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TAM
TVM
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Sub Numine
Viget
Princeton University.
Annie Rhodes Gulick
and
Alexander Reading Gulick
Memorial Fund








THE
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
&c.





THE
VICTIM
OF
INTOLERANCE;
OR, THE
HERMIT OF KILLARNEY.
A Catholic Tale.
By ROBERT TORRENS,
Major in the Royal Marines,
** He was for ever beating himself against the bars of his cage; and
such is the power of passion over reason, that neither the exercise of his
penetrating and vigorous understanding, nor the experience of constant
failures, were sufficient to prevent him from wasting his strength in an
idle endeavour to pass the magic circle which law and custom had drawn
around him.''
VOL. II.
· LONDON:
PRINTED FOR GALE, CURTIS, AND FENNER,
PATERNOSTER-row,
2
1814.


W. Flint, Printer, Old Bailey, Londoa.


THE
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
&c.
CHAP. I.
no ?
came
over
FREDERICK Russel, the father of
Julia, is the lineal descendant of one
of the English adventurers, who,
in the reign of Henry the second,
to Ireland under Earl
Strongbow. Heir to considerable
possessions, he was exempt from the
necessity of following a profession;
adhering to the religion of the state,
he was subject to none of those ex-
clusions which affected his fellow sub.
VOL. II.
on yang paalinly
ECE
2.IN
ES7012


2
,
ERAS
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCEjects of other persuasions, and was
permitted to exercise his genius un-
controlled. At an early age he en-
tered upon public life. His first
election, which was sharply contest-
ed, had nearly exhausted all the mo-
ney which could be raised on an en-
tailed and involved estate, when an
elderly lady, a friend of his father's,
advanced the sums necessary to con-
tinue the poll, and thus obtained for
him the great object of his ambition,
the representation of his native coun-
ty. He attached himself zealously
to - the Irish Whigs; but his mar-
riage, which took place about this
time, is to us more interesting than
his political connexions, and we must
go back a little to trace the circum-
stances which led to it


A NOVEL
se.
Early in life, a tender and romantic
attachment was formed between the
elder Mr. Russel, and the beautiful
Louisa, the lady by whose assist-
ance Frederick's election was
cured. A train of the most calami-
tous events prevented their union.
Severe and inflexible, the father of
Louisa had promised her to another;
and, deaf to her entreaties, and un-
moved by her tears, he sternly com-
manded, that she should accept for
a husband the person he had chosen.
She had refused to comply, and for
her disobedience, was confined in a
distant and hitherto uninhabited part
of the mansion, in which the family
resided.
For
many
months Louisa remain-
ed a prisoner in her father's house,
B 9


4
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
preferring the horrors of solitary con-
finement to the arms of a man she
could not love. At length the stern
heart of her father appeared to re-
lent; he unbarred the door of her
prison-house, and suffered her once
more to walk at large, and breathe
the air of liberty, rendered by novel-
ty more sweet. She now wandered
fondly through the scenes, which
had cheared her in happier days; she
renewed her acquaintance with every
tree and every flower, and viewed,
with the feelings of a friend, each ob.
ject that reminded her of past felicity.
One evening when a sweetly melan.
choly reverie rendered her inattentive
to the succession of space and time,
she strayed a considerable distance
from home, and encountered, by
accident, the object of her heart's
1


A NOVEL.
3
regard. The meeting was delightful.
Each poured into the bosom of the
other the treasured tenderness of a
long long absence. Mr. Russel, in all
the eloquence of devoted passion,
urged an elopement and clandestine
marriage. At that moment of wilder-
ed feeling, of melting tenderness, she
was unable to say no to the beloved
of her heart : yet a sense of duty still
weighed upon her mind; she hesita-
ted, she requested time for consider-
ation. This was granted ; they sepa-
rated, promising to meet each other
the next evening, on the same spot,
and at the same hour.
No sooner was she alone than Loui.
sa began to reflect on theimpropriety of
an elopement, and to condemn herself
for not having given the clandestine


6
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
union, proposed by her admirer, a de-
cisive, and prompt denial. Though
her father had been harsh and tyran-
nical, she could not consider herself
as absolved from the duties of a
child; though she had refused to ac-
cept a husband, at his dictation, she
did not feel herself justified in mar-
rying contrary to his commands. At
the appointed hour she went to the
appointed place, not to concert the
means of escape, but to make known
her determination never to consent to
a clandestine marriage.
As she approached the place of
meeting, Louisa perceived through the
gloom of evening two men crouching
in a thicket beside the path she had
to pass. They were armed; she heard
them say to one another-" It is she,


A NOVEL.
7
let us be resolute, and the business will
be soon dispatched.” Terrified at
these mysterious words, Louisa at.
tempted to fly; but the villains, with
the suddenness of lightning, leaped
from their lurking place and seized her.
In accents indistinct from horror, she
pleaded for compassion. They de-
sired her not to be alarmed, and de-
claring that they would execute their
purpose with all possible decorum,
hurried her into a lanę, and from
that to the high road, where a chaise
and four were waiting. They forc-
ed her into it, and after they had
mounted their horses, which were also
in readiness, the whole went off at full
speed.
Events so sudden and unaccount.
able deprived Louisa of the power of


$
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
>>
recollection, and she sat in a kind of
wildered and waking dream, while
she rapidly receded from her father's
house. A length she recollected her-
self, and starting from her stupor she
exclaimed, “ Good Heavens, what
can all this mean! why am I hurried
from my home? where am I going ?
She looked wildly round, and, for the
first time, discovered that she had a
companion in the carriage. More ter-
rified than ever, she shrunk back upon
the seat, until the moon, which now
shed its pale and sickly light upon
the world, relieved her from the thick
coming fancies of nameless horror, by
enabling her to ascertain that this
companion was a female.
Freed from the immediate appre-
hension of the worst of evils, Louisa


A NOVEL.
9
now ventured to address her unknown
associate, and to supplicate that the
mysterious adventures of the night
might be explained.“ Bless'us,” replied
a voice harsh by nature, and querulous
,
“ how squeamish and timo-
rous young women have now-a-days
become. I can remember the time
when a lady did not think it such a
desperate misfortune, to be run away
with, by a man who loved her.”
from age,
“Run away with ; for what purpose,
and by whom am I run away with ?”
Perhaps you can guess for what pur-
pose girls are generally run away
with ; and, as for the person, if
you
are not sufficiently acquainted with
him at present, you will by and by.
For my part, I know nothing of the
business, except that the steward,
B5


10
VICTIM OP INTOLERANCE,
1
when he ordered me to attend, told
me, as a great secret, that a sweet
young lady had agreed to meet
master at nine o'clock to night, and
to run off with him; that master,
knowing you to be timorous and wa-
vering, had prepared every thing to
force you away, in case you should
change your mind; he himself gallop-
ping off, to get an old mansion that is
on his estate ready for the perform-
ance of the marriage ceremony, while
two friends, who volunteered their
services on the occasion, engaged to
meet you in his stead, and, willing or
not willing, to bring you after him.
So, my lady, it is foolish for you to
distress yourself after this manner.
You will soon be the wife of a worthy
gentleman, and as you will be forced
into the marriage, your father cannot


A NOVEL.
$
11
be displeased with
you,
and will give
you a fortune to clear off the incum-
brances on the estate, and enable us
all to live as the family did in former
days.”
As her companion spoke Louisa
concluded, that Mr. Russel, doubt-
ful of being able to obtain her con-
sent to a clandestine union, had taken
the desperate resolution of carrying
her off by force. Indignation took
possession of her soul. She exclaim-
ed, “ he has forfeited my esteem, he
has torn himself for ever from my
heart.-After this treatment his wife
I will never be.'
66
“ Some hours hence," returned
the old woman,
you will think dif-
ferently. I was run away with myself,


12
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
and know how women feel and act
on such occasions. It is just now fifty-
one years since I was a smart country
lass in the county of Tipperary.
My father had a snug little farm, and,
as I was an only child, the neighbours
thought I should have a fortune. So
Terrence Mahoney, as clever a lad as
ever handled an oak stick, made love
to me. My father, who wanted to
make a gentlewoman of me, would
not consent. Terrence cared little
for that. One dark night he came
about twelve o'clock at the head of
fifty boys, broke into our house,
tied my father neck and heels, and car-
ried me off to the mountains. By the
time he had had me in his possession a
week, I began to love him, and thought
I might as well make an honest wo.
man of myself. So the priest was sent
+


A NOVEL.
13
1
1
1
for and we were married. My father
knowing that I could not help what
had happened, was glad to get his child
back again, and forgave Terrence for
my sake. We lived happily together
for thirty years ; our sons were the
finest fellows in all the county, and
the brave boys got rich wives, as
their father did before them. God
rest his soul! I wish he was now
alive, and that we were both young
again, that he might run off with me
once more !”
This discourse produced some alter-
ation in the mind of Louisa. The
first burst of indignation began to
subside, and such was her entire es-
teem, her devoted attachment to Mr.
Russel, that notwithstanding the vio-
lence she had suffered, she could


14
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
scarcely believe it compatible with his
nature to treat a woman injuriously.
She suspected, that, for the distress-
ing occurrences of the night, she must
have been herself partly to blame; she
recalled the conversation of the pre-
ceding evening, and searched the re-
cords of her memory, believing that,
unintentionally, she must have let fall
some expression authorising her lover
to adopt the violent measures, which
she condemned. At length she al-
most ceased to condemn him. She
reflected on the unalterable happiness
of living with the man she loved, and
her heart half thanked him for com-
pelling her into measures, which a
sense of duty would not have suffer-
ed her voluntarily to adopt.
While Louisa thus balanced be-


A NOVEL,
15.
tween tenderness and anger the car-
riage suddenly stopped, the door in
an instant was thrown open, and she
was led through gothic, half ruin-
ed passages to a spacious and bril-
liantly illuminated chamber. А
priest in the sacerdotal vestments
stood in readiness, the opened book
lay upon the table. “ Lady,” said the
clergy man as she was led up to the
place where he was stationed, “ we
have waited for you long, and hope
there may be no further delay to our
proceedings. You are completely at
our mercy; no human aid can come
to you. Resistance can only lead to
aggravated violence. If you wish to
preserve all that is most dear to your
sex, you will immediately acquiesce in
becoming the wife of the man who
loves you.”-Louisa' made no reply;


16 VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
tally, “
she mused a moment on the forlornness
of her condition, and then said men-
My father will never believe
that force has been employed to bear
me from the protection of his roof.
Should I return to him he would
close his doors against me for my
supposed disobedience, and the appa-
rent impropriety of my conduct; my
resolves are over-ruled by fate; there
is nothing left for me but to become
the wife of Russel.”
As she thus mused compliance, a
servant announced from without “my
master comes.” Quick footsteps were
heard to echo in the passage, the
door opened suddenly. The priest
took up the book, Louisa averted her
head, covered her face with her
drapery, and stood ready to sink into


A NOVEL,
17
1
the earth with a thousand contending
emotions, as her lover approached her
side. She felt her hand gently press-
ed, she heard her name pronounced,
but not in the expected accents of the
man she loved ! She turned round
astonished; petrified with horror she
beheld the hated form of the
person
whom her father would have compel-
led her to marry
When Louisa had recovered from
the first impulse of surprise, she dis-
engaged her hand from the grasp of
this often rejected suitor, and ex-
claimed, “ Audacious villain ! was it
you who brought me here ?"
6 Loui-
sa,” he replied sternly, it was I who
brought you here. I overheard your
converse with my rival about an
elopement; heard you appoint the


18
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
time and place for the next inter-
view, and determined to disconcert
your schemes. While a trusty friend
hung pertinaciously about Russel,
until the promised hour was past, two
others lay in wait for you at the place
appointed, and bore you to this man-
sion, where you see every thing was
prepared for your reception. But
we waste the golden opportunity, ,
you must now become my wife.”,
دو
“ Never, while I hold existence;
never." 4 You had best recal those
words." They are irrevocable
while I hold existence I never will
be yours.” “ That shall be determin-
ed speedily. Let every one withdraw,
nor dare; until I call, to interrupt our
conversation." His mandate was
obeyed; he left alone with
دو
was


A NOVEL.
19
Louisa. She supplicated, but it was
in vain ; she poured out the indig-
nation that laboured at her heart, but
it was of no avail. He seized her
with an herculean grasp; with a force
that rendered resistance hopeless he
hurried her along, and placed her be-
side him on a sofa. Louisa, I love
you to distraction, and no earthly
power shall withhold you from being
mine. But the terms of your being so,
I leave to your own choice. Then
make the election: it rests with your.
self whether you are to be my mis-
tress or '
my wife." Unable to pro-
nounce the dreadful alternative she
sat in the 'silence of despair. He
seized her rudely, her shrieks brought
no one to her aid ; the force supplied
by desperation was quickly spent ;
and she sunk, incapable of another


20
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
DE
1
SC
ai
of
struggle. Her unrelenting oppressor
with increasing ardour pursued his
horrid purpose. Starting convulsively
from a swoon of terror and despair, she
had just strength to
strength to pronounce,
spare me, and I will become your
wife.” “ Swear to be my wife and I
will desist: the book lies by your side,
swear, swear it instantly.” She seized
the book in an agony of despair, and
took the oath required. : He suffered
her to rise. After adjusting her dis-
hevelled dress he stamped violently
on the floor. The attendants enter-
ed with the priest at their head, the
marriage ceremony was instantly per-
formed, and Louisa was borne to the
bridal bed, a legal victim in the arms
of him she hated.
me
SU
th
01
pre
DE
The carrying
off of Louisa, and


A NOVEL .
21
man
her compulsory union with a
whom she had repeatedly rejected,
did not make so much noise in the
neighbourhood, as might have been
expected. The father, who desired
beyond all things to see his daughter
married to her present husband, was
soon reconciled to his son-in-law;
and such was the exemplary conduct
of the fair upfortunate, that the world
never suspected the violence she had
suffered, and believed, that in marry-
ing, she had merely complied with
the wishes of a parent. Her sense
of duty was of the most elevated
nature, and in some cases, almost ap-
proached to a moral superstition.
She incessantly struggled with her-
self to accominodate her feelings to
her fate, and to perform, without
repining, the duties of that station in
1
7


42
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
which the great Disposer of events had
willed she should be placed.
Widely different were the feelings
of her disappointed lover. As soon
as he could disengage himself from
the officious intrusion of the person,
whom his rival lad employed to
detain him, Mr. Russel hurried to
the place of appointment. It was
considerably past the promised hour,
and, believing that Louisa, piqued at .
his breach of punctuality, had returned
to her father's house, he execrated
the occasion of his delay. The next
evening, and the next, he returned to
the same spot, and in hopes of seeing
his soul's beloved, lingered in all
her favourite walks. At length he
heard that she was from home, and
never suspecting the fatal occasion of


A NOVEL,
23
her absence, imagined that her father
having discovered their secret inter-
view, had privately conveyed her to a
distant part of the country, and again
confined her. But while her dis-
tracted lover thus deceived himself,
and moved heaven and earth to dis-
cover the place of her fancied impri-
sonment, the marriage of Louisa
was announced. She returned in
company with her husband, and took
up her residence at her father's house.
The feelings of Russel it would be
impossible to describe. Ignorant of
the fatal necessity which had com-
pelled Louisa to become the wife of
another, he believed her to be false
and unstable. He execrated the sex ;
he hated all the women in the world.
But his resentment was quickly


24
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
lim
0
changed into profound compassion.
He learned that his Louisa had been
forced away. While paroxysms of rage
transported him to madness, he heard
that, to avoid violation, she had been
compelled to marry where she hated.
He breathed revenge, he determined
that his villain rival should not live.
He penned a challenge; but, as he
went out in quest of a friend by whom
to convey it, he chanced to meet
Louisa on a solitary and pensive walk.
Taken by surprise she was unable to
conquer her emotions, and hung faint-
ing on the bosom of her lover. She
was recalled to recollection by the
frenzied vehemence of Russel, who;
while he imprinted anguished kisses
on her pallid cheek, poured forth.im-
precations against the villain, that
by fraud and violence, had deprived
the n
and son
hoopt
which
Then su
which
solemn
his ha
band, a:
infant.
Reste
seance.
of elo
Trestin
success
Tepeatec
teir vo
lang
tid trea
TOL,


A NOVEL .
25
him of the idol of his soul. From
the mysteriousness of his manner,
and some dark expressions which he
dropt, she guessed the purpose on
which he came. She shuddered ;
then summoning all the resolution of
which she was mistress, extorted a
solemn vow that he would never lift
his hand in violence against her hus-
band, against the father of her unborn
infant.
Restrained from his meditated ven-
geance, Mr. Russel began to think
of eloping with Louisa, and of thus
wresting from his rival the fruit of his
successful fraud. He wrote to her
repeatedly, imploring her to recollect
their vows of everlasting love, and
urging her to fly from a wretch who
had treated her with such barbarity.
VOL, II.
с


VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
وو
“ Louisa,” he would say, “the mar-
riage contract into which you have
entered was compulsory, and therefore
cannot, either in the eyes of God or
man, be binding. It is to me that
your fidelity is due, to me your first,
your holiest vows were plighted; con-
senting angels witnessed the mutual
compact, and registered the union of
our souls in heaven. Then shall a
human ceremonial put asunder those
whom God and Nature have joined
together? Oh! Louisa, fly from the
violator whom you misname your
husband, and come to me, your legi-
timate partner, your spirit's spouse ;
oh come to me, that I may atone to
you for all that you - have suffered,
that I may chase away the recol-
lection of what is past, and wipe all
tears for ever from your eyes.


A NOVEL
27
To these proposals Louisa returned
a decided and indignant negative.
“ The ceremony of marriage,” said
she, " which I have performed, may
be a civil contract, and not binding,
because it was compulsory; but I
have entered also into an holy en-
gagement from which nothing can
absolve me. When I became the possi-
ble parent of the little innocent yet
unborn, I contracted an obligation to
co-operate with its father in providing
for its happiness. Any proceeding
which would prevent or
obstruct
this co-operation would be a breach
of a sacred stipulation. Though there
were no human institutions to main-
tain the sanctity of marriage, yet
every separation
inconstancy,
which interfered with parental affec-
tion and parental care, would be a vio-
or
C 2


28
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
lation of nature's most sacred law.
Never 'speak to me again of love.
Farewell! If you do not forfeit my es-
teem by urging me any further to vio-
Jate my duty, I shall cherish for you
a tender and eternal friendship.”
Hopeless of winning Louisa to a com-
pliance with his wishes, Russel now
determined to seek, in change of scene,
a mitigation of his sorrows. He re-
tired to the continent, and resided there
for twenty years; but he never forgot
Louisa, never loved again. At length
he returned to his native land, and be
held her once more. Time had taken
something from the loveliness of her
form, but nothing from his regard.
Her heart too was still unchanged.
She received him with a melancholy
joy: as she pressed the hand of her


A XOVEL,
29
first, her only love, the spring time of
life seemed to return on her again.
Her heart, worn
out with sorrow,
cherished the tender recollection ; and
now that revolving years had calmed
the riots of her pulse, she permitted
a friendly intercourse, which might
have been dangerous to their virtue
before " the life of life was gone.
Each recounted to the other the
events which had occurred, and the
feelings which had arisen during ab-
sence. With all the anguish of affec-
tionate sympathy Mr. Russel listen-
ed to the sorrows of the woman whom
he had once passionately loved,
whom he now tenderly esteemed.
Her husband, a domestic savage, had
always been tyrannical and harsh.
When she imagined herself pregnant
1


'30
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
she was deceived ; she never had a
child; never lost in the delightful
feelings of a mother, she was unable
to escape from the recollection of the
misfortune that had united her to a
partner not congenial to herself.
Some time passed away in this
friendly intercourse, when Mr. Russel,
though he never could love another,
began to entertain thoughts of mar-
riage for the purpose of having a de-
scendant to inherit his estate. He
communicated his intentions to Loui-
sa, and she approved of them. “ Mar-
ry, my dear friend,” said the amiable
woman; " happiness consists in hav-
ing objects of affection; and, for your
:children, I think I could feel the
tender solicitude of a mother."
.


