an has
died for less;" and he pointed to a picture of a guillotine, which was
hanging in the room.
I was in amazement.
"What is he? Is he not a teacher of Greek, an abbe, a monk, until
monasteries were abolished, the learned editor of the songs of
'Anacreon?'"
"He WAS all this," replied my grim friend; "he is now a Member of the
Committee of Public Safety, and would think no more of ordering your
head off than of drinking this tumbler of beer."
He swallowed, himself, the frothy liquid, and then proceeded to give me
the history of the man to whom my uncle had sent me for instruction.
Schneider was born in 1756: was a student at Wuerzburg, and afterwards
entered a convent, where he remained nine years. He here became
distinguished for his learning and his talents as a preacher, and became
chaplain to Duke Charles of Wuertemberg. The doctrines of the Illuminati
began about this time to spread in Germany, and Schneider speedily
joined the sect. He had been a professor of Greek at Cologne; and being
compelled, on account of his irregularity, to give up his chair, he came
to Strasburg at the commencement of the French Revolution, and acted for
some time a principal part as a revolutionary agent at Strasburg.
["Heaven knows what would have happened to me had I continued long under
his tuition!" said the Captain. "I owe the preservation of my morals
entirely to my entering the army. A man, sir, who is a soldier, has very
little time to be wicked; except in the case of a siege and the sack of
a town, when a little license can offend nobody."]
By the time that my friend had concluded Schneider's biography, we had
grown tolerably intimate, and I imparted to him (with that experience so
remarkable in youth) my whole history--my course of studies, my pleasant
country life, the names and qualities of my dear relations, and my
occupations in the vestry before religion was abolished by order of the
Republic. In the course of my speech I recurred so often to the name
of my cousin Mary, that the gentleman could not fail to perceive what a
tender place she had in my heart.
Then we reverted to "The Sorrows of Werter," and discussed the merits
of that sublime performance. Although I had before felt some misgivings
about my new acquaintance, my heart now quite yearned towards him. He
talked about love and sentiment in a manner which made me recollect that
I was in love myself; and you know that when a man is in that conditio
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