National Convention, and
transacting such other business in reference
to the interests of Common School Education
within their borders, as may be deemed expe
dient. It is desirable that the number of
delegates from each State be at least equal to
its representation in Congress, and that a full
delegation should, as far as may be practica
ble, be secured. State or Local Conventions
of Teachers, Superintend- .its, or other assem
blages of the friends of education, arealso re
spectfully requested to appoint delegates to
the proposed National Convention.
Editors and publishers of newspapers
throughout the Union, are earnestly requested
to publish this notice, together with the no
tice recommending the National Common
School Convention.
By order of the Committee.
JOSEPH R. CHANDLER, Chairman.
A. E. Wright, Cor. Sec.
Man’s High Prerogative.— lt is the ex
pressive remark of a German philosopher, ‘I
would not be a woman, for then I could not
lover her.’
g® ©MU IE El Ob alf ®&a& WB ♦
©limpera of Ntm Books.
ARREST OF THE DUC DE BIRON.
[From “ The Palaccof Fontainebleau,” translated
from the “Musee des Familcs,” for the Living
Age, by Anne T. Wilbur ]
The most intimate friend of Henry IV., i
next to Sully, was the Due de Biron. The
King had made him, at the age of forty,
Marshal of France and Governor of Burgun
“He is a brave man,” said he, “ whom I
can present to my friends and my enemies.”
Now, one day at Fontainebleau, a man en
teied the presence of Henry, and submitted to
him proofs that Biron was plotting to deliver
France to Spain, and the rights of the dau
phin to the son of the Marquise de Verneuil.
These proofs’ were letters from the hand of :
the marshal, and his original treaty with the j
Duke of Savoy. There remained no possi- j
bility of doubt!
The good King swooned with grief, and
summoned Biron to Fontainebleau. The !
Duke arrived wrapped up in his pride, and
persuaded that no one knew his secret. In
vain his sister exclaimed :
“If you go further, you are ruined !”
lie replied, like Le Balafre to the States of 1
Blots:
“They dare not!”
And he entered, with lofty brow, the pre
sence of the King.
Henry embraced him, took him by the
hand, led him through his new buildings, and
told him, in private, that he had received un
pleasant information respecting him, but that
a full pardon would be the result of a sin
cere avowal.
“ Not having offended, I desire no pardon !”
cried the marshal.
The man who had betrayed him, and who
wished him to persevere iif his denial, had
whispered to him :
* “ Good courage and a good face, my mas
ter; they know nothing!”
Henry returned to the charge. He spoke
to Biron as a friend—as a father. He re
minded him that they had slept side by side
on the battle-fields. He opened his heart to
him, and adjured him to open his own in re
turn.
“ I know all,” said he at last, pressing
him in his arms. “ Speak, and I will in
stantly forget it; I entreat you as a brother.
No one but myself shall know of it.”
The Duke believed himself exposed to a
snare, and remained impassable. The more
the King’s earnestness increased, the more
increased his boldness. He broke out intef
bitter reproaches, and demanded the names
of his accusers.
“ I will leave him this day for reflection,
and this night to ask counsel,” said the Bear
nais to himself.
In the evening, he found him at tennis,
and gayly played against him.
“ Marshal!” cried Epernon to him, “ you
play well, but your adversary will beat ”
All eyes, and especially the eyes of the
King, were turned upon Biron. He did not
understand the allusion, or feigned not to un
! derstand it.
Rosny de Sully and the Comte de Soissons
’ made an attempt, and succeeded no better.
I Henry retired and rose at daybreak. He
j summoned the marshal into the little garden,
near the aviary. They were seen from a
’ distance to talk together some time. The
i guilty man struck his breast, but it was only
jto protest his innocence and to threaten his
I calumniators.
At last the clemency of the King was ex
j hausted. Out of patience, he reentered the
chateau, and consulted the Queen and Sully.
The minister proposed to detain Biron in his
cabinet, and cause him to be arrested there.
“ No,” replied Henry. “If he defends
hirnself, he may be wounded, and I do not
wish blood to flow in my presence. Put on
your boots, Sully, and let your people do the
same, at nine o’clock.”
Then he summoned Vitry and Praslin, and
I ordered them to hold themselves in readiness
j to obey him.
The night drew on slowly. The entire
j court was in expectation, everybody speaking
| low. The marshal alone affected compo
isure.