A NOVEL.
31
Mr. Russel did not select a partner
for the beauty of her form, or for
the superior accomplishments of her
mind. The young lady whom he
chose had no such recommendations ;
she was plain, she was without for-
tune, but she was connected with,
she was esteemed by Louisa. Yet
Louisa as the day appointed for the
marriage ceremony drew near, almost
repented of the approbation which at
first she had bestowed on Russel's
choice. She endeavoured to suppress
the
preposterous jealousy, she strug-
gled to controul emotions which she
blushed to entertain ; it was impos-
sible. She could not but recollect
that she once expected to be the wife
of Russel; she could not blot from the
tablets of her memory the thrilling
tenderness, the intoxicating dream as-


92
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
sociated with such an expectation.
The idea of being a mother, the feel.
ings of maternal love, no longer came
in aid of virtue, and restrained the
wanderings of a heart too tender for
her peace, of a bruised and afflicted
heart, that had long endured the dis-
consolate widowhood of having no ob-
ject on the earth to love. It perpe-
tually recurred to her how happy she
would have been, if placed in the
situation her friend was about to fill.
The marriage ceremony took place;
and that night, imagination became
the master faculty of her soul. By a
strange kind of sympathy, she heard
the endearments breathed forth by her
former lover, and felt the caresses
which he bestowed upon another.
She turned to her husband, and forc-
ed à conversation in hopes of dissipat-


A NOVEL
93
ing her thick coming fancies --but
it would not do-she dreamt she
was the bride of Russel.
In less than twelve months after this
marriage, Frederick Russel, the father
of Julia, was born. Such an occurrence
was not sufficiently novel to excite.at-
tention; but Louisa's being, at the same
time, delivered of a daughter, was an
event that appeared almost miraculous.
Though soon after her marriage, Louisa
imagined that she was as women wish
to be who love their lords,” yet, dur-
ing twenty years that she had lived
with her husband, there never was,
in reality, any prospect of her becom-
ing a mother. She had for a consider-
able time given up the hope of having
a child, and when at last she found
C 5


34 VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
herself pregnant, her surprise and joy
were excessive. As she gazed upon
it, recollections of her early love stole
upon her heart, and she pressed it to
her bosom with more than
ther's fondness. But this was not all,
another source of gratification await-
ed her.
a mo-
As the children of Russel and
Louisa grew up they were constantly
together, and seemed to inherit an ar-
dent attachment for each other. This
attachment the parents studiously en-
couraged. “ Frederick and Eliza,"
they would fondly predict,
- will love
each other as we have loved; but no
parental controul shall condemn them
to separation and sorrow. Our dear
children shall be happy, and we en-


A NOVEL
35
joy, through them, the felicity, which,
in our own persons, we were not per-
mitted to attain."
Love is a free affection of the soul,
that refuses to conform to the dictates
of another's will,-it arises from in-
voluntary associations, from unforeseen
congenialities of mind, and seldom
grows up between those who have
been brought together by contrivance,
and design. As Frederick Russel ap-
proached to manhood he ceased to
feel for Eliza that exclusive regard
which had marked their childhood.
He loved her, but it was with a bro-
ther's love. The dream of young
desire did not associate itself with the
companion of his infant sports. His
ardent enterprising spirit spurned
the shackles of controul, and long-


36
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
ed to launch into the world, and to
be the creator of its own felicity.
Eliza was of an opposite charac-
ter. Gentle, complying, and passively
conforming to every impression, her
ideas and inclinations flowed in what-
ever channel her parents and instruc-
tors happened to prescribe. The vio-
lent and despotic temper of her father,
the perpetual solicitude and interfer-
ence which her feeble state of health
rendered necessary in her mother, in- .
terdicted, or superseded the exereise
of her own faculties, and at length de-
stroyed whatever mental energy she
might have derived from nature. She
became the implicit creature of educa-
tion. She was told to be fond of Frede.
rick, and she was fond of him. She
learned that he was intended for her


1 NOVEL.
97
future husband, and, if a languid dream
of love floated for a moment in her
fancy, with his image it was constant-
ly connected. She went into pub-
lic : the regular beauty of her features,
and the gentle languor of her air,
excited that feeling of compassion
which is so much akin to love, and
obtained for her many admirers. But
she received their attentions with
cold indifference; she never felt that
there was in the world any person
except Frederick whose sex differed
from her own.
The elder Mr. Russel never sus-
pected that tþere was little congeni-
ality betwixt the disposition of his son,
and that of the wife he had elected
for him. So entirely did he love, so
perfectly esteem Louisa, that every


38
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
#
thing with which her ideà happened
to associate appeared in his partial eye
clothed in perfections not its own.
Everything she wore was the mosttaste-
ful of its kind; every thing she said con-
veyed a meaning and a pathos which
no other human being was capable
of conveying. Eliza bore some resem-
blance to her mother ; from imitation
she had caught something of her man-
ner, and of her peculiarities of ex-
pression; and on this account, Mr.
Russel imagined that she was the
most lovely of her sex, and took it
for granted that she possessed all her
mother's accomplishments and ge-
nius. His son was now of age, and
he urged him to enter into the union
which had so long been the object:
of his dearest wishes.


A NOVEL.
S9
Frederic, whose ruling passion was
ambition, had little inclination to
marry,and still less to marry with Eliza;
but he could not give a positive denial
to the long cherished project of the
most affectionate of parents ; he could
not break the heart of the devoted
Eliza, by disclosing the afflicting truth
that her love met no return. But wish-
ing to put off the evil day, and hoping
that something might turn up to re-
lieve him from the distressing dilem-
ma in which he was placed, he re-
quested a little delay for the comple-
tion of his studies.
His studies were at length com-
pleated; he became a candidate for the
county, and, in the bustle of election
business, found another excuse for
the postponement of his marriage.


40
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
ů
of 애
​hu
de
ha
But, as was before mentioned, his
funds were inadequate to carry on the
protracted contest, and Louisa, whose
husband had been years deceased,
came forward, under the impres-
sion that Frederick was soon to be her
son-in-law, and advanced a sum which
enabled him to carry his election.
Having received this important obli-
gation from the mother, Frederick
felt himself bound, both by gratitude
and honour, to give his hand to the
daughter. The marriage ceremony
was immediately performed.
S
f
DI
01
SE
{
21
If Frederick Russel did not enjoy
with Eliza all the happiness of which
bis ardent and susceptible nature was
capable, he suffered as little pain as
it was possible for a refined and
cultivated nind to feel, under. a.
ID
fo
C


A NOVEL
.41
union not dictated by love. His
partner did not aid his favourite pur-
suits, but she
never obstructed
them. Her love amounted to a species
of idolatry. She looked up to her
husband as to a being of a superior or-
der, and whatever administered to his
happiness she gladly acquiesced in.
So far from expecting that he would
devote himself to her society, and
from expressing discontent when his
public avocations for the greater part
of the year deprived her of his pre-
sence, she received with thankful
gratitude whatever portion of his time
it pleased him to afford her. Placid
and unambitious, she thought that
whatever is, is right. She rejoiced
in her husband's excessive passion
for politics, and considered the in-
terest and occupation which public


42
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
business afforded him, as the happy
means of preventing his ardent and
adventurous spirit from seeking in
other objects that congeniality of
soul, that glow of sympathy, which.
she was indistinctly conscious he
could not find at home.
It was impossible for Frederick to
act unkindly to such a woman. He
closed his eyes upon her imperfec-
tions; he turned from the defects of
her understanding, and dwelt upon
the unequalled goodness of her heart :
and, when an unavailing regret would
come, when he felt the inanity of her
conversation, or sighed involuntarily
for the reverberation of delight, the
enlarged interchange of ideas and emo-
tions which multiplies existence, and
lifts us to the verge of heaven, he
1
1


A NOVEL
43
would drown such dangerous re-
flections in political contest, and in ad-
vocating those principles in which he
supposed the welfare of his country
to depend. At length the birth of
à son, and soon after of our lovely
Julia, filled his heart with all the de.
lightful solicitude of parental affec-
tion, and caused him to rejoice and
exult in the hour when he gave his
hand to Eliza. But the joy arising
from these happy events was long over-
cast by the death of his venerated
father. The faithful Louisa did not
long survive the man whom she had
once ardently loved, ever tenderly
esteemed.
She expired, requesting
that her remains might be commit-
ted to the same grave with his, and
under the full assurance that, in a


44 VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
happier world, they would meet to
part no more,
1
The father of our Julia now found
himself at the head of a command-
ing fortune. The money he obtain-
ed in right of his wife cleared off the
incumbrances of his hereditary estate,
and enabled him to lead the county
in which his property was situated.
But though the great natural influ-
ence which he derived from the pos-
session of property was seconded by
very considerable political talents,
Mr. Russel never acquired that share
in the administration of affairs which
it was his great ambition to obtain.
He was too independant for a cour-
tier, too moderate for a popular leade
er. A stedfast adherent to the ancient
P-
8
t
1
ic


A NOVEL
43
whig aristocracy, which, though for-
merly high in character and power,
had now been deserted by the peo-
ple, and overborne by the increasing
influence of the crown, he found him-
self, after years of strenuous exertion,
as distant as ever from the elevation
he pursued.
Amid all his disappointments, Mr.
Russel consoled himself with the
idea, that, when the alarms of one
party, and the excesses of another,
should sufficiently subside to enable
the community to appreciate and
enjoy the rational liberty which their
forefathers had bequeathed to them, his
darling boy, freed from the vexatious
hindrances by which his own pro-
gress had been obstructed, would pagg
to the highest honors of the state.


46
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
Indeed the extraordinary talents which
his son, at a very early age display-
ed, seemed to justify every expecta-
țion that the partial parent entertain-
ed of his future eminence. These
talents were cultivated and improved
by the most finished education Eu-
rope could afford. His mind was
early furnished with the stores of
classic learning, masters were procur-
ed to instruct him in the languages, the
manners, and the laws of the principal
-- European states, wbile his father un-
dertook to be his preceptor in what.
ever related to the history, the litera-
ture, and the interests of his native
Jand. He was taught the graces of
elocution, and made to declaim on the
public measures of the day.
While Mr. Russel, urged by family


A NOVEL..
47
5
f
e
1
pride and ambition, spared neither
pains nor cost in maturing the talents
of his son, and viewed the boy as an
intellectual prodigy, an embryo states-
man destined to confer blessings on
his country, Julia was comparatively
neglected, and her parents never sus-
pected that she possessed a genius su-
perior to her brother's. It was indeed
impossible for her parents to behold,
without delight and pride, the angelic
sweetness of her face, and perfect sym-
metry of her form, but, dazzled by the
fine wrought casket, they neglected to
notice the gem without price which it
inclosed. Julia was instructed in every
exterior accomplishment which could
heighten the effect of her personal
charms; but she was a female, she
could never become of any political im-
portance, and it was therefore deemed
1


48
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
)
superfluous to bestow much pains in
the cultivation of her mind.
I
Several circumstances highly fa-
vourable to the growth of genius,
atoned to Julia for the absence of
direct instruction. Little attended to
by her father, and seldom controuled
by her indolent and indulgent mo-
ther, she roamed a lovely wood
nymph, through the lawns and pic-
turesque domains, until she could
bound with the elasticity of the fawns,
her playmates.
While her brother
grew pale and languid from study too
intense, vivacity glistened in her eye,
and health strewed new-blown roses
on her cheek : while he was pre-
scribed lessons little calculated to
fix the attention, or excite the ardour
of a youth, she, uncontrouled, regaled
ai
1
CH
li


A NOVEL.
49
on whatever was most likely to wake
the fancy or to touch the heart. She
inhaled inspiration with the fresh-
ness of the morning, with the soft fal-
ling dews of evening she drew in de-
licious languishment. She marked
the brightening rays of the sky, she
watched the stealing progress of the
year, and looked through nature up to
nature's God.
A mind so ardent, so tremblingly
alive to each fine impulse, was calcu-
lated, whenever circumstances should
excite the necessary degree of appli-
cation, to make a rapid progress in
literature. Julia discovered that the
indulgence and liberty which she
enjoyed arose, in a great degree, from
the indifference of her parents.
Her
affectionate heart was pierced with
VOL. II.
D


50
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
PC
JOE
der
fen
anguish, and, imagining that her bro-
ther was better beloved than herself,
because he had made greater pro-
gress in learning, she determined to
insure the affection of her father and
mother by acquiring the attainments
they so much esteemed. She applied
to study with her characteristic enthu-
siasm : and one of her brother's mas-
ters, who, at her solicitation, undertook
to instruct her, ventured to pronounce
that she would soon be the better
scholar of the two.
ac
to
rat
ot
to
wa
ad
tea
ber
1
ord
Though Julia made a rapid progress
in literature she failed to attain the
end which she proposed to herself
as the reward of successful exertion.
Her father, finding his consort de-
ficient in intellectual endowments,
and considering the value of litera.


Å Novet.
61
ture to consist in its subserviency to
political pursuits, entertained a very
low opinion both of the female un-
derstanding, and of the utility of
female talents : her mother, a passive
machine, adopted all his prejudices,
and the mortified Julia discovered,
to her sorrow, that the attainments by
which her brother excited the admi-
ration of his parents, were, in her, un-
noticed. It grieved her to the heart
to think that her devoted affection to-
wards the authors of her life met no
adequate return; and, often while the
tear of sensibility trembled in her
beauteous eye, she has said to her
brother,“ how happy you must feel
at being loved so tenderly!”
The partiality which Mr. Russel and
his wife suffered to appear in their be:
C2
7


52
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
haviour to their children was not suffi.
cient to interrupt the cordial harmony
that, from the period of infancy, Frede-
rick and Julia had entertained for each
other. Envy was a passion which the
breast of Julia could not harbour : it
might in truth be said of her," that with-
out one jarring atom she was formed.”
Her gentle spirit sympathized with
all that lived. She would weep over
the mutilated insect; forgetful of her
personal gratification, she has liberated
her favourite bird, when told it was
unhappy in confinement.
The sensibility of Julia was not of
that modern species, which, unmind-
ful of human misery, lavishes all its
compassion on the irrational creation.
The sufferings of her fellow beings
seized irresistibly on her heart, and


A NOVEL.
53
of the poor,
every thing in human form had in her
a sympathizing friend. She seemed
a celestial visitant commissioned to
pity and to save; the guardian angel
« that watched and wept,
that prayed and felt for all.” I never
Knew a being that entered so prompt-
ly, so completely into the feelings of
another; or that, in the devotedness of
sympathy, became so unmindful of
self and all its narrow views.
. Julia at an early age displayed other
qualities which are rarely found to as-
sociate with a fancy so inspired, and
a heart so warm. Discretion was
throned upon her placid brow, and,
when placed in any situation of diffi-
culty, her tones were spoken with a
judgment decisive and self-balanced.
Ever without strength of constitution,


54
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
or energy of mind, her mother, as
she advanced in life, became gradual-
more delicate and inert. Far from
being able to watch over her daughter
with maternal guardianship, she look-
ed up to Julia for assistance and ad-
vice, and committed to her the ma-
nagement of all her affairs. Hence
this lovely girl, at an age when the
generality of young women are studi.
ously restrained from deciding and
acting for themselves, was perpetual-
ly called upon, not only to regulate
her own conduct, but to preside over
the whole economy of her father's
household. The consequence was,
that her judgment, constantly ex-
ercised, acquired strength beyond her
years, and formed a sufficient coun.
terpoise to those powers of fancy and
that susceptibility of heart, which


A NOVEL
55
otherwise might have hurried her in-
to the most fatal indiscretions.
The health of Mrs. Russel gradual-
ly declined ; and often for a week to-
gether she has been confined to her
room, under a most melancholy debi.
lity both of body and mind. It was
on one of these occasions that I first
became acquainted with my cousin
Julia. When I entered the room she
had taken her station by the side of
her afflicted parent. I beheld, with
mingled wonder and delight, a lovely
young creature of about fourteen,
renouncing all the lively amusements
natural to her age, and voluntarily
immuring herself in a sick chamber,
watching the looks, and, with anxi-
ous solicitude, anticipating the wish.
es of her mother. As I observed her


56
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
not only preparing the food, and, with
her own hand, administering the me-
dicine which had been prescribed, but
in the most soothing accents, reviv-
ing the drooping spirits of the pa-
tient, and ministering unto a mind
diseased, I regarded her as a being
scarcely human, and hailed her as my
bosom's chosen friend.
With increasing intimacy my at-
tachment for Julia increased. The
infantine simplicity of her manners,
and the unequalled susceptibility of
her heart, at first concealed from me
the strength of her understanding, and
suggested the idea that she was badly
calculated to jostle through a deceit-
ful and unfeeling world.
I had a
thousand solicitudes on her account,
which the conduct of her well mean.


