hotter.

night-heaven; for I thought that it was eclipsed by the moon. All the graves were unclosed, and the iron doors of the charnel house were opened and shut by invisible hands. Shadows cast by no one flitted along the walls, and other shadows stalked erect in the free air. No one slept any longer in the open coffins but the children. A gray sultry fog hung suspended in heavy folds in the heavens, and a gigantic shadow drew it in like a net, ever nearer, and closer, and Above me I heard the distant fall of avalanches; beneath me, the first step of an immeasurable earthquake. The church was heaved up and down by two incessant discords, which struggled with one another, and in vain sought to unite in harmony. Sometimes a gray glimmer flared up on the windows, and, molten by the glimmer, the iron and lead ran down in streams. The net of fog and the reeling earth drove me into the temple, at the door of which brooded two basilisks with twinkling eyes in two poisonous nests. I passed through unknown shadows, on whom were impressed all the centuries of years. The shadows stood congregated round the altar; and in all, the breast throbbed and trembled in the place of a heart. One corpse alone which had just been buried in the church, lay still upon its pillow, and its breast heaved not, while upon its smiling countenance lay a happy dream; but on the entrance of one of the living he awoke, and smiled no more. He opened his closed eyelids with a painful effort, but within there was no eye; and in the sleeping bosom, instead of a heart, there was a wound. He lifted up his hands and folded them in prayer; but the arms lengthened out and detached themselves from the body, and the folded hands fell down apart. Aloft, on the church-dome, stood the dial-plate of Eternity; but there was no figure visible upon it, and it was its own index; only a black finger pointed to it, and the dead wished to read the time upon it.

A lofty noble form, having the expression of a never-ending sorrow, now sank down from above upon the altar, and all the dead exclaimed-"Christ! is there no God?" And he answered-"There is none!" The whole shadow of each dead one, and not the breast alone, now trembled, and one after another was severed by the trembling.

Christ continued:-"I traversed the worlds. I ascended into the suns, and flew with the milky-ways through the wildernesses of the heavens; but there is no God! I de

scended as far as Being throws its shadow, and gazed down into the abyss, and cried aloud-'Father, where art Thou?' but I heard nothing but the eternal storm which no one rules; and the beaming rainbow in the west hung, without a creating sun, above the abyss, and fell down in drops; and when I looked up to the immeasurable world for the Divine Eye, it glared upon me from an empty, bottomless socket, and Eternity lay brooding upon Chaos, and gnawed it, and ruminated it. Cry on, ye discords! cleave the shadows with your cries; for he is not!"

The shadows grew pale and melted, as the white vapour formed by the frost melts and becomes a warm breath, and all was void. Then there arose and came into the temple -a terrible sight for the heart-the dead children who had awakened in the churchyard, and they cast themselves before the lofty form upon the altar, and said "Jesus, have we no Father ?" and he answered with streaming eyes, "We are orphans, I and you: we are without a Father."

Thereupon the discords shrieked more harshly; the trembling walls of the temple split asunder, and the temple and the children sunk down, and the earth and the sun followed, and the whole immeasurable universe fell rushing past us; and aloft upon the summit of infinite Nature stood Christ, and gazed down into the universe, chequered with thousands of suns, as into a mine dug out of the Eternal Night, wherein the suns are the miners' lamps, and the milky-ways the veins of silver.

And when Christ beheld the grinding concourse of worlds, the torch dances of the heavenly ignes fatui, and the coral banks of beating hearts; and when he beheld how one sphere after another poured out its gleaming souls into the sea of death, as a drop of water strews gleaming lights upon the waves, sublime, as the loftiest finite being, he lifted up his eyes to the Nothingness, and to the empty Immensity, and said: "Frozen, dumb Nothingness! cold, eternal Necessity! insane Chance! know ye what is beneath you? When will ye destroy the building and me? Chance! knowest thou thyself when with hurricanes thou wilt march through the snow-storm of stars and extinguish one sun after the other, and when the sparkling dew of the constellations shall cease to glisten as thou passest by? How lonely is every one in the wide charnel of the uni verse! I alone am in company with myself. O Father! O Father! where is thine infinite