Supping with Montigny, he was praising
’ the King of Spain at the expense of the King
| of France.
“You forget,” replied someone, “that
Philip II never pardons an offence, not even
of his own son.”
Biron rose, as if he had understood noth
ing, and went to play at prime with the
King.
At the door, a letter was placed in his
hands containing these words-:
“If you do not withdraw, you will be ar
l rested in two hours.”
lie showed it laughingly to his friend Va
rennes.
.“Ah! monsieur!” said the latter, with
terror, “I would be willing to have a dagger
in my heart to know you were in Burgun
dy.”
“Though ten daggers awaited me,” replied
the Duke, “1 would not retreat one step.”
While he was playing with the Queen,
Auvergne, his accomplice, touched him on
the shoulder, and said, in a low VQice :
“It is not good for us to be here.”
Biron did not even turn.
Midnight was about to sound. Every one
went away. The King wished to make one
more trial. He led the Duke into the enclo
sure of a window, and spoke to him thus :
“ What would you do, Biron, to the man
who, having been your best friend, your
brother in arms, should become your most
dangerous enemy, who should conspire against
your kingdom, against your children, against
your life V’
“I would not believe it, sire, and I would
kill the authors of such an imposture.”
“But if it was a truth clear as day, denied
only by the guilty one—if you had in your
hands all the proofs of his treason, which
he denied only from pride and fool-hardi
ness ?”
The Duke trembled, and looked anxiously
at the King; but he still thought best to per
sist in the declaration of his innocence, and
grew more and more firm in his denial.
“Then,” replied he, “I would kill my
friend himself, the traitor!”
“Even if he acknowledged his crime at
I the last moment, and repented of it to throw
himself into your arms—even if he retailed
_ V
j to you the days when you had but one purse,
J one bed, and one thought—even if he fell at
your feet with tears of remorse ?”
“I would strike him without mercy!” ex
! claimed the marshal,
| “Ah ! Biron ! insensate man !” replied the
I King, “ you have pronounced your own
death-warrant. Well, lam unwilling to exe
cute it, for I still love you; I wish to save
you, in spite of yourself. I know all! I tell
you; and I ask only that you acknowledge
; it. Give me your hand as formerly before
1 battles; embrace me as once you did after
| victories. Let me see in your eyes one sin
-1 cere tear, let me hear from your lips one sin
! cere word of affection, and all is effaced!
|We shall have had only a bad dream, and
our hearts shall be henceforth one.”
“I do not understand you, sire,” replied
the Duke, directing his steps towards the
dour.
“Baron de Biron, you will soon compre
hend me!” added Henry, going out at the
same time.
And, as he spoke thus, Vitry, at the head
|of the guards, arrested Biron in the ante
| chamber.
“In the name of the King, your sword,
| marshal!”
The blinded man at last opened his eyes,
! and cried out:
“I wish to speak with his majesty!”
“He is not there—it is too late! Your
! sword, Monsieur!”
“ My sword—my sword—which has done
so much good service!”
“ Such are my orders ; you must surrender
; it voluntarily or by force.”
Further resistance was impossible; Biron
| gave up the weapon, raised his head, and fol
lowed the guards.
! At the same instant, Praslin arrested the
Comte d’Auvergne, who took the thing phi
! losophically.
“ Here is my sword,” said he ; “it has
| killed only wild boars. If you had arrested
,me two hours ago, I should now have been
J quietly sleeping.”
’ Transported, the next day, from Fontaine
bleau to Paris, Biron was judged, condemned
,and beheaded, in the court of the Bastille, the
■ 21st of July, 1602.
Unfortunately, the justice of the King was
i less noble than the efforts of his clemency.
, In striking the marshal whom he loved, he
I spared his accomplices whom he despised,
and who were the father and brother of fils
i favorite ; so that history regrets to find the !
blood of Biron, guilty as he was, on the pure
crown of Henry IV.
, The Comte d’Auvergne and his sister, the
; Marquise of Verneuil, were desirous of being
| restored to favor, and resolved, for this pur
pose, to humble Sully. They collected
against him so many accusations, that the
i confidence of the King in him was shaken.