A NOVEL,
57
ing, but injudicious mother, perpetu-
ally tended to increase. Destitute of
all mental energy,
or internal re.
source, she called upon her daughter
for amusement; and without the aid
of Julia, was unable to fill up the
craving void of a wearisome and un-
enjoyed existence.
Too languid to
read for herself, she got Julia to read
aloud; too destitute of understanding
to comprehend or relish works of in-
struction, novels were perpetually cal-
led for. Thus to keep up the flag-
ging spirits of an infirm and languish-
ing parent, my amiable young friend
was driven to give her days and nights
to the trash of the circulating libraries.
Just between the woman and the
child, and possessing a glowing fancy,
and a heart, tremblingly alive all o'er,
she was of an age and temper to rena
D 5


58
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
66
Ah, my
der such a course of reading peculiar-
ly hazardous. I felt a thousand dis-
quietudes on her account.
lovely friend,” I would say mentally,
though nature strung your nerves
to the enjoyment of ardent felicity,
I have melancholy forebodings that
the joy which now sparkles in your
eye, and the complacency that plays
in the dimples of your fascinating
smile, will be succeeded by sorrow
and discontent. The books you are
compelled to read will represent the
world in false and deceitful colours; the
first person whom your beauty and ac-
complishments attract, your heated
fancy will adorn with all that you
have admired in the heroes of ro-
mance; and the world will appear the
paradise of love : your lot would be
happy could this delusion last, but


A NOYEL.
59
this is next to impossible. It is a
thousand to one that you will, on an
intimate acquaintance, find the object
of your affections a different person
from what you imagined him to be.
After a delightful dream you will
wake to sad realities. The world, so
late the paradise of love, will seem a
joyless blank, a dreary wilderness; and
though a sense of religion, a senti.
ment of honor, will for ever withhold
Julia from attempting to retrieve,
in illicit love, the mistake of a first
and over hasty choice, yet in bitter-
ness of heart she must repent of it;
and, with unavailing anguish, sigh
after the happiness, which, with a
partner congenial to herself, she might
have enjoyed and communicated.”
But while I pursued these reflec-
畫
​


60
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
tions, and indulged these fears, it was
myself, not Julia, that lay under a
delusion. Whilst I trembled lest my
dear friend might be exposed to the
evil which an excessive addiction to
novel reading had brought on some of
my acquaintance, I failed to notice
that soundness of judgment, and those
peculiar circumstances which preserv-
ed her from danger. As Julia had
studied the classics with her brother,
and had formed her taste by the most
perfect models of literary composi-
tion, the herd of writers who supply
the annual demands of the circulating
libraries excited disgust more fre-
quently than pleasure ; while the im.
pression which a well written work
of fiction is calculated to make on a
mind of sensibility and taste, was con-
siderably impaired by the manner in


A NOVEL.
61
which she read. She took up her
book, not to gratify herself, but to
amuse her mother ; she would lay it
aside, in the midst of a most interest-
ing passage, because her parent, weary
of hearing, required some other ser-
vice at her hands. Hence she could
scarcely ever enter upon a favourite
author, at those auspicious moments,
when the mind, disengaged from
every other pursuit, yields itself to
the impression the writer intended to
produce, and become entranced and
spell-bound by the magic of his genius.
Nor was this all. Whenever Julia
came to a passage which contained
the flights of an inspired fancy, or
the persuasive eloquence of an im-
passioned heart, her mother, destitute
of all relish for this higher 'species
of composition, would desire her to


62
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
skip the description and the senti-
ment, and pass on to the story. She
would do so for her parent's gratifica-
tion, turning down the page, that
she might afterwards recur to what
she considered as the most interesting
parts of the book ; but when she had
finished the task her filial piety im-
posed, fatigued with reading, she
would join in the sports of her bro.
ther, or walk forth to muse in soli-
tude on the loveliness of nature, res
membering the dangerous passages no
Thus from a variety of cir-
cumstances Julia read all the love-tales
of the circulating libraries, uninter-
ested and uninjured.
1
more.
One morning I called upon my dear
friend just as a new set of books had
been brought in. Curiosity prompt-
.


A NOVEL
63
ed me to look over the title-pages,
and I saw, with soine alarm, “ Rous-
seau's Eloise.” Having once witness-
ed the effect which this fascinating,
but dangerous production, had pro-
duced on some young persons who
had obtained it clandestinely at the
boarding-school, my solicitude for Julia
rose to a painful height; and as she
was, at that time, finishing another
novel to her mother, I requested she
would lend me the Eloise ; she com-
plied. I carried the book home, and
committed it to the flames,
By this unfortunate interference
with the pursuits of Julia, I increas.
ed the danger which I intended to
remove, The mother, having heard
me ask to borrow the Eloise, imagin-
ed that it was a novel of more than


64
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
usual interest, and, though the name
had escaped her feeble memory she
frequently asked for the book I had
taken. It was sent for several times,
and, when not returned, the poor
invalid, who required incessant amuse-
ment “ to help through the long
disease her life,''expressed impatience
at the disappointment. Ever eager to
comply with, to anticipate the wishes
of her afflicted parent, Julia endea-
voured to procure from the neigh-
bouring libraries another copy of the
Eloise : the work could not be obtain-
ed in English; but one of the book-
sellers happened to have the origi-
nal; and as Julia was mistress of the
French language, she determined to
gratify her mother's curiosity by an
extemporary translation. To do this,
so as to keep up the attention, and


A NOVEL
65
excite the interest of her auditor, re-
quired that she should previously
study her author and make herself
fully acquainted with his meaning.
Thus her days and her nights were de-
voted to the pages of Rousseau. What
was at first performed as a task of filial
duty, soon became a delightful recre-
ation ; and while she entered with the
deepest sympathy into the feelings
and misfortunes of Eloise, or dwelt on
the generous and fervid passion of St.
Preux, she forgot her meals, she re-
signed repose, and, wafted in spirit to
the scenes of consummated love, she
became insensible to every object that
was present to her senses. At length,
overpowered by her emotions, she
would fling the magic book aside,
unable to proceed; then recollecting
that she had some household business


66
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
to perform for her mother, she would
dispatch it hastily, and, resuming her
favourite author, would lose herself
again in passion's dream.
Mrs. Russel, whose blood had at all
times crept indolently through her
veins, was incapable of forming a con-
ception of the impression which the
captivating eloquence of Rousseau
was calculated to make on a heart so
warm, and an imagination so active as
Julia's. For my own part, though
destitute of my young friend's crea-
tive fancy, and exquisite tenderness of
soul, I comprehended her character
sufficiently to be aware that this fas.
cinating writer must produce a strong,
a lasting impression on her mind; and
when she wrote to me saying she had
read the new Eloise in the original,


A NOVEL.
67
I was prepared to discover a consi-
derable change in her manners and
opinions. I was not deceived. Julia
not only lost the unembarrassed free-
dom of one scarce conscious of her
sex; she became skilled in all the
varieties of the tender passion, a be-
liever in the omnipotence of love.
One morning, when we were alone
together, the conversation turned up-
on the affairs of the heart, and Julia
expressed her conviction that, in ar-
dent and susceptible natures, the ten-
der passion was an irresistible impulse
which it was idle to endeavour to con-
troul. As I heard her give utterance
to such sentiments, I imagined that all
my fears were realized ; and, with
more warmth than was usual to me,
passed a condemnation on the fatal


68' VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
- That, my
writings of Rousseau. Julia seemed
astonished; and, as soon as I had
ceased, desired me to descend from
general censure, and to point out the
specific crimes of which her favourite
author had been guilty.
dear friend," I replied, “ is a task of
no great difficulty. Rousseau has
been so little careful to conceal his
errors that the most superficial perusal
of his works is sufficient to convince
us of their evil tendency. In his
Eloise he has represented the passion
of love as possessing a degree of force
and permanence, which, in real life,
was never known. While reading his
over-charged descriptions, our heads
turn round with notions of celestial
charms, and expectations of felicity
which can never be realized on earth,
Imagination dwells on this delightful


A NOVEL.
69
dream; the heart languishes and dies
away with tenderness unutterable, and
the delicious poison spreads through
all the functions of the soul. Love
then appears an emanation from the
Deity : to resist it appears not only a
hopeless, but a sacrilegious task; and
too often the hapless victim of de-
ceitful eloquence and prostituted ge.
nius, resigns herself, without an effort,
to destruction.— I can by no means
agree with the strange opinion of
Rousseau, that the girl who reads his
Eloise is lost; but, without incurring
the hazard of reputation, I think I
may assert that a more dangerous
book cannot be put into the hands of
a young female."
“In making that assertion,” return-
ed Julia eagerly, “I apprehend that you


o
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
-
incur the greatest hazard of refuta.
tion. Indeed it appears to me that,
your premises are all incorrect, and
your conclusions the reverse of truth.
In the first place Rousseau has not re•
presented love as possessing a force
and permanence unknown in real life:
on the contrary, though he has traced
the progress of that passion in more
glowing colours than any other writer,
he has still fallen short of nature ; he
was unable to describe all that the
heart is capable of feeling. Surely
when you look around, and recollect
that some have died for love and
some gone mad, you must acquit
Rousseau of having dealt in over-
charged descriptions. I must also
deny that these descriptions, such
as they are, have any of the perni-
cious effects which you suppose.
-


A NOVEL.
71
They were necessary to give us a
knowledge of ourselves, and forewarn
us of the strength of our emotions,
and of the impossibility of finding
any motive of sufficient force to coun.
terbalance love. Indeed, instead
of having found Rousseau the most
dangerous author that could have been
put into my hands, I have derived the
most useful lessons from his writings.
Before I read the Eloise, I was a stran.
ger to my own heart ; and never hav.
ing reflected on the necessity of
guarding myself against forming an
attachment with an unworthy object,
or under improper circumstances,
might have unwittingly entangied my-,
self in the most dangerous con-
nexions. · But I see the sands and
sunken rocks on which the virtue of
such multitudes has perished---I have


72
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
obtained an empire over my own af-
fections, and, if I err, my error will be
voluntary and without excuse.”
“ My dear Julia,' I exclaimed,
you have fallen into a strange in-
consistency.
You talk of the impos.
sibility of finding any motive of suf-
ficient force to counter-balance love,
and yet speak of having obtained an
empire over your
own affections.
Surely if you regard the tender pas-
sion as an emanation froin the Deity,
an irresistible impulse, you cannot
consider the errors into which it may
lead you as voluntary and without
excuse.”
“ In my manner of expressing my-
self there might have been some am-
biguity; but there is no inconsistency,


A NOVEL
73
in the sentiments which I maintain
that love is an instinctive feeling
of our nature; and, when it once
takes possession of the heart, cannot
be controuled. But before it esta.
blishes its dominion, we may ward it
off, and arm ourselves against it.
When I spoke of having an empire
over my affections I only meant that
by cautious vigilance, I could remove
the causes which call the passions
into play. I alluded to prevention
not to cure; I did not say, I could
controul an emanation from heaven,
an irresistible impulse, but that I
could refrain, in time, from the intoxi.
cating cup, which, if once swallowed
down, must hurl reason from her seat.
What inconsistency, my dear cousin,
is discoverable in this ?”
VOL. II.
1


74
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
“ I believe I must acquit you of
the charge ; but descend, Julia, from
figurative language, and in plain prose,
and by a practical illustration, inform
me how love can be prevented from
taking possession of the heart."
“When any individual begins to
excite in us a peculiar interest, may
we not avoid his society; and, when
in absence, his idea obtrudes upon
the fancy, may we not, by resorting
to some occupation or amusement, di-
vert the attention to other objects ?"
“ We certainly can do both of
these."
“ Then if this interesting person is
no more seen, no more thought of, is
it not impossible that the emotions


A XOVEL
.875
i which he excited should acquire per-
manence; that his image should be-
come associated with our tenderesť
feelings, and reign in our hearts the
object of the most delightful, the most
dangerous of passions?"
1
“ It is not possible. I acknow-
ledge that in the first instance we may
prevent the growth of love; but it
excites my surprise that yoni
should
have learned such a lesson from the
writings of Rousseau. Of all the
books in the world I should think
the New Eloise the least calculated
to teach a young girl the propriety of
shunning a dangerous acquaïntance,
and banishing him from her thoughts,
lest her feelings, associating with his
image, should become too highly
wrought for the controul of reason."
.
E' 2


76
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
“ I am of a different opinion. The
Eloise does not indeed contain any
formal precepts for preventing the
growth of an attachment; but it deli-
neates the progress of our feelings,
it displays the irresistible force of
love, and shows us that if, under
improper circumstances, our affec-
tions are engaged, virtue will inevi-
tably be lost. From this conclusion
it is obvious, and unavoidable that,
with unceasing vigilance, we should
guard the avenues to the heart; and
since it is hard to combat, learn to fly.”
But, Julia, this is a conclusion
which Rousseau neglects to draw.”
6. That is of small importance; he
has furnished me with an important
fact in the history of my own mind;


A NOVEL,
77
and to him, therefore, I am ultimately
indebted for all the practical rules
which from that fact I am able to
deduce. Rousseau in warning me of
the extent of my danger, set me upon
reflecting on the means of escaping
it. I therefore owe him an import-
ant obligation. The strength of a
woman resides in the knowledge of
her weakness, and she who imagines
she can safely parly with temptation
is undone."
Here our conversation closed. All
my objections had been obviated, and
I stood in a pleasing reverie, at a loss
whether I should most admire the
ingenuity with which Julia defended
her favourite author, or that, purity
of heart which nothing could corrupt,
and which, from the most dangerous


78
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
writings, and even from the propen-
sities of a constitution susceptible
and tender to excess, drew prineiples
in aid of virtue, She possessed, be-
yond all the beings I ever knew, the
art of converting evil into good. Whe-
ther in her intercourse with the world
or with books, she made all that was
excellent her own, and, by an invo-
luntary effort of innate purity, threw
off whatever was allied to vice. Bad
example and pernicious precepts had
on her no influence; she was
“Like the fair flower that opes its lucid form
“ To meet the sun, and shuts it to the storm."
Julia was now to be admonished
that in this world happiness is not
always apportioned to the degree of
moral desert. Her brother's consti-


A NOVEL.
79
tution, which had never been robust,
was irrecoverably injured by his sc-
dentary habits, and excessive appli-
cation. He had entered college, and
passed his first examinations with
unprecedented eclat; but just as his
parents began to look forward, with
confidence, to the completion of their
long and fondly cherished hopes, he
exhibited the symptoms of a confirmed
decline. Medical assistance was re-
sorted to in vain, yet the doting father,
unable to support the idea of losing
his beloved boy, yielded himself a wil-
ling dupe to the treacherous disease,
and, while the lamp of life was rapidly
consuming, pertinaciously believed in
his recovery. One evening when the
family had assembled in the sick cham-
ber, the afflicted youth sat up in the
bed supported by pillows. He con-


80
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
versed cheerfully with his father; un-
conscious of his approaching end, he
jested with his tender nurse, his be-
loved sister Julia. Though the flesh
was wasted from his bones, a deceit-
ful rose blushed upon his cheek, and
his eye beamed with unusual lustre.
He called for something to eat, and,
for the first time for many days, swal-
lowed, a few mouthfulls with an ap-
petite. Transported with joy, the
' father sunk upon his knees, and pour.
ed forth his gratitude to the Almighty
for what he conceived to be the symp-
toms of returning health. A shriek
from Julia recalled him to himself,
and, frantic, he started from the
ground. The child of his adoration
was stretched motionless upon the
bed ;---his gentle spirit had passed
without a struggle to its kindred


A NOVEL .
81
skies...Here I must pause.--I can-
pot paint, I cannot bear to think of
the heart-rending anguish, the dumb
despair that followed. Unutterable
sorrow seemed to have suspended
animation. For many days no word
was spoken, no business done ; all
was still as death, save when the
sob of agony burst forth, -all silent
as the grave. ;
A considerable time elapsed before
this afflicted family began to recover
from the stupor of despair; but af
length the speechless paroxysms of
grief subsided into a composed and
settled sorrow; and the relatives of
the deceased were heard to pour forth
their lamentations for their irreparable
loss. In mourning for his son, the
father would mingle the repimings of
E 5


82
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
1
disappointed 'hope, and the irritation
for humbled pride. "My prospects
of aggrandizement,” he would ex-
claim, " are now closed for ever, and
there is nothing in the world for
which I have a wish to live. He
who was the pride of my heart is
gone. There is no one to inherit
my fame, or reyive the influence
which age and sorrow will quickly
compel me to resign. The very name
of my family will become extinct,
and I must pass from existence with-
out leaving a trace behind to say that
I have been."
The grief of the desponding and
broken-hearted mother was of a cha-
racter very
different. She was with-
out ambition ; the love of glory she
never felt. In her own person she


A NOVEL.
83
had little relish for the enjoyments of
life; forgetful of herself, she lived but.
for her husband and her children.
Accustomed to consider every event,
not as it acted on her own feelings,
but as it affected the man she ido-
lized, when the first bursts of anguish-
ed sorrow had subsided, she mourn-
ed for her husband's loss rather than
for her own. The extinction of the
family name, the passing from exist-
ence without being remembered any
more, were, in themselves, events of
little interest ;
but her husband
thought otherwise, therefore she de-
plored them ; and, with a mother's
anguish for a beloved child, min-
gled a sympathetic sorrow for the
disappointed hopes and ruined pros-
pects of the father.


84. VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE, ,
With the sorrow of the affectionate
and feeling Julia no other sentiment
was mingled. She had loved her
brother for himself alone, and when
she pressed him to her heart, where
every kind emotion reigned, she never
thought of the figure he was calcu-
lated to make in the world, or adverted
to the gratification which his advance-
ment would confer upon her father.
Now no idea was present in her mind,
except that the beloved companion
of her youth, was gone, never to re-
turn. Retiring from society, she in-
dulged each recollection, and dwelt
on every object which brought her
brother to her mind. The books he
had admired were ever in her hand,
the scenes where he had strayed be-
came her favourite haunts. As she
shrunk from every eye, and buried


A NOVIL85
. .
:
herself in the solitudes of the im-
pervious grove, she dwelt upon his
image, and pictured to herself his part-
ing smile, until in the delusions of
fancy, his spirit seemed to hover by
her side. She heard his footstep on
the rustling leaf, and mistook the
whispering echoes for his voice,
Though her eyes no longer beheld
him, and his impalpable form evaded
her embrace, her soul was conscious
of his presence, and she felt the con-
viction that, in a happier world, she
would recognize the brother she ador-
ed. As with deepest sympathy, I
contemplated this angel in distress,
I received the impressive, the im.
portant lesson, that virtue never can
be rendered completely wretched.
Every kind affection, each sublimer
hope associated with and sanctified


86
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
her affliction. Hers was the joy of
grief; hers was the luxury of woe,
and she would not have exchanged
her solitude and sorrow for all the
inirth and pleasure which the world
could afford.
This fond enthusiast, by constantly
dwelling on ihe idea of her brother,
and recurring to every thing he had
said or done, gradually acquired his
voice and manner, and fell insen.
sibly into those trains of thought
that he had delighted to pursue. The
father noticed her growing resem-
blance to his departed son: he took
a melancholy pleasure in observing
every inflection of voice and turn of
expression which brought home to
his recollection the idea of him
whom he was to see no more. Ho
1


A NOVEL.
87
>
fixed his heart on Julia, for her bro-
ther's sake.
*As Mr. Russel sought the society
of his daughter, and led her into
conversations which recalled the idea
of his darling boy, he perceived a
thousand traits of genius which he
had before overlooked; and disco-
vered, with astonishment, that not-
withstanding the superior attention
which had been bestowed upon her
brother's education, she surpassed
him both in talents and in knowledge.
Charmed with the flights of her crea-
tive fancy, or struck by her acuteness
and depth of thought, he pressed
her to his bosom with mingled ex-
ultation and delight. But faine, pride,
and political ambition would mingle
with his parental feelings, and, while


88
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
!
-
gazing on Julia' with growing admira-
tion and love, still he muttered forth
repinings because she was a daughter.
- How unfortunate," he would mur-
mur, " that so fine a genius should
be lost to society by being bestowed
upon a female !
If Julia were of a
different sex, her talents would lift
her to the highest stations in the coun-
try, and, while contemplating and
promoting the advancement of my
child, I should enjoy, in the sym-
pathy of parental affection, that
elevation and distinction which from
a combination of unfortunate circum-
stances I have not, in my own person,
been able to obtain. I should trans-
mít to posterity an honored name,
and the worthies of a future age would
catch emulation as they traced, in the
historic page, the actions of my son. .