bosom, that I may be at rest? Alas! if every being is its own father and creator, why cannot it also be its own destroying angel? Is that a man near me? Thou poor one! Thy little life is the sigh of Nature, or only its echo. A concave mirror throws its beams upon the dust-clouds composed of the ashes of the dead upon your earth, and thus ye exist, cloudy, tottering images! Look down into the abyss over which clouds of ashes are floating by. Fogs full of worlds arise out of the sea of death. The future is a rising vapour, the present a falling one. Knowest thou thy earth?" Here Christ looked down, and his eyes filled with tears, and he said, "Alas! I too was once like you then I was happy, for I had still my infinite Father, and still gazed joyfully from the mountains into the infinite expanse of heaven; and I pressed my wounded heart on his soothing image, and said, even in the bitterness of death: 'Father, take thy Son out of his bleeding shell, and lift him up to thy heart.' Ah, ye too, too happy dwellers of earth, ye still believe in him. Perhaps at this moment your sun is setting, and ye fall amid blossoms, radiance, and tears, upon your knees, and lift up your blessed hands, and call out to the open heaven, amid a thousand tears of joy, 'Thou knowest me too, thou infinite One, and all my wounds, and Thou wilt welcome me after death, and wilt close them all.' Ye wretched ones! after death they will not be closed. When the Man of Sorrows stretches his sore wounded back upon the earth to slumber towards a lovelier morning, full of truth, full of virtue and of joy, behold, he awakes in the tempestuous chaos, in the everlasting midnight, and no morning cometh, and no healing hand, and no infinite Father! Mortal who art near me, if thou still livest, worship him, or thou hast lost

him forever!"

And as I fell down and gazed into the gleaming fabric of worlds, I beheld the raised rings of the giant serpent of eternity, which had couched itself round the universe of worlds, and the rings fell, and she enfolded the universe doubly. Then she wound herself in a thousand folds round Nature, and crushed the worlds together, and grinding them, she squeezed the infinite temple into one churchyard church-and all became narrow, dark, and fearful, and a bell-hammer stretched out to infinity was about to strike the last hour of time, and split the universe asunder-when I awoke.

My soul wept for joy, that it could again worship God; and the joy, and the tears, and the belief in him, were the prayer. And when I arose the sun gleamed deeply behind the full purple ears of corn, and peacefully threw the reflection of its evening blushes on the little moon, which was rising in the east without an aurora. And between the heaven and the earth a glad fleeting world stretched out its short wings and lived like myself in the presence of the infinite Father, and from all nature around me flowed sweet peaceful tones, as from evening bells.

THE FORCED MARRIAGE.

[JEAN BAPTISTE POQUELIN MOLIÈRE, the greatest comic dramatist of France, born in Paris, 1622, died

1673. Studying law in early life, Molière was admitted an advocate in 1645, but an early passion for the

stage led him to found a troupe of amateur comedians,

with whom he travelled in the provinces for twelve

years. He began to compose imitations of Italian farces, and brought out his first regular comedy,

"L'Etourdi," at Lyons, in 1653. Returning to Paris in

1658, he produced in fifteen years, more than thirty plays, many of them masterpieces, wbich have kept the stage in France for two centuries, and by translation and countless adaptations have adorned the dramatic literature of other countries.

The most noted of Molière's comedies are "L'Avare," satirizing the vices of avarice; “ Les Précieuses Ridicules," aimed at the affectations of the coteries in French literature and society, (which had a run of four months); "L'Ecole des Maris," and "L'Ecole des Femmes," "Le

Misanthrope," perhaps the finest example of his style; "Le Médicin Malgré Lui," a lively farce, "Le Bourgeois

Gentilhomme," "Le Malade Imaginaire," ridiculing the pretended maladies of hypochondriacs, and “ Tartuffe, or the Hypocrite," which has been pronounced by some, the greatest effort of his genius. The latter play, however, was for years prohibited, and the archbishop of

Paris threatened excommunication to all who should

act, read or listen to it. Molière was a great and suchis private character he was full of nobleness and generosity. The French Academy, which would not admit him to membership in its sacred circle while he lived, because he would not abandon his profession as a come dian, has ever since conspired to do honor to the memo ry of the illustrious dramatist.

cessful actor, excelling in the most difficult parts. In

We here give in full a translation of Molière's "Le Mariage Force,"because it is one of the shortest, as well as one of the best of his comedies.]

(LE MARIAGE FORCÉ.)

"Le Mariage Forcé," of which the idea is taken from Rabelais, is a comedy-ballet.

It was first produced in three acts at the Louvre, on the 29th of January, 1664. Louis XIV., then twenty-six years old, appeared in the ballet as one of the gypsies, and the play was therefore called the Ballet du Roi. It was acted on the 15th of February, in one act, at the Palais Royal. Molière acted the part of Sganarelle.

M. Taschereau says of the "Mariage Forcé ": "This comedy contains two scenes, those of Sganarelle and the philosophers Pancrace and Marphurius, which may be considered by many readers as paltry farces; but whoever will go back to those days of fanatic Aristotelism, will understand that there is deeper meaning in them than the wish to make people laugh. Molière had a more important aim in view, and he succeeded in it. The University of Paris was on the eve of obtaining the confirmation of a sentence of the Parliament of Paris, dated September 4, 1624, which condemned to death all those who would dare to attack the Aristotelian doctrines. The ridicule thrown on these principles in the Mariage Forcé,' compelled, no doubt, the University to suspend its attacks."

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

The scene is in a public place.

