He wrote histories of the Revolution,
of Napoleon and of France.
of Napoleon and of France.
Pushkin - Eugene Oneigin
He is said to have originated the title of
the celebrated tract from the pen of the latter. "What is the
Tiers Etat? Nothing. What ought it to be? Everything. " He
ultimately experienced the common destiny in those days, was thrown
into prison and though shortly afterwards released, his
incarceration had such an effect upon his mind that he committed
suicide.
Marie Francois Xavier Bichat, b. 1771, d. 1802, a French anatomist
and physiologist of eminence. His principal works are a "Traite
des Membranes," "Anatomie generale appliquee a la Physiologie et a
la Medecine," and "Recherches Physiologiques sur la Vie et la
Mort. " He died at an early age from constant exposure to noxious
exhalations during his researches.
Pierre Francois Tissot, b. 1768, d. 1864, a French writer of the
Revolution and Empire. In 1812 he was appointed by Napoleon editor
of the _Gazette de France_.
He wrote histories of the Revolution,
of Napoleon and of France. He was likewise a poet and author of a
work entitled "Les trois Irlandais Conjures, ou l'ombre d'Emmet,"
and is believed to have edited Foy's "History of the Peninsular
War. "
The above catalogue by its heterogeneous composition gives a fair
idea of the intellectual movement in Russia from the Empress
Catherine the Second downwards. It is characterized by a feverish
thirst for encyclopaedic knowledge without a corresponding power
of assimilation. ]
XXXV
But what results? His eyes peruse
But thoughts meander far away--
Ideas, desires and woes confuse
His intellect in close array.
His eyes, the printed lines betwixt,
On lines invisible are fixt;
'Twas these he read and these alone
His spirit was intent upon.
They were the wonderful traditions
Of kindly, dim antiquity,
Dreams with no continuity,
Prophecies, threats and apparitions,
The lively trash of stories long
Or letters of a maiden young.
XXXVI
And by degrees upon him grew
A lethargy of sense, a trance,
And soon imagination threw
Before him her wild game of chance.
And now upon the snow in thaw
A young man motionless he saw,
As one who bivouacs afield,
And heard a voice cry--_Why! He's killed_! --
And now he views forgotten foes,
Poltroons and men of slanderous tongue,
Bevies of treacherous maidens young;
Of thankless friends the circle rose,
A mansion--by the window, see!
She sits alone--'tis ever _she_!
XXXVII
So frequently his mind would stray
He well-nigh lost the use of sense,
Almost became a poet say--
Oh! what had been his eminence!
Indeed, by force of magnetism
A Russian poem's mechanism
My scholar without aptitude
At this time almost understood.
the celebrated tract from the pen of the latter. "What is the
Tiers Etat? Nothing. What ought it to be? Everything. " He
ultimately experienced the common destiny in those days, was thrown
into prison and though shortly afterwards released, his
incarceration had such an effect upon his mind that he committed
suicide.
Marie Francois Xavier Bichat, b. 1771, d. 1802, a French anatomist
and physiologist of eminence. His principal works are a "Traite
des Membranes," "Anatomie generale appliquee a la Physiologie et a
la Medecine," and "Recherches Physiologiques sur la Vie et la
Mort. " He died at an early age from constant exposure to noxious
exhalations during his researches.
Pierre Francois Tissot, b. 1768, d. 1864, a French writer of the
Revolution and Empire. In 1812 he was appointed by Napoleon editor
of the _Gazette de France_.
He wrote histories of the Revolution,
of Napoleon and of France. He was likewise a poet and author of a
work entitled "Les trois Irlandais Conjures, ou l'ombre d'Emmet,"
and is believed to have edited Foy's "History of the Peninsular
War. "
The above catalogue by its heterogeneous composition gives a fair
idea of the intellectual movement in Russia from the Empress
Catherine the Second downwards. It is characterized by a feverish
thirst for encyclopaedic knowledge without a corresponding power
of assimilation. ]
XXXV
But what results? His eyes peruse
But thoughts meander far away--
Ideas, desires and woes confuse
His intellect in close array.
His eyes, the printed lines betwixt,
On lines invisible are fixt;
'Twas these he read and these alone
His spirit was intent upon.
They were the wonderful traditions
Of kindly, dim antiquity,
Dreams with no continuity,
Prophecies, threats and apparitions,
The lively trash of stories long
Or letters of a maiden young.
XXXVI
And by degrees upon him grew
A lethargy of sense, a trance,
And soon imagination threw
Before him her wild game of chance.
And now upon the snow in thaw
A young man motionless he saw,
As one who bivouacs afield,
And heard a voice cry--_Why! He's killed_! --
And now he views forgotten foes,
Poltroons and men of slanderous tongue,
Bevies of treacherous maidens young;
Of thankless friends the circle rose,
A mansion--by the window, see!
She sits alone--'tis ever _she_!
XXXVII
So frequently his mind would stray
He well-nigh lost the use of sense,
Almost became a poet say--
Oh! what had been his eminence!
Indeed, by force of magnetism
A Russian poem's mechanism
My scholar without aptitude
At this time almost understood.