A NOVEL
89
But now I must go down in obscu-
rity to the grave, my estate will pass
into another family, my name will
become extinct, and on the page of
my country's history, there will be
no record to tell that I have been."
In this manner Mr. Russel became
his own tormentor, and though en-
vied by every parent for being the
father of such a child as Julia, yet
consumed his days in unavailing re-
pinings because she was not a son.
At length the ambitious father con.
eeived the idea of marrying Julia to
some young man of genius, who on
receiving her hand would consent to
take the name of Russel. The mo-
ther, whose protracted sorrow for the
death of her son had, in part, arisen
from the disappointment of her hus-
min


90
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
band's fondly cherished hopes, heard
with a lively pleasure, of which her
languid temper was rarely suscepti-
ble, the arrangement by which Mr.
Russel proposed to mitigate his re-
gret on account of Julia's sex, and
to gratify the family ambition that
had become the master passion of
his heart. In the habit not only of
conforming to her husband's wishes,
but of adopting his opinions, and
rendering all his inclinations hers,
Mrs. Russel never imagined that the
affections of Julia might interfere
with her father's plans. Never think-
ing or acting for herself, she had lov-
'ed, she had married the person se-
lected by her mother, and thought
that all dutiful children would be
inclined to do the same,
3


A NOVEL
91
One day, after having, in a lan-
guid yet pleasing reverie, mased for
some time on the accomplishment of
her husband's plan of family aggran-
dizement, Mrs. Russel turned sud-
denly to Julia, and said, “ I long,
my beloved child, until your father
realizes his project, and selects some
youth of promise for your husband.”
To Julia, who knew nothing of the
intentions of her parents for the dis-
posal of her hand, this address ap-
peared incoherent; and without mak.
ing a reply, she gave her mother a
look of tender solicitude and sur-
prise. The mother repeated the wish,
and Julia then answered mildly, but
with firmness : “My dear mother, it .
is for me to select a husband, and for
you and my father to approve. I shall
never suffer myself to become attacli-


92
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
.
ed tọ a person whom my parents
think unworthy; and I am confident
that they are so affectionate and just,
that, under this limitation, they will
give me full liberty to think and act
for myself in an affair on which all
the happiness of my future life de-
pends. She who loves without the
consent of her parents, swerves, in
some sort, from her duty as a child ;
but she that marries, merely in con-
formity to the dictates of another's
will, renounces the allegiance which
she owes to nature." The mother
did not attempt to combat the opi-
nion of her daughter, but she was
shocked, she was grieved, a tear of
affectionate sorrow trembled in her
eye as she reflected that her hus-
band might again be exposed to the
bitterness of disappointed hope.


A NOVEL.
93
The solicitude which Mrs. Russel
felt on account of her husband was
heightened by the conviction that
she was soon to be taken from him.
Her grief for the loss of her beloved
son had heightened the low and lin.
gering disease which had long preyed
upon her strength and spirits, and she
felt that her dissolution was at hand.
The last seenes of her life resembled
those by which they had been preced-
ed: meekly resigned to her fate, and
unmindful of every thing that im-
mediately afflicted herself, her fears
were for those she loved; her sorrow
was a sympathetic emotion called
forth by the grief which she imagined
her husband was to feel. The rest.
lessness of ambition, and the bitter-
ness of party strife had impaired,
but not destroyed the goodness of
:


94
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
heart for which Mr. Russel was, in
early youth, conspicuous. In the
society of his wife he had never re-
ceived a high species of enjoyment,
but the benevolence of his nature
prompted him to disguise his feelings,
and he carefully concealed from her
the mortifying truth' that she was not
essential to his happiness. She fondly
imagined that his heart was all her
own. The general sweetness of his
manners, his esteem for her unoffend-
ing goodness, and his cordiality for
the mother of his children, she be-
lieved to be the proofs of love: the
tears which friendship and compas-
sion shed, she mistook for the heart.
rending, the hopeless sorrows which
burst forth at the prospect of having
a' kindred soul, a second self torn
away from us for ever; her approach-


A NOVEL.
95
ing death was chiefly dreadful, be-
cause she imagined her loss would
plunge her husband in despair,
One evening, while Julia sat by
the bed-side, she pressed the hand
of her sorrowing child, and said, “I
feel that my earthly race is nearly run.
When I am gone, be affectionate to
your father, and endeavour to lighten
his distress. Julia, you are his last
remaining hope. When
your
brother
died, his affection, his parental exul-
tation, and his prospect of leaving an
honored name behind him, were all
transferred to you.
If you should
ever act contrary to his wishes, he.
will sink to the grave in disappoint-
ment and despair:” She was unable
to proceed, her tongue refused its
office --- her eyes closed slowly, and
*4


96
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
a long, a dreadful pause ensued. At
length a paroxysm of strength re-
turned; she raised herself from the
pillow, and grasping the arm of her
daughter, cried, “ Julia, before I
leave the world I have one request
to make ;--swear you will comply
with it.” “Oh, my mother, I would
yield my life and soul to minister
unto your peace:---as I hope for our re-
union in a happier world, your desire
shall be obeyed.” “ Then marry the
man whom your father may select.”
“ I will, my mother.” Faintły eja-
culating, now I die in peace,"
Nrs. Russel sunk backward, and
never spoke again. Julia fell by the
bed-side, and lay, to all appearance,
as lifeless as her parent.
I was absent from my beloved friend


A NOVEL:
97
at the time she received this most af
ficting stroke; and the performance
of some indispensable duties prevent-
ing my going to her for several weeks,
I was relieved on this occasion from
witnessing the first bursts of heart-
rending affliction. The instant that
it was in my power, I hastened to con-
sole her. Our meeting at first renew.
ed the violence of her sorrows, and as
she hung upon my neck, she sobbed
out, “Mary Ann, when I last em-
braced you, my mother was alive.” I
mingled my tears with Julia's, and my
sympathy was consolation.
I had not been long with Julia be-
fore she made me acquainted with the
vow which she had made to her dy-
ing mother, to marry whatever person
her father might select for her. I ex-
VOL. II.


98
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
pressed my regret that such a vow'had
been either exacted or given ; when
Julia, interrupting me, said in a tone
that seemed to indicate some displea-
sure, “Surely you cannot suspect me
of a wish to evade the last command
of her to whom I owe my life." "I
am convinced you will never entertain
a thought of swerving, in the slightest
particular, from the solemn promise
which you gave your mother. All I
apprehend is, that in fulfilling it your
own peace may be wounded. I trem-
ble lest the person whom your father
may select for
husband
be the man of Julia's heart." " In or-
der to perform my duties in their full
extent, I must make him so."
is it possible to do this ? can we bring
our affections under the controul of
authority, and fall in love by a volun.
may not
your
" But


& NOVEL.
99
tary effort ?»
66 I believe we may
exert a considerable controul over
our own hearts. Love is indeed an
instinctive feeling implanted in us by
nature, but the object towards whom
this feeling is directed depends upon
circumstances and associations which
are, to a certain extent, in our own
power. When thrown into the so-
ciety of a man who is peculiarly pleas-
ing, by shunning his company, and
pursuing occupations which will ba-
nish him from our thoughts, we may
prevent the instinct of nature from
associating with his image. In like
manner, if a person is presented to us
for whom we feel no predilection, we
may remain in his presence, and think
of him when the dream of tenderness
steals upon our senses, until his image
mingles with all the secret wishes of
F 2


. 100
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
the soul. · I am convinced that my
father will never select for me a man
of contemptible 'understanding, or an
unfeeling heart; and if he should be
only moderately sensible, moderately
good, I am so inclined to tenderness,
that I am certain I shall love him.
Every kind, every warm feeling of my
heart I will endeavour to connect and
associate with his person; my fancy
shall clothe him with all that I admire
and adore; and if I cannot love him
for what he is, I will love him for
what I imagine him to be."
" But, Julia, can this mechanical
attachment be lasting ? If you cheat
yourself into love, will not time and
familiar intercourse remove the de.
ception, and render you unhappy ?"


Á NOVEL.
100
" I would shut my eyes against the
truth, and before it could have time
to force itself upon me, the feelings of
a mother would probably come in aid
of virtue.” “ In aid of your happi-
ness, Julia ; your virtue can never be
in danger.
دو
"
Because, my dear friend, it never
shall be tried : should I be : unhappy
in the marriage state, I would studi.
ously avoid the society of every man
whose conversation and manners were
more pleasing than my husband's ; for
I am fully persuaded, that, when we
suffer our affections to be engaged,
we resign our self-command, and that
the woman who braves temptation is
undone.”
By conversations of this nature, and
1


109
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
1
}
the lapse of time, Julia was gradually
drawn from the recollection of her
sorrows, while my admiration for her
talents, and esteem for her virtues per-
petually increased. A person of such
various intellectual powers, and admi-
rable moral endowments, I had never
known. Every question that arose
she analized and examined in all its
bearings; every difficulty in which
she was placed served but as an excite-
ment to her virtue. The more diffi-
cult her duties became, the more per-
fect was her self-command. If she
had any error in speculation, it was
that of attributing an overveiling influ.
ence to the passion of love. If she
had a practical fault, it was an exces.
sive humility and distrust of herself,
an unwarranted apprehension that it
might be possible for the feelings of a


A NOVEL
103
heart tuned to soft luxury to over-
come, in any situation, or under any
circumstances, her unrivalled sense
of rectitude.
Jubia now presided at her father's
table, and regulated his domestic
affairs. She went into public, and
universal admiration followed her.
But though “ she filled each youth
with love, each maiden with despair,
her own heart remained untouched,
and she never found it necessary to
practise her prudential maxims, to
check, under unauthorised circum.
stances, the progress of the tender
passion. With you, O'Connor, it has
been otherwise.
Your person, your
mind, and, above all, the singular
coincidence which has place in many
of your opinions and feelings, excit-


104.
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
ed in her bosom an interest unknown
before. She felt it would be impos-
sible to continue in your society and
keep her affections disengaged." She
has, therefore, studiously avoided your
company. But this mode of proceed-
ing, which, with the generality of young
women, would be a manifestation of
dislike, is, in Julia, a proof that
you
are held in the highest estimation. If
I have been at all successful in ex
plaining the motives and the situation
of this admirable girl, you will imme-
diately perceive that what has occa-
sioned your despondency is, in fact, a
ground for consolation. But with-
out her father's fullest approbation
she will never suffer you to speak
again of love, she will seldom ven-'
ture into your presence. All your
hopes of success, therefore, depend on


A NOVEL
105
Mr. Russel. He will be in town in
a few days; you shall have frequent
opportunities of seeing him, and
should you be fortunate enough to
conciliate his good opinion, and to
obtain his sanction for your addresses,
the hand, the heart of Julia will be
yours.”
Here Mrs. O'Neil concluded. I had
no words to express my gratitude, my
joy. I rose from my seat in silence,
and retired to muse on all that I had
heard,
rea
I 5


jog
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
CHAPTER IL.
WHILE in the solitude of my chand.
ber, I retraced each circumstance of
the narration I had heard, hope and joy
became my companions once again.
seented to re-ascend from the dark
and sickly caverns of despair, to in
bale the invigorating breeze, and meet
the beams of heaven. Fancy awoke
again ; the light that fell upon futurity
passed through imagination's prison,
and gilded all to come. Julia was al-
ready mine, and I enjoyed in antici-
pation all I could conceive of heaven.
To the prudent and the calm, who


A NOVEL.
107
are content to float “ on listless sa.
tisfaction's torpid stream," my feel-
ings, upon this occasion, may wear
the colour of extravagance, and they
will be unable to comprehend how I
could, upon causes so slight, and with
a transition so rapid, now plunge in
the frozen ocean of despair, and now
range the summer isles of hope.
Could my language convey even a
faint conception of the face, the form,
the voice of Julia; could I make
known the language of her eye, the
fascination of her smile, the nameless
grace, the immaterial charm that dwelt
around her, an adequate cause for my
most ardent feelings would be found.
But it is not possible to give a de-
scription of her I loved, and I must
account for the ardour of my emotions
from the previous state of my own


108
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
mind, not from presenting to the rea-
der : an 'image of the transcendant
excellence of the object, by which
these emotions were called forth. I
was from nature susceptible and ar-
dent, and this original temperature
of soul all the circumstances of my
education, and all the events of my
life had contributed to increase. The
idol of the tenderest of mothers, my
heart early received the impress of
humanity; the pride, and hope of a
venerable sire, chivalrous and romantic
in the highest degree, the softness of
my temper became associated with a
fervour and energy of spirit that spurn-
ed all controul. In addition to all this,
in my progress through life, the natu-
ral order of the passions had been in-
'verted. I did not begin to love at that
early age, when every object, wearing


A NOVEL.
109
1
the charm of novelty, attracts a por-
tion of attention, and calls off the sus-
ceptible mind from dwelling too 'in-
tensely on one idea; or when the
duties of a profession, or the desire of
distinction, might prevent the tender
passion from acquiring an exclusive
empire in the soul.
After having
visited various scenes, and been long
an actor on the theatre of life, when to
me there was 'nothing new beneath
the sun, when business was unneces-
sary, and no hope remained to re-
excite ambition, then, for the first
time, I felt what it was to have an
attachment of the heart. Every other
passion was extinguished, and I lived
to love alone.:
With such a temper, and under
such circumstances, the instincts of


110
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
nature becoming exclusively asso-
ciated with a single object, I should
probably, whatever might be the
merit of this object, have loved in-
tensely. But the object of my love
was Julia, the foremost woman of
the world, “ the cunningest pattern
of excelling nature;” and whoever
could have approached the place
made sacred by her presence, or drank
the air embrosiated by her breath,
would have instantly understood why,
in relation to her, fear was agony, and
hope was rapture. But wherefore do
I endeavour to account for the ferven-
my emotions ? I was in love
with Julia, and the wonder is, that I
felt so little not that I felt so much,
cy of
A considerable time elapsed before
the ardour of my feelings was suffi.


& NOVEL.
111
ciently subsided to enable me to reflect
with calmness on the narrative I had
heard, or to examine the foundation, on
which my hopes of felicity were built.
At length my ideas acquired distinct-
ness and arrangement.
I reviewed
every scene which Julia had passed
through, and, as it were, identifying
my mind, and blending my soul with
hers, I traced the progress of her ideas,
and almost became conscious of her
feelings. 'Imagination figured out her
form through each successive stage of
life. Now I beheld her clothed in the
smiles of infantine innocence; now,
wild and unrestrained as the fawns,
her playmates, she bounded across my
mental vision; and now I saw her half
unconcerned, half afraid, shrinking
from she knew not what, and just be-
tween the woman and the child."


112
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
While Julia's witching form, ad-
vancing to maturity, dwelt within the
chambers of my fancy, the intellectual
and moral qualities which, at the same
period, rapidly unfolded themselves,
were 'suggested to my recollection..
An imagination that seized and com-
bined whatever was beautiful or grand
in the creation, a sympathy that com-
municated, as by an immaterial nerve,
with every thing that lived, seemed to
impart to her feelings an enthusiasm
not to be controuled; while the self-
governing power that perpetually led
her back as she appeared prepared to
burst away beyond the limits of deco-
rum, gave the impression of some
super-human influence, and caused
me to regard her, not as belonging to
this earth, but as some celestial visi-
tant that sojourned for a season here.


A NOVEL.
1113
.
Even when I retraced more accurate-
ly the narrative of Mary Ann, and was
enabled to explain, on natural prin-
ciples, what I at first regarded as a mo-
ral miracle, my admiration' did not
abate. On the contrary this union of
ardent feeling and of perfect self-con-
troul, excited a higher species of ad-
miration when I regarded it, not as
a prodigy of which I could give no
explanation, butas something brought
about according to the natural order
of causes and effects. I perceived that
Julia was not in possession of any oc-
cult, mysterious principle, stemming,
I knew not how, the torrent of the
passions, and rendering the tempests
of the soul subservient to her will;
but that, aware that our emotions and
feelings are the motives of our actions,
and that the strongest ever must pre-


114 VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
-
vail, she traced the laws of thought,
watched over the associations which
combine the elements of the passions,
and acquired power over herself by re-
moving the causes which might have
given undue preponderance to any par-
ticular motive or affection. She did.
not, like the mad empiric, tempt de-
struction by pretending to controul
the laws of nature: she availed her-
self of their operation to effect what
she desired. The elements of the pas.
sions were so many forces in her hand,
which she combined and directed as
she willed. She could, in a moral
sense, " With Franklin, grasp the
lightning's fiery wing."
While this train of thought passed
through my mind, every circumstance
in the conduct of Julia which had for-


A NOVEL.
115
merly given me uneasiness, now ap-
peared a ground of hope, and minis.
tered to the gratification of self-love.
Julia, it appeared, avoided my society,
not because I was indifferent, but be-
cause she apprehended I might inter-
est her heart. She sought an inter-
course with others, to break the asso-
ciations, and dissipate the feelings my
presence had occasioned. I seemed
to be rejected, because I was almost
beloved.
The exultation of soul which de-
scended upon me as I cherished the
hope that I might be beloved by Julia,
it is impossible to describe. While
I regarded my own powers in connex-
ion with the effect they had produced
on this all-accomplished girl, they
seemed to acquire a force of which I


116 VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
had never before been conscious.
From the reflective, the creative sym-
pathy of love, my character became
what Julia imagined it to be. My soul
conformed to her brightest concep-
tions of it: whatever she believed
that I might do, I acquired the power
of accomplishing; to rise in her good
opinion was to be elevated on the
scale of being
While in the delusions of my waking
dreams, I imagined that Julia might
be' mine, I became reconciled to the
world, and in charity with all man-
kind, I felt solicitous' to shed around
me the happiness, that glowed within
my
heart. The ardent affection with
which Julia had inspired me, gave a
feeling of diffusive kindness towards
every thing that wore a human form,


A NOVEL
117
To partake in all her affections, I pass-
ed, in thought; beyond the limits of
this world; formed to myself some im-
ages of the brother that was the com-
panion of her childhood, and of the
mother over whom she had watched
so tenderly, until I felt a mysterious
bond of affection uniting me to the
sainted spirits she had loved on earth.
For the O'Neils, I felt a double friend-
ship, because they were the friends of
Julia ;-towards the father, though as
yet unseen, I cherished a filial affec-
tion,-an affection mingled with awe
and terror. My fate hung suspended
on his will : he must approve before
Julia would begin to love; bis word
was to elevate me to heaven, or' to
hurl me to hell.
My mind, which, dwelling exclu.