This also took place at Fontainebleau.—
Sully saw in the eyes of Henry the injury
- that had been done him. He found him one
morning preparing for the chase, surrounded
jby his courtiers. The King saluted him with
j unusual coldness. Sully bowed the more
j profoundly, and with an air so calm and loy
j al, that Hemy was subdued. He took off his
boots countermanded his orders respecting
! the ch * S( b sent away the courtiers, and went
to walk in the garden, ent
Ihe minister having asked his orders
replied: ’ e
“You know my affairs; continue to man
age them and to love me always.”
But Sully had hardly gone‘a hundred p a
ces, when Henry turned towards him, recalled
him, took him by the hand, and drew him
beneath the white walls at the extremity nf
I the garden of Pines. *
“ Have you, then, nothing to tell me, RoS
“Nothing at present, sire ”
: “ I have something to tell you,” resumed
Henry 1 v.
And, unable to restrain himself longer, he
i embraced his friend affectionately. Then he
made him swear a corresponding confidence,
1 and revealed all the charges made against
him, naming his numerous accusers.’
were a series of treasons, each more black
and more absurd than the other.
Sully remained unmoved, and the King
asked him: 6
“Well, how does this seem to you ?”
“It seems to me that you do not believe
these foolish calumnies any more than my
self,” replied the minister, “for you well
know that my fortune, my energies and my
life, are at vour service.”
And he was about to have fallen at the
feet of the prince, affected even to tears,
when ihc latter raised hfm with this sublime
sentence: •
“Take care, Rosny, your enemies are ob
serving us; they will think I am pardoning
you !”
At the same time he embraced him, and led
him back joyfully towards his calumniators.
“What time is it, gentlemen
“One o'clock, sire ; your conversation has
I lasted long.”
“In fact, there are those to whom it has
been more tiresome than to me. To comfort
them, I will inform them that I love Sully
more than ever, and that we are pledged to
: each other for life.”
TAJI, -
The Literary World gives the following
chapter from Herman Melville’s forthcoming
book, “Mardi,” which is to be issued simul
taneously by Messrs. Harper, in New York,
and Bently, in London. From a perusal of
i part of the proof sheets, the World pro
nounces “Mardi” equal, if not superior, to
’ “Typee” and “Omoo” [Ed.
I TAJI SITS DOWN TO DINNER WITH FIVE-ANT
TWENTY KINGS, AND A ROYAL TIME THEY
HAVE.
It was afternoon when we emerged from
the defile. And informed that our host was
receiving his guests in the House of the Af
ternoon, thither we directed our steps.
Soft in our face blew the blessed breezes
of Omi, stirring the leaves overhead ; while,
here and there, through the trees, showed the
idol-bearers of the royal retreat, hand in hand,
linked with festoons of flowers. Still be
yond, on a level, sparkled the nodding crowns
of the kings, like the Constellation Corona-
Borealis, the horizon just gained.
Close by his noon-tide friend, the cascade
at the mouth of the grotto, reposed on his
crimson mat, Donjalolo—arrayed in a vest
ment of the finest w hite tappa of Mardi, fig|
ured all over with bright yellow lizards, so
curiously stained in the gauze, that he seem
ed overrun, as w T ith golden mice.
Marjora’s girdle girdled his loins, tassellcd
with the congregated teeth of his sires. A
jewelled turban-tiara, milk-white, surmount
ed his brow, over which waved a copse us
Pintado plumes.
But what sways in his hand ? A s( j e P, lr *J
similar to those likenesses of sceptres, imbed
ded among the corals at his feet. A polished
thigh-bone; by Braid-Beard declared once
Teei’s the Murdered. For to emphasize his
intention utterly to rule, Marjora himself had
selected this emblem of dominion over man
kind. . .
But even tills last despite done to dead Tern
had once been transcended. In the usurper ?
time, prevailed the belief, that the saliva o
kings must never touch ground: and Mom s
Chronicles made mention, that during 1 u
life-time of Marjora, Teei’s skull had been
devoted to the basest of purposes; Marjora s,
the hate no turf could bury. ,
Yet, traditions like these ever seem 1
bious. There be many who deny the hump
moral and physical, of Gloster Richard.
Still advancing unperceived, in social hi
rity, w T e descried their Highnesses, eba * &
together like the most plebeian of morta >
fullasjnerry as the monks of old. But mar
ing oTTr approach, all changed. A P?”
potentates, who had been playfully tn