Read Ebook: Popular Tales by Guizot Madame Elisabeth Charlotte Pauline Burke L Mrs Translator

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 1106 lines and 92132 words, and 23 pages

Then Nadir departed from the Palace of Massour, saying, "God has given activity to man, as he has given the current to the waters, to preserve them from corruption."

THE DESERT.

Nadir, in his turn, was visited by misfortune. Calumny pursued him: injustice extended high enough to reach him. He was banished from the wife of his bosom, from the son whose eyes were just opened to the light, and his life was dried up like the summer, when, although full of fire and vigour, it has lost its colours.

The people, whom he had taught to be industrious and happy, were given up to avaricious men, who converted their labour into an oppressive burden; and the memories which once refreshed the soul of Nadir now became to him a bitter and empoisoned spring.

He beheld iniquity spreading over his land, and was forced to behold it in silence. Iniquity dreaded even his silence, and Nadir was compelled to fly into barren deserts, where the devouring eyes of iniquity come not to seek their prey. He here met the sage, who said to him: "I wished to end my days in peace. These rocks, which have been piled immoveable one upon the other since the birth of the world, will not renounce their nature to rush down of their own accord and crush me. The rain may benumb my limbs with cold, without my accusing it of any want of obedience to the law which was given to it; therefore, I bear no hatred to these threatening rocks, nor to the rain which chills me; but the sight of iniquity wearies my soul into hatred of it: for there were twins produced at one birth--iniquity, which is the foe of order; and the hatred of iniquity, which is the re-establishment of order."

Shortly after he had uttered these words, the sage expired; and Nadir, beholding him close his eyes, exclaimed, "Now, indeed, I am alone."

The eyes of the sage once more opened, and he said: "My son, the plant knows that it is seen by God, but man bears God within himself; let him then never say I am alone;" and with these words the sage expired. Nadir left the cavern, and reflected on the meaning of his words. Seated upon a rock, he beheld a serpent gliding towards him from between the stones, now and then raising its head, and looking round as if seeking for some object on which to vent its fury. Nadir seized a piece of the rock, and crushed the head of the serpent, while the body writhed and struggled long after the head had remained crushed between the stones. At last it lay motionless, stretched along the rock. Nadir surveyed it: he also surveyed the lifeless remains of the sage extended in the cavern. "Both," said he, "are about to give back to the earth the dust which they took from it; but what advantage was there in taking the serpent from the dust?" And he questioned the work of the Most High.

The sun had just sunk behind the rocks which bounded the horizon. A cold wind arose, driven by dark clouds; it whistled through the rocks and penetrated even to the heart of Nadir, already filled with grief for the death of the sage. He remained motionless, abandoning himself, without defence, to the cold wind and to his grief. But a thought of the past arose to his mind: he remembered what he had been, and said, "Nadir shall not perish overpowered by affliction and the winds of night!" He arose, gathered the leaves and brambles scattered here and there in the clefts of the rock, where also grew the wild roots which served him for food. He obtained fire from a flint; a brilliant flame suddenly burst forth from the midst of a thick smoke; the light played upon the rocks, and seemed to people the desert. The features of the sage reposing in the cavern, were lighted up with a tint resembling that of life. Nadir gazed upon him, and tears flowed from his eyes, to the memory of friendship; but strength had once more returned to his soul. The flame grew dim, sank, and at last died away. A grey coating of ashes covered the still burning embers; but soon, of that great heap of brambles, there remained nothing but a faint trace, scarcely visible upon the spot on which they were consumed. "Behold," said Nadir, "they, too, have returned to the dust; but I, whom they have warmed, what right have I to ask why they were taken from it?"

The wind had died away, bearing with it the dark clouds. The moon slowly unveiled her disk in the blue vault of heaven, where trembled myriads of glittering stars. Each one of these heavenly orbs seemed to shed a ray upon the heart of Nadir. "Glorious works of the Most High!" he exclaimed, gazing on them, "what mortal will dare to lift his voice to ask what purpose ye serve in the Universe?"