018
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
sively on the favourable circumstan-
ces of my situation, had been stimu-
lated by hopes unduly sanguine, now
that my train of thought turned to the
chances of obtaining the father's full
assent, relaxed from its elevated tone,
and was sinking into a state of pain.
ful solicitude when a servant entered
and put a letter into my hand :.it
was from Mrs. O'Neil-it invited me
to dinner to meet the father of Julia,
who had arrived in Dublin the preced-
ing evening. I embraced with avidity
this opportunity of being introduced
to Mr. Russel, and with feelings of
lively gratitude towards the conside-
rate friends who had made this arrange-
ment for me, drove to their house at
the appointed hour. Julia and her
father had arrived before me; I was
presented to the table as the intimate


A NOVEL
119
friend of the Q Neils, and, for the first
time in my life, trembled before a fel-
low man. Julia seemed more heaven-
ly than ever :-her gentle manners, the
sweetness of her smile, the softness of
her voice, stole away the soul from the
recollection of a jarring world, and
breathed a celestial tranquillity around
her. Everyone who addressed her
she shewed an unstudied and unos-
tentatious solicitude to please, while
amid her general attention it was easy
to discover the peculiar anxiety with
which she watched the looks of her
father, and the dexterity with which
she led into trains of agreeable thought
as his brow occasionally contracted,
or his features wore the expression of
impatience. When dinner was an-
nounced, I led her from the drawing
room, and the unembarrassed calmness
with which she accepted my offer-


120 VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
ed hand that throbbed and trembled at
her touch, gave me the conviction,
not quite satisfactory to self-love, how
entirely she had established her empire
over her own heart, and how complete-
ly the growth of her affections would
depend on the favourable impression I
should be able to make upon her
father.
During dinner little passed. Mr.
Russel did not appear to be quite at
ease, and his lovely daughter was em-
ployed in watching his looks, and in
endeavouring to draw him into a more
cheerful train of thought. The sub-
ject of the weather happened to be
mentioned. Julia's countenance lit
up, and her eye beamed more brightly,
while turning to her father, 'she said
with emotion, “ Oh, Sir, did you ever
behold a serener atmosphere; or a


A NOVEL
121
happier aspect both of earth and hea-
ven, than that which was presented
to us as we drove into town this
evening?"
He smiled assent, and
she continued,
" The sun set with
indescribable magnificence, and left
" air, earth and ocean blazing all
around.” Gradually the resistless
flood of light subsided. No cloud
moved across the heavens ; not à
breath trembled on the waters --all
was silent, all was still, and nature
seemed to pause,
06 While pensive twilight on her dusky car,
" Caine slowly on to meet the evening star,"
The sweet enthusiast blushed as
she became conscious of the in-
spiration which had seized her, and
was silent,
Mrs. O'Neil pressed
VOL. II.
G


129 VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
her hand, with a smile of encou.
ragement and complacency. From
the countenance of the father the
clouds of anxiety passed away, and
the beams of fancy seemed to shed
on him a momentary illumination,
while le replied, “ My Julia; it was
indeed a lovely and romantic even-
ing. I observed the western gale
gradually subsiding into a calm, and
before we drove into the town
gentle breeze blew from the east-
ward—The packets from Holyhead,”
he continued, turning to a gentleman
who sat near him, " which have
been so long detained, will now ar-
rive, and we shall learn how the
English House of Commons divided
on the important question which was
to come before it." I gazed in asto-
nishment at this strange transition of
а.


A NOVEL
1.2$
thought. Mrs. O'Neil, with that
sportive irony which characterized
her manners, said, Well, Mr.
Russel, there never yet was so deter-
mined a politician as yourself. The
vicissitudes of the season, and all
the dread magnificence of heaven,
you contemplate only as they appear
to have some remote connection
with affairs of state; and the beau-
ties of nature, even when described
by Julia, have, in your mind, some
unaccountable connection with the
strength of parties. But as the con-
versation of your fair daughter may
not be so well calculated to excite in
all the gentlemen present, feelings
connected with the English House
of Commons, the ladies had better
leave
you to yourselves.” Mrs. O'Neil
rose to retire, and on Mr. Russel's
G 2


194 VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
wishing to prolong“her stay, and in a
strain of high-toned gallantry, for
which, when he was not absorbed in
politics, his manners were conspicu-
ous, soliciting forgiveness for having
imparted to the conversation a turn
uninteresting to the ladies, she gaily
resumed, “ You are forgiven, Mr.
Russel ; and you are to consider our
withdrawing a little prematurely not
as a symptom: of lingering displea-
sure, but as a mark of my highest
favour. I invited you to-day to par-
take of an intellectual banquet, the
uninterrupted enjoyment of which I
can no longer delay. Our friend,
Mr. O'Connor, is as great a politi--
cian as yourself, and as he has served.
during the campaigns in Holland,
you will be able to converse toge-
ther on your favourite topic, the dis-


A NOVEL.
125
asters of the war.” : Mrs. - O'Neil
turned to me with a significant and
encouraging smile, and, as the ladies
.retired, Julia's confused and hurried
-manner convinced me that, like my-
self, she saw through the motive that
had induced our friend to introduce
me so pointedly to the notice of her
father.
Scarcely had the door closed upon
.the ladies when Mr. Russel placed
himself in a vacant chair close to
where I sat. It was the most awful
moment I had ever known. I was
to converse on political topics with
a man devoted to politics, and wed-
ded to a certain system of opinions.
On this man's favour, too, my
des.
tiny was hung; and if I disturbed


126
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
his pre-conceived ideas, and thus ex-
cited his disapprobation, I felt I was
undone. I sat in a state of pain-
ful suspense, afraid to speak, and
uncertain how to answer any en.
quiries that might be made. At
length my mind assumed a tone of
independence and energy, and I said
mentally, “My all is at stake, and
I must play a bold decisive game.
Were I to dissemble my sentiments,
my conversation would prove unin-
teresting and cold, and from being
over fearful to offend, I should lose
the capacity to please. If I do not
make a strong impression in my fa-
'vour, Julia cannot be mine. I must
give utterance to all that I imagine
to be true ;-I must pour forth the
-native feelings of my heart."


A NOVEL
197
This train of thought inspired me
with confidence. Mr. Russel, draw-
ing his chair close to mine, said
with a tone of enquiry, that he
understood I had served with our
army on the continent; and I replied
with rapidity,“ I went out a military
enthusiast-I returned disgusted with
war, and convinced of the necessity
of peace.”
“ It would have been well for Eng-
land, for Europe, if the minister who
first plunged us into a war with re-
volutionary France had never been
born."
I returned, “I entirely agree with
you. France has ever been greatly
superior to England in physical force ;
but the moral power inseparable from


128 VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
freedom, has, notwithstanding her
deficiency in extent and population,
given the latter country, in all former
contests, a proud ascendancy. Now
the minister, in going to war with
revolutionary France, flung this ad.
vantage away. Ignorant of those mo-
ral powers which, far more than phy-
sical force, render one nation superior
to another, the period he selected for
the commencement of hostilities was
the most inauspicious that could pos-
sibly have been chosen. An inco-
herent dream of liberty, and the pas-
sions excited by political convulsion,
imparted to the French character an
unusual energy, and, for the mo-
ment, rendered them as much our
superiors in moral power as they
naturally were in physical force.-
We plunged into war under circum-


A NOYEL.
129
stances which rendered success im-
possible.”
As I spoke the father of Julia hung
upon my words with eager approba.
tion. When I had ceased, an elderly
gentleman, who sat at some distance,
said, “ Mr. Pitt did not select the
period of the revolution as the most
proper for engaging in hostilities :
--the war
was forced upon him.
Had we remained at peace with
France, our own country would have
been the theatre of a sanguinary re-
volution.”
This," I resumed, " is the only
possible excuse which the friends of
the minister can plead in justification
of his revolutionary war; and it rests
- upon two assumptions which have
G 5


130 VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
not yet been proved. It is still a
contested point whether, when this
war was declared, there was any im-
mediate danger of a revolution at
home; and it admits of much con-
troversy whether, if the danger ac-
tually existed, it might not have
been shunned by other means than
those of hostilities with France. The
minister, therefore, to say the best of
him,encountered certain defeat abroad,
in order to shun doubtful disturbances
at home.”
My antagonist referred to some
proofs of the revolutionary and re-
publican doctrines which were assi-
duously diffused among the people ;
and he had scarcely ceased when Mr.
Russel took up the debate with emo-
tion. “ It is impossible to reprobate


A NOVEL
131
too strongly that system of modern
philosophy which strikes at the prina
ciples of morality and religion, and
which would not only inmediately
subvert the glorious constitution un-
der which this country so long has
flourished, but, mediately, undermine
it by alarming the friends of rational
freedom, and rendering them, in their
dread of anarchy, the supporters of
a minister who is making rapid strides
to the establishment of absolute power.
But let it not be said that this mi-
nister went to war for the purpose of
counteracting the revolutionary prin-
ciples which, by their reaction, fixed
him more firmly in place. As long as
they had any chance of becoming
ascendant in the country, he preserv-
ed a mysterious silence. While the
great leaders of opposition divided


-192
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
upon French affairs, he kept cau-
tiously aloof, and it was not until
the tide of public opinion was com-
pletely turned in England, that he
warred against the principles of the
Gallic revolution. If he could not
grasp those general principles of our
nature, which gave one people the as-
cendancy over another, he at least
was dexterous in resorting to expe-
dients for giving permanence to his
power.
* But,
." I resumed, “ were we to
admit all that the friends of Mr. Pitt
have urged,were we to allow, in
the fullest extent, that he was com-
pelled to go to war to counteract
French opinions, and prevent a revo-
lution in this country, he could not
be acquitted of being ignorant of the


A NOVEL,
198
great principles of military policy,
and of plunging his country into a
species of contest in which success
was unattainable. The events of her
wonderful revolution, rendered France
as superior to us in moral energy as
she had ever been in physical force.
If, under this circumstance, it was
absolutely necessary that we should
go to war with her, an able war mi-
nister would have conducted the con-
test in such a manner as to give the
r.ew-born energy of our rivals least
scope for action; and would, on the
first possible opportunity, have termi-
nated hostilities. National enthu-
siasm
may,
almost instantaneously,
put forth numerous armies ; but to
train a population to nautical affairs,
and suddenly to put forth numerous
fleets, is what national enthusiasm


194
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
is unable to effect. The war which
arose out of the French revolution we
should, therefore, have rendered ex-
clusively maritime ; on our native
seas success was certain. The navi.
gation of our coasts being more intri-
cate, and dangerous than that of
France, our seamen possessed more
intrepidity and enterprize : and in
consequence of our more extensive
commerce, a greater portion of our
population was skilled in nautical
affairs. Hence, notwithstanding the
enthusiasm imparted by their revolu-
tion, we continued to be, upon the
waters, superior to our rivals in moral
power, while, in physical force, the
advantage was also on our side. As
far as related to naval war,we possess-
ed every thing which can render one
people superior to another, and success


A NOVEL.
195
was as necessary on the ocean as it was
hopeless on the continent. We should
have swept the flag of the republic
from the face of the waters: we should
have wrested the colonies from her
grasp: and, with flying squadrons and
floating armies, have threatened along
her whole line of coast. But projects
in which success might have been cer-
tainly and easily obtained, were not
suited to the genius of our heaven-
born minister. He sent armies into
Holland, he formed coalitions, he sub-
sidized all Europe, and, with assumed
omnipotence would have plucked is.
lands and continents from their foun-
dations to precipitate them upon de-
voted France. But unfortunately he
understood not the laws of human na-
ture. Like the heated vapour, France
gave a resistance which increased with
the increasing pressure. The national


196
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
enthusiasm which, if left to itself,
would have gradually subsided, or been
consumed in domestic contentions,
was converted into an ardent spirit of
military adventure that threatens to
subdue the world.”
“ Your views respecting the war,"
exclaimed Mr. Russel, “ are more en-
lightened than any I ever heard ex-
pressed. I claim you for my friend.
Surely every one who hears you
speak must become solicitous to see
these mad hostilities concluded, and
the blessings of peace restored.”
" I fear, my
I went on with confidence-Julia
seemed already mine.
dear Sir, the period is fast approaching
when peace will be unattainable.
When we contemplate the position,
the resources, and the population of


A NOVEL:
-137
f.
en
OS,
Of
to
D
1
1.
France, and, above all, when we con-
sider the ardent spirit of military ad-
venture into which her revolutionary
enthusiasm has madly been converted,
it seems almost self-evident that, while
jealousy rules the councils of Europe,
she must go forth conquering and to
conquer. The ancient governments of
the continent, fettered by many of the
forms, but possessing none of the
spirit of the feudal times, in barren
splendour, feebly wait their fall.'
Each successive coalition, unless
formed on better principles than pre-
ceding confederacies, will but ac-
celerate the period when France shall
become paramount in Europe, and
when, commanding all the naval
means of the continent, she may
build
ships to any extent she pleases, and
will require nothing but seamen to
enable her to rival us on the seas.
€


138
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
.
When this period, therefore, shall have
arrived, if we should terminate hosti-
lities, her commerce will, of course,
revive, her population will acquire skik
in nautical affairs, she will speedily be
enabled to put forth fleets far more
numerous than ours, and become as
ascendant on the waters as she now is
on the land."
“ To what a dreadful crisis have
we come," cried Mr. Russsel ; “ war
being hopeless, while peace would be
destruction. The minister should ex-
piate his political crimes upon the scaf-
fold. What was said upon the esta-
blishment of American independence,
applies more justly to the administra-
tion of Mr. Pitt,and now, in truth, the
sun of England's glory has gone down
for ever.”


A NOVEL
: 199
He now,
“ O Sir," I exclaimed with enthu-
siasm, never let such a sentiment
again escape you. The sun of Eng-
land's glory has not set.
indeed, in dim eclipse, disastrous
twilight sheds;' but soon the transit
will have passed ; and his full radiance
light the world again.
France has
outstripped us on the continent of
Europe, because the events of her
mighty revolution gave a sudden im-
pulse to the national mind, and ren-
dered her as superior to us in moral
power as she had ever been in physi-
cal force. But the energy of a revo-
lutionary paroxysm is necessarily of
short duration. The military demo-
cracy of our rivals is rapidly sinking
into a military despotism,and she must
speedily lose that ardent tone of pub-
lic feeling which can be kept alive


140 VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
only by the possession of civil liber-
ty; while, fostered by equal laws and
regulated freedom, our national cha-
racter will retain its elevation and vi-
gour, and we shall again be superior
to the slaves of France in all, that can
render one nation ascendant over anon
ther. Then may some minister, more
fortunate or more able than Mr. Pitt,
adopt with confidence an energetic
line of military policy, and restore his
country to her proper station among
the nations— Yes, some master spirit
will yet assume the guidance of affairs;
some second Marlborough wrest from
ambitious France the hope of univer-
sal monarchy.”
>>
Here I paused, the political turn of
the conversation had deeply interest-
ed me; and, as I had ever been accus-


A NOVEL.
141
tomed to do, I gave utterance to my
sentiments without waiting to consider
whether they were such,as would con-
ciliate or offend my hearers.
hearers. But no
sooner had I ceased, than I recollected
that in advocating the vigorous pro-
secution of the war, I might have
seemed to approve the measures of
administration, and counteract the fa.
vourable impression I had so recently
made on the father of Julia. I was
agreeably deceived. The impossibi-
lity of obtaining a secure and honour-
able peace, and the accumulated bur-
thens, which protracted hostilities
must lay upon the people, furnished
Mr. Russel with new topics of decla-
mation against the minister, who had
madly plunged us in an interminable
contest; while the prospect held out
that we might ultimately become as-


142
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
cendant over France in the senate of
the nations, soothed the national and
patriotic feeling, which, though ob-
scured by the violence of party spirit,
never ceased to animate his heart.
Again he complimented me on what
he was pleased to term my original,
and profound political views ; already
he anticipated the period, in which a
minister more able, or more fortunate
should, when a favourable conjunc-
ture offered, obtain the mastery over
France. In the sanguine reveries of
hope, his party seemed invested with
the guidance of affairs, and himself
possessed of that influence in the state,
which it had been the ceaseless, but
unavailing, effort of his life to obtain.
Mr. Russel was attached to social
pleasures, and when engaged with


A NOVEL.
143
company which he liked, some-
times circulated the glass too free-
ly. On the present occasion the ar-
dour of , conversation had rendered
him unmindful of the quantity of
wine he swallowed, and, on joining
the ladies, he was just sufficiently ani-
mated to forget reserve, and give his
thoughts and feelings words. As we
entered the drawing-room he hung
upon my arm, still enumerating the
benefits, which would result from the
whigs coming into power, and compli-
menting me on my original and en-
lightened yiews. My zealous friend
Mary Ann, who sat on a sofa with
her lovely cousin by her side, as she
perceived Mr. Russel discoursing with
me so earnestly, smiled with exulta-
tion and delight; then, turning to
Julia with an enthusiasm which she


14
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
rarely evinced, said, in an amiable
whisper, “ I knew O'Connor would
succeed. He has made conquest of
the father's understanding as instane-;
ously as he touched the daughter's
heart.''Julia blushed, and seemed as
delighted as her friend.
At length Mr. Russel turned to
O'Neil, and I placed myself between
Mary Ann and Julia. The smiling
angel shunned me no longer, yet she
was conscious, timid, silent. Emotion
throbbed in every vein, and thrilled
at every nerve; but it was emotion
too ardent, too refined for utterance.
I breathed the'air, that had been breath-;
ed by Julia. I felt but one sensation ;
the time that elapsed seemed but one
instant. When Julia's carriage was an-
nounced she leaned upon myarm, and I


A NOVEL.
145
conducted her to it. She bade me good
night.'in tones of softest music.-I.
pressed her hand, the pressure was
returned.
Who can sleep when joy dilates the
heart; when hope, from her romantic
prism; sheds on all our future paths
the colouring of heaven ; when the
soul, almost unbodied, holds sacred
commune with some kindred spirit;
and, from its self-derived emotions,
receives the consciousness of immor
tality, who would " steep his senses
in forgetfulness?"
"As Julia's chariot rolled away, I
retired to my chamber, not to sleep,
but to indulge love's visionary wake.
fulness. I barred my casements, and
drew my curtains close around, exclud-
VOL. II:
H


146 VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
ing light and sound, that in the ab-
straction of darkness and of silence,
fancy might present my angel's image
to my mental eye. Her gentle voice :
still sounded in my ears, my hand still
felt the pressure she had given, and
all my pulses throbbed. It seemed
that the sound of her footsteps was on
the floor.-Her witching form was be-
fore me.--Her breath played upon my
pillow.---Surely in absence souls can
hold communion, and this was more
than fancy. If it was not reality I was
mad. If no hand-maid spirits surround-
ed me this night, and brought my
Julia to my side, and ratified our nup-
tial vows in Heaven, then the crea-
tions of imagination ceased to be dis-
tinguishable from realities, and I had
lost my reason.


A NOVEL,
147
CHAP. III.
The sentiment with whichJulia had
inspired me had associated itself with
every feeling, and blended with the
essence of my soul. The delirium of
he night was not the effect of a tran-
sitory impulse of passion, and when
I arose in the morning, my train of
thought still continued to be roman-
tic, visionary, tender. Still my Julia
was in my mind's eye, and still did
my spirit feel conscious of her pre-
sence, All that I had heard her speak
H 2


VICTIM O INTOLERANCE,
was repeated in the ear of fancy :---
each motion, each attitude, imagina-
tion pictured forth. Her eye beamed
full upon me, I saw the smile that
stole away my heart.
Having thus lived over the past
again, I darted forward to futurity,
and wandered in Elysian bowers with
her whom I adored. Remote from a
jarring and obtrusive world, in peace-i
ful and secluded vales we talked the
flowery hour, and plighted vows of
everlasting love. She already was my
bride, already was a mother, and a tear
of anticipated tenderness for the child
of Julia trembled in my eye. It seem
ed that we advanced into the vale.
of years, that our forms decayed, and
our corporeal vigour passed away,
while affection-triumphed over. ná-


A NOVEL,
1. 1149
ture's fall, and our love remained as
indestructible as the soul from whence
it sprung. In this waking vision I
seemed to pass the precincts of this
world, and rising from the tomb, recog-
nized my Julia in the realms of rest.
Amid the sainted spirits she appeared
the fairest and the best, and I felt that
I must love her while everlasting ages
rolled.
While in this manner I gave ima-
gination the loosened rein, and in the
delirious reveries of love darted be-
yond the boundaries of mortality and
time, and hailed my Julia in the world
unknown, my servant entered announ-
cing Mr. Russel. Even this recal to
the realities of life was painful. For
the interruption of anticipations so
rapturous, even the kind considera.


