The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1878-06-29
CONTINUED FROM FIRST PAGE. I

the exhibit of the French Bibliotheque and |
of manuscripts, some of them so old that
we have no authentic history of the people |
by whom they were originally written;
they are Egyptian, Assyrian, Greek, Per- |
sian, Arabic and Hebrew. Before me is a
contract for piece of land, written five
hundred years before the birth of Christ,
every character as bright and as clean as if
cut by an engraver's tool. The cases are
full of rare reprints of works, choice spe-
cimens of that art which has made immor
tai the names of Gutenberg and Faust.
Right royalty here, an ancient Theban
bears testimony to the virtues of his de-
parted wife; and yet, when this hoary
manuscript was indited, Queen Esther was
pleading for the life of her people before
the Great King Ahasuerus Hear the dead
man speak after lapse of more than thirty
centuries, and listen to the testimony with
which he has embalmed in Immortality the
gentle memory of this fair Theban wife,
"She was comely to look upon, says the
chronicler," and of temper so sweet and
placid that in all her life | never saw it
ruffled. She was kind and charitable and
loving, and of life SO pure and holy that
the breath of suspicion or scandal never
assailed her." Three thousands years have
past since this grand testimony of virtue
and love was written, the race to which she
belonged has been annhilated and blotted
OUT the sands OF the desert roll like an
angry sea over the proudest of its imperial
cities, yet surviving the history of its
magnates and kings is this shining tablet
to the virtues of Theban wife whose holy
life is thus immortaliZed but whose name
unfortunately is lost to posterity forever,
Near by is will written about the time
that Hiram was preparing the stones which
were used in the temple of Solomon. The
characters are Greek and the oldest known
to literature 1t was made in the island
of Cyprus before Homer had written the
Illiad, and while philosophy was yet a
stranger to the sacred groves of the acad-
envy; not only houses and lands fell to the
lot of this dainty cypIeot dame, but stores
of jewels and gold that might have fur
ulSu6u al Oulub lOE INC Suocu vi SAcUd.
the books are the rarest and noblest speci
mems of the printers art; all the pages are
bright and clear, and the type as sharp and
clean as if it had been cut with diamond;
but much as l might feel inclined to linger
over this interesting collection, we are COM
PEELED to hurry on, for there are other cases
in this room which contain treasures as
priceless as the books.
Here, in brief space, France has en-
shrined her immortal dead, and here she
has preserved in gold and silver and bronze
the heads of those who, through all past
time, have built up her greatness and her
glory. The memory of her emperors and
her kings receives no more gracious tribute
than that accorded to her philosophers and
scholars and the men whose humanity and
self sacrifice have earned an enduring i'm
mortality. Ludovicus Magnus is near to
the gentle Melancthon, and the little Cor
sican captain, who rose to imperial power
and died at last captive and in exile, lies
quietly beside Pascal, from whose bed of
agony came forth the noblest and sub
FINEST philosophy Of France. In this
grand collection is much Of good and evil,
though it is evident that revolution, how
ever, deeply seated in national heart, finds
but scanty recognition with those who
are charged to perpetuate her history.
The head of Voltaire is here, the man who
sowed the first seed of the Revolution, and
close to him Jean jacques Rousseau, hard,
cynical and cold, whose works to-day are
found in all the shops, and whose etfigy in
the national gallery is second only to that
of the great Emperor himself, but the
men of the Mountain are nowhere to be
seen, nor Marat, nor Robespierre, nor
Barrere, but the noble head that fell upon
the Place de la Concorde, on the Identical
spot now marked by the great Egyptian
obelisk, is here enshrined in shining gold,
one of the nobest and kindIest faces to be
found in the entire collection. Next to
him is the beautiful and naughty face of
his Queen, Maria Antoinette, and close 70
her the lovely Princess Lamballe. Richie
lieu's model bears only his coat of arms,
but the massive head of Mazarin purpetu-
ates the memory of one OF the ablest and
most willy statesmen known to the history
of France. There are three bronze medals
in honor of Louis-le Grant: one taken
when an infant, another at the age of fif-
teen, and the third after having attained
the zenith of his glory, he found his power
crumblpg into ruin; the rival beauties
who ruled his kingdom and his heart have
not been deemed worthy of circumference,
but in their places are Michel do L Hospital,
Lavoiser, Gay-Lussac and Bernard de
Palsy the potter. AS if in Mockery, be-
side her ungrateful son, is the unfortunate
Maria de Medicis, who died in exile from
France, and near her the head of the i'm
perial Catherine for whose pleasure was
laid out that beautiful walk, which skirts
the banks of the Seine to the Tuileries
Parmentier, the benefactor who introduced
the potato into France, has not been con
sidered unworthy of place even in this
distinguished company, but shares with
Button, Corneille and Racine, portion of
the national homage. Three faces lie side
by side recalling the saddest of all sad his.
tory, they the head of the emperor
Napoleon crowned with laurel, and the
heads of his two queens Josephine and
Maria Louise; beyond is medal struck in
honor of the baptism of the king of Rome
and still further on the Grand Seal with
which the sixteenth Louis stamped the
abrogation of his kingly power, in front If
the Ecole Militaire. All the coins of
France are here as bright and as shining
as when they were dropped from the mint,
aud know of no place in the entire Ex-
hibition where the scholar can pass more
profitable hour than in the Exhibit of the
French bibliotheque.
The sight about the grounds OH these
early Summer days is particul ary bright
and interesting; mingled with the gay
crowds of pleasure seekers, are dashing
Greeks in all the glory of. their national
costume, turbaned Turks, hooded Ee ouins,
fresh from the sands of the desert; filthy
Tunisians and bare-legged vagat onds from
Morocco. | have ceased to wonder of tie
that the Bey of Tunis is savage and a
brute; how any mortal man could listen to
their detestable music and still retain any
portion of human charity is far beyond my
ken. Why if one were boru in possession
of all the eighth beauties, this internal Gi.
cord would soon drive him to the CON
mission of the seven deadly sins | pro
fess to have as much of human kindness in