Nadir also glanced upon the slight stratum of ashes which the flame had left upon the rock, and said, "While the flame devoured these brambles, it warmed my limbs and my heart. When God drew man from the treasures of his power, he said to him, 'Thou hast the choice of being either the flame which devours the trunk of the oak, or the heat which emanates from it, and rejoices the heart of man.' The wicked replied, 'I will be the devouring flame;' and he thinks only of devouring; but God has forced him to produce the heat. It is the will of God which has created good. It is the will of the wicked which creates evil, out of which God extracts good."

With such thoughts Nadir calmly slept, and awoke the next morning as if to a new existence: for he had reposed upon the will of God the uncertainties of his spirit, and he contemplated, with a steady eye, the desert and its extent, its solitude and its aridity. He closed up the cavern where rested the remains of the sage: he returned the serpent to the earth; and the breath of the morning had scattered in the air the ashes of his hearth; but their lessons remained in his heart, and he said, "All nature deposits germs in the heart of man, and man nourishes them and elevates them to the thought of God." Nevertheless, this thought of God sometimes troubled him. Filled with it, his soul longed to rush towards him; and he prostrated himself, saying, "My God, I know thee but as the friend whose eyes languish for the sight of his friend."

Nadir was again uplifted by the returning wave of fortune. Iniquity had passed over his country like a storm, and his people revived in the freshness of repose after trouble. He again beheld the wife whom he cherished, and the child already able to clap his hands and utter cries of joy when he heard pronounced the name of Nadir. He was again invested with great power to do good; and the more he experienced the mercies of God, the more he felt the necessity of his presence; and he sought him in all things.

One day he beheld his son, filled with anger, rush upon an animal which was on the point of biting his nurse, and he said, "God has spoken to this child, for whence could he have learned love and courage?"

He surprised the wicked, endeavouring to delude himself with pretences, in order to colour an injustice, which he could commit without danger; and he said, "God is there before the wicked; for the wicked dare not go straight to the commission of evil;" and he added, "Great God, whom I see everywhere, let me feel thy presence still nearer to my heart."

One day Nadir, deceived by false appearances, condemned to be scourged a good man, who had been unjustly accused before him, and he pronounced sentence with his eyes closed, as one who in a dream, unmindful of what is around him, acts and reasons in accordance with the ideas which during his sleep exist in his imagination. Whilst submitting to his punishment, this good man said to his friends, whose indignation burst forth in bitter invectives, "Let not the commission of one injustice lead us to commit another in accusing the virtuous Nadir."

One of the friends of Nadir hastened to him with these words. Struck with astonishment, he instantly ordered the punishment to be suspended, and the supposed culprit to be brought into his presence. Then his eyes were opened, and he beheld before him an innocent man, whom he had condemned; and the truth burst forth, as a burning light, inflicting poignant grief upon his heart. In his agony, he wept, and, prostrate, implored the forgiveness of the good man, who said to him, "Oh! Nadir, thou hast not injured me, for thou hast not rendered me unjust towards thee; neither hast thou injured thyself, for it was thy error, and not thyself, that was unjust towards me."

Nadir's grief was increased by these words, when he saw what virtue he had condemned; but, at the same time, the sight of so much virtue filled his mind with an ineffable pleasure, and his grief passed away with his tears. In the fulness of his joy, he said to the virtuous man, "Thou art my brother;" and prostrating himself again, he raised his thoughts to heaven, saying, "Oh! God, thou livest in us. The perfection in which thou delightest exists in thyself. It is thy own happiness which thou communicatest to man, when his soul is lifted up in ecstasy at the sight of virtue. Father of all Good, Nadir, repentant, recognizes thee in the delight he experiences in contemplating the virtue which condemns him." Then he arose, saying, "God lives in us, and man feels him in himself, and rejoices in his presence;" and the rapture of the blessed beamed in his countenance.

The books, in which were recorded the remaining acts of Nadir's life, have not been preserved; but the sages, who in their old age still remembered to have listened to his words, relate, that from that moment peace never departed from his heart, nor serenity from his brow; and that, at the moment when full of years, he felt his soul ready to take its flight into the arms of God, even as a child who, in the midst of its games beholding its father approach, extends his arms to him from afar, and running to meet him, already relates to him his joys and pleasures; so did Nadir, with hands and eyes raised to heaven, exclaim, in holy ecstasy, "Thanks be to thee, O merciful Father! who hast granted to Nadir every blessing that man can attain upon this earth:" and his hands dropped, and he sank into repose, for his earthly portion had fulfilled its destiny.