150
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
tion of my Julia's father, with all the
favourable omens it conveyed, could
not immediately atone. Besides, Mr.
Russel was not the companion with
whom, at this instant, I was calcula-
ted to converse.
His heart had been
early blighted by the frost of an un-
congenial union; and the dreams of
love, and the visions of enthusiasm,
were to him as the wanderings of a
mind diseased. His presence chilled
me. I trembled test the almost uncon.
querable repugnance which, at such
a moment, I felt to political discus-
sion, might render me incapable of
discoursing on his favourite topics, and
cause him to abate something of that
high estimation of my talents which
he had expressed the preceding day.
It, however, occurred most fortunate.
ly, that he had many, engagements on
lin


A NOVEL
151
his hands that morning, and that he
had only time to repeat his wish
that we might be better acquainted,
and to request that I would wave
all ceremony, and meet the O'Neils
at a family dinner with him next
day. I expressed my ready assent,
and, on retiring, he shook me cor-
dially by the hand, and said, “ Of
your talents I have already had .am-
ple proof; of your principles the
friendship of the O'Neils is a suffici-
ent surety. Short as our acquaint-
ance has been, you have obtained a
high place in my esteem, and it is
therefore that I treat you with the uni.
ceremonious freedom of a friend,"
I was again alone, and under the
influence of the most pleasing impres-
sions. I had recovered, however, from


152
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
my mental intoxication, and was ena-
bled with some degree of sobriety, to
reflect on the probabilities of success,
and on the means I possessed of im.
proving them. It was evident that to
Julia I was not indifferent, and in
gaining the favour of the father, on
which the progress of her affection
must depend, I had succeeded with a
rapidity that surpassed my most san-
guine expectation. The O'Neils, who
were in the entire confidence of Mr.
"Russel, were devoted to my interest.
Success seemed certain, seemed al-
most attained.--I was again about to
yield myself up to anticipations of
love, of future and eternal bliss, when
I recollected that I might endanger
all that had been done if I continued
to indulge a train of thought and a tone
of feeling incompatible with the dis-
1


4 NOVEL.
153
cussion of the favourite topics of thein-
veterate politician, on whom my hopes
were hung. I took up the political
publications of the day, and, with for-
ced and painful application, pursued
a course of reading which had once
delighted me.
When I reached Mr. Russel's the
next day, I found that Mary Ann
had already arrived, and that she was
alone in the drawing-room. I was
glad of this.- I had many acknow-
ledgments to make, and a thousand
questions to ask. With that frank and
cordial manner which characterised
her intercourse with those she loved,
and which made the heart feet at home
in her presence, she congratulated me
on the very favourable impression
which I had made on the father of
1 5


154
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
my friend.
Julia, and warmly participated in all
my hopes of ultimate success. “I
knew," she cried, “ Mr. Russel would
be pleased with you; you are in every
respect the person he would like to
select for a son-in-law. I already re-
gard you as the betrothed husband of
Oh ! love, as it must ex-
ist between such characters as O'Con-
nor and Julia, will be a subject of
delightful contemplation. I shall re-
gard you as ethereal natures sent to
sojourn with us for a season. I will
observe your feelings, that I may
gather some conception of those more
refined and more intense affections
which shall exist between my husband
· and myself when, in the bowers of Pa-
radise, our spirits purified and disen-
cumbered, shall meet in perfect union."
In this manner Mary Ann's ardent af-
1


A NOVEL:
155
fection for her friend would give a new
impulse to her calm and complacent
temper, and render her, at times, an
enthusiast. She related to me instan-
ces of the exquisite tenderness of Julia's
heart, and of the luxuriant sallies of
her fancy, and proved what I believed
before, that she at least was an ethe-
real nature, sent as a sojourner in this
lower world, to give us an anticipation
of the society of heaven, in
While her name was thus 66
upon
our lips, and her image in our hearts,"
she entered. She was not aware that
I had been invited by her father, and
on seeing me with Mary Ann, she
made a sudden pause, while her beau-
teous countenance beamed with sura
prise and pleasure. We entered into
conversation, but her mind seemed


156
VICTIM OF INTOLÉRANCE,
"not in tune with mine. As "Mary Ana
had, a little before, caught her en-
thusiasm and pathos, so she no! ex-.
changed characters with her friend,
and, while I was too deeply happy
to be gay, spoke with a cheerful and
sportive raillery which appeared to
indicate a heart untouched. I was
disappointed—I was grieved.Mary
Ann perceived my uneasiness, and
archly whispered, “As birds, with
instinctive artifice, flutter along the
carth; to decoy us from the precincts
of their nests, so nature teaches us
weak women, by light excursions of
the fancy, to keep the conversation
at a distance from those subjects,
which might lead to the tender se-
crets of our hearts.” Julia overheard
her, and, while her countenance flush-
ed with sweet confusion, cast a look
$


A
1959
NOVEL.
66
ܘ:
of gentle reproach upon her friend.
Forgive me, il angel - Julia;” cried
"Mary Ann, fondly embracing her,
s under any other circumstances, I
would not have spoken thus, but
*surely you need not continue to act
- on the defensive with your father's
chosen friend." I heard not the reply
which Julia whispered to ber friend ;
we 'were joined by the rest of the
party, and dinner was announced.
This] evening, as at my friend
- O'Neil's, the conversation, as soon as
the ladies had' withdrawn,' turned
'exclusively on politics. An elderly
gentleman, who sat near the head of
the table, was as 'strenuous an adhe-
rent of the ministry, as Mr. Russel
was of the opposition, and the argu-
ment between them was conducted


158 VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
with considerable heat.- News had
lately arrived that in the English par-
liament a measure of finance had been
adopted, the effect of which would be
considerably to discourage the export
trade of Ireland, and Mr. Russel con-
: tended that the agriculture and manu-
factures of the country would conse-
quently be ruined, while the other
maintained that the measure in ques-
tion would tend to increase the na.
tional prosperity. “ Ireland,” said the
former," though possessed of every ad-
vantage of soil and situation, and con-
taining the most dense and hardy
population in Europe, has been so fet.
tered and unnerved by a ruinous sys-
tem of commercial restriction, that in
wealth and prosperity, she has conti-
nued inferior to many countries, the
natural resources of which have been


A NOVEL
159
comparatively few. The financial
measures now adopted will counter-
act the benefits about to arise from
the unrestricted trade so recently ob-
tained, and perpetuate the national
calamity and degradation.”
“ I am unable to discover,” repli-
ed his political opponent, “ how this
financial measure can counteract the
effects of our free trade : and granting
that it did, it by no means follows that
it would perpetuate the calamity of
the country.
Commerce is not a
source of wealth. Every article that
satisfies our wants, or gratifies our de-
sires, is ultimately derived from agri-
culture ; and possessed, as we are, of
a fertile soil, and numerous popula-
tion, an impassable wall of brass might


160 VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
be drawn around. the island without
-- injuring its prosperity."
1
- Manufactures and commerce ino
source of wealth !" resumed Mr. Rus-
sel, with'evident tokens of surprise.
“ Surely you argue upon an assump-
tion which is not only inconsistent
with historical, but with existing
facts. Tyre and Carthage, Venice,
Genoa, and Holland, have successively.
become the most opulent states in the
world, and this, not from the produce
of their territories, and from agricul-
tural pursuits, but from skill in manu-
- facture and enterprize in commerce."
". I mean not to deny the fact," rea
turned the other drily; " that these
states attained a very considerable de-


A NOVEL
161
gree of opulence ;? but every particle
of their wealth, though they might
have immediately obtained it by ra-
pine, by tribute, or by commerce, was
brought into existence by agriculture.
When the farmer takes a piece of
ground from the land proprietor, he
must, in addition to all the expences
of cultivation, obtain from his fields a
net surplus produce to pay his rent.
The rent of land, therefore, is a new
creation of wealth. It exists after
the seed and capital expended are re-
placed, and over and above the subsigt. .
ence of those employed in cultiva-
tion. This cannot be said of manu-
factural industry: the manufacturer
does no more than add to the rude
material the subsistence he consumed
while working on it. No surplus.is


162 VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
produced, no new wealth brought in-
to existence. Commerce, in like
manner, produces nothing : it is a
mere transfer of commodities. When
I give a horse for a pipe of wine, two
articles already in existence change
proprietors, but no new creation of
commodities takes place. In fact, the
proposition which asserts that agri-
culture is the only source of wealth,
admits of rigid demonstration, · Com-
mercial nations do, indeed, acquire
wealth ; but they acquire it at the ex-
pence of the agricultural states by
which they are surrounded. When
Holland, for example, carries for Prus-
sia, she expends, we will suppose, a
thousand quarters of corn in building
shipping and subsisting mariners, and,
in return, receives one thousand two


A NOVEL.
163
fundred quarters.
Holland, there-
fore, by this transaction will be two
hundred quarters of corn richer than
she was before, but Prussia will be
two hundred poorer. In the use of
shipping, and in the labour of seamen,
she would have received to the value
of a thousand quarters; but she would
have given away one thousand two
hundred. Hence, we perceive that
in commerce the gain of one nation is
the loss of others,"
“ To apply,” he proceeded, " these
first and simple principles of political
æconomy to the measures of finance
lately adopted in England, it is evident
that were these measures to discou-
rage, as perhaps they may, our expor-
tation of certain articles to that coun-


161 VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
try, we should receive a benefit, and
'not an injury, England is a manufac-
turing and commercial country, and
therefore, in all the commercial trans-
actions between us, she must acquire
wealth at our' expence. This is, un-
fortunately, completely exemplified in
the effects of the free trade, for which
the Irish so long and so loudly cla-
moured. Our'exports and imports
have very considerably increased, but
the national distress has increased al-
so. A considerable time after the free
trade was obtained, and while a period
of universal peace gave that measure
full scope to operate, the attorney-
general was compelled to declare that
- the peasantry of Munster, 'paying.
enormous 'rents for their lands, and
receiving only sixpence per day for


A NOVEL
165
their labour, could no longer exist in
the 'extreme distress to which they
were reduced. Thus the people, ir-
ritated and deceived by the declama-
tion of faction struggling for power,
at one time destroy the capital which
should give them employment, and,
at another, clamour for a commerce
which, by occasioning an increased
exportation of produce, brings them
to the verge of famine."
Mr. Russel did not possess that
clear conception of the question, that
instinctive discernment which would
have enabled him to detect the sophis-
try of his antagonist. He had studi-
ed the financial and commercial regu-
lations of all the European nations;
he was acquainted with the produc-


166 VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
tions and wants of most countries ;
and could bring forward, in support of
his opinions, an uncommon portion
of accurate and useful knowledge ;
but it was the knowledge of details
and of particulars. With the science
of wealth he was wholly unacquainted,
and he was unable to overthrow the
arguments of his dexterous opponent,
by disproving the principle he assum-
ed, and by pointing out the nature
and extent of the benefit which com-
merce bestows on nations. With
heat of temper he repeatedly asserted,
that agriculture is not the only source
of wealth ; and was as repeatedly
called upon for the proof on which
that assertion was grounded. At
length I took part in the conversation,
and said, “ It does not appear to me
that Mr. Russel is called upon to


Å NOVEL.
167
prove, in order to establish his posi-
tions, that agriculture is not the only
source of wealth.
This proposition,
though not indeed self-evident, is yet
so obvious, and so conformable to
every day's experience, that it may
safely be taken for granted. Indeed,
the difficulty of proving that agri-
culture is not the only source of
wealth, can only arise from its being
one of those common propositions,
the evidence of which we never ex- :
amine, because we never expect to :
hear them denied.”
With a supercilious air the elderly
gentleman turned to me, and said,
some of the most profound philoso-
phers of modern Europe have demon,
strated that agriculture is the only
source of wealth ; and if my inode of


168. VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
1
putting the argument be, únintelligi..
þle, I must refer you to the volumes
of the French economists."
I replied, in a tone of calm indiffe.
rence, “ I am aware that the French
economists attempted, and pretended
to demonstrate that agriculture is the
only source of wealth'; but not only
is their conclusion in opposition to
experience, but the fallacy of the rea-
soning which supports it may be in
stantly detected."
“ As the question cannot be de-
cided by assertion, it will save much
time if you will prove that agricul-
ture is not the only source of wealth."
“Let us suppose," I rejoined," a
country situated, in some respects,


A NOVEL
169
like the Island of Otaheite. The
earth produces nutritious plants
spontaneously, the waters abound
with fish, the flax plant grows wild
as in New Zealand. Is it not evident
that, in this country, the labour em-
ployed to appropriate and prepare the
productions of the land and water,
would supply all our wants, and gra-
tify many of our desires ? Food,
clothing, habitation, furniture,-nay,
many of the embellishments and luxu-
ries of life, might exist in consider-
able abundance, though agriculture
should be quite unknown. Agricul-
ture, therefore, cannot be the only
source of wealth."
Mr. Russel evinced the highest
satisfaction at this view of the subject.
His. antagonist observed peevishly;
VOL. II.
I


170 VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
?
“We have no concern with countries
circumstanced like Otaheite. In civi-
lized states, where tillage and manu-
factures are established, all revenue
is derived from agriculture, and the
artizan does no more than bestow on
the raw material a value equal to that
of the substance he consumed.”
“ You gain nothing," I replied with
vivacity, " by giving up your general
proposition, and limiting it to civili-
zed states. For, in these, the artizan
does more than add the value of his
subsistence to the raw material. Be.
sides giving the agriculturist a full
equivalent for the produce of the earth,
which they consumed while at work,
the manufacturers must fabricate many
articles for their own consumption.
The weaver, for example, besides pre-


A NOVEL
171
paring cloth for the purpose of pur-
chasing food from the farmer, must also
prepare clothing for himself and his
family, and purchase from the neigh-
bouring artizans various articles of ne-
cessity and convenience. Now it is
plain that whatever articles the manu-
facturers fabricate beyond what is ne-
cessary to purchase the food which
they consumed while at work, is,
even on the principles of the econo.
mists, a species of wealth brought into
existence by manufacturing industry.
It remains after all the expences of
its production have been replaced, and
is as much a new creation as the sur-
plus produce of the soil. All this
argument of the economist turns upon
the supposition that the manufacturer
consumes a quantity of subsistence
equal to the additional value which he
1 2


172 VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
bestows upon the raw material. But
this never is the case. The manufaca
turer besides replacing to the agricul-
turist the value of the provisions he
consumed, and besides fabricating
various articles for himself, must pre-
pare commodities in order to pay the
rent of the house in which he lives,
and, in this manner, furnish, no less
than the former, a net surplus revenue
to the land proprietor."
Mr. Russel had been extremely dis-
concerted at the plausible eloquence
which had been employed to justify
the measures of the ministers whom
he hated ; and the attack made upon
his own party for obtaining a free trade
for Ireland; excited a degree of indig.
nation' against his elderly guest, which
it required all his natural politeness to


A NOVEL.
173
suppress. These uneasy feelings serry-
ed but to heighten his gratification
at the unexpected turn I had given
to the argument.
When I ceased, he
first regarded me with a species of asto-
nishment; and then, after appearing
to pursue a rapid and interesting train
of thought, he turned to me again, and
smiled with the affectionate pride, the
cordial triumph of a parent. I recol.
lected the words of my friend Mrs.
O'Neil, that it was his intention to se-
lect for the husband of Julia some
young man whose political attainments
he approved and admired. Hope die
lated my heart. The present scene
faded from before me, while with an
ardent anticipation, I darted forward
to the felicity I seemed destined to en
joy.


174
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
I continued in this delightful re-
verie until the ladies requested our
company in the drawing-room.- The
house of Mr. Russel might almost
have been considered as a debating
club, where the most eminent politi.
cians of Dublin assembled to discuss
affairs of state. We found a large par-
ty in the drawing-room ; the ladies,
with the exception of Mary Ann and
Julia, who attended to the guests, were
amusing themselves with cards, while
the gentlemen stood in groups convers-
ing on the measures which were sup-
posed to be so injurious to the com-
merce of the country. Onjoining them,
Mr. Russel introduced me in flattering
terms, and related the conversation
which had taken place in the dining-
room. So," cried one of the gentle-
men, whoseemed conspicuous for viva-
1


A NOVEL .
175
city and spirit, “the disciple of Ques-
noi has at length been silenced, driven
from his fortresses of sophistry, and
subdued by the very weapons at which
he imagined himself so dexterous.-
Sir," continued he, bowing to me,
“I am rejoiced to see you amongst us.
One political economist, acting un-
checked, is insufferable ; but when two
come together, there is some chance
of their neutralizing each other. Uno
restricted commerce will no longer be
demonstrated to be the cause of nati-
onal distress ; nor surrendering our ex-
port trade to the caprice of the English
minister, proved by uncontrovertible
arguments to be the best means of
giving employment to our popula-
tion,"
• Gentlemen,” cried my political


176
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
1
antagonist, unwilling to acknowledge
himself defeated, “ the conversation
which took place below stairs is en-
tirely misunderstood. Nothing was
there said, and I submit that nothing
can be said, to disprove that com-
merce is a mere transfer of commodi-
ties already in existence, and, there-
fore, incapable of creating wealth.
What one country gains by trade, some
other country must lose. Our com.
mercial intercourse with England has
ever been against us, and it must be
evident to any person acquainted with
the subject, that if the measure of the
minister check our exportation to that
country, we shall receive a benefit,
not an injury."
“ More demonstration from old
Quesnoe,” cried our facetious compaa
i


A NOVEL
177
nion.“ Young Dr. Smith, cannot you
favour us with a reply ?”
« The reply is obvious," I return
ed; "it lies on the very surface of
the question. When we consider com-
merce as a mere transfer of commodis
ties, and leave out of the calculation
the effect it has in establishing divi.
sion of employment, and augmenting
the productive powers of labour, we
take a narrow and inadequate view of
the question. Nature, by giving to
different districts different soils and
climates, has adapted them for differ-
ent productions. One tract of land
is peculiarly fitted for the growth of
grass ; another seems as exclusively
destined for the production of corn. In
one country the vine grows luxuriant-
ly, while the animals which feed upon
I 5


178 VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
its pastures have but a poor and scanty
covering ; in another country, the
grape ripens but imperfectly, while the
fleeces of the animals it feeds furnish
the materials for clothing in abundance.
Now it must be obvious to the most
inattentive observer, that, by the està-
blishment of a territorial division of
employment, in these districts, and in
these countries, the productions of
the earth will be multiplied to an al-
most incalculable extent.
If we sow
corn on the arable land, and feed cattle
on our pastures ; if we cultivate the
grape beneath a congenial sky, and
breed sheep where their fleeces will
be abundant; then shall we enjoy
more corn and cattle, more wine and
clothing, than if we reversed the order
of nature, ploughing up our meadow
ground, and laying our arable lands


À NOVEL
179
under grass'; turning our vineyards,
into sheep-walks, and sheep-walks
into vineyards. But it is evident that,
without trade and commerce,wes hould
be unable to establish these territorial
divisions of employment, which so
greatly augment production. If the
holder of pasture land could not ex-
change his cattle for corn, he would
be compelled to counterwork the in.
tentions of nature, and grow corn in
grounds peculiarly adapted for grass.
And if the owner of a vineyard could
not obtain, in return for his surplus
wine, the woollens of which he might
stand in need; he would be under
the necessity of converting a portion
of his vineyard into pasture lands for
sheep.”
.
>
“ From this statement, it is to be


180
VICTIM OF INTOLERÁNCE,
hoped, that the utility of commerce
will be sufficiently manifest. It assists
every man in availing himself of the
dexterity and skill which he may have
acquired in any particular calling, and
promotes the cultivation of the earth
in a manner suitable to the climate
and soil of different districts, and of
different countries, and by both these
operations, increases, to an extent not
easily to be calculated, the wealth of
the community in which it is encou.
raged."
“ It is impossible," rejoined the el-
derly gentleman, with evident marks
of disappointment and vexation, " to
discuss this question in a public com-
pany, and on the present occasion I
must be content to prove the justness
of my opinion, not by abstract argu-


A NOVEL
181
i
mentation, but by a reference to facts.
After Ireland obtained a free trade,
her exports and imports increased with
a rapidity unexampled in the history
of commerce. The consequence has
been, that the national distress increas-
ed in an equal ratio. While the ad.
vocates of unrestricted commerce were
pluming themselves in their exalted
wisdom and patriotism, mendicity and
wretchedness spread throughout the
land, and the king's attorney general,
in the debate on the riot of the White
boys, was compelled to declare that
the peasantry of Munster, paying enor-
mous rents for their farms, and receive
ing only six-pence a day for their
labour, were no longer able to exist in
the extreme distress to which they
were reduced."
.


182
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
66 The increased distress which Ire-
land suffered after she obtained a free
trade, was produced,” I rejoined, “ by
a very different cause. The popula-
tion of Ireland increases with a greater
rapidity than that of any European
country, and, as appears from a mass of
official returns, doubles itself in a pe-
riod of forty-five years: hence, though,
upon our obtaining a free trade, a great
increase took place in our exports and
imports, and the mass of our wealth
was wonderfully enlarged, yet no ame-
lioration was produced in the condi.
tion of the people. Every year there
was a greater quantity of subsis-
tencethan the year preceding; but then
this subsistence was divided amongst
a greater number of persons, and no
individual found his share of the ne.
cessaries of life increased. The de


A NOVEL
183
mand for labour was increased, but
then the supply was increased in an
equal ratio, and no augmentation in
its price obtained. Indeed, while
subsistence and population were in-
creased in an equal ratio, the number
of labourers unemployed, or inade-
quately rewarded, must necessarilyhave
augmented. For if in any district the
demand for labour is such as to give
occupation to one thousand persons,
while the supply of labourers amount
to eleven hundred, then it is plain that
one hundred persons must'remain un-
employed. Now let the demand for
labour graduallyincrease untilit can af-
ford occupation to two thousand, while
the labourers, keeping the same ratio of
increase,swell to two thousandtwo huna
dred. Hence, then, though the funds


18+ VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
for the maintenance of labour are dou-
bled, there will be two hundred per-
sons out of employment instead of one
hundred. The wealth of the district
will have been doubled, but mendici-
ty and wretchedness will have doubled
also. Hence we clearly perceive how
the improvements in agriculture and
commerce, which the free trade be-
stowed upon Ireland, have been ac-
companied with an aggravation of the
national distress. But this, instead of
being a justification to the English mi-
nister for tampering with our com-
merce, would, were he acquainted with
the structure of society in genéral, and
with the state of Ireland in particular,
be a solemn and awful warning not to
interfere with the industry and subsis-
tence of a country already groaning un-
!


A NOVEL.
185
der all the miseries of redundant popu.
lation.”
The company, who were almost all
attached to the opposition, loudly ap-
plauded these observations. My oppo-
nent declaring that he would no lon-
ger argue before auditors so prejudiced
retired from the room, and the conver-
sation ceased to turn upon political
topics. Mr. Russel joined Mrs.
O'Neil, who was his near relation and
for whom he entertained the highest
affection and respect. I had made a
deep impression on him, and, as I
afterwards learned from Mary Ann,
my praise was the lavish theme of his
discourse. “ Your friend Mr. O'Con.
nor," he cried, “is a most extraordi.
nary young man, a master genius; and
1


136
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
وو
in the discussion of political ques-
tions, I am unacquainted with his
equal." " yes,” rejoined my partial
friend," he is indeed an extraordinary
young man,” and, as she spoke, she
looked towards Julia, who leanedupon
her arm; "he can speak with every
tongue, to every purpose.
» As Mr.
Russel turned round to address the rest
of the company, he observed not the
blush that glowed upon his daughter's
.cheek. I advanced and occupied the
seat beside Mary Ann, which he had
vacated. Julia still remained with her
arm linked within her friend's. She
conversed with confidence and free-
dom. The distinguished favour which
her father had avowed for me had evi.
dently caused her to relax from that
rigid guard which she had lately main.


& NOVEL.
157
tained upon herself. An imagination
delicate and varied, gave a colouring,
a relief, a picturesque expression to
every thing she said; while from tho
shade of a nature timid and retired,
flashes of enthusiastic feeling would
occasionally burst forth, striking the
understanding by surprise, and pene
trating at once into the heart. I was
kindled, I was inspired; I was about
- Should her father approve,
could Julia love me?" but the expres-
sion faltered on my tongue, and Julia,
receding a little from my side, whis.
pered to Mary Ann, unconscious that
I heard, “ If I tarry here too long, my
heart will not wait the sanction of
my
father. There is no safety but in flight.
She vanished from before me; but the
whispered accents of the sweet enthu.
to say,


188
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
siast still sounded in my ear, and
brought hope's warm vision to my
heart. That evening she re-appeared
no more, and I retired, exulting in the
past, and anticipating the future.


A NOVEL.
189
CHAP. IV.
The season was now far advanced,
but amid the fading bloom of autumn,
the “ sear and yellow leaf,” the air
retained unusual mildness, and
“ Parting Summer's lingering smile delayed.”
The affectionate Mary Ann, ever
solicitous to promote my interest' with
Mr. Russel and the peerless Julia,
formed a rural party to visit the adja-
cent seat of a nobleman; and take a lo-


190
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
mantic repast in the domains. Mr.
Russel could not be prevailed on to
accompany us, and at this I secretly
rejoiced. Only awake to the charms of
nature, and to the luxuries of soft de-
light, had he proposed to converse with
me, my thoughts would perpetually
have strayed from the dry details of
political discussion, and inattentive
and embarrassed, I should have lost
something of his good opinion, and no
longer appeared to possess those at-
tainments which had called forth bis
approbation and esteem. Besides, I
longed to gratify my taste ; to indulge
the flowings of my soul unchecked,
to yield myself to happiness without
one uncongenial sentiment to inter-
rupt the train of thought, and break
the unity of the emotion which nature
and Julia would inspire. It was not


A NOVEL.
191
my
desire to tell the tale of love, or, as
yet unsanctioned, to solicit to be loved
again. I desired to contemplate the
beautiful and grand in the society of
one tremblingly alive to each fine im.
pulse, to watch the cmotions that di-
lated her, and, by the inspiration of
sympathy, to have them reflected back
into
my
bosom.
The morning broke on an unclouded
sky, and all things seemed conspiring
to gratify my wishes and to ininister
to happiness. After a delightful drive
through scenery varied and pictu-
resque, we arrived at our destinațion ;
and, by the contrivance of my ever
faithful Mary Ann, Julia was comi-
mitted to my care as
we rambled
through the lawns, the gardens, and
the woods. Thig pressure of her


192
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
le
arm, as it rested within mine, was a
talisman that waked to double life
each function of my soul.
All
nature seemed to smile; the hills,
the vales, the woods, “ to me were
opening paradise.” My nerves were
tuned to thrilling languishment; my
pulses, as they throbbed, had a con-
sciousness of pleasure; the air that I
inhaled felt pregnant with delight, and
life was luxury.
0
3 &
th
fe
th
t
li
a
1
The scenery which spread before us
was the most picturesque 1 had ever
witnessed. Autumn had diffused her
rich and varied tints upon the woods ;
the thinned and falling foliage exposed
the light and shadow as it fell between
the trees; innumerable vistas formed by
ever-varying slopes, and by the clumps
that shaded them, opened to the eye,
ic
h
td


A NOVEL.
193
and were lost in interminable distance;
while a blue transparent mist rested
upon all around, and gave a visionary
indistinctness to the scene. I express-
ed to Julia the effect it produced up-
on my fancy. I endeavoured to com-
municate the train of thought that
glided in a kind of delightful delirium
through my mind, and sought to in.
fuse the complacent emotion that
thrilled within my soul. But while I
imagined she felt what I was feeling,
that we glowed with one sensation, I
lifted my eye to hers, and saw she
was unmoved. I was strangely dis-
appointed. I know not that I ever
experienced an event more contrary
to that which I expected. As if she
had neither a heart to feel, or a fancy
to be inspired, Julia rejected the bean-
tiful and picturesque, and fixed her
1
VOL. II
K


194
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
attention on every circumstance that
was uninteresting and trivial on the
scene before us. She spoke of the
woods, in reference to the period of
their growth, and the domestic pur-
poses to which the different trees
were applicable; and the shrubs and
plants that were scattered around in
wild profusion, suggested observa-
tions relating to the classifications
of the botanist. I scarcely could
believe that it was Julia's voice I
heard ; and, while she spoke much, I
answered in monosyllables. At length
as we wound round the brow of an
acclivity, a stream, now falling over
rocks, now spreading in astill expanse,
now hid behind the woodlands, and
now breaking forth and gleaming in
the beams of the declining sun, open-
ed suddenly upon us, and gave to the


A NOVEL.
195
scenery a picturesque magnificence
which may be imagined but not ex.
pressed. An exclamation of delight
escaped me. Julia enquired in what
district the river rose, and at what
point it fell into the ocean.
I made
her no reply, but after a lorg pause
of disappointment and chagrin, said,
“Julia, your fancy sleeps to-day.”
“ It does not sleep, it is impri-
soned.”
The vivacity with which the reply
was uttered seemed to indicate more
than was avowed; but her meaning
was hid from me. I was disappointed;
I was hurt; and after we had sat
down to some refreshments, I felt
no sorrow to see the parties distribut-
ed anew, and Mary Ann committed
K 2


196 VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
to my care. I was anxious to tell
my'
story to this cherished friend, and to
receive from her lips the consolation
and encouragement I had so often ex-
perienced
May you not,” said Mary Arin,
when I communicated the reason of
my uneasiness,“
may you not diseo-
ver some cause, different from that of
insensibility and caprice, why Julia
should sometimes regard the beau-
ties of natural scenery without en-
thusiasm
“O yes; a taste so excellent, an
imagination so sublime, 'may select
the choicest features of a thousand
scenes, and combine in one ideal land-
scape the charms of the world. Hence
she will often be uninterested by those


A NOVEL,
197
aspects of nature which, however beau-
tiful in themselves, appear to disad-'
vantage in contrast with her bright
creations."
“This cause is very flattering to Julia,
but I could assign another fully as
flattering to yourself.
Before we set
out this morning, Julia said she wish-
*ed to avoid taking your arm during our
rural rambles. I told her that as her
father evidently preferred you to all
the other men of his acquaintance, this
excessive caution was unnecessary.
Her objection, however, was repeat-
ed, and I replied that I was queen of
the amusements of the day, and would
exercise my authority without restric-
tions; that if her father would ác.
company us, I would permit him to
carry on a political debate with you ;


198
„VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
but if, as I feared, he should refuse
to become one of my subjects, then it
was my will that she should be your
companion. On this she acquainted
me that I might govern her external
movements, but that she would re-
tain her empire over all within, and
regulate her ideas and feelings as she
pleased. If I walk with O'Connor,
said the lovely girl, nature shall not
* Be beauty, to my eye, or music to my ear."
1
“ Is this, my dear friend, account.
ing for the insensibility of Julia in a
manner flattering to me; and can I feel
gratified, that in my society, and in
mine alone, she should neither have
a nerve to feel, nor a fancy to be in-
spired ,


A NOVEL.
199
" You an enthusiast, and hesitate
to believe that love can do all things,
reconcile contradictions, effect impos-
sibilities, and cause a woman to feel
least when she is interested most."
" Dear Mrs. O'Neil,be moreserious,
and more explicit.?'
"Then, Mr. O'Connor, Julia regards
you as a dangerous magician, bearing
about a spell which might suspend her
reason and deprive her of her self-con-
troul. She therefore places herself on
her guard against your amulets and
charms. This morning she told me
that if she gave way to the reveries of
fancy, and yielded her soul to the
emotions of beauty and delight, while
your mind kindled into similar enthu-
siasm, and felt a congenial glow, the


200 VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
cords of sympathy would all be touch-
ed; each image, each sentiment, as
it arose on your mind, would call forth
· a representative on hers, until both
glowed with one sensation,-until
your spirits mingled, and she could
no longer refrain from loving you.
While in your society, therefore, she
determined not to give fancy the reign,
nor her feelings the mastery ; but,
while contemplating objects exhibit.
ing the beautiful and picturesque, to
fix her attention on those uninterest-
ing features of nature which were un-
calculated to suggest a romantic train
of thought, or to impart emotions too
much allied to tenderness. I smiled at
my lovely friend as she made this com-
munication. Her father has said so
many things to me in your favour, that
I considered her precautions to guard


A NOVEL.
201
herself against an attachment sanc-
tioned by his authority, altogether
unnecessary; while I discredited her
power to shut her eyes and her heart
to the images of beauty and the emo-
tions of sympathy. She has exerted a
degree of self-government, which, be-
fore this experimental proof came to
my knowledge, I deemed incompati-
ble with human weakness. But surely
my disappointment in this respect
should not be a source of uneasiness
Are you not treated with
sufficient consideration? Can self-love
receive a higher gratification than that
which must arise from being consider-
ed dangerous by Julia ?” I felt that it
could not. I thanked my ever kind
and considerate friend for the cheering
communication she had made. Break-
ing from behind a transitory cloud,
to you.
K 5


202 VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
the beams of hope seemed brighter
than before.
1
As evening closed in we drove back
to town, and I accompanied Mary Ann
and Julia to the residence of the for.
mer. On entering we found Mr. Rus-
sel and Mr. O'Neil engaged in a tête-
à-tête conversation over their claret.
The father of my soul's adored receiv-
ed me with a smile of gladness, and,
pressing my hand within his, seated
me beside him. His nephew, Mr.
Neville, whom I had seen in the ball-
room on my first introduction to Julia,
had made one of our rural party, and
had also returned home with Mrs.
O'Neil. He was a young man of quick
and brilliant parts, but rendered him.
self ridiculous by foppery and a love
of display. In dress he went to the


A NOVEL.
203
fashion's last extreme; in conversation
he was pedantic and paradoxical. Such,
indeed, was his unbounded fondness
for notoriety, that he would court
ridicule and censure rather than pass
unobserved.
For the sake of singularity, and to
display his learning and acuteness,
Neville would frequently direct his at-
tacks against religion. He was pecu-
liarly fond of producing his sceptical
arguments before his uncle, who, irrita-
ble in temper, and unexercised in me-
taphysical subtilties, could not detect
the errors of his sophistry, and left
him an easy victory. On the present
occasion he went further than usual ;
denying the existence of a Deity, and
wielding the arguments of atheism with
much dexterity. Mr. Russel asserted
1


20+
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
with some heat, that in every age, and
in every country the belief of invisi-
ble intelligent power with the first ad-
vance of reason ; that it was a part of
our constitution, and that he who pre-
tended to deny the existence of a first
cause could not be met io argument,
any more than the person who should
refuse to admit self-evident proposi-
tions.
The young sophist, far from being
silenced by this remark, was delighted
at having drawn his uncle into a dis.
cussion, and in a triumphant tore re-
plied, “ A first cause, so far from be-
ing suggested necessarily by the ex.
ercise of our faculties, is what we are
absolutely, incapable of conceiving.
Nay, to our understandings the idea
of one first cause seems to involve
1


A NOVEL.
205
a contradiction. That which we call
a first cause must be self-existent, for
if brought into being by any thing else
it could not be an original cause.
Hence, the idea of a first cause neces-
sarily involves the idea of a self-exis-
tent uncaused being, and this at once
overthrows the whole argument of cau-
sation; for, if the Deity can exist with-
out a cause, the planetary system may
exist without a cause also, and it is
quite as easy to conceive an eternal suc-
cession of ideas and volitions as a divine
mind.” He ceased, and Mr. Russel,
turning to me, said, “ I trust.my friend
O'Connor is as good a metaphysician
as he is a politician, and that he will put
this prating boy to silence.” “ From all
that I have heard of Mr. O'Connor's
powers,” replied Nevillé supercilious-
ly, 66 I am convinced that he is not su-
.
1


206 VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
sense.”
mean.
perstitious, and thaton religious topics
he thinks with me.” “ Indeed, Mr.
Neville,” I returned, “ you are exceed-
ingly mistaken. At an early period
of life I was lost, like yourself, in the
trackless labyrinths of scepticism, but
fortunately I discovered a clue which
led me back into the paths of common
“ Of vulgar prejudice, you
If the existence of a Deity
were capable of demonstration, such
men as Locke and Clarke would have
demonstrated it; but their arguments
are on this subject entirely inconclu
sive ; and surely it cannot be called
common sense to believe that of which
we can obtain nd proof." " I admit
that the arguments of Locke and
Clarke are inconclusive; nay, I will
go further, and grant you that the ex-
istence of a Deity is not capable of be-


A NOVEL.
207
ing demonstrated, but it is not there-
fore the less true, or the less worthy of
belief." "Not true, or the less worthy
of belief! While you continue to main-
tain contradictions you must excuse
me if I decline to argue.” On saying
this Neville rose from the table around
which Mr. Russel, O'Neil and myself
had been conversing, and in trium-
phant exultation, seated himself with
Mary Ann and Julia.
Our little par-
ty was disconcerted. Surprise, disap-
pointment and vexation were depict.
ed in the countenance of Mr. Russel.
My friends the O'Neils evinced a deep
concern that the favourable sentiments
respecting me seemed in this all-im-
portant quarter to have received a
check. The expression of Julia's coun-
tenance I saw not. Her head was avert-
ed, and she turned with trembling hor-


208 VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
ror from her cousin Neville, who taunt-
ingly asked if she would any longer be-
lieve in a great pervading cause ?
Daring this scene I was the only
person who retained composure. Mary
Ann, observing my serenity, and per-
ceiving that I smiled at the triumph
which Neville had so hastily assumed,
recovered her wonted gaiety, and said,
" I have but little skill in the science
of intellectual war, yet I think that
general Neville, instead of coming off
victorious, has, with prophetic caution,
retired from before a fortress, the
artillery of which would speedily have
destroyed him. O'Connor, you are
the most candid man in all the world,
and speak the truth even if it is against
yourself. Has Neville argued success-
fully on the existence of a Deity."


A NOVEL.
209
“ No, my worthy friend. He has,
on the contrary, shewn himself wholly
ignorant of the bearings ofthe question,
and of the inductive process by which
alone we can arrive at any conclusion
respecting matters of fact. I felt he
was in error, though I could not ex-
press the how and the where in your
metaphysical technology.”
O
On this Mary Ann turned to Neville,
who unconscious of what had passed,
was still importuning Julia, and, tak-
ing his hand, said gaily, “My dear
cousin, on any other subject, and be.
fore any other auditors, I should not
be so unkind as to recal you from the
paradise of fools.
I have not yet re-
signed my authority as dictatress of
he day, and you must therefore renew
the sports of intellectual gladiatorship,


210
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
and answer such arguments as your
opponent may advance, before you
can be granted the honours of a tri-
uniph."
“ I shall endeavour to obey you,
returned Neville, resuming his seat at
the table; “but as Mr. O'Connor is
not prepared to support the reasoning
of our most celebrated theists, and as
hé even acknowledges that the exist-
ence of a Deity isincapable of demon-
stration, on this intellectual gladiator-
ship, I shall be only contending with
a shadow. What have I to oppose ?
what have I to refute ?" " It is abun.
dantly evident," I returned,
that no
persons can argue together, who are
not agreed on some principles of belief,
and who do not mutually acknow-
ledge some self-evident proposition of
1


A NOVEL.
211
ultimate fact, beyond which there can
be no appeal."
“I acknowledge all self-evident
propositions as principles of belief,
and of course admit every conclusion
which, by a process self-evident in all
its steps, can be deduced from self-evi-
dent propositions."
“ This is, indeed, a mitigated scep-
ticism; but do you not acknowledge
some other principles of belief? If
your chair were to break from under
you, do you not admit that
you
would
be precipitated to the floor?"
“ Yes, experience convinces me of
this."


212
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
Does notexperience also convince
you that the sun will rise to-morrow?"
“Certainly."
“ Here, then, you acknowledge a
principle of belief- very different from
self-evidence ; you admit the facts
which, by a process of inductive rea-
soning, can be shewn to be conforma-
ble to experience.”
"I admit whatever is conformable
to experience ;, but we can have no
experimental knowledge of Deity, and,
therefore, all this conversation is una
connected with our argument.”
" Here I must differ from
you.
Ex-
perience is the foundation of all our
.


A NOVEL.
213
reasoning respecting matters of fact.
The question whether there be a
Deity or not, is a question of fact.
It must therefore be determined by
that deductive reasoning from which
our conclusions respecting matters of
fact are derived. If Mr. Locke or Dr.
Clarke had attempted to demonstrate
that the sun will rise to-morrow, then
pretended demonstration would have
been defective, if not absurd; but their
applying to a question of fact, a spe-
cies of reasoning belonging exclu-
sively to the relations of number and
quantity, would not, whatever errors
they might have fallen into, lead us to
doubt the continuance of the course of
nature. In like manner, when Theists
pretend to demonstrate the exist.
ence, and Atheists the non-existence
of a Deity, the mind arrives at no con-
.


214
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
clusion, except that both are equal.
ly ignorant of the principles of accu-
rate and philosophic logic.”
This, Mr. O'Connor, is travelling
into a new field. We must keep to
the question. The existence of a Deity,
as I have already said, does not come
within the sphere of our experimental
knowledge, and, therefore, cannot be
decided by that inductive reasoning
which is the foundation of our conclu.
sions respecting questions of fact.”
“ Here, then, we join issue. I con-
tend that the existence of a Deity does
come within the sphere of our expe-
rimental reasoning, and can be proved
by an induction as clear, and as per-
fect, as any question of fact can possi-
bly admit."


A NOVEL.
915
" This is no more than assertion.
Shew the inductive process; trace
the steps by which the mind arrives at
the knowledge of a fact so singular.”
“ This is easily done. In human
affairs universal experience informs us
that order, regularity, and means con-
curring to an end, are connected with
intelligent power. Hence, whenever
we see order, regularity, and means
concurring to an end, we instantly, and
with the greatest certainty, deduce the
existence of a designing mind. When
I find bodies of troops marching from
different quarters to a certain point, ar-
riving there about the same time, and
furnished, during their route, with re-
gular quarters, and supplies adapted to
their wants, I have the fullest assu-
rance that all these concurring circum-


216
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
$
stances were not the result of accident,
but that some prince or minister de-
signed and directed the whole. On
seeing ships, from various nations, ar-
rive at a commercial city, and freight-
ed with articles exactly according to
the wants and desires of its inhabit-
ants, we have an irresistible convic-
tion that somewhere or other, there
are merchants who understood the na-
ture of the market, and regulated the
supply accordingly. Now similar ef-
fects always suggest similar causes.
Finding in human affairs that regula-
rity, order, and the concurrence of
means to an end are inseparably con-
nected with intelligent power, or a de-
signing mind, when a similar order, re-
gularity and concurrence are present-
ed to us in the operations of nature, the
understanding, by a process the most


A NOVEL.
217
natural and obvious, deduces' an invi-
sible intelligence as the author and di-
rector of the whole."
66 the or-
1
“ But," objected Neville,
der and regularity which we discover
in the universe may be accounted for
without supposing the existence of in.
telligent power.”
“ If this were to be admitted it
could not in the least in validate the
argument drawn from
drawn from experience.
A just philosophy never attempts
to account for the works of nature,
by supposing or imagining any prin-
ciple or power,
the existence of
which is not established by direct ex-,
perience or a full induction; it as
certains by careful observations some
general fact, and refers to this the par-
VOL. II.
L


218
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
ticular appearances which it would ex-
plain. The Newtonian philosophy
would not be overthrown if some inge-
nious conjecturer should hit upon an
hypothesis different from gravitation,
by which the motion of the heavenly
bodies might possibly be regulated.”
Surely you do not mean to com.
pare the species of argument employ.
ed by the Theists with the clear, the
accurate, the unanswerable argumen-
tation of Newton!”
“ 1 do. The mental process by
which we arrive at the belief of invi.
sible intelligent power, or deity, is pre-
cisely similar to theinductive reasoning
of our great philosopher Newton, who,
finding that on ourglobe the principle of
gravitationcaused all bodies to approach


A NOVEL.
219
towards the earth, and indeed towards
each other, according to a certain law,
was led to conclude that this principle
might extend to the moon, and to all
the material bodies of the planetary
system. On observing the heavens,
he discovered that the planetary mo-
tions corresponded exactly with the
motions which the principle of attrac-
tion would occasion in bodieš placed
respectively as they were in space.
Hence, the induction was full and
complete, that the principle of attrac-
tion experienced on this globe extend-
ed to all the heavenly bodies, and re-
gulated the movements of the planetary
system. The Theist, in like manner,
learning from experience the existence
of intelligent power, and seeing it, in
all the affairs that come within his ob.
servation, produce order, regularity,
L 2


220
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
and the concurrence of means to ends,
naturally concludes that intelligent
power may extend to other depart-
ments of the universe, and exist in
agents, which come not within the
sphere of his perceptions. He looks
through nature and discovers, though
in an infinitelyhigher degree, an order,
a regularity, a concurrence of means
to ends, similar in character to that
which, in human affairs, he finds inse-
parably connected with intelligent
power. Hence, by an induction as full
and complete as can possibly be con-
ceived, he arrives at the fact, that
intelligent power pervades the uni-
verse."
او
45
" But Newton reasons on mathema-
tical principles. His arguments are
demonstrative."


A NOVEL.
221
6
* In all that relates to number and
dimension, and in all that respects the
periods of motion, and the orbits de-
scribed, the reasoning of Newton is,
indeed, demonstrative. But then his
whole system has its foundation in
matter of fact. When it is once ascer-
tained that all bodies approach each
other according to a certain law, from
this fact' conclusions strictly mathe-
matical may be drawn; but the fact
itself cannot be demonstrated : it is
known from experience and induc-
tion. The superstructure depends
on the foundations. All the demon-
strations of mixed mathematics rest
upon the facts which are ascertained
hy induction. The discoveries of New-
ton, which the Atheist admits, are
supported by a species of proof pre-
cisely analogous to that, which esta-


222
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
blishes the existence of a Deity,which
he denies. This is highly inconsistent.
If you doubt the being of a God, you
should also doubt whatever else de-
pends upon inductive reasoning. You
should admit that matter of fact is in.
capable of proof."
Neville, absorbed in thought, made
no reply. Julia and her father seemed
still to listen to my discourse, and,
and after a pause, I resumed.
$
“ But there is one great and striking
difference between the reasoning of
Theism, and that of the Principia.
The induction which refers the prin-
ciple of gravitation, experienced in
our globe, to the other masses of mat-
ter diffused throughout the universe,


A NOVEL.
223
and which explains, by it, the various
phenomena of the solar system, how-
ever full and convincing when once
unfolded, remained unknown for al-
most six thousand years, and required
the sublimest exertion of intellect to
reach it. On the contrary, the induc-
tion that refers to the invisible intel-
ligent power, the order and arrange-
ment observable in nature, is so obvi-
ous and direct, that it has been made
in the earliest and rudest periods of
society, in almost all ages and all coun-
tries. Whenever man rises a few steps
above the brute, then the belief of Deity
exists. The knowledge of a Deity
is not, indeed, an innate instinctive
principle of our constitution, because
it requires a certain intellectual pro-
cess to attain it. But then this pro-
cess is so easy, and so short, that the


294
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
first unfoldings of the mind suggest it;
and our religious sentiments, like the
acquired perceptions of sight, though
at first requiring an exercise of the
judgment, are so easily formed, and
so instantaneously suggested, that we
forget to trace their progress, and mis-
take them for original impressions.
Hence the Atheist is enabled to con.
ceal from himself and others his ig-
norance of the human mind. The re-
ligious sentiments, whose progress he
cannot trace, and the elements of
which he is unable to analize, he deno-
minates prejudices, and then, with
preposterous presumption, endeavours
to overthrow them by demonstrative
reasonings, which, however admirable
in their proper sphere of number and
extension, are wholly inapplicable to
inductive philosophy and questions


A NOVEL.
225
of fact.” Again I paused, but no one
spoke, and I resumed.
“ I am not entitled to pass judgment
upon Atheists, for I once was one. But
the ardent spirit of enquiry which oc-
casioned me, at first, to doubt, led me,
at length, to more clear convictions,
and a firmer belief. Escaping from the
trackless desarts, the wilds of scepticism
immeasurably spread, the order, the
arrangement, the harmony of nature
touched my heart again. New born
beauties smiled in every scene, an in-
forming spirit breathed in every grove.
I no longer regarded myself as an un-
connected atom floating for a moment
on the troubled waves of chance. I
felt that I was a link in being's chain,
a part of an ordered whole,"performing
allotted functions, acted upon and act-
L 5


226 VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
ing. New sympathịes inspired, new
affections warmed me. My sentiment
of awe for the Creator caused me to
respect his creatures; and all the af.
fections that connected me with man,
carried my spirit to his Maker. He
who would look upon nature with a
cheerful, or on humanity with a bene-
volent eye, must cherish religious sen-
timents. I speak from sad experience.
Infidelity is cold, disconsolate, and
unsocial."
1
Again I ceased to speak, and looked
round upon my auditors. Neville ap-
peared to be struck,and lost in thought.
Mr. Russel exbibited an impression of
profound attention, and of deep com-
placency. Exultation lighted up the
countenance of Mary Ann,while Julia,
sitting by her side, and with her arm
resting on the shoulder of her friend,


A NOVEL.
227
raised her mild expressive eye to Hea-
ven, and, absorbed and wrapt, seemed
in communion with that unseen power,
of whose existence I had presumed to
speak. The subject had warmed, had
inspired me, and less encouragement
would have induced me to proceed.
“ When the belief of invisible intel-
ligent power has once been formed,
we are led, by a natural and easy
transition, to conceive, that when the
visible body perishes, the invisible
intelligence that pervaded it may con-
tinue to exist. Indeed, the belief in
a future state of being has been al.
most as universal as the belief in
the existence of a God, and the induc-
tion which leads to it is almost as oh
vious. My friend lies cold and motion,
less in death,. . The form remains ;


928
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
1
the features arë, as yet, unchanged ;
but where is the intelligence that late-
ly lit them up? O where is that which
heard me when I called; which felt iny
feelings, and returned my love! It is
fled, it is
gone.
But whither has it fled,
and where does it reside? I will seek
it in its favourite haunts. I will meet
it in the grove where we have strayed.
Surely it will hear me still, and still
return the love it has inspired. When
the earth is veiled in night it will be
When abstracted from the
idle tumult of the world, in solitude
and silence it will hold communion
with my spirit. Thus nature speaks;
thus, in all ages, has she spoken. By
a process obvious, and almost instinc-
tive, the anguished heart gathers con-
solation, and the ardent affection which
for a season had been plighted heres
near me.


A NOVEL.
229
attains the hope of being renewed
hereafter. And does philosophy de-
stroy this hope ? does she withdraw
each sun-beam from the heart of sorrow,
and fix the tears of love in despair's
eternal frost? Ono; she is not this
unrelenting enemy to man. Her genu-
ine lesson strengthens the hope which
uninstructed nature gave. She retra-
ces the inductions, which, formed
when the understanding is unable to
attend to its own operations, are of-
ten in danger of being mistaken for
irrational impulse, or the prejudice of
education, and gives the seal of con-
viction to our instinctive and unpre-
meditated judgment. No particle of
matter perishes. The elements of
things, whatever form they may as-
sume, or into whatever combination
they may enter, continue in substance


230
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
the same; and uniform experience con-
vinces us that, in the natural world,
no particle or atom that has once exist.
ed can ever cease to be. Hence, finding
that all things which come within the
knowledge of the senses, are indestruc-
tible, the mind is led to believe that
things which affect not the senses are
indestructible also. That which is
solid and extended, is ever during ;
that which feels and thinks, we natu.
rally conclude to be the same. Uniform
and universal experience assures us
that the essence of body cannot perish;
and it is the legitimate deduction from
this experience, that the essence of
mind is immortal. When the visible
form of my friend moulders and melts
away, and the particles that composed
it evade my senses, I know that, in
aerial fluid, it escapes aloft, retaining


A NOVEL.
231
all its attractions, and forming other
combinations ; and when his superior
part no longer operates upon my mind,
through the organic medium with
which it was conjoined, the legiti-
mate induction from experience is, not
that this superior part has perished,
but that it has passed to other spheres,
where all its functions and affections
are retained, and where it may again
unite with those it loved on earth.
“ If the inductive reasoning, which
leads to the idea and belief of a future
state, seem less obvious, and less close
than that which establishes the exist-
ence of a God, the deficiency is amply
made up by other inductive processes,
which, starting from different points,
lead us to the same result,


232 VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
" When we contemplate the sen-
sitive creation, we find that the most
admirable harmony prevails; that
wherever a desire exists, there some-
thing is provided to gratify it; and that
every instinct that is implanted leads
its possessor to something connected
with its well being. Now,is thedesire of
immortality the only desire for which
no gratification is provided? Is the
impression, that the friends we loved
have an existence after death (for this
impression, if it result not from a clear
and legitimate induction from experi-
ence, must be instinctive,) the only
natural impulse that is without an ob-
ject, and that leads to nothing ? If
a new material substance were present-
ed to me, I should, without exami-
nation, confidently conclude that it
possessed a specific gravity; and, if


A NOVEL.
233
asked my reason for doing so, I could
only answer, because all other matter
that has come under my inspection has
possessed this property, and because
I cannot get rid of the inductive pro-
cess, that the new substance possesses
it also. In like manner, if, amid the
sensitive creation, I discovered a new
instinct, I should as confidently ex-
pect that it pointed to some attainable
object connected with the well-being
of its possessor; and if asked to assign
my reasons for such expectation, I
could only answer, that all other in-
stincts, which had come within my
knowledge were but means adapted
to an end, and led directly to the at-
tainment of the object at which they
ained. Hence we see that the moral
inductions of natural religion are com-
pletely analogous to the physical in-
ductions of natural science. The con-


294
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE,
nexion of invisible intelligent power
with the order and regularity observa-
ble in the universe, is as certain as
the connexion of the principle of gram
vity with the movements of the pla-
netary system; and the immorta-
lity of the mind a legitimate deduc.
:- tion from the indestructibility of
the body. If, as far as our experi-
ence extends, the desires resulting
from the constitution of our nature,
have corresponding objects adapted to
their gratification, then have we a full
induction, that those we love on earth
may be re-united to us in another
world.-O
yes;
the brother of my
soul, the parent that guided my paths
with the ceaseless solicitude of love,
are not torn from me for ever. In the
solemn stillness of the evening, their
voices meet my ear; in the visions of
the morning, their forms glide before


A NOVEL.
235
me;-in the abstraction of solitude,
my soul feels conscious of their pre-
sence : and who will tell me that
these suggestions were given to de-
ceive; that the instinctive inductions
of the heart are false? For aught that
the sceptic can disprove, our depart-
ed friends may now be employed in of-
fices of love, O yes; in forms more
attenuate than the viewless air, at
this instant they may hover round us,
conscious of, and rejoicing in the ar-
dent, the eternal love we bear them."
Here I ceased. A thousand tender re-
collections rushed upon my mind, and
my emotions were heightened until
they suspended utterance. I did not
feel alone. Julia hid her face in the
bosom of Mary Ann, and, in all the
joy of grief sobbed forth, “ Mother!
Brother! Your gentle spirits live ;
1


236 victim OF INTOLÉRANCE,
you hold communion with
your
sister
and your child.” The tears of tender
pleasure trembled on the cheek of
Mary Ann, while she folded the fond
enthusiast to her heart. Neville rose
abruptly from his seat, seized the hand
of Julia, and said, with a pathos we
did not know him to possess,“ I have
been wrong ; never will I speak light-
ly of religious sentiment again.” Julia
raising her head from the bosom of
Mary Ann, gazed on him with a look
of divine complacency. She threw
her beauteous arms around his neck,
and, unable to give language to what
she felt, leaned on his shoulder and
indulged his tears.
Mr. Russel viewed this scene with
deep emotion. The early feeling which
many circumstances had contributed
to destroy, seemed, for a moment, to


A NOVEL.
237
return. " The mother tongue of the
heart” became intelligible to him again.
“O'Connor," he cried, “ the under-
standing and the feelings are subject
to your sway. While you have put my
nephew to silence, you have called all
my sorrows up afresh. I had once a
son. He was the idol of my heart, the
hope and glory of my soul. If he had
lived, he would have been of your age.
If the promise of his youth had been
fulfilled he wouldhavebecome what you
are.” Aftera pause he clasped my hand
affectionately, andcontinued, “O'Con-
nor, since the first day I saw you, you
filled me with a mingled sentiment of
regret and pleasure,-of despair and
hope. As I contemplated your merits,
I became more awake to the extent of
the loss I had sustained, while I fond-
ly cherished the expectation that, in


238
VICTIM OF INTOLERANCE.
ور
you, this loss, in a certain sense, might
be repaired. When we are more com-
posed I shall have much to say to you.
O'Connor, I wish I could call my-
self your father.” As he spoke this,
I started from my seat with agita-
tion that chained my tongue, and
almost suspended respiration.
Al
ready I regarded myself as Russel's
son, as Julia's husband. I shook in
every limb. Unable to controul the
mingled feelings that rushed upon my
soul, I retired from the company ab-
ruptly, that the turbulence of antici-
pated happiness might subside in soli-
tude.
END OF THE SECOND VOLUME.
W. Flint, Printer, Old Bailey, London.





1
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Princeton University Library
32101 067178747



This Book is Due
2009