SCENE I.-SGANARELLE.

SGAN. (speaking to the people in his house). I am coming back directly. Take great care of the house, and see that everything goes on all right. If anyone comes to bring me some money, send directly for me, at Mr. Geronimo's; if, on the contrary, it is to ask for some, say that I am out for the day.

SCENE II.-SGANARELLE, GERONIMO. GER. (having heard the last words of SGANARELLE). A very prudent order.

SGAN. Ah! Mr. Geronimo. I am pleased to see you; I was just going to your house.

GER. And why, pray? SGAN. To consult you about something I have in my head.

GER. At your service. I am glad that we have met, and we can talk together here in all security.

SGAN. Put your hat on, I beg of you. It is about a thing of great importance which has been proposed to me, and it is always well to do nothing without first ask. ing the advice of one's friends.

GER. I am much obliged to you for hav. ing chosen me. Let me hear what it is. SGAN. Before I tell you, I must have a promise that you will not flatter me in any way, but will tell me your opinion frankly. GER. I will do so, since you wish it. SGAN. I think that nothing can be worse than a friend who doesn't speak frankly. GER. You are quite right.

SGAN.

days.

Sincere friends are rare in our

GER.

Very true.

SGAN.

You promise me, then, Mr. Gerospeak to me freely and openly? GER. Yes, I promise you.

nimo, to

SGAN. Swear it.

GER. What you don't know your own within a few years or so? SGAN. No. indeed, I don't. Who ever thinks about his age?

GER. Humph! Just tell me, pray, how old you were when we first became ac quainted?

SGAN. Oh! I was only twenty then. GER. How long did we stop in Rome together?

SGAN. Eight years.

GER. How long were you in England? SGAN. Seven years.

GER. And in Holland, where you went afterwards?

SGAN. Five years and a half.

SGAN. I came back in '52.

GER. If we take fifty-two from sixtyfour, we get twelve; five years you spent in Holland, seventeen; seven years spent in England, twenty-four; eight years in Rome, thirty-two; and if to thirty-two we add your age when we first became acquainted, we have exactly fifty-two. So that, Mr. Sganarelle, according to your own confession, you are between fifty-two and fifty-three years of

age.

SGAN. Who, I? It isn't possible!

GER. Hang it! the calculation is exact enough. Now, I will tell you frankly, as a friend-according to the promise you made me give you that marriage would suit you but little. Marriage is a thing about which young people ought to think long and seriously before they risk themselves, but of which people of your age ought not to think at all; and if, as some say, the great est folly a man can commit is to marry, I know nothing more preposterous than to commit such a folly at a time of life when we should be most prudent. In short, to speak to you plainly, I advise you not to marry; and I should think you very ridiculous if, after having remained free up to your time of life, you were now to burden yourself with the heaviest of all chains.

SGAN. And, for my part, I tell you that I am determined to marry, and that I shall not be ridiculous in marrying the girl I am engaged to.

GER. Ah! that's quite another thing. You didn't tell me that.

SGAN. She pleases me; in fact, I love her with all my heart.

GER. You love her with all your heart? SGAN. Most certainly; and I have asked her father's consent.

GER. You have asked her father's consent?

SGAN. Yes. The marriage is to take place this evening; I have given my word. GER. Oh! by all means marry, then; I haven't another word to say.

SGAN. Why should I give up the idea? Do you imagine, then, Mr. Geronimo, that I am no longer fit to think of a wife? Don't let us speak of what my age may be, but consider things as they are. Is there a man of thirty years of age more fresh and hearty than I am? Have I not as free a use of my limbs as ever? Do I look as if I needed a carriage or a chair to get about

ing his teeth.) Do I not eat heartily my four meals a day, and can you find a man with a stronger chest than mine? (cough ing). Hem! hem! hem! Well, what do you say?

GER. You are quite right; I was wrong. You will do well to marry.

SGAN. I was formerly very much against marriage, but now I have strong reasons for it. Besides the pleasure I shall have in possessing a pretty wife who will fondle and coddle me, and pet me when I am tiredbesides this pleasure, I consider that, by remaining as I am, I am allowing the line of the Sganarelles to become extinct; whilst by marrying, I shall see myself reproduced, and have the joy of beholding young crea tures who have sprung from me-little beings who will be as like me as two peas; who will always be playing about the house and calling me their papa; who, when I come back from town, will prattle their little nonsense to me in the pleasantest manner possible. Upon my word, I can almost fancy that the thing is done, and that I see half-a-dozen of them round me.

GER. Nothing can be more charming than all that, and I advise you to marry as quickly as possible.

it?

ter.

SGAN. Seriously, you advise me to do

GER. To be sure; you could not do bet

SGAN. Really, I am delighted that you should, as a true friend, give me this advice.

GER. Well, and who is the person you are going to marry?

SGAN. Dorimène.