THE MOTHER AND DAUGHTER.

Marietta was full of grief, because her mother insisted on her writing a second copy, her first having been badly done; and she had already spent nearly half-an-hour, in crying and pouting, a period long enough to have finished her task in, had she been so disposed. In fact, Marietta, though nine years old, and possessed of many good qualities, was often very unreasonable, and the slightest whim or irritability was sufficient to make her forget her best resolutions.

"My dear child," said Madame Leroi, who had been quietly working at the other end of the room, "as there is no help for it, I would advise you to make up your mind to do what I require."

"No help for it!" exclaimed Marietta, pettishly; "and where is the great necessity for my writing this copy?"

"It must be done, because I wish it."

"And why do you wish it, mamma?"

"Because it is necessary."

"It is necessary because you wish it. Can you not do just what you please about it?"

"No, certainly!"

Then Marietta broke out into a new fit of passion, and throwing herself back in her chair, she repeated, as she struck her clenched hands upon the table, "You cannot do as you please, you cannot do as you please! when I am obliged to obey you in everything. And then the other day, you said to Madame Thibourg, in speaking of me: I belong to that child. To say that you belong to me when you are constantly contradicting me!"

"It is precisely because I do belong to you," said Madame Leroi, smiling, "that I am obliged to contradict you."

"Then, mamma," said Marietta, turning to her mother, with her arms folded, and speaking in a tone which her anger had rendered impertinent, "will you have the kindness to explain that to me?"

"I shall explain nothing to you at present," replied her mother, in a severe tone; then ordering her to be silent, she compelled her to resume her work, which, as may be imagined, did not tend to calm Marietta's irritation; she rebelled in silence, wrote badly, incurred fresh punishments, and spent the day in alternate faults and despair. But the next morning she awoke in such good humour, dressed so quickly, said her prayers with so much fervour, and had so soon put all her things in order, and completed her early tasks, doing even more than was required, in order to repair her past misconduct, that at breakfast-time she at last perceived a smile lighten the countenance of her mother, who had not laid aside her severity since the previous day. "At last, mamma," she cried, "you are once more pleased with me."

"And tell me why I am pleased. Is it on your account, or on my own?"

"I know it is because I have done my duty; nevertheless, mamma, it is still true that my duty is your pleasure, and that you are always mistress, and can do whatever you like with me."

"What! even drown you as they did the kittens born in the attic last night."

"Oh! mamma, I do not mean that; but you can make me do whatever you wish."

"So, then, if I should wish you to steal our neighbour's sugar, when she leaves her door open, or her syrup, or her cups, I should have a right to order you to do so?"

"What an idea, mamma! as if you could wish me to do such things!"

"That is to say, then, that there are things which I have no right to wish for, nor, consequently, to order you to do. This certainly is a fine sort of authority. But can I help wishing? If I had not wished to teach you to read and write; if, when you were an infant, I had not wished to attend to your wants, or to get up at night when you cried, should I have had a right to do as I pleased?"

"But, mamma, you know very well that it would have done me harm if you had not."

"Oh! then I must not wish anything that can do you harm, I must only wish what will be for your good, and this you call following my own will?"

"But still, mamma, it is your will that I always obey; since it is you who command me."

"And when do I command you to do anything?"

"When you think it is right."

"And have I, then, the power of believing just as I please that a thing is right or wrong?"

"Certainly, mamma, nobody hinders you."

Madame Leroi made no reply, but a moment after she said to her daughter, "Marietta, I am thinking next week of beginning to teach you to draw with your elbow."

"What, mamma!" exclaimed Marietta, with a burst of laughter, "To draw with my elbow! And how shall I hold my pencil?"

"With the point of your elbow; nothing is easier."

"Why, mamma, what are you talking about?" continued Marietta, laughing still more vehemently.

"Something, my dear, which I beg you to believe for my sake."

"But, mamma, how am I to believe that?"